- Emma Peel: [upon seeing Steed's dance partner number on his back] You're number 9.
- John Steed: And you're dancing with garlic sausage!
- [referring to the tattoo on her partner's wrist]
- Syder: We dress the entire nation, you know. Why, without us, Ascot race week would look like a nudists convention.
- Emma Peel: But you didn't bring me here just to be a gunbarer?
- John Steed: No, I want you to meet someone, Willi Fehr. Used to be a top agent, now relegated to traffic control.
- Emma Peel: Traffic control?
- John Steed: Yes, for incoming spies. He looks after their accomodation, money, that sort of thing.
- Bank Manager: Yes, Arthur Peever had an account here.
- John Steed: Had? Then you know.
- Bank Manager: Yes... sad.
- John Steed: Very sad...
- Bank Manager: Very, very sad.
- John Steed: [the Bank Manager moves to another window, Steed follows] Quite a shock.
- Bank Manager: Oh, shocking. Very shocking. When he came in here this morning...
- John Steed: This morning?
- Bank Manager: Walked right in, and closed his account.
- [the Bank Manager returns to his original window, Steed nearly goes the wrong way, then follows him]
- Bank Manager: Bad!
- John Steed: Very bad.
- Bank Manager: Very, very bad.
- Piedi: [after making plaster casts of Mrs. Peel's feet] And now we will pour in the wax, huh? And very soon we will have two pairs of foot. Those attached to your legs, and a duplicate pair for me.
- [closes his eyes in extacy]
- Piedi: For me to make a pair of shoes that will be like puffs of air upon your feet.