The Mask of Dimitrios Page #7

Synopsis: A mystery writer named Leyden is intrigued by the tale of notorious criminal Dimitrios Makropolous, whose body was found washed up on the shore in Istanbul. He decides to follow the career of Dimitrios around Europe, to learn more about the man. Along the way, he is joined by mysterious Mr. Peters, who has his own motivation.
Director(s): Jean Negulesco
Production: Warner Bros. Pictures
 
IMDB:
7.2
APPROVED
Year:
1944
95 min
197 Views


But, herr wagner...

please don't

disappoint him

by showing yourself

less important than you seem to be now.

Important...

i see...

croupier:

Rouge et pair.

We have won.

Let's leave it there.

Should we risk

it all?

Of course.

Herr bulic,

play red with us.

I rather play black.

We have won again.

Oh, but karel

has lost.

Herr bulic is

an individualist.

Let's take

a big chance.

Let's leave it

all red.

All right.

That's mine,

3 blues on red.

Oh, we shouldn't

have played it all.

We cannot win every time.

Yes, but karel

hasn't won yet.

5,000 please.

40,000 dinar.

I must have

been mad.

It's nothing,

herr bulic.

You'll win another time.

Freiherr, will you take

madame back to our table

while herr bulic

and i settle things with the management?

Of course.

We shall have a good dinner now...

and then

some more champagne.

Yes?

Man on intercom:

Bulic lost 40. owe 20,000.

All right.

Herr wagner.

Herr werner.

I see you have given us

back a little of the money you won the other night,

both you and

the freiherr von kissling.

Don't worry, werner.

We'll win it again and more another time.

Very likely.

You are herr bulic.

Very unfortunate that

you should lose so heavily your first time here.

Herr bulic is

a very dear friend of mine, werner.

At the moment he is

unable to make good

the notes he signed

during the excitement of play.

Oh? When, may i ask,

can you pay?

I don't know.

Never.

Oh, come now.

You don't look like the sort

who'd gamble in a casino

and not pay his losses.

I am not.

I had 20,000 dinar.

It's all gone.

I haven't any money.

I don't know how to get it.

I would help

herr bulic if i could,

but unfortunately,

i have exceeded my expense account.

Perhaps the freiherr

could help you out.

Oh, no, no.

Well, it seems that

i shall be compelled to take steps.

Who's your employer?

No, please.

That won't due,

werner.

Herr bulic is

an official of the government.

It would mean

dismissal.

Well, i'm not

interested-

well, now wait.

Perhaps i can

help herr bulic after all.

Can you give us

24 hours?

24 hours.

Very well.

If you say so, herr wagner.

24 hours.

Herr bulic.

Thank you

very much.

Herr wagner...

my wife...

oh, we'll say nothing

of this to madame.

We'll let her believe

that everything's agreeable.

Tomorrow we'll

talk this all over. It won't be so difficult.

You will help me,

won't you?

Trust me,

my friend.

Yes?

Thank you.

Bulic?

Yes. He has taken

our little hint.

Why, herr bulic.

Werner telephoned

me at the office.

Why would he do that?

He said he wanted

to check up on me.

I have no privacy

at the ministry.

He must not telephone

me there again.

Of course.

He shouldn't embarrass you.

A drink?

No, thank you.

Well, herr bulic,

i think i can help you.

You can?

Oh, if you could

get me out of this frightful situation,

i'll be in

your debt forever.

I'll never gamble

another dinar.

I spoke by telephone

to my principles.

They're very

grateful to you for your assistance

with the binocular

contract.

They gave me permission

to make another arrangement with you.

Any assistance

i can give.

But it won't be time.

Werner said tonight.

Well, let's see.

You owe werner

20,000 dinar.

What would you say

to 50,000 dinar by this evening?

By this evening?

I can get the money

for you from the eurasian credit trust,

provided you

fulfill your part of the bargain.

Herr wagner,

i'd do anything, anything.

In your office

is a chart,

a chart of

the proposed minefields of the otranto straits.

You'll bring it

to me this evening.

You dirty spy.

The only risk

you take is in not doing as you're told.

You're quite sure

he'll come?

I'm positive of it.

The only thing i'm

not positive of is the 50,000 francs

you're to pay me

for this job.

You'll see the money

the moment i get the chart.

And here, my friend,

are your 50,000 francs.

Thank you, grodek.

Now you'll lay

your camera on the table

and place your hands

behind your head.

You, too, werner.

Turn around.

I know

you're ambitious,

but you certainly

cannot expect to get away with this.

Why not?

The chart's worth

50,000 francs to you.

It's probably worth

twice that amount to the italian government.

Besides, werner's getting

your money back from bulic.

Dimitrios,

you can't.

I can.

I can do anything.

No, no, werner.

The scoundrel.

Incredible.

And then did you let him

get away with the chart?

He sold it to

another government.

But it didn't do

them any good.

The yugoslavs learned

that the chart had been stolen.

Naturally, they made

an entire new plat immediately,

and dimitrios' buyers

paid out their money for nothing.

But so did you.

Not exactly.

I gave italy

her money's worth.

There was no

difficulty obtaining the new yugoslav chart,

without bulic's

assistance, of course.

Poor, confused

little man.

He put a bullet

through his head.

Oh, terrible.

My dear leyden,

bulic was a traitor.

One cannot

sentimentalize over traitors.

I know, he was

an honest man fundamentally,

but it was all

too much for him.

In the end,

his innate honesty got the best of him.

He gave the 50,000 dinar

to his wife,

then he went to

the ministry and told them what he had done.

After that,

there was nothing left except to kill himself.

