The guard, fat and perspiring, from his unaccustomed chase, took a firm grip of the prisoner's coat collar and jerked him into a sitting position. As he did so, three gold watches slid from the pocket and clinked musically on the tile floor.
"A pickpocket, huh?" said the guard.
"Quite obvious, even to the most limited intelligence," pointed out Miss Withers. "I guessed it myself."
"Stealing watches, too."
"Do they look like grandfather clocks?"
(from The Penguin Pool Murder, by Stuart Palmer)
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