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Show ; raided hla hands. 'Lambert fnsKed him and threw his gun on the floor. "I'll ease your staff out one by one. Put in a plug for Merrill Lambert perhaps in the sports : section, in the financial just a kind of calling card at first." "Yes, I'm familiar with your calling cards. I can't sign you the right to run a paper, Lambert. Only the people can do that. They'll buy the paper only so long as they smell you are giving them facts. Try to fool 'em and your paper dies." The telephone rang. "That's Jerry," Jer-ry," said Lambert. "Is the kid going go-ing to be turned loose?" "Yes. But first, this belongs to you. Catch!" Corey tossed the bullet bul-let he had cut out of the woodwork wood-work of The Mercury door to the gambler. Lambert's aim wavered just an instant and Corey dived across the desk, seized Lambert's j , ... ; f - ' , i i -1 -C "" n ,:. - - ' I 'u ' . - . - i I ... v. "He was a newspaperman to the end. Kept sending until the radio failed." UNHOLY PMMEBS Adapted from the Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer Picture by LEBBEUS MITCHELL CAST OF CHARACTERS Bruce Corey ... Edward G. Robinson Merrill Lambert . . , Edward Arnold Miss Cronin Laraine Day Gail Fenton Marsha Hunt Tommy Jarvis William T. Crr Michael Z. Reynolds . . Don Beddoet Managing Editor . . . Walter Kings ford Miss Cronin waylaid him. "Please don't go, Bruce! Call the police!" "Why, you silly kid! What ails you? You are trembling?" "I know where you are going and I'm frightened." Her fright for him, her pleading softened him. He took her hand. "Now sit down a minute." He was silent for a few moments. mo-ments. "Croney, for a long time you've been doing something to me that I was going to tell you to stop. But now I've changed la ovjj, 111 m lo mi iaI'u to anybody you want." Keturning to the taxi, Corey instructed in-structed the driver to lose the following fol-lowing cabs and instead of going to the City Hall, to speed to Roosevelt Roose-velt Field. "Bruce," Croney said, holding his hand tight. "Do you have to?" "Yep, sweet. This assignment is mine. Now, now, no tears! Get your notebook. I'll give you that confession." When she was ready he dictated: "To Inspector Brody. Dear Pat: Tell your Lieutenant he needn't check those fingerprints. I killed Merrill Lambert. When I come back we'll let a defense lawyer go crazy trying to save my hide. I think the people of New York are going to be better off without men like Lambert, but until un-til I return let's keep that little joke a secret. Goodbye, Pat, and ,good luck." The taxi turned Into Roosevelt Field and stopped by the hangars. Anything else?" asked Croney, trying to control her sobs. "Have Tommy give the Fenton note and policy to the District Attorney At-torney and explain Lambert's insurance in-surance racket. Then get Lamberts Lam-berts policies back to all the unhappy un-happy people he terrorized into taking 'em out. Hunt them out personally, Croney a crusade for the paper. I've left a will, honey. Don't fire Reynolds; he cant afford it. Croney! You are crying! cry-ing! Newspapermen never weaken." I ought to call the police," she sobbed. "They'd stop you," "You're aces, Croney. You've given me the one thrill in the world I've r-ver had that of a woman crying over m: ... from the heart. Whatever's to come, this makes it worth it . . , So long, Croney. Don't forget to 'phone Reynolds the minute we're off. We'll scoop the town!" He kissed her and ran to the airplane by which Molyneaux, the aviator, was waiting for the promised Mercury reporter to fly with him. Let her go, Molyneaux!" he cried. "I'll join you in that salute to glory!" He satisfied the Frenchman that he really meant he was going along and, as the final weather report re-port was brought to them, thev climbed aboard and the Spirit o Mercury rose into the air. "Don't he know that crate'll be lucky to fly to Sandy Hook?" gasped a mechanic ... Miss Cronin, at Corey's desk, stared unseeingly at the news tape. Every word was seared into her brain. '"Navy locates lost plane, Spirit of Mercury. Pilot safe. Editor lost as new storm sweeps the Atlantic'." At-lantic'." She was not aware of Tommy Jarvis until she felt his arm on her shoulder and his voice saying: . "We both loved him, Croney . . . What a great guy he was! Tough outside, but inside all heart. He went, on that flight because it was too risky to send anyone else . . . Was there no way to stop