Rope of Sand Page #2

No, just my hotel.

My car's outside.

Oh, thank you but I'm staying

across town at the royale.

Oh, that happens to

be hotel, too.

And I'm tired of all this

nonsense anyway.

In that case.

I'll take you along

with pleasure.

Thank you.

Yes.

C'mon, what about it?

Oh, it's not so late.

I have a little headache.

Well, champagne's good for that.

Oh, you will excuse me.

Thank you very much.

Oh.

Good night.

Good night.

What's the matter?

Oh, I thought I had my key, but

I don't seem to be able to

find it.

I'll go to the desk.

Oh, don't worry.

I can call from your room.

I'll do it for you.

Thank you.

I'm giving you so much trouble.

Prerogative of a

beautiful woman.

If you take one more step, I...

I'll scream.

In any case, I'll scream Mr.

Martingale unless you pay me

100 pounds.

I suppose this is what I

deserve for forgetting my age.

But I am unmarried.

Why shouldn't I pay?

The directors of your

company, perhaps.

I can always clear myself

if it reaches court.

100 pounds.

The lawyer's fees alone

should come to that.

Not to mention the

bad publicity and

the time you waste.

Then don't forget, there's

always the jury.

Of course, if you're a

man of principle...

I take it you're quite

experienced.

The German is brutal.

The frenchman cries l'amour.

The American is hoping for

the cavalry to come.

And what do englishmen do?

They pay.

You know, I really should

dislike you for this.

Well, that doesn't concern me.

And you must have been such

a sweet girl once.

Tell me, what happened?

The war?

Frenchman?

German?

An American.

And that time, I kept hoping

for the cavalry to come.

Yes, yes, I think you'll

do very well.

The stupid ones always tried

to get to the door.

My dear young lady, I happen

to know that Mr. Parker left

town early this afternoon and

couldn't possibly have sent

that message.

I also knew that I was

walking into a trap.

A very clever one.

What are you going to do?

Call the police?

The police?

Heavens no.

100 pounds, you said.

How would you like 500?

I know my stock in trade.

I'm not worth it.

The market's rising.

An old friends has just derived

in diamond stud so I

have a job for you.

A job?

Is that so?

What kind of a job?

You'll ask him a question

to get him to answer.

What kind of question?

Michael, darling, now tell

me where the diamonds are?

In your own sweet

way, of course.

How do I know you'll pay?

Have you ever seen a

more honest face?

Very well then.

Shall we say half

the money then.

Oh, that's much better.

I take the job.

Good.

Now do you want to kiss me?

No.

I think not.

You better keep your kisses

for emergencies.

Ah.

But tell me, why should a young

woman with your talents

be driven to such extremities

as this?

There is an extra charge

for my life story.

Well, my dear.

We have a plane to catch

early tomorrow.

So I think I'd better

pack my bag.

But you can fix yourself a

drink if you like, miss...

uh, miss?

Renaud.

Suzanne to you, Mr. Martingale.

Fred.

Suzanne to you, Fred.

Pleasant holiday,

Mr. Martingale?

Very nice of you.

Have you missed me, Paul?

I've had company.

But none so beguiling

as I bring you now.

Mademoiselle Suzanne Renaud, may

I present Mr. Paul Vogel,

the head of our police bureau?

How do you do?

Mademoiselle Renaud is the

niece of one of our largest

French stockholders.

Forgive me, mademoiselle.

I'm a little overwhelmed

by such beauty.

Well put, commandant.

Consider this place for

a minute if you will.

It often reminds me of the

interior of a whale's belly.

You sure get around.

It's only an intellectual

association, of course.

But it's just from the whale's

sordid interior that we

scavenge to base for the

most exciting perfumes.

And that can turn we confused

with desirability, with

virtue, with great passion.

Say, why are you here?

I mean you, I, any of us?

Why do we stay here

in diamond stud?

Simply because we're infatuated.

Yes.

Infatuated.

Plucking at the skirts of this

woman, this desert, this

heartless courtesan.

But we, we stay here, eternally

hopeful for some

small glittering favor.

Amazing place, this place here

in the desert where the gems

lie just a few inches below the

surface, free, free for

the taking.

Were if not for certain

unfortunate restrictions.

Here go away.

You'll spoil the resin.

Dr. Hunter's famous

prescription for

pickling the heart.

One injection every 15 minutes.

The rhythm is very important.

Doc.

Michael.

Whiskey and soda.

You did a good job

on my boy, doc.

Did a good job on you, Michael.

Scar's almost gone.

Why not?

It has almost two years to heal.

Why did you come back?

I had business with Martingale.

And?

Now I'm in business for myself.

I'm making a survey.

Which of Vogel's boys drinks

the most, owes the most?

Henry.

What's happened to our

friend, Thompson?

He deserted you for Oscar.

I couldn't say, doctor.

He's drinking too much, Henry.

Far too much.

So I'm sitting in Oscar's

this afternoon.

He was already three

parts elephant.

He's probably still there.

The desert must be getting him.

I'm sorry to hear that.

Thanks, doc.

Still play poker here?

They should be starting soon.

Thanks.

Take the diamond itself,

for instance.

Carbon, soot chemically

speaking.

And yet, the hardest

of all matters.

So hard, in fact,

that whatever it

touches much suffer...

glass, steel, the human soul.

Why don't you go sell your

rugs somewhere else?

Heard a curious story the

other day, Mr. Davis.

It's about a young man, a hunter

who used to make his

living around here as

a guide until uh...

until he got into trouble.

What kind of trouble?

Oh, it seems he took an

impetuous gentleman somewhat

beyond the main hunting party.

This gentleman, he was

obsessed by one idea.

He wanted to shoot a lion.

So one night, they... they

camped quite near to the

prohibited area.

And to amuse the gentleman, he

started to tell him some of

the tales of the prohibited

diamond area.

Perhaps the one about the clerk.

You know the clerk that made a

quick dash past a barrier and

scooped up a bushel

or so of diamonds.

They're lying only a few

inches under the sand.

And he fled to Angola and from

there to england, and there

he's supposed to be living now

like a fabulous prince.

At any rate, in the morning when

the guide woke up, his

gentleman was gone past have

been into the prohibited area.

Is this interesting?

It's interesting.

Yes.

Well, eventually he found him

delirious and fantastic as it

sounds, wallowing, but

wallowing in a

virtual bed of diamonds.

He got him back, but the two

fell into the hands of the

diamond police and the impetuous

gentleman who so

badly wanted to shoot a lion

died, babbling incoherently.

Poor gentleman.

What happened to the guide?

Hm?

He was badly beaten by the

police and then he was

released after time a time

and sent packing.

But apparently, he has

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