Beat the Devil Page #2

Probably it isn't

the oil pump at all.

Just making it an excuse

to hang about

and pick up extra cargo.

Guns or opium?

I wouldn't be surprised if

she turns out to be a smuggler.

What a miserable place

to be stuck in.

A squalid fifth-rate port.

Ever been in Portoverto before?

No, I don't know this part

of the world at all.

I thought not. Otherwise

you wouldn't be so upset

about staying.

Magnificent country.

Ruins to visit by moonlight.

Fine stretch of beach.

And back there in the hills,

one of the few spots left

in the world

where you can get

decent food and drink.

It's called the Blue Pavilion.

I insist you give me

the pleasure

of having dinner

with us tonight.

Well, that's awfully kind

of you, but-

Us?

You and your associates?

My wife and me.

The Committee.

Oh, uh, Mr. Chelm, I-

I want you to meet

a friend of mine.

This is the Galloping Major.

The Committee wants you

to toddle 'round.

- Okay.

- Right away.

- I'll be along.

- Toddle.

I said I'd be along.

They don't like

to be kept waiting.

I'll lay on a car.

We'll meet in front

of the hotel at 6.

Arrivederci.

Dannreuther, an American,

I suppose.

Anyway, I-

I quite like him.

Time, 24 hours in a day.

One-thousand-four-hundred

and forty minutes

for somebody else to get busy

on the same idea as ours.

We ought to have got a plane

and flown out,

as I said from the start.

You remember I said it,

O'Horror.

My name is not O'Horror.

It is O'Hara. You hear?

Mr. O'Hara.

Yes, Mr. O'Horror, ahem,

but you remember I said it.

I said we ought

to take a plane.

Time. Time. What is time?

The Swiss manufacture it.

The French hoard it.

The Italians squander it.

Americans say it is money.

Hindus say it does not exist.

You know what I say?

I say time is a crook.

If we took a plane,

we'd be there inside 15 hours

instead of who knows when.

I don't want any more talk

about flying.

The sky is for the birds.

My feet are on the ground,

both of them.

Come in, Billy-Boy.

What's all

the fuss about?

No fuss, Billy.

We're merely wondering

what course to pursue

in view of this

unfortunate delay.

Join the peasants

in their revels.

Go to church.

Write your memoirs.

Very funny. Ha-ha.

I like an associate of mine

to have a sense of humor.

A good laugh does more

for the stomach muscles

than five minutes

setting up exercises.

And now that we've had

our moment of fun

and all the better for it,

let's get back to the question.

Doesn't this delay call

for a cable

to your friend

in British East?

Mustn't send cables.

Can't you get it

through your heads

that the population down there

has trained noses?

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