Varnals: The ministry told me to expect you, Steed, but they gave me no instructions about you, Mrs. Peel.
John Steed: Perhaps they wanted to put your innitiative to the test. Not to worry, I'll be responsible for Mata Hari.
Varnals: Just the same, I think I should ring the minister to insure -
John Steed: It won't do you any good, old boy, he'll be on the golf course by now.
Varnals: Well, the junior minister then.
John Steed: Out for his early morning ride.
Varnals: Well, the senior secretary.
John Steed: Oh, you'll get him alright, but we must take this situation serously...
Varnals: I made a preliminary investigation. The psychological state is consistent with intensified reorientation and auto suggestion techniques carried out over a long period.
Emma Peel: You mean he's been brainwashed.
John Steed: Have you seen Cullen?
Leonard Martin Pasold: Seen, signed and delivered.
John Steed: Cheers.
[holds up glass]
John Steed: You've beat me to it by a day. I had a message from my New York office late last night: sign Cullen. But you got there first. Kidnapped. Right under my nose.
Leonard Martin Pasold: That's how the prune wrinkles.
John Steed: [posing as M. Gourmet] Mr. Chessman, forgive me, it is a little hot here, don't you think?
Max Chessman: Look at me. One of nature's jokes. A fat man with thin blood. I have to keep the temperature to steady 80 degrees.
John Steed: [Steed, dressed as a waiter, finds Mrs. Peel locked in a cell] You rang, madam?
Emma Peel: [appears in small window in the door] Yes. I want to change my room, there's a honeymoon couple next door.