Eve: I don't know why you have to be so grumpy. It's not that far out of the way.
Ed: Sixteen miles each way, 32 miles. You don't think that's far?
Eve: Not to make somebody happy.
Ed: Why do you think it's going to make the Chief happy? I don't think he likes birthdays anyway, particularly his own.
Eve: He liked our gift last year.
Ed: He said he liked it.
Eve: Well it's not every San Francisco police officer who his own antique inlaid serpentine crease.
Ed: That's a point I'll give you. Anyway, we ought to get him a tie. Or better still, forget about it.
Eve: Oh boy.
Ed: Oh boy what?
Eve: Forget about birthdays. If you didn't have a birthday, you wouldn't be...
Ed: You wouldn't be what?
Eve: You just wouldn't be. And anyway, you wouldn't know what sign you were born under.
Eve: What sign were you born under?
Ed: It said Wesley Memorial Hospital. Why?
Eve: Not that kind of a sign. Sign of the zodiac, astrological sign. Here's my horoscope for today: you will have a dramatic surprise. How about that?
Ed: Now it's my turn to say "oh boy."
Eve: All right, listen to this: born leader, shrewd, decisive, commanding and warm and generous, and yet an implacable foe of injustice. Who does that describe?
Ed: Washington, Jefferson, Lincoln, and Robert T. Ironside, not necessarily in that order.
Eve: Right. But it happens to be the people born under your sign.
Eve: That's right, Cancer, the crab.
Ironside: Whitfield, you could do us a great favor. Repeat your description to our artist down at headquarters. he can make a sketch.
Ironside: Right now, while the details are still fresh in your mind.
Eve: You don't ask many favors, do you, Chief Ironside?
Ironside: I don't usually need them.
(with the sketch artist)
Eve: Chief Ironside, did you see the man or did I? I said that his eyes were farther apart and that there was a flatness to the bridge of his nose.
Ironside: In all the noise and confusion, people running around screaming, you can be sure about a little detail like that?
Eve: I am positive.
Ironside: Fix it, George.
George: Yes, sir.
Eve: Is this your usual police technique, badgering your witnesses, trying to confuse them?
Ironside: It helps to sift out the truth.
Eve: I think I could find a better way.
Paul Fulham: Don't think she couldn't.
Ironside: I'll get her a badge.
Ironside: Miss Whitfield, sit down. You know, you didn't just come here to deliver a door prize. I may have a big mouth, but I've also got big ears. Now come on, sit down.
Eve: If you want the whole truth, you didn't win any prize at all. It's the only excuse I could think of.
Ironside: Well, I can't say I'm brokenhearted.
Eve: All of a sudden I don't know what to say.
Ironside: (reads newspaper headline) "Lasko Guilty. Sentenced to gas chamber."
Ironside: And you feel that you're going to be the executioner.
Eve: I was the only witness who could identify him.
Ironside: Plus a dozen detectives who matched his fingerprints, checked bullets from his gun, traced the money he stole, backtracked his moves – all under my orders. By your definition, Miss Whitfield, I'm the executioner.
Eve: You don't understand.
Ironside: And what about the District Attorney and the jury? Each one of them is an executioner.
Eve: Please, Chief. A man is going to die because I...
Ironside: If he does, if he does die, you won't have killed him, Miss Whitfield, any more than I or the D.A. or the jury. His punishment is fixed by the laws of this state.
Eve: But they're wrong, barbaric.
Ironside: Then change them. But you can't change your responsibility as a citizen. When a crime is committed, it's your duty to report the facts.
Eve: It's easy for you to talk. You're a policeman, this is all just--just routine.
Ironside: The day murder and execution are just routine, I'll walk out of this office. Did you ever consider the other side of the coin, Miss Whitfield? Every time one man is proven guilty, ten others are proven innocent.
Eve: You're right. You do have a big mouth. And it says some big words.
Ironside: Just doing some missionary work. Trying to gain a convert.
Ironside: Speaking philosophically of course. What kind of a future could the police department offer a woman like you?
(filling out her application for police academy)
Ironside: All right, Miss Whitfield, your application for blood, sweat and tears.
Eve: "Conscientious, dedicated." Those are lovely words. I hope I can live up to them.
Ironside: You'd better. Nobody makes a liar out of me.