"Haven't you got it?"
"Got it? Do you suppose I have a museum in which I preserve rubbish of the kind?"
"But--what have you done with it?"
"You might as well ask me what I've done with last year's gloves."
"Agatha--think! More hinges upon this than you have any conception. What did you do with that bag?"
"Since you are so insistent--and I must say, Philip, that your conduct is most peculiar--I will think, or I'll try to. I believe I gave the bag to Jane. Or else to Mrs. Pettigrew's little girl. Or to my needle-woman--to carry home some embroidery she was mending for me; I am most particular about embroidery, especially when its good. Or to the curate's wife, for a jumble sale. Or I might have given it to someone else. Or I might have lost it. Or done something else with it."
"Did you look inside?"
"Of course I did. I must have done. Though I don't remember doing anything of the kind."
"Was there anything in it?"
"Do you mean when you gave it me? If there was I never saw it. Am I going to be accused of felony?"