I Am a Fugitive from a Chain Gang Page #4

We're giving a party tonight

at the Club Chateau.

How about joining us?

- I'd like to, but...

- Fine. And that includes Mrs. James.

Well, I don't know.

I'm not sure that she can come.

- I'll ask her.

- Right.

- Anyway, we'll expect you.

- Fine.

See you later.

Here's the revised budget

on the King's Highway Bridge.

By the way, while you were out,

your wife called.

Any message?

She won't be home until Wednesday.

She's gone to the country with her cousin.

I see.

She also said her account was overdrawn.

About $600.

She's got to stop it.

The same thing happened last month.

All right, make out a check

for the amount...

and deposit it in her bank

when you go to lunch.

Yes, sir.

- Good night, Mr. James.

- Good night.

Hello.

Hello, yourself. Is Marie there?

That's funny. Where do you think she is?

She had a date with me

and she's giving me a stand-up...

and it's the first dame

that ever gave me a stand-up.

You can tell her that Sammy called...

and you can tell her where she can go

with little Sammy's compliments.

Tell her that, will you? And listen...

not a word to her husband, understand?

- Don't you dance?

- Not if I can get out of it.

That makes two of us.

I don't care much for dancing

in such a crowd.

- I don't like crowds anywhere.

- What do you like to do?

Build bridges, roads for people to use...

when they want to get away from things.

That sounds interesting.

But they can't get away. Nobody can.

You're a strange person.

Don't pay any attention to what I say.

You'd like to get away from here

right now, wouldn't you?

You don't like this party.

I like it better now.

Well, I was on the verge of sneaking home.

I'm not so sure I want to now.

We might make a getaway.

I don't think they'd miss us. How about it?

Come on.

Well, here we are.

Tell me some more about your work.

It sounds fascinating.

Why talk about work?

That's what interests you, isn't it?

No. There are other things

that interest me, too.

Do you mind if we stay here a while,

or must you go home?

There are no musts in my life.

I'm free, white and 21.

- You're lucky.

- Why?

You can go where you want,

when you want.

Can't you?

Yes. And no.

You're a strange, moody person.

You need somebody

to pull you out of those doldrums.

Are you applying for that job?

- I might consider it.

- You're hired.

- When do I start?

- You've started, several hours ago.

Don't you see, Marie?

If you get a divorce,

I'll give you anything you want.

I swear I will.

What's the use of arguing?

I told you I was satisfied

with the way things are.

- Can't you see that neither of us is happy?

- I'm happy!

I'm taking no chances of letting you go.

Listen. You're going to be a big shot

some day, with plenty of sugar...

and I'm going to ride right along. Get that?

I'm no fool.

I'd be a sucker to let you go now.

But I'm in love with another woman.

That's just too bad.

Why don't you play the game square?

Square? So that you and your sweet

mama can give me the grand go-by?

Be yourself.

If you don't listen to reason,

I'll find some way.

You do, and you'll serve out your time.

It's no worse than serving out my time

with you.

You'll be sorry you said that!

Now, listen.

You've held a sword over my head

about long enough.

It's about time you called it quits.

You've been bluffing me, and I've been

fool and coward enough to fall for it.

You filthy, good-for-nothing convict!

A bluff? You'll see.

- You'll see.

- Put that down.

- Give me the police station.

- Put that down!

You don't think you'll stop me, do you,

now that I've made up my mind?

We'll only take a minute of your time,

Mr. James.

In view of your marvelous achievement

on the new Stevens Bridge...

the Chamber of Commerce would like you

as their principal speaker at their banquet.

Thank you very much.

I feel highly complimented.

There's two detectives coming through,

Mr. James.

I told them you were busy

but they wouldn't wait.

I'm sorry.

I'm afraid you'll have to excuse me.

Mr. James or Mr. Allen

or whatever your name is...

I have a warrant for your arrest.

- And we can quote you literally?

- Certainly.

Everything I've said are facts.

I want this rotten

chain-gang system exposed.

Print it all!

How about a special signed story

for our Sunday supplement?

Sure, I'll write it. Gladly.

How long were you

on the chain gang before, Mr. Allen?

Governor Baxter has not yet

signed the extradition papers.

Until he does, I cannot turn Mr. Allen

over to the custody of your state.

In view of Allen's record here

since his escape...

our state has authorized us

to assure you...

that if he'll return voluntarily...

and pay the state

the expense it's been put to...

he'll be pardoned in 90 days.

Why is it necessary

for my client to return at all?

Why mete out punishment to a man

who has proven himself a useful...

and honorable citizen?

Merely a technicality.

No prisoner is eligible for pardon

until he's served 90 days.

Does that mean

that I'll have to serve 90 days?

- Back on the chain gang?

- No.

You'll be given some clerical job

in one of the camps.

Well, it rests entirely with my client...

but I'd advise him to stay right here.

Gentlemen, there's someone else

I'd like to consult on the matter...

- if you don't mind.

- Certainly.

They've promised me a full pardon

within 90 days if I go back.

Can you trust them?

I don't see why not.

I'm giving myself up voluntarily.

Besides, I want to get it

all cleaned up now...

so that nothing will stand in the way

of our happiness.

I think it best, darling.

Why, they can't fail to pardon you.

And then, when you come back,

you'll be free. For always.

And we'll be together. Always.

These stories you've been hearing,

gentlemen, are absurd.

Why, our chain gangs are beneficial

to the convicts...

not only physically, but morally.

I can cite you...

Gentlemen, I've decided to go back.

Voluntarily.

On your assurance of a pardon.

And you won't regret your decision.

I presume, Mr. Allen,

your Chicago attorneys informed you...

that I would be in complete charge

of your case down here?

Yes, he did.

Let's get the financial end

straightened out first.

Your capture and return cost the state...

$350. My fee will be $2,500.

$1,000 now,

and $1,500 when you get your release.

This is for the state.

You know, of course...

that you'll have to go to a prison camp

for 90 days.

- There's your check.

- Thanks, Allen.

There's no reason to believe

that after the 90 days...

I won't get my pardon then, is there?

This is a funny state

and the Governor's a little peculiar.

You see, all that publicity you gave out

about the conditions here...

didn't help any.

But I'll get my pardon?

They'll give you the pardon.

But that clerical job they promised you

isn't so definite.

They might want you to work

for about 60 days.

This is the guy

that all that fuss was about.

And if he tries to escape this time,

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