Satan Met a Lady Page #5

Oh, splendid.

- Oh. Service for two?

- Yes.

I had a hunch

that I was going to have company.

So, that's why you didn't meet me

at the Buckingham.

I see. You preferred the privacy

of your own modest, little home.

Yes, I've always been known

as a regular old homebody.

- And a very thorough one.

- Yes, just an old custom of mine.

- What? No armistice? Even at dinner?

- Nope. Not yet.

Well...

Oh, did I tell you,

your English friend called on me today?

It seems he wants me

to find him some old French horn.

I suppose if somebody paid you for it,

you'd try and find Santa Claus.

Honey, if they paid me enough, I would.

Well, you'd have

as much chance of finding him

as you would of finding me

with an old French horn,

if there is any such thing.

You never heard of Roland or his trumpet?

Or how the Saracens filled it with gems?

Either I've hired the wrong detective

or you usually have brighter ideas.

I don't think I was shooting so wild.

He said the trumpet

and the killings of Farrow

and good old Ames were connected.

You were connected with the two killings.

But just vaguely, of course.

So there was a chance that you

and the trumpets were connected.

- There isn't any connection.

- There must be. Someplace.

It wasn't for nothing

the Englishman tore up my rooms,

gave me 500 good dollars,

and offered me a lot more.

$5,000. That's something to work for.

You know, we could mean something

to each other, really,

if the $5,000 didn't mean so much to you.

Darling, that $5,000 is only for the

delivery of some silly old saxophone

I don't even know exists.

But I do know about you.

Maybe, after I've cleared up

a few murders,

you and I could have a lot of fun.

Isn't that a lot surer than looking

for some silly old French horn?

Wouldn't that

be worth working for, really?

While you're figuring that out,

scratch your head, sweetheart,

with both hands.

I'm going to search the place.

- What are you looking at?

- Nothing.

You've been here for hours.

That's a long time to look at nothing.

Have a cigar, Officer.

Thanks. Hope this doesn't keep me awake.

Well, I guess the trumpet isn't here.

I told you it wasn't,

but you wrecked the place anyway.

Well, that's only

what your English friend did to me.

Would you mind

if I stop scratching my head now?

- Oh, no, of course not.

- Thank you so much.

You do trust me, don't you? A little?

If you want me to help you,

you've got to tell me everything.

I can't tell you. Yet.

- That's an answer the police won't go for.

- The police?

And we were going

to have such fun together.

So that silly offer of $5,000 does mean

more to you than me or anything!

Well, I'm not sure yet. I...

I'm in a tough spot.

$5,000 is a lot of money.

- Who is it?

- King Kong.

Hello, Shane.

Good morning, boys.

You're looking foggier than usual.

You seem to be having plenty

of trouble lately, Shane.

Even at home. Your joint's all torn up.

Looks like I got married, doesn't it?

Well, maybe not that, but you certainly

let yourself in for a lot of grief.

Or maybe you got mixed up

with something

without quite knowing what it was, huh?

Then you don't think I'm naughty.

You just think I'm dumb.

Ain't you gonna tell us

a little bit of something?

Telling you anything would be like

contributing to the delinquency of a minor.

- What'd he mean by that?

- Yeah, yeah.

I wasn't kidding.

I'll turn you over to the police

if you follow me with that beanie on.

My boss wants to see you.

- Alive?

- Yeah, for just a few minutes.

Aunty? Here he is.

Mr. Shane, I believe?

I believe one thing now myself.

This is no snipe hunt.

We're after something really big if you're

in on this chase, Madame Barabbas.

Oh, then you recognize me.

It's a face that haunts every detective

and copper in the world

in his worst nightmares.

Oh, that is a compliment, in a way.

It's the only sort of compliment

this old physiognomy deserves.

Madame Barabbas,

it's good to have you with us.

It's not often we're honored by a visit

from one of the really fine masters.

I don't seem much

of a nightmare to you, sir.

Not to me, Madame.

If you've come all the way

to our quiet little city,

somewhere about, there must

be plenty of money to be made.

Plenty of money, Mr. Shane? Say when.

No?

We begin well.

I mistrust a man who says when.

If he has to be careful not

to drink too much,

he can't be trusted when he does.

Shall we drink to the trumpet?

If we're going to talk about that

French saxophone, we'd better drink.

No kidding.

Are you really in this game of

"Bugle, bugle, who's got the bugle"?

I am.

You're here, I take it, as the representative

of the beautiful Miss Valerie Purvis?

I'm working for her. And I'm working

for an Englishman named Travers.

- Is he still after it, too?

- Yes.

Although, you couldn't exactly say

that I'm here working for either of them.

- Who else is there?

- There's me.

Oh, that's very good.

I mistrust a man who says

he isn't working for himself.

So far, the Englishman

has paid me $500 to get the trumpet.

The girl has paid out $500 for protection.

- Protection? From what?

- She hasn't said.

I think it's from the police,

from the Englishman

and probably from you, Madame.

Very probably.

Did she mention anything

about the trumpet?

She said she doesn't know anything

about any trumpets.

- I take it for granted she's lying.

- She's lying all right, Mr. Shane.

You're not drinking your drink.

Anything wrong with it?

I was just wondering.

There might be a knockout powder in it.

There was.

It would have laid you low

before you'd finished it.

And that cigarette would have

laid you low before you finished it.

Mr. Shane, I love you.

Now then, let's get back to business.

Mr. Shane, I spent six years

tracing that trumpet.

I finally found the owner of it

in Greece in the city of Salonika.

A man named Tyrilias Constantinidis.

I sent two people as my agents

to get it from him.

The Englishman Travers

and the beautiful Miss Valerie Purvis.

- They got it?

- They got it.

And decided to keep it for themselves.

Evidently, Miss Purvis further decided

to keep it for herself

and framed the Englishman.

I traced her here, as I suppose

the Englishman did, and here we all are.

Oh, there it is. My pipe case.

So that's what became of it.

- You stole it, you little thief.

- I'm telling you, mister.

And I'm telling you.

You stole it thinking the trumpet was in it.

- I ought to box your ears off!

- Don't put your hands on me!

- Why you! Why you!

- I'll kill you! I'll kill you!

Sit down, Kenneth, and behave yourself.

What were we talking about,

Mr. Shane, eh?

Oh, of course, that French horn,

as you call it.

Well, I assure you, it's worth the trouble.

Then it's worth paying me plenty for,

if I turn it over to you.

- Then you know where it is?

- Well, I know where to get it.

At the right time, for the right price.

What would you say

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