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Show I for tltuav.rg romance or insidious intrigue, it stopped beside a high I stone wall and David Talbot j alighted, alert and apprehensive, j j With no one in sight, he hurried I forward on foot, intently scanning the foliage which crowded the mas-! mas-! sive masonry from behind. A speck of white which fluttered in the i breeze was the sign he was seek-j seek-j ing; it was a handkerchief tied to a cherry bough. Quickly, from beneath his coat, i Monsieur Talbot drew a small, tightly wrapped package and tossed 3 it over the wall. In another moment mo-ment he was back in his car and gone. Even more furtive was the weazened, weaz-ened, dapper little man who had been waiting anxiously on the other side of the barrier but gendarmes had him before he'd moved ten paces with the precious package. In it were three thousand francs in marked notes and a lot of waste paper. The Carlos Le Due trial charge, extortion ; complainant, ' , ' ''Si' K" - k - "., i '. : : ? r i j, .... . . f- ? - .- ' -. ,,. -, , ... --y " - v ' ' ; ... . ' . Lr J i i4 . , t David Talhot -aarllngr " t was asked to confront her in tne crowded courtroom. To refute the fantastic story as witnesses for the state, the yu?f diplomat, his loyal wife, and his friends were forced to bare a skeleton skele-ton in the Talbot closet with which not all of Paris was familiar Brilliant, testy little Dr. Andre Tessier told David's story most graphically. "I first met Monsieur Talbot," he recited, "when he was brought to my hospital in Avignon a few days after the wreck of the Marseilles-Paris Express on me night of March 2Y, 1922. Monsieur was one of the few survivors, lie was still in a coma when admitted-His admitted-His chances of recovery seemed slim his skull was terribly fractured, frac-tured, his right side and right arm were crushed to a pulp. Hut the patient's constitution proved remarkably strong and he regained consciousness after a few days. To my dismay, I discovered that the brain injury had been more serious than I had thought. There was complete amnesia. He knew nothing no-thing of his life up to the moment mo-ment he awoke in my hospital bed. "How did you know, Dr. Tessier, defense counsel asked, "that your patient was David Talbot and not Jean Pelletier?" "He was identified," the doctor replied and his questioner smiled as he continued , "by the captain cap-tain of the freighter that had brought Monsieur Talbot from Martinique Mar-tinique to Marseilles." It was the court president who observed, after reference to his dozier: "Capt. Maurice Durand died in 1923 in a wreck off Madagascar!" Madagas-car!" "So only one man identified your patient, doctor and that man Is now conveniently dead," remarked remark-ed Le Due's lawyer smugly. Dr. Tessier bristled but ignored the evil insinuation. "Under careful and prolonged treatment," he continued. con-tinued. "Mnnalpur Talbot became "One million francs!" gasped Lucienne. "What is this, Davidl" CROSSROADS Adapted from the Metro' Coldwyn-Mayer Picture by RANDALL M. WHITE CAST OF CHARACTERS David Talbot - William Powtlt LucUnn Talbot - - - Hady Lmmnrr Mlchcla Allalna - - - Clair Trevor Henri Sarrou - - - - Basil Rathbotf Mm. Pelletiar - Margaret Wycharly Dr. Andra Tlar - Fall Braasart Dr. Alax Dubroc - - Stf Rumania Proaacutlng Attornay - - M.B. Warnar Commlasaira Philip Morvaf Carlot La Due Vladimir Sokololf asset then was the promise of a brilliant career in the diplomatic diplo-matic service. And David, as this brilliant career unfolded, was an equal source of wonder to his associates in the Foreign Office grave, serious, demanding de-manding in his work but carefree care-free and lighthearted as a child in the companionship of the girl he had married and loved with an almost frightening frighten-ing devotion. Landers, the butler, handed Monsieur a letter when they Chapter One Pieces in the everlasting chess pimo of international affairs were being shifted rapidly in the spring of 1935. Great minds that had long since discerned approaching disaster were frantically sacrificing pawns to threaten king-rows and, hopefully, affect a check-mate. Paris was In the thick of it. French diplomacy faced its greatest challenge. chal-lenge. The science of political economy had become a serious busi- nHand3ome, virile