"How much do you want for a black eye?"
Slinky stared.
"Beg pardon, Mr. Templar?"
"You heard me."
The man shifted his eyes nervously, and giggled.
"Wh-what?"
"I didn't ask you to give an imitation of a consumptive Wyandotte laying a bad egg," said the Saint patiently. "I asked you how much you wanted for a black eye."
"You want to give me a black eye, Mr. Templar?"
"Very much indeed."
"What for?"