Brian sighed.
"I wasn't thinking of the shotgun," he said.

"There have been times, Kenny, when I hadn't a collar left--" "He's right," put in Garry with quick sympathy.

"It's not just the shotgun--" "Garry, you shut up!" snapped Kenny, sweeping the fragments of Ann's statuette into the table drawer and closing it with a bang.
"Please remember," reminded Garry, coldly, "that an established privilege of mine, since I undertook this Hague stuff, is absolute frankness." "Br-r-r-r--" "Who rapped for me ?" "Kenny did," said Brian.
"Any man," retorted Kenny bitterly, "may have a--a moment of lunacy.

I thought you were impartial." "You mean," said Garry keenly, "that when you rapped you'd been hypnotized by the justice of your own case and felt a little reckless." Kenny drew himself up splendidly and glared at Garry through a cloud of smoke.
"Piffle!" said Garry.

"No stately stuff for me, Kenny, please.