David Talbot finished his lecture before a university univer-sity group that with a single exception had hung on his every word. He had dealt most specifically specifical-ly with the personal side of the successful diplomat's life. "If you wish to remain in the Foreign Office," Of-fice," he said in closing, "you are expected to keep your life free from any taint of scandal. Remember, Re-member, as Frenchmen, you have a reputation and if you live up to it . . . you'll be in trouble!" Smiles at the speaker's closing quip were pardonable but scarcely scarce-ly the conduct of his one inattentive inatten-tive listener who, most of the time, had been peeking at him through a tube of paper she had mischievously mis-chievously rolled to simulate a telescope! And this young woman heckled him in the question period that followed. She seemed oddly out of place among those around her. Other women there were so severe in manner and dress as many of the old bewhiskered men who were predominant in the audience. She was a butterfly an elf! Her ' modish clothes belonged to that other Paris where the science of dress and not of politics had long commanded the world's attention. atten-tion. Eyes that danced and flashed in an alabaster contour tinted faintly faint-ly with the bloom of fragile roses bespoke little concern with troubled international affairs. The butterfly the elf was his bride of a scant three months. David found her hiding in his limousine when he set out for home. "Thought you were clever, didn't you, asking we those questions?" ques-tions?" David chided as he smothered smoth-ered her in his arms. "Who let you in there anyway?" "Oh, I just made a face like a student and walked in," was Lu-cienne's Lu-cienne's laughing answer. "I thought it would be a pleasant surprise." Monsieur and Madame Talbot had been "playing" for years. Friends never ceased to marvel at the gaiety and effervescence which continued to bubble in the romance which had swept both of them off their feet the first time they met. Lucienne, born to wealth and position, posi-tion, had seemed to lose on the Instant every trace of hard sophistication. sophis-tication. She was a happy, laughing . girl again at the very first words of love she heard from the lips of i a poor, unknown youth whose only normal In every respect but one memory. He still is cut off by a veil of blackness from that period of his life prior to 1922. Across the years, I am proud to say, I have become his friend as well as his physician. I know his soul as well as his brain. To say that David Talbot is a criminal is rubbish!" rub-bish!" Established as a victim of amnesia, am-nesia, David himself contributed nothing of value to the case for the state. Indeed, he increased the doubt as to his own identity when he admitted that a trip to Martinique Mar-tinique soon after his recovery had failed to locate a single person there who had ever heard of a David Talbot. Lucienne could offer nothing more than that she and many others knew of the blank in her husband's life when she married him. The doubt would not down. As the trial progressed, there seemed increasing acceptance of the defendant's de-fendant's claim, despite his refusal to explain how Jean Pelletier had come to owe him a million francs. Damning testimony was droning on when one Henri Sarrou pushed his way into the crowded courtroom court-room and asked to be heard. "I have documentary evidence which applies to the action on trial," was his dramatic declaration. Under oath, Sarrou, wine salesman, sales-man, declared Jean Pelletier had died in a bed next to his in a hospital in North Africa. He had come to know the patient well, ha said. The documentary evidence he presented were papers the dying man had confided to his care. Among them was an identification card signed: "Jean Pelletier!" So Carlos Le Due, was sentenced sen-tenced to a year in prison. But soon David Talbot, distinguished distin-guished young diplomat whose wife's ancestral jewels were among the most valuable in Paris had occasion to remember something sinister he thought he had observed in the manner of this Sarrou, wine salesman, who had appeared out of nowhere in the nick of time to "save" everything he held dear! Setting a tighter trap in the next installment. Printed In U. B. A. Coprrifht 1M1 