Love on the Run

I'll get it!

No, no, never mind.

I'll get it.

I think it's for me.

Maybe it's for me.

Yeah, well I'll

let you know.

Hello?

Good morning.

It's 11 o'clock.

Assassinated! Well give me the details!

Are all newspaper

men lunatics?

Near Saint Gregory's?

Hey, get into

youre Dutch.

Prince... Prince Dittleboomer,

whatever his name is...

that guy who's gonna

marry Sally Parker

has just been

assassinated.

Uh huh. In front

of the Cathedral.

Shot through the heart with an

old copy of the New York chronicle.

It's 11:
00. you see,

Michael, my sweetheart,

I left the call.

Barney, you say things at

times in a way that hurts.

Now we've covered

assignments together

for our dear little

papers all over the world.

Share and share alike.

Yeah. Two for you

and one for me.

Now those are the things

that cut deeply.

Then I'll try to think

of some more of them.

Go on. Get to the tag.

We've both got to cover two

tame assignments, haven't we?

Yep. A Spandermann

stratosphere flight

and the wedding of Sally

Parker to that phony prince.

And for some

bright reason,

you want to cover

the Spandermann hop.

Well, you don't like the baron,

sweetheart, he's a publicity pest.

So why do you want

the assignment?

Well, I used

to fly a bit.

I'm interested

in aviation.

And you think maybe a real piece

of news might break there, huh?

I give you my word.

If anything breaks,

I'll pass it on to you

before I cable it in.

You could have been sitting in the

theatre the night Lincoln was shot

and you wouldn't

have covered me.

I'd have told

you, I swear.

Oh, yeah. You'd have told

me Lincoln shot booth.

Call it.

Heads.

Tails.

You get Parker.

Parker...

Hey, Mike. Take it off.

We want to see the rabbits.

You can't take a rib, huh?

Follow that cab!

Is everything over, sir?

Over? It's just started!

That's the Parker

girl, wasn't it?

The wedding

isn't over, is it?

She looked to me like she'd been crying.

I thought she

was laughing.

Eighth floor,

please.

Hold it a minute

for the baron.

Hello.

How do you do?

I thought you were covering

little Sals meeting festivities.

I am.

What are you

doing here?

Well I finished my

story, Mr. Pells.

Only the unimaginative type

of newspaper man like yourself

would sit through

the ordeal.

I'm off for

a little recreation.

Oh, you're dealing with a

superior mentality, poppo.

Where did you steal

those flowers?

A slight case of

romance, Mr. Pells,

something that'll never

come into your life.

Now listen, Mike,

whenever you get polite this way

you're sitting on something hot.

Now be a pal, will you?

You doubt me, Mr. Pells?

No, I don't doubt you.

I just think

you're lying.

Mein apartment!

Baron! I'd like to have

you meet Mike Anthony.

Just another reporter

on your trail like me.

Ah, a reporter!

Yeah! Wants

a special interview

with the New York

chronicle. Their best man.

They took him off the

Parker wedding to cover you.

Delighted...

flowers for the baroness and everything.

That's the chronicle,

for you.

Baron, this

isn't exactly...

America is waiting for my flight

through the stratosphere, ja?

Look, Baron,

Mr. Pells here...

yes, the latest

photograph

of the baroness

and myself.

The official takeoff is this afternoon.

I have more here.

Yes, that's very nice,

Baron, but...

Pells:
Well, you wouldn't

want to go, would you?

Where are your manners?

You'll excuse

my wife, please.

She's having her

usual salt rub.

Excellent before

I'm flying.

Pells:
What a story-

conditioning.

Mind and body

must be fit.

Noble pair battles elements.

Saxons conquer the ether.

Ah, exactly. You see,

the fleeing abarelle,

an invention of

my own,

you have photographers

downstairs, of course.

Yes, yes.

We should leave the hotel

dressed for the flight.

The management has kindly

cooperated in the publicity.

Well, look, Baron, if you'll

cooperate for just one minute...

you see the oxygen helmets

are not like any others.

They present

a radical departure...

yes, well Im about to present

a radical departure myself.

Hey, was ist?

Look, hey look, Baron,

Mr. Pells there,

he's just being funny.

I'm not a reporter, and i

just happened to remember

that I left the water

running in the bathtub.

Thanks a lot, Baron.

I'll see you later.

No, no, no. Where are

you going, Mr. Pells?

Well, as a matter of fact,

Baron, I just remembered that...

whoa, Mr. Pells,

don't go, don't go.

I have yet to explain my

whole purpose in this plan.

Where we go, and how

we go, and why we go.

What's a matter,

Sally Parker?

Take them away!

Do you hear me?

Take them right

back to Igor

and throw them in his

contemptible little face,

and you can tell him

and his queasy old uncle

if they want anybody to

sign a marriage settlement,

they can get another girl.

But, Miss Parker...

he wanted me for

myself, did he?

Only I had to buy

him in the bargain.

Well I'd buy his

whole Russian swamp

if I was sure he

didn't go with it.

That's what I'd do.

You can tell him that!

And you can tell his

uncles and his aunts

and his sisters

and his cousins and...

who are you?

Who, me? Oh, i... i

just want to help you.

How much will

that cost me?

Or do you happen

to be a reporter?

A reporter?

Well whatever

gave you that idea?

Then you must be from

that blind I nearly married.

You go back and tell

him that I'll...

I must admit

it Sally Parker,

i... well Im just

somebody that's known you

and thought of

you ever since,

well ever since I saw

your picture

in the rotogravure

section as a debutante.

That was

a long time ago.

Well, it wasn't

that long ago.

Well I mean that it seems that

way to me, not really meeting you.

Well, today I went

to saint Gregorys

to look at you for the

last time, that's all.

Sort of a silent

good-bye.

Do you expect me

to believe that?

No, I mean... uh, well i

know it sounds a little...

well a little Elsie

Dinsmore, but it's true.

Oh, oh, it's nice

to know that...

it's nice to know that someone

else besides my board of directors

and 9 million reporters really

cares about what happens to me.

But all my governesses and guardians never

stopped me from fighting my own battles,

and I'll take care

of this one, too.

If that's that dear, charming

attendee of royal bread pudding,

I'll tell him

a thing or two.

No, no, no.

Wait a minute.

That might be

reporters.

Reporters? Buzzards.

All right, let them come up.

I'll give them some real

headlines for once:

How Sally Parker

found romance.

So much down,

so much for every kiss.

Oh, oh Im sorry.

I thought you'd be pretty tired

of all this cheap notoriety.

I'm sick to my

stomach of reporters.

I've been blinded by their

flashlights ever since I can remember.

They put my impacted wisdom

tooth on the front page.

This ought a make

newspaper history!

Oh, you poor kid, you're

all tied up in... knots.

You ought a get away by yourself

for awhile and think things over.

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