The Tarnished Angels Page #3

Yes or no?

Quit playing the dummy. You

gonna marry Laverne or not?

Laverne, why don't

you say something?

Eight.

You throw them.

Why, you dirty, no-good louse.

Step outside, I'll

kick your teeth in.

Roll the dice.

(SHOUTS)

Roll the dice!

Ok, I lose. I marry Laverne.

She gets the winner.

We left the caf.

We went to our hotel, changed

into our Sunday clothes.

And then we went looking for

a justice of the peace.

About three in the morning,

I became Mrs Roger Shumann.

Did you feel any shame at all?

Yes, I felt shame.

Long before the dice game.

If Roger hadn't talked up,

would you have married Jiggs?

No.

No.

I'd have gone off somewhere, alone.

You see... I had no reason

to marry anyone but Roger.

What time is it?

About two o'clock.

Just woke out of a nightmare.

I was going down in flames,

shot down by Baron Richthofen.

(CHUCKLES)

You know, I'm hungry.

- Must be strong salami.

- The stronger the better.

Compliments of a restaurateur

with a long memory.

Claude Mollet.

- The power of the press, huh?

- No. Just a Frenchman,

who never forgot that you flew for

France in the Lafayette Escadrille.

- Vive la France.

- And that's not all.

He's throwing a party for all you

barnstormers Mardi Gras night.

The party's in your honour.

Everything's on the house.

That's the way it used to be in France.

Every night was Saturday night.

Every Dawn was Monday morning.

Only the fellas who were

honoured at the parties

are those that never came back.

It's French Burgundy.

You can have your bed back.

Half of it, anyway.

(BAND PLAYS LIVELY MARCH)

Hey, why don't you ask me how

much I dropped last night?

- Where'd you play?

- Willie's.

I was filling those inside straights

when his missus blew the whistle.

- On the level, what'd you do last night?

- Nothing much.

Just sat up half the night

discussing literature and life

with a beautiful,

half-naked blonde.

You'd better change bootleggers.

Well, here I am, early,

bright and sober.

Good. I'll put a gold star

after your next by-line.

My cup runneth over.

No double entendre intended.

- I'm covering the air show.

- According to my assignment book,

Senator Griffin, who's keen to run against

Hoover, is at the St Charles Hotel...

You're boring me.

And I've assigned the

distinguished Burke Devlin...

The devil you have.

- Read it and weep.

- I'm covering the air show.

For what newspaper? The Hobo News?

Be reasonable.

This could be the best human-interest

yarn I ever latched on to.

Senator Griffin is a more important

story than even the Mardi Gras.

Would it be if four

visitors from a strange,

faraway planet were

to land in the city?

Those flying Gypsies aren't

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