by Lotw'a Inc. reached home. He said a messenger mes-senger had brought it. "What's in it, darling?" Lucienne asked anxiously when she saw her husband's face blanche as he finished reading the missive. David was slow to answer. Knots in his knitted brow told of hopeless hope-less efforts he was making to pierce a past that was sealed. He creased and re-creased the paper he held in his hands; then he extended ex-tended it to his frightened wife. "Dear Jean," Lucienne began to read aloud. "But it's not for you," she exclaimed. "It's addressed to me," David answered slowly. "Allow an old friend to congratulate congratu-late you on your noble career," the letter continued. "Accept my good wishes for a happy life with your beautiful bride. You are now able to pay me that old debt of one million francs." Lucienne gasped in astonishment. "One million francs, what does it mean, David?" "Read on," we- David's only answer. an-swer. "May I suggest," the letter continued, con-tinued, "that you deliver the money to the throw it over the wall at a point where you will observe a handkerchief tied to a cherry tree. I am sure you will understand the reason for these quixotio instructions in-structions and the reason this letter must remain unsigned." Lucienne sat silent when she had finished reading, then she whispered: whisper-ed: "David, I'm frightened!" David forced an air of nonchalance. nonchal-ance. "Nothing to be frightened about, dear," he said lightly, ". . . it's just that I can't imagine ' "What are you going to do?" Lucienne asked fearfully. The young diplomat's thoughts had forsaken the mystifying past for the immediate present. "If you wish to remain in the Foreign Office he had declaimed from a lecture platform only an hour or two before, "you are expected to keep your life free from any taint of scandal." "Do? . . . Well ," he said with a shrug of his square, strong shoulders, shoul-ders, "I guess there's only one thing to do!" The bright spring day was turning turn-ing smoky with dusk as a little roadster with a single occupant moved slowly along a side road in the almost fabulous Bois de Boulogne, for centuries the setting Monsieur David Talbot, distinguished distinguish-ed member of the French diplomatic diplo-matic service was a reigning sensation for days. "I first met this gentleman, David Talbot," the prisoner testified, testi-fied, "in 1919 right after the War. I knew him in Buttes Chau-mont. Chau-mont. But he wasn't David Talbot then he was known as Jean Pelletier! He was a charming fellow, fel-low, well educated, highly respected in the community. Not one breath of scandal ever attached to his name . . . until he met that woman." "What woman?" asked the court president. "Just a girl he picked up in Paris," LeDuc went on. "It wasn't long until he quit his job. Soon he had a reputation as a petty criminal, with a list of crimes charged against him as long as a bell-rope. But he had a great talent for escape and was never caught by the police. It was in 1922, later on, that he came to owe me one million francs. It was a decent debt nothing dark about it." The little man, with dancing pince-nez, faintly suggestive of a mouse at bay yet not uncultured in manner, turned noble. "I regret," he continued, "that I am not at liberty to give further details of that financial transaction. Perhaps Monsieur Talbot will explain I cannot. It was shortly after incurring incur-ring this debt that Jean Pelletier disappeared. Years passed and I never heard from him or of him. Then one day, a month or so ago, I saw his picture in the paper and the announcement of his marriage mar-riage to Lucienne de Couville. I knew the de Couville family to be one of the most aristocratic in France. I realized from the newspaper news-paper that Jean had changed his name but, whatever his little game, I had no wish to spoil it. I only wanted my million francs and I wrote and asked for it. My only answer was a knife in the back!" So LeDuc posed the question and newspaper headlines screamed: "DIPLOMAT OR HOODLUM" . . . "TALBOT ACCUSED List of Crimes as Long as a Bell Rope!" Michele Allaine, entertainer at the Parisian Club Sirene, testified in dramatic confirmation of the defendant's de-fendant's claim. She'd been Jean Pelletier's sweetheart Apparently overcome with emotion, she called |