Dark Passage Page #2

treated shamefully in the papers.

"I don't know this man, but I, for one,

protest your scandal-sheet tactics."

Signed, Irene Jansen.

Why, that's you.

-Why did you write this?

-I suspected you were getting a raw deal.

When I get excited about something,

I give it everything I have.

I'm funny that way.

But this is no good for you,

and it's certainly no good for me.

The police will be busy

while I'm doing nothing.

But you have a little time, Vincent.

Hello?

-It's Bob.

-Hello, Bob.

-Like to have dinner?

-I'm sorry, not tonight.

Got a date?

Not a date.

I just want to finish some sketches.

-Somebody there to help?

-No, just alone.

You're making me jealous. I'll bet--

Don't talk like that, Bob. It's not true.

Call me tomorrow night, about 7:00.

-Okay.

-Bye.

I'm getting out. That phone call did it.

But I didn't want to see him, anyway.

There'll be times you will,

and I'll be in the way.

-I'm going.

-Wait until tonight, please.

You can't go out dressed like that.

Let me get you some good clothes.

The police won't look so closely

at a well-dressed man.

Now, what size suit?

Forty, I guess.

-Shirt?

-Fifteen and a half, 34 sleeve.

-Shoes?

-8B.

-Hat?

-Seven.

That's a lucky number.

I'll be back soon.

You'll have to get rid of those clothes.

There's some wrapping paper

in the kitchen.

Wrap them up in tight bundles and

throw them down the incinerator chute.

Treat yourself to a hot shower.

And you'll need a shave.

Irene, let me in.

That's Madge's voice.

You know I'm out here.

Are you going to let me in?

Is someone in there with you?

Yes, someone's in here with her.

Now, go away.

Take another good look, Madge.

Shouldn't have dropped those

stinking clothes down the chute.

Couldn't get far in a Turkish towel.

Everything in order. Neat. Clean.

Calvin Jansen,

sentenced four years ago...

to life imprisonment

for the murder of his wife...

died last night in San Quentin

still claiming his innocence.

Jansen, wealthy architect,

was accused....

Thought I heard somebody talking in here.

Just me talking to myself.

A habit I picked up in prison.

-Did you get rid of your clothes?

-Yeah.

I'm glad you provided a towel

big enough to cover my embarrassment.

It's decent enough.

May I have the clipping?

You had a caller.

I told her to go away.

That wasn't very bright.

My friends will think that I--

I know. I told you I should get out.

Not that I care what they think.

I'm just trying to be technical, and careful.

I hope those fit.

Don't you get lonely up here,

all by yourself?

I was born lonely, I guess.

-Is that why you visit murder trials?

-No.

I went because your case

was like my father's.

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