- Emma Peel: [Mrs. Peel is helping Steed open his Christmas cards] "Best wishes for the future - Cathy"
- John Steed: Mrs. Gale! Ah, how nice of her to remember me. What can she be doing in Fort Knox?
- John Steed: [shouting to be heard over his electric razor] It wasn't a party, just a quiet dinner with an old friend.
- Emma Peel: Blonde, brunette or redhead?
- John Steed: Shiny pink. Rear Admiral Keavers. Bald as a baby's elbow.
- Emma Peel: [Emma is admiring an antique bed] You know, I've always rather fancied myself in one of these.
- John Steed: So have I...
- Emma Peel: Hmm?
- John Steed: I mean, I have too.
- Emma Peel: I warn you, I'm here collecting for Christmas charity and I intend to separate you from at least fifty guineas.
- John Steed: Double it if you'll make the voce a little more sotto.
- [sighs]
- John Steed: just an octave or two...
- John Steed: It was Teasel's idea.
- Emma Peel: Teasel?
- John Steed: Security Intelligence Psychiatric Devision. Where is he now, by the way?
- [singing]
- John Steed: Grean grow the rushes!
- Emma Peel: I knocked him out.
- John Steed: Oh, the War Office won't like that.
- John Steed: Secrets have been getting into the wrong hands.
- Emma Peel: And you think he may be responsible?
- John Steed: I'm certain he's responsible, because the secrets that have been leaking out have only been entrusted to two people, him and me. I know it isn't me.
- Dr. Felix Teasel: One cannot produce one's dreams as evidence. Perhaps it works the other way around for this man: he sees the facts, the actuality, then tells you that he's dreamt about them.