OCR Text |
Show I Sarrou. "We're still content with ! our half. Le Duo knows it will be j waiting for him when he gets out i of prison!" 1 Trained to predicate every action ac-tion on basic facts whenever they could be established, David Talbot, ' diplomat, had been patient for a , purpose. Now Sarrou had told him I the origin of the "debt" someone ' expected him to pay. There was no longer need for restraint. "Get out of my house!" he said again and this time even Sarrou, confessed con-fessed bandit-murderer, was frightened fright-ened at the tenseness of his tone, i "Jean, you're a fool!" he cried as he leapt to his feet, ". . . and I swear to you that if you don't The library door swung open and Lucienne came in. "You've been away so long, darling," she said quietly, "I thought " Sarrou's departure was not hurried. hur-ried. His "Goodnight" to both the Talbots was pleasant and David's E t , t , . 4 U h ' ' , i V ' t T'k' ' ' ' ,f H ' J X"k ' 1 ' C '-' I ; - "You must at least have a drinfc with us" David insisted. CROSSROADS Adapted from the Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer Picture by RANDALL M. WHITE CAST OF CHARACTERS David Talbot .... William Powell Lucienna Talbot .... Hcdy Lamarr Michala Allaina ... - Clairm Trevor Henri Sarrou .... Basil Rathbon Mme. Palletiar ... Margaret Wychcrly Dr. Andra Tattler ... - Felix Bressart Dr. Alex Dubroc Stg Rumann Protecuting Attorney . K. 8. Warner Committaira .... Philip Merivala Carlo La Due .... Vladimir SokoloH Never was an evening so long, never was merriment so false, David thought bitterly as he tried to be gay for his guests. Dancing had begun when Landers Lan-ders whispered something in his ear a summons to the library where Sarrou awaited him! "Why did you come here?" he demanded coldly. Sarrou smiled and extracted a cigarette case from his pocket. "Possibly because I forgot for-got this case," he said. "Do you mind if I sit down?" picture looked old and indistinot but surely the girl was Michele and just as suiely her companion was the young carser diplomat whom all Kurope knew as Monsieur David Talbot! "Where did you get that?" David forced himself to say. "Where did I get It?" Michele jeered. "Santa Claus gave It to me for Christmas ! " His whole world seemed to be crumbling, the walls of his familiar, friendly office were crushing him, as Jean Pelletier's sweetheart slammed slam-med the door and David Talbot sank into his chair. That evening David stood thoughtfully at the library window while his wife was dressing for dinner. He saw a taxi pull up at the curb. The driver alighted and ran up the stoop with something some-thing his passenger had given him. David was in the hall when his butler handed him a letter. A neatly folded newspaper clipping clip-ping fell to the floor from his nervous fingers as they tore open the envelope. It was the front page of the Journal de Marseilles, dated March 27, 1922 and its headlines screamed: "BANK ROBBERS ROB-BERS SLAT MESSENGERS ESCAPE WITH TWO MILLION FRANCS!" Pinned to the corner was a typewritten note: "Be at the Club Sirene tonight at 10." There was no signature. "What's the matter, darling?" asked Lucienne gently at dinner. David was evasive and unconvincing. uncon-vincing. When he'd gone out after dinner, pleading extra work at the office, his distraught wife turned to her friend and David's for help. "Tell Dr. Tessier to call Madame David Talbot as soon as he returns," she requested of his secretary when she found this physician-friend -who "knew David Talbot's soul as well as his brain" absent from his office. It was Michele who received David in her frowsy apartment when he presented himself at the Club Sirene. She made no further pretense at protecting him or helping help-ing him. Without ado, Monsieur Talbot drew checkbook and fountain pen from his pocket. "Every shred of decency tells me I shouldn't do this," he said, "but perhaps Sarrou would be impressed with a check for . . . twenty thousand francs." "Ah, no, cheri," returned Michele chidingly. "You're talking about cabbage and Henri's talking about caviar . . . and besides, checks make him nervous." "As you wish I can arrange . to give him the cash," said David indifferently. "But not that kind of cash I not twenty thousand francs, my dear Jean," the girl admonished. I "Let's understand each other, ' Madame," said David sharply. "At ', the moment your friend Sarrou i has a certain 'nuisance value', ' worth to me a reasonable sum of money. Please don't make the mistake mis-take of assuming that I believe the Pelletier