From Death of a Fellow Traveller, by Delano Ames:

***

He made a half-hearted attempt to tell me about St. Neot, a very small man who was unable to reach as high as the keyhole of the Glastonbury Abbey door. The keyhole therefore slid down until it was within St. Neot's reach.

"It would seem simpler in a way," he said, "had St. Neot stood on something. But no--the obvious solution of the problem was for the keyhole to descend. The man who made up that story had the kind of mentality we need in the present case."

I refrained from pointing out that in that event he, Dagobert, was just the man required.

***

I suppose the opposite of having an ace up your sleeve is having a deuce up your sleeve.

***

"Don't you remember?" he said, "I wasn't going to have any more hunches."

"Have one anyway," I urged.

***

"But you made that up for my benefit, didn't you?" I said breathlessly.

"No, someone really did inquire about Gwink," he said. "I often tell the truth; you want to be on your guard against it."

***

He was one of those terrifying players who know all about arithmetic and mutter before they throw: "treble fifteen, eighteen and double top." This kind of thing impresses me even when the darts go somewhere else.

***

I found a pile of old magazines which kept me busy for the next hour or so. I was absorbed in a scheme for making a "dramatic" handbag out of an old felt hat (or possibly it was the other way round)....