how do you do, mr. falco. if you know anything about horses, sit a minute. help yourself to a glass of this n.y. state champagne - that's what my husband buys me.
whose side are you on, mr. falco, his or mine?
mrs. bartha laughs, enjoying his deftness; then:
what's your first name?
no horse running tomorrow by that name.
it's compensation, leo, for the marginal life we lead. sidney, did you hear the story about the cloak-and-suitor who -- ?
oh, are you a spy for the other side?
leo, he wants to give you an item - don't be sullen.
hitler!
there isn't a single name here that gives off vibrations.
mmmmmm"cigarette girl".  no, no horse with a name like that.
mrs. bartha's attention is attracted by sidney's gesture. she looks up, made aware of this strange by-play.
what is this, chess or checkers?
where are we running? what am i missing here?
that's the horse! shotgun - shotgun in the fifth!
she is brushing her lap with her napkin.
he wants to tell me that you poured champagne all over my lap.
blackmail?
about what?
what you do now, mr. falco, is crow like a hen - you have just laid an egg.
leo, this is one of the cleanest things i've seen you do in years.