Thorne: Champagne, or potatoes? Or both? Zilpha: So how did it resolve itself? Did you both see sense? Thorne: No. I shot him between the eyes, and a host of devils flew out of his head and down the river. In that event it would be potatoes, wouldn't it? Simple sustenance. Life goes on. Zilpha: Before you drink anymore could you tell me what really happened? Thorne: But in the event of a messenger coming to tell you that he had killed me, well, champagne. All the wild possibilities. In truth, neither is the case. It was void. Zilpha: How? Thorne: No need for anymore questions. Not when half of London will be re-telling the story, anyway. Zilpha: So I shall hear through gossip? Thorne: As I hear about you.
My apologies - that was an excellent shot. I can only assume that your second is a Company man, since he failed to load a ball in your pistol. It would appear that my life is more precious than yours. Good day.