John Steed: [having received a message from 'the Flyer'] The Flyer?
Mike Gambit: Sounds like the fifties and sixties. The flyer, the butcher, the baker.
Purdey: The candlestick maker.
Mike Gambit: You used a lot of funny names in those days, didn't you?
John Steed: They weren't funny. I was the New Doberman.
Mike Gambit: Woof woof.
Purdey: That's an awful lot of morse.
John Steed: They abbreviated it. Cut it short after the D. The New D.
Purdey: The nudie?
Mike Gambit: [looking through old files] Steed? You tell me about this incident in Istanbul. Devilish clever use of the garlic sausage.
John Steed: You're supposed to be spying on them, not me!
Purdey: What about you seventeen years ago?
Mike Gambit: Me, I was discovering sex.
Purdey: What a waste of time. You might have been learning to drive.
Purdey: Anyway, from what I hear, you've already been around quite a bit.
Mike Gambit: Been at keyholes again, Purdey?
Purdey: It's common knowledge in the department.
Mike Gambit: Just hearsay.
Purdey: The typing pool affair?
Mike Gambit: Rumour.
Purdey: The undersecretary's undersecretary?
Mike Gambit: Jealousy?
Purdey: The Russian Countess, so-called?
Mike Gambit: Ah yes, well, eh, that was was an under cover job and I, eh, took them literally.
Purdey: [shouting] Take your hands off me, you brute! You can't make me do it! I'll never marry you, never! I hate you!
Purdey: [having just embarrassed Gambit in a church] Quick thinking, eh? I got us about a tricky situation without any embarrassment.
Mike Gambit: No embarrassment, no embarrassment at all!
Irwin Gunner: [on radio] White Rat, this message is for you. Now I know what I'm up against. I'd forgotten how quickly rats breed. How many of you now? A whole department?
Cromwell: [to operator] Try and get a fix.
Irwin Gunner: Rats can hide. But not from me, we both know that, don't we? I've put my mark on you. I'm going to cut off your tail. Destroy you.
Grant: [sat in his bath] Can I offer you a drink?... Cigar?... A bit of soap?
Purdey: You play rough, Mr. Cromwell.
Cromwell: [pouring a drink] You play rougher, Purdey.
Purdey: I wasn't playing.
Cromwell: Nor I, skoll.
Cromwell: [slight pause] Well, know what?
Purdey: [looks him up and down] I think you'd better take your trousers off.
John Steed: You were sipping brandy? Like this?
[pours himself a drink]
Grant: Yes. I say, Steed, what is it?
John Steed: Excelent. Fine Napoleon, I facet.
Finder: [throws a loud of old files on the table] There you are. 1960 through to '65
Mike Gambit: Thanks.
[picks up the first file]
Mike Gambit: No dust.
Mike Gambit: Dust is almost mandatory in this place.
[blows on it]
Mike Gambit: Where's the dust?
Finder: I can get you some, the 1930 files.
Mike Gambit: Somebody else has been through these files, recently. Who?
John Steed: You see my position, minister, I have to suspect everyone. My recurring nightmare is that one day I might even have to arrest myself.
Minister Quaintance: I sincerely hope not.