It strikes me there's mysteries on mystery's head. How is it that you, a detective and a nero, let yourself be put upon?

Ah! that's where I'm clever; that's where I'm cunning. Don't you see, it's part of the game?

It seems to me the game's hockey, with you for the ball and everyone else with a stick.

I daresay it does look a little like that, at first.

It looks more like it every minute.

Susan, will you endeavour to recollect that there are such things as wolves in sheep's clothing - and that I am one of them? Will you kindly remember that this is an age of shame, and that, as any Irishman will tell you, the English rose by climbing over the shamrock?