'G' Men Page #4

I just told Mac about it.

- What did he say?

- He thought it was a grand idea.

Well, I think it's swell, Brick,

getting into work like that.

You'll like it a lot better

than a law office.

Yeah, that's the way I feel about it.

I've gotta get going.

- Sorry you can't see the show.

- Yeah, so am I, but you understand.

Yeah. Goodbyes are sort of silly,

aren't they?

- Yeah.

- Well, we can send you...

...a bulletproof vest for Christmas.

- Yeah. So long, kid.

Say, there's no rule that a G-man can't

kiss an old friend goodbye, is there?

Get a comparison

on those test bullets yet?

Just checking them.

You're out of luck, Jeff.

They don't match.

- Which one killed Buchanan?

- The one on the left.

I'll tell the chief.

- Morning.

- Morning.

The rifle we found isn't the one.

The slugs don't check.

The fingerprints on the handcuff

match Durfee's.

Buchanan had him collared

when he was killed.

Put that in your wire

to the New York division.

- Report back here at 3:00.

- Yes, sir.

Let me go up to New York, chief.

I'd like a crack at this case.

No, I'm sending Smith up. I need you here

in charge of training these new men.

- More law-school graduates?

- Three of them.

Oh, have a heart, chief. Give this grief to

somebody else. I've been doing it for a year.

I made a decent record

in the field for nine years.

Do I have to spend the rest of my life

combing these kids out of my hair?

You're familiar with the work. And there

aren't enough old hands to go around.

I'm the one should be yelling, not you.

We need those men. Lots of them.

I know. But why can't we get

more guys with police experience?

Guys that know the underworld,

not just how to spout law.

These kids have as much chance of

pulling through a dangerous assignment...

...as Buchanan had.

That depends on how well

you train them, Jeff.

That's your assignment. Go to it.

Yes, sir.

Mr. Davis is here, Mr. Gregory.

Yes, sir.

He says you're to report to Mr. McCord,

the man who just left.

Thank you.

- Hello.

- Well, you look like...

...you're not going to New York.

- I'm not going.

I'm gonna keep on pounding

the ABC's of crime...

...into the skulls

of these babes-in-arms.

Law-school graduate. Law-school

graduate. Law-school graduate.

Listen:
Mr. James Davis, doctor of law,

doctor of philosophy, Phi Beta Kappa.

Now, isn't that sweet?

- Phi Beta Kappa.

- What's yours, "Flatfooter Copper"?

Who said that? Who are you?

I'm Davis. But don't let that

spoil your fun. Go right ahead.

So you're Mr. Davis.

- And you're McCord.

- That's right.

- And this is Mr. Farrell.

- Hiya.

- Hello.

- And we're not Phi Beta Kappas.

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