"Don't think we couldn't have," Agatha said with a little lift of her chin. "People were practically begging us to stay and rob them." She sighed. "However, they were only putting up a front; they had nothing really worth robbing. They only wanted the social prestige that one of our robberies could give them. We were forced to come to America." She made a wry face. "They're all like you here; want a lot of shooting and uncouth language with their hold-ups. No appreciation for continental finesse. That's why we've decided to take Mr. Culpepper's formula. We're going into business. It's a shameful come-down, of course, but I suppose we'll just have to make the best of it."
"You poor, brave things," Toffee said. "My nose fairly runs for you."
"Oh!" Agatha exploded. "Little pig!"
"Big pig!" Toffee shot back.
"Here, here," Chadwick broke in. "This bickering has got to stop. Really. There's business to be taken care of."
Agatha nodded and turned her attention to Mr. Culpepper. "Shall we torture it out of him?" she asked.
"I think so," Chadwick said. "That's why I've brought the pliers ... to pull his fingernails, you know. I thought it might cheer you up, old girl. Remember when we used that method on the Marquis?"
Forgetting her gun, Agatha clasped her hands together. "Oh, what a triumph!" she exclaimed. "The Marquis was simply enthralled. He said it was the most exquisite torture he'd ever experienced."
"Is everybody nuts in Europe?" Toffee asked. "Or just your particular crowd?"
No one answered her.