It is at times

like those, monsieur,

that one needs

one's sense of humor.

Well, mr. Leyden,

don't you think you should go to paris?

How could i resist... now?

Entree.

Mr. Leyden,

i was so glad to get your letter.

Oh, you're knocking

at doors now.

Quite an improvement, sir.

Quite an improvement.

My dear mr. Leyden,

i cannot tell you how pleased i am to see you.

Welcome to paris.

Have you had

a good journey? You're looking well.

Grodek wrote,

telling me

how charming and

sympathetic you were.

Good fellow, isn't he?

Those cats of his

he worships.

Yes. They are beautiful,

and his whiskey's excellent.

Oh, he wanted to know what

business i had with you.

As i don't know,

i felt i safely could confide in him.

By the way, do you

have your pistol with you?

Dear me, no,

mr. Leyden.

Why should i bring

such a thing on a friendly visit to you?

Well, you've been

known to do it.

Look here, mr. Peters.

I'd hate to be impolite

with a professional gentleman like yourself,

but there is a limit

even to my patience.

I've traveled

a long way to see you, and i want to know why.

So you shall.

I've heard that before.

Before you start beating

about the bush again,

there are one or two things

that you should know.

I'm not a violent man,

mr. Peters.

As a matter of fact,

i hate violence,

but there are times when

the most peace-loving simply must do it,

and this may be

one of them.

I know who you are.

Your name is not peters.

It's peterson-eric peterson.

I also know that you were

a member of a smuggling gang organized by dimitrios.

I know you were

arrested in december 1931 and fined 2,000 francs.

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Frank Gruber

Frank Gruber (born February 2, 1904, Elmer, Minnesota, died December 9, 1969, Santa Monica, California) was an American writer. He was an author of stories for pulp fiction magazines. He also wrote dozens of novels, mostly Westerns and detective stories. Gruber wrote many scripts for Hollywood movies and television shows, and was the creator of three TV series. He sometimes wrote under the pen names Stephen Acre, Charles K. Boston and John K. Vedder. Gruber said that as a 9-year-old newsboy, he read his first book, "Luke Walton, the Chicago Newsboy" by Horatio Alger. During the next seven years he read a hundred more Alger books and said they influenced him professionally more than anything else in his life. They told how poor boys became rich, but what they instilled in Gruber was an ambition at age nine or 10, to be an author. He had written his first book before age 11, using a pencil on wrapping paper. Age 13 or 14, his ambition died for a while but several years later it rose again and he started submitting stories to various magazines, like Smart Set and Atlantic Monthly. Getting rejected, he lowered his sights to The Saturday Evening Post and Colliers, with no more success. The pulps were getting noticed and Gruber tried those but with no success. As a story came back with a rejection slip, he would post it off again to someone else, so he could have as many as forty stories going back and forth at different times, costing him about a third of his earnings in postage. Erle Stanley Gardner called him the fighter who licked his weight in rejection slips. February 1927, he finally sold a story. It was bought by The United Brethren Publishing House of Dayton. It was called "The Two Dollar Raise" and he got a cheque through for three dollars and fifty cents. Answering an ad in the Chicago Tribune, he got a job editing a small farm paper. In September he got a better paid job in Iowa and soon found himself editing five farm papers. He had lots of money and even wrote some articles for the papers but found he had no time to write the stories he wanted to write. In 1932 the Depression hit, and he lost his job. 1932 to 1934 were his bad years. He wrote and wrote, many stories typed out on an old "Remington" but of the Sunday School stories, the spicy sex stories, the detective stories, the sports stories, the love stories, very few sold, with some companies paying him as little as a quarter of a cent per word. He had a few successes and remained in Mt. Morris, Illinois for 14 months before deciding to head to New York on July 1, 1934. There were numerous publishing houses in New York and he could save money on postage but this led to him walking miles to deliver manuscripts as he had so little money, not even enough for food most of the time. He stayed in a room in the Forty Fourth Street Hotel ($10.50 per week). In his book, The Pulp Jungle (1967), Gruber details the struggles (for a long time, at least once a day he had tomato soup, which was free hot water in a bowl, with free crackers crumbled in and half a bottle of tomato sauce added) he had for a few years and numerous fellow authors he became friendly with, many of whom were famous or later became famous. Early December 1934 and with endless rejection slips, he got a phone call from Rogers Terrill. Could he do a 5,500 word filler story for Operator #5 pulp magazine by next day? He did and got paid. Even better, they wanted another one next month, and another. He was then asked to do a filler for Ace Sports pulp, which sold. Gruber's income from writing in 1934 was under $400. In 1935, his stories were suddenly wanted and he earned $10,000 that year. His wife came to live with him (she had been living with relatives) and he lived the good life, moving into a big apartment and buying a Buick ($750). January 1942, Gruber decided to try Hollywood, having heard about the huge sums some stories sold for and stayed there till 1946. Gruber—who stated that only seven types of Westerns existed—wrote more than 300 stories for over 40 pulp magazines, as well as more than sixty novels, which had sold more than ninety million copies in 24 countries, sixty five screenplays, and a hundred television scripts. Twenty five of his books have sold to motion pictures, and he created three TV series: Tales of Wells Fargo, The Texan and Shotgun Slade. His first novel, The Peace Marshall, which was rejected by every agent in New York at the time, became a film called "The Kansan", starting Richard Dix. The book has been reprinted many times with total sales of over one million copies. He bragged that he could write a complete mystery novel in 16 days and then use the other 14 days of the month to knock out a historical serial for a magazine. His mystery novels included The French Key (for which he sold the motion picture rights for $14,000 in 1945) and The Laughing Fox. more…

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