Once arrested on suspicion of being in some way, however remote, a party to this outrage, the man could hardly escape being sent back to finish his sentence at least.

And that would kill him; he would never come out alive.

The Assistant Commissioner made a reflection extremely unbecoming his official position without being really creditable to his humanity.
"If the fellow is laid hold of again," he thought, "she will never forgive me." The frankness of such a secretly outspoken thought could not go without some derisive self-criticism.

No man engaged in a work he does not like can preserve many saving illusions about himself.

The distaste, the absence of glamour, extend from the occupation to the personality.