story." "Listen, Jean," Michele replied with equal sharpness, "Don't let your convenient trick memory let you forget one important thing. Sarrou got you out of a courtroom court-room once and he can get you back into one again. Before he, gets you behind bars, my dear, you'd better make provisions for those you'll leave behind. It won't help your case any when they find out you've let your own mother live like a pauper!" "I have no mother," said David sadly. "No? . . . then go to 19 Rue Blancheau and see a ghost!" was the bitter woman's parting thrust. SYNOPSIS: The happiness of David Talbot, Tal-bot, youny French career diplo-j diplo-j mat, and his bride, Lucienne, j scion of a socially prominent family, has been threatened by Carlos Le Due's attempt to extort ex-tort one million francs from David. At the court trial Le Due declares David is really Jean Pelletier, a criminal, and that Pelletier owed him an honest debt. Michele Allaine identifies David as her sweetheart, sweet-heart, Jean Pelletier. Dr. Andre Tessier testifies that David, badly bad-ly injured in a train wreck, suffers from amnesia and knows nothing of his past prior to thirteen years ago. Le Due is sent to prison and David's reputation repu-tation saved by the dramatic testimony of Hetwi Sarrou, unknown wine salesman, who produces "documentary evidence" to prove tliat Pelletier died in a Ivospital bed next to his in Africa. "What is it you want?" was David's only answer. "I want one million francs!" replied re-plied the visitor carelessly and stretched back luxuriously in the easy chair he had taken. David feigned amusement. "Why should I give you a million francs?" he laughed. . "Because you're a man with a past so delicate that to talk about it would give you great embarrassment," embarrass-ment," the wine salesman drawled. "Get out of my house!" replied David in quiet rage. "Not so fast," Sarrou snapped. "I have a story to tell, old friend. I'd like to tell it to you alone but if you'd rather share it with your guests " In the moment that David hesitated, hesi-tated, Sarrou began. "You know, that was a wonderful moment in the courtroom when the defense attorney said: 'Where were you on the night of March 27, 1922?' What woud you have answered if he had asked: 'Where were you on that morning V " "That would be difficult for a man with a memory to answer," David found himself saying. "Of course you've lost your memory," continued Sarrou sarcastically. sarcas-tically. "But I know where I was that morning. I was in Marseilles with my friend Jean Pelletier. It was a cold morning I remember the old man wore earmuffs as he stepped out of the bank carrying a rather large attache case. He climbed into a taxi. Everything went well until the driver turned up a crooked little street. Then the motor stopped. Suddenly the old messenger had visitors. The doors opened and two men stepped in. But, alas, the old fool decided to fight and lashed out like a cat. So one of the men drew a gun and shot him between the eyes . . . By the time the crowd gathered, the two men were gone and so was the attache case which . . . contained two million francs. And the taxi driver, who could hardly speak English he was a Russian refugee, you know, and at that time hadn't changed his name to Le Due when the police questioned ques-tioned him, of course he knew nothing about it," "Have you finished?" asked David evenly and Sarrou looked up with a suprised frown. "No, of course I haven't," he continued con-tinued testily, " now I come to the most interesting part. One of these two men was myself and the other the one with the gun was you. That night the night of March 27, 1922 you took the train to Paris bound for Holland to convert the money into foreign currency. We were to join you in Rotterdam. You skipped . . . with our share . . . one million francs! And now we're going to get our money!" "We?" asked David casually. "Yes Le Due pnd I," renlled hand touched his for a fleeting second as he looked at his lovely, loyal wife who must be protected from this new nightmare of horror! hor-ror! Beyond the fact that both had been characters in the same Carlos Le Due trial, David saw no connection between Sarrou and Michele Allaine, the hard, over-painted over-painted night club singer, when that worthy was announced as a visitor at his desk in the Foreign Office. He was most courteous when she was ushered in. "Jean, darling, can you ever forgive for-give me?" Michele cried as she rushed to him at his -desk. "Forgive you?" inquired David politely and unmoved. """'or what I did at