The Thief of Paris Page #2

The affair is closed, is that it?

The police considers it so.

Do you think that's funny?

Madame de Montareuil is

a damned scoundrel. She led us on.

I stopped by to see her on the way.

She was having fainting spells.

Kept winking at me.

She has no self-control.

She rushes off to bed, leaving

her whole fortune out to be stolen.

No wonder there are socialists around.

What are you doing here, Charlotte?

Come.

Monsieur Randal! My good heavens!

As one says, only the mountains

are fated not to meet.

- Would you mind?

- No. Do, please.

- Are you going to Brussels?

- Yes.

Of course.

You're off to invest your ineritance.

Belgium is a very judicious choice.

Money's stable.

A society with firm morals.

Dynamic.

Industry making enormous strides.

Sorry to interrupt you, gentlemen,

but I overheard you conversing.

Do I understand that Monsieur...

Dumoulin. Fernand Dumoulin.

Delighted.

Van der Busch, Emile, industrialist.

I am Belgian. You desire a nice,

safe investment in Belgium?

Me?

The chemical industry

is as safe as you'll find, sir.

I speak with authority on this.

My firm handles all lines of dyes.

Yes, yes, every color known.

We have the best-equipped

dye vats in Belgium.

What further proof do you need?

We are entering the age of color.

We have the universe for a market.

Exactly. Supply and demand.

You're going to need more workers.

They will demand

constant wage increases.

Father, they can demand,

but they're not about to obtain.

The profits go up first,

then the wages follow.

That is economics, my friends.

Do you have the plans for your factory?

Naturally, I'll go get you a set.

Now, Father, will you explain?

What? That the jewels you took from

the Montareuils are in your luggage?

I'm sure you know that. Relax.

You're a thief. So am I.

Here are the plans,

our balance sheet, turnover

and some cherry brandy.

I'm not allowed to drink. Thank you.

- No troubles, have you?

- I don't drink that much.

I don't mean that.

I refer to industrial troubles.

Sorry.

Two explosions, a year ago.

Lost 10 or 12 men.

I held a mass burial.

Grandiose, moving.

Management and workers united

in their common grief.

All our hearts as one

in a moment of profound sorrow.

Talk about publicity! A gold mine!

Coffee, gentlemen.

Don't you expect, as does our friend,

a socialist revolution?

We can't avoid occasional unrest.

I foresee a mass uprising, a genuine revolt,

a new order, a takeover...

- In Belgium?

- Possibly.

The banks are broken into and pillaged.

Well, we have the police for protection.

Besides, only idiots

entrust their cash to banks.

Do you mean to say

that you keep your cash here?

Well, naturally.

I have a safe, gentlemen.

Dear Lord, lots of space!

Indeed. Right now, it contains

over half a million francs in securities,

plus the bank notes.

When I propose an investment,

I talk with more than my mouth, sir.

- What about thieves?

- They can try, Monsieur Dumoulin.

- My locks and my safe are solid.

- You have an electrical alarm?

No, thanks.

There's no point in those alarms.

Electricity is expensive

and always on the blink.

That day, La Margelle introduced me

to the King Solomon Hotel.

No thief won'thy of the name

would stay elsewhere in Brussels.

We have our likes and dislikes.

Look at this! Canonnier set all this up.

- Canonnier?

- A great thief.

A sharp mind.

He's in prison at the moment.

Good, the jewels.

You know, Georges,

a thief is not a practical joker.

He's a professional.

Your debut showed great dash,

and an almost childish boldness.

You were lucky.

But you'll need more than luck.

I just need someone to teach me.

- You wished to work alone?

- No, I had a plan.

To get myself in prison for about

a year, and make the right friends.

Whenever possible, stay out of prisons.

They're full of rascals and ne'er-do-wells,

and the food is atrocious.

No, you're much too independent.

You'll go out and see the world,

study men, succeed.

You have enough courage.

At least, you'll be keeping yourself busy.

Action, Georges, that's the secret.

I made off with those without thinking.

It made no sense not to.

You couldn't resist.

I know that irresistible force!

I know it well. It's all-consuming.

It'll take your days,

your dreams, your sorrows,

and you'll get neither gain

nor notoriety in return.

I have never had any base thought.

Because you're not a bourgeois.

You're a thief.

You are special, completely apart! Alone.

As such, you are bound to be

misunderstood by the mediocre.

You are the face they cannot show.

It's not their fault. They, too,

seek something they can believe in.

They are enclosed

by the walls of customs.

You will go through those walls.

Practicing your sermon, Father?

You have beautiful stuff here.

This gentlemars first effort.

Georges Randal, Roger Voisin.

Some call me Roger the Blot.

You'll accompany Roger this evening.

He'll teach you the rudiments.

What's on tonight?

You're to visit a gentleman

we met on the train.

A native who manufactures dyes.

Here's the imprint of the living room key.

It's a double hooker. Difficult.

You have your work cut out.

Get on with it.

One more thing.

Avoid any unnecessary killing.

It's vulgar, nasty, and it's so out of date!

The surest way to the bourgeois's heart

is through his strongbox.

That's where it really hurts.

A beautiful night out, don't you think?

Like La Margelle says, "The thief

is like moonlight to the honest man."

He's got talent, that one!

Too bad he ain't much for work.

Father? You're joking.

He's as lazy as they come, a vegetable.

You try to get him up on a roof sometime.

He has better things to do. He's a thinker.

Maybe you're right.

Here, put on your slippers.

Pure rubber.

Father told me your first success

was in a museum.

I love painting. I'm a painter myself.

I do castles and seascapes, escapist stuff.

Venice.

You've been to Venice?

No, that's my dream.

I'll get there some day, when I find time.

Fine. Let's go.

- What's that smell?

- Camphor.

Right, camphor.

Mothballs.

A boa!

Two boas!

One each.

- Broussaille will love these.

- Who?

Broussaille, my sister.

She lives in London.

You'll meet her soon enough. Come on.

What does she do?

She does men. She has a good time.

Van der Busch hadrt lied.

The securities were there.

We left for London,

fence capital of the world.

London has always been the commercial

center of European burglary.

You know how I deal,

Mister Roger the Blot.

It's yes or no.

I abhor negotiations over money.

Five hundred pounds in cash,

and a check for the rest. Agreed?

I definitively love England!

How are the English police?

If you just work the Continent,

they close their eyes.

- You're from Paris?

- No, Valenciennes.

My parents run a hardware store there.

They get samples of all the new safes.

Keeps me abreast of any change.

- Do they know about your work?

- Of course.

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