him. Croney?" "I tried." "He was a newspaperman to the end. Kept sending until the radio failed . . . Croney ... on that ride to the flying field what did Bruce talk about?" "Mostly about the paper. He wants you and me to carry on." She sat straighter and in an authoritative voice said: "Get behind be-hind that desk. Tommy. We've got a job to do." At his hesitation, uncertainty of himself, she added: "Go ahead. Bruce said if anything happened to him, you'd have to be the man of the family . . . Get going, Tommy." Visibly bracing himself, Tommy flipped the dictograph key: "Start 'em rolling, Mike. Pictures of Bruce and Molyneaux on the front page." : "And for the center spread,"! said Miss Cronin into the dictograph, dicto-graph, 'amap of the Atlantic,! with an X showing where the plane went down." "And statements from aviation' experts, Mike," snapped Tommy; much as Corey himself might have I instructed him, "that, although thai flight was unsuccessful, the cause of aviation was advanced. Lead I page two with Bruce's own radioed storv from takeoff to crash." : "And, Mike," Said Misa Cronin into the dictograph, "we'll want an editorial on Bruce. Not & weepy one. Just say he was born for the Tabloid Age and the era he lived in has come to an end." She snanned off the key. "You are a good newspaperman," said Tommy admiringly. "It's easy when you know how." THE END. Printed hd.B.1. SYNOPSIS: Bruce Corey, publisher of The New York Mercury, tabloid which the gambler, Merrill Lambert, Lam-bert, has backed tor him, pets into a quarrel with Lambert wnun he refuses to take orders and lay off the gambler's friends and henchmen. hinaUn, alter Corey induces the police to raid a backstage party which the ; rc'incer Jason Grant is giving, Lambert offers to play a poker hand with Corey for complete ownership of the tabloid. Corey upsets Lambert's scheme by discarding dis-carding four cards from a full house on the hunch the next cards would give Lambert four of a kind. Returning to his office, of-fice, Corey barely escapes a bullet bul-let fired at him from a passing motor car. Chapter Three "How is it you always know my favorites?" Corey asked at midnight mid-night as Miss Cronin set a tray before him. "This smells like home cooking." "It is. I gave the Greek some of my mother's recipes. This onion soup is one of them." "Croney, I never heard of girls like you." "Oh, your hearing has always been sharp enough, but you don't see them actually meet girls like me." He gaped at her. "What's got Into you, Croney?" ' "I've been going to quit a hundred hun-dred times. But then you wouldn't even know my telephone number." As if at a cue, the telephone rang. Corey grabbed it and heard Tommy Jarvis' excited voice: "Bruce, I've got terrific news! Gail and I have made up! I've come here from Lambert's office. I broke in and went through his files. I've got the dope on him! One is a note and an insurance policy signed sign-ed by Clyde Fenton." , Corey barked angrily into the mouthpiece: "You might as well i start writing your own obituary! Get in here! Where are you?" 1 "I'm at Gail's. Her father has agreed to give us all the details about his dealings with Lambert. And Gail was only going around with him to get her father's note back . . . Bruce, you'd have laughed! laugh-ed! One of Lambert's men took a pot-shot at me as I was escaping and missed!" "Hustle down here!" ordered Corey. "What's Fenton's phone number so I can call back?" He took it down and hung up. "Croney, "Cro-ney, tell the cashier to give Tommy Tom-my a $250 bonus!" When an hour and more went by and Tommy failed to show up, Corey called up the Fentons. Gail said he had left for The Mercury office fully an hour before. When he had hung up, Corey opened the drawer of his desk and took out a revolver. He went to Mike Reynold's Rey-nold's office. "Mike, play up the Atlantic flight we're backing. Plenty of pictures pic-tures of that French aviator, Molyneaux, Moly-neaux, and the rechristened Spirit of Mercury. Say we are sending a reporter along on the flight to keep in constant touch by radio. Is everything ready for the take-off?" "All ready, Bruce. Molvneaux is just waitiryg for the final weather report. May start tonight." "Give him plenty of art. and quote him freelv." He went out. At the front stp-ns. my mind. I'm going to let you keep on looking after me." "I'm glad, Bruce," she said tearfully. tear-fully. "I like to do things for you. Someone has to see that you get your