Was it fate? Was it destiny?" "I think it was Alan Blunt.

If this is what you do to the winner, I'd hate to see how you treat the runner up.

You're my closest friend and you're thousands of miles away.

For all men are equal at the moment of death and who are we to judge them when a much greater judge awaits?

He had tattooed all of the names of the men he had killed on his body...unfortunately he had run out of room.

I hear it still. As I lay down my pen and take to my bed, I am aware of the bow being drawn across the bridge and the music rises into the night sky. It is far away and barely audible - but there it is! A pizzicato. Then a tremelo. The style is unmistakable. It is Sherlock Holmes who is playing. It must be. I hope with all my heart that he is playing for me . . .

I have a couple of questions," he said. "Do, please, go ahead." "My first one is for Yassen Gregorovich." He turned to the Russian. "Why are you working for this lunatic?" "I sometimes think that I was richer when I was eight years old than most people will be in their lifetime!" "Do we have to listen to this?" Alex asked.