 Inspector assumed a reflective manner.
    »I wouldn't say so. There's no necessity to say anything at present. He
associates with men who are classed as dangerous. He was made a delegate of the
Red Committee less than a year after his release on licence. A sort of
compliment, I suppose.«
    And the Chief Inspector laughed a little angrily, a little scornfully. With
a man of that sort scrupulousness was a misplaced and even an illegal sentiment.
The celebrity bestowed upon Michaelis on his release two years ago by some
emotional journalists in want of special copy had rankled ever since in his
breast. It was perfectly legal to arrest that man on the barest suspicion. It
was legal and expedient on the face of it. His two former chiefs would have seen
the point at once; whereas this one, without saying either yes or no, sat there,
as if lost in a dream. Moreover, besides being legal and expedient, the arrest
of Michaelis solved a little personal difficulty which worried Chief Inspector
Heat somewhat. This difficulty had its bearing upon his reputation, upon his
comfort, and even upon the efficient performance of his duties. For, if
Michaelis no doubt knew something about this outrage, the Chief Inspector was
fairly certain that he did not know too much. This was just as well. He knew
much less - the Chief Inspector was positive - than certain other individuals he
had in his mind, but whose arrest seemed to him inexpedient, besides being a
more complicated matter, on account of the rules of the game. The rules of the
game did not protect so much Michaelis, who was an ex-convict. It would be
stupid not to take advantage of legal facilities, and the journalists who had
written him up with emotional gush would be ready to write him down with
emotional indignation.
    This prospect, viewed with confidence, had the attraction of a personal
triumph for Chief Inspector Heat. And deep down in his blameless bosom of an
average married citizen, almost unconscious but potent nevertheless, the dislike
of being compelled by events to meddle with the desperate ferocity of the
Professor had its say. This dislike had been strengthened by the chance meeting
in the lane. The encounter did not leave behind with Chief Inspector Heat that
satisfactory sense of superiority the members of the police force get from the
unofficial but intimate side of their intercourse with the criminal classes, by
which the vanity of power is soothed, and the vulgar love of domination over our
fellow-creatures is flattered as worthily as it deserves.
    The perfect anarchist was not recognized as a fellow-creature