meals " "I'm going to put a stop to your being an oflice wife. Tomorrow's Thursday. Take the day off and get your junk together. We could grab a train for the Adirondacks, stopping en route at the City Hall for His Honor to marry us. But I warn you. I'll be one of those cup-of-coffee, kiss and run husbands " "I don't care," said Croney. "Then it's all set. Now I've got to do something about Tommy. I want him for best man. See you in church." He left her sitting on the steps . . . Corey found Lambert at the floating crap game in a downtown warehouse. Lambert greeted him with a wintry smile. "I've just won a bet with myself that you would show up soon after your reporter failed to return," said the gambler. "Come into my office." Corey followed him into a dilapidated dilapi-dated room with a desk and some chairs in it. He drew some long papers from an inside coat pocket. "Sit down. I wanted these returned. A note and a policy of one of my clients." "All right, now you've got them I suppose I'll be seeing Jarvis around as usual?" "That depends." Lambert struck a gong, made a notation on a pad. "What's it going to cost me?" asked Corey. "It's going to cost you your newspaper." A henchman entered and Lambert said: "Call this number num-ber and tell Jerry to 'phone me here in exactly five minutes." He handed Corey a typewritten paper. "There's a transfer turning all your stock over to me. The transaction will be for cash." "Suppose I say no?" "You won't. You wouldn't let Jarrett down. He saved your life on the waterfront that night." "How do I know I'd get Tommy back alive if I signed?" "When that 'phone call comes from Jerry, I'll tell him to turn Jarrett loose, and you walk out with no harm done if you sign." "And if I don't sign?" "No one will ever see Jarrett alive again, and ... it would be a cinch for you to be missing down here." "You want that paper more than just to get me. Why?" "You've opened by eye3 to things I can do with a newspaper." "You'll never get such power In your hands through me!" "Oh, yes, I will. I'll give you a pen," Lambert opened a drawer, nulled out a enm. "Rrhi" -""---. gun-hand. They went down to the floor struggling. A shot punctuaced the struggle. Then Corey, dazed and trembling, stood up, gazing down at the dead body of the gambler. He was brought to consciousness con-sciousness of his surrounding by running footsteps. He sprinted to the door and locked it. Then he answered the telephone in a disguised dis-guised voice. "Hello! Yeh . . . It's okay, Jerry, turn the kid loose!" Blows were raining upon the door. Corey seized Fenton's I.O.U., his insurance policy and the papers transferring ownership of the tabloid, tab-loid, sprang to a window. It opened open-ed on to a fire escape. He stepped out of the window as the door splintered under a blow . . . "If I'd known you were coming I'd have fried some eggs," said Croney next morning when Corey called at her apartment. "Croney . . ." He steeled himself. him-self. "Why is it people don't say things to people they love until it's too late? ... I mean, it's all mixed up " "Bruce, you're in trouble!" "Well, Croney, you are a great person and a part of me without with-out me ever knowing it. I have loved you for years, without knowing know-ing that 'either." "Oh, it's not too late to tell me that!" she laughed. "Yeh, I missed the boat. You see, you gave all the time, while I just took. It's caught up with me, beat me." She became very quiet, "Aren't we going to be married?" "No, honey." She took a deep breath. "All right, dear ... Do you want to tell me why?" "Last . night I shot and killed Merrill Lambert." She was still so long, he asked: "Croney, did you hear what I just said? . . . There wasn't anything left for me to do." With a little cry she went into his arms. "Do you love me?" "More than anything I ever have." "Then I don't care." "The bunch at the office are giving giv-ing us a party this afternoon. We'll have to go through with that, pretend nothing has happened . . ." How they got through that party neither of them knew, but somehow some-how they did. As they were leaving leav-ing to take a taxi, Inspector Brody called Corey aside. The police, he said, had found fingerprints on the door, the telephone and the window of thS room in which Lambert had been murdered; the Lieutenant in charge had some ideas he wanted to talk over with Corey. "Thanks, Brody, but I've given myself an assignment today and I'm going through with it. But I |