"People don't come and perjure themselves for friendship; not even country morons like Gladys Rees. The poor silly little rat was frightened stiff. She would never have come voluntarily. No, that oleograph has a lever of some sort. Worth looking into if you're stuck, perhaps."
"Do you happen to know the number of your watch?" he asked Marion as he was driving them back to The Franchise. "The one Rose Glyn stole."
"I didn't even know that watches had numbers," Marion said.
"Good ones do."
"Oh, mine was a good one, but I don't know anything about its number. It was very distinctive, though. It had a pale blue enamel face with gold figures."
"Roman figures?"
"Yes. Why do you ask? Even if I got it back I could never bear to wear it after that girl."
"It wasn't so much getting it back I thought of, as convicting her of having taken it."
"That would be nice."
"Ben Carley calls her 'the oleograph, by the way."