'Where are my silver-mounted pistols?
Where's the ibex-hoof made into a paperweight?
And'-- he raised his voice to a shout of comical despair--'where's my cheque-book ?' 'I see.' 'I wish _I_ did.

It must break the record for a neat house-robbery, don't you think?
And they'll never be caught--I'll bet you anything you like they won't.

The job was planned weeks ago; that woman came into the house with no other purpose.' 'But didn't your wife know anything about her ?' 'What can one know about such people?
There were references, I believe--as valuable as references usually are.

She must be an old hand.

But I'm sick of the subject; let's drop it .-- You were interrupted, Hollings.