the trial . . . I lst my head ... I might have don 2 you great harm!" his visitor explained. "Madame just what is it you want?" Monsieur Talbot asked coldly. "I don't want anything, Jean," replied Michele. "I came only to warn you about Sarrou. You know what he is, Jean he hasn't changed. He's out to ruin you! You have influence get him out of the way! But whatever you do, don.'t pay him it will only be the beginning he'll bleed you white!" The mention of Sarrou's name established irrevocably an association associa-tion between this buxom "volunteer "volun-teer sweetheart" and an admitted criminal. "If ever you or Sarrou as much as call me on the telephone," tele-phone," David said angrily as he rose to his feet, "I'll have you both thrown into jail like a couple of common thieves!" Then the singing star of the Club Sirene turned on "the-woman-scorned!" "Sarrou was right!" she shrieked. "You've changed . . . you're smug and hard and selfish . . . you're afraid you'll have to share with your old friends!" "Get out of here or I'll call the police right now!" David broke in hoarsely as he reached for the phone on his desk. Michele's smile bared the teeth of a tigress. "I can use the telephone tele-phone too, my sweet," she purred. "What would you say if I called the elegant wife of yours and told her all about her fine husband!" At the door as she was leaving, Madame Allaine stopped abruptly. With a quick movement of her hands she pulled over her head a chain from which was suspended a large, ornate locket. Returning deliberately de-liberately to David who stood forbiddingly for-biddingly behind his desk, she snap-'ped snap-'ped the locket open before him. "Look at it!" she commanded. What Monsieur Talbot saw almost al-most sent him reeling. The locket contained a snapshot of a young man and a young woman in bathing bath-ing suits in intimate pose. The Chapter Two The Talbots should have been supremely happy but legal proof sufficient to send Carlos Le Due to prison had not been enough to convince David, deep down in his heart, that in his forgotten past he had not, indeed, been Jean Pelletier, criminal. Even his imminent appointment as French Ambassador to Brazil failed to exhilirate him. His cheerfulness cheer-fulness the night he and Lucienne entertained for the Brazilian Ambassador Am-bassador to France was only a mask. Before the invited guests arrived Landers announced "a gentleman" and Henri Sarrou was ushered in. "You're having guests," he said as he looked around the . gaily deco-, deco-, rated patio in which he had been received. "Forgive my bad manners ' in choosing such an awkward time i to call." ! "Nonsense at least you can ! have a drink with us," replied David and Sarrou's toast was "To a good life!" I "Perhaps you'll dine with us .soon," suggested Lucienne as the 'apparently embarrassed visitor was about to take his departure. "Yes, do," pressed David, and added sincerely: "I've tried to look you up but you're not listed in the phone book. We're very grateful grate-ful to you, Sarrou . . . and you'd be doing us a great service if you could suggest some way in which we could express our gratitude." Sarrou answered quickly. "Really, Monsieur?" he said with significant inflection. David walked with him down the hall.- "Will you be remaining in Paris, or returning to Africa?" he asked. ' "Africa? Whatever would I be i doing In Africa?" was Sarrou's surprising response. i "But at the trial you ," replied David with puzzled expression. I The wine salesman laughed heartily. heart-ily. "Oh, yes ... I lie well, don't I? Sometimes I almost convince myself!" he said. When Sarrou returned David's farewell handclasp and went out Into the night "Au revoir, Jean!" 'were the stabbing words he uttered! An Irresistible power forced David's footsteps to the cheap tenement tene-ment in the Rue Blancheau within with-in the hour. There was a "Mme. Pelletier" there. Even in her shabby shab-by clothes and shabbier surroundings surround-ings she had the air of a gentlewoman. gentle-woman. Her son Jean was dead, she said in answer to the devouring devour-ing question David was almost afraid to ask. But at the door, as David was about to leave, she said with tender solicitude: "It's a bad night, Monsieur you should wear your rubbers . . . you'll catch cold" and she broke into sobs, grasped his hand, and covered it with kisses! The ancient Pont Neuf, spanning the black waters of the Seine, was on David Talbot's way home! Don't miss the final, exoitinf installment. Printed In TT. 8. A. ' Copyrieht 1942 by Loew'i Ina |