Scarlet Street Page #3

Yes, Adele.

- Well, well! But this is a pleasure!

I didn't expect to see you, Charlie!

- But Chris, you asked me.

My wife...

Well, it's good to see you anyway.

That was a swell party last night,

wasn't it, Charlie?

Say, what time did we go home?

After midnight, wasn't it?

You know, I haven't been to bed yet.

You haven't?

I guess I might as well act as drunk

as I thought I was, eh Charlie?

No, no...

Oh, I've got to do the dishes for Adele.

- You don't mind, Charlie, do you?

- No, no, go right ahead.

Say, did you paint this?

Great Scott, no! That isn't painting,

that's mud.

- Done by a photographer.

- Who is it?

The late departed...

Oh...your wife's former husband.

Detective Sargeant Higgins,

Homer Higgins.

Say, that's a real medal, isn't it?

Yeah, Adele got it.

- Your wife?

- Yeah.

After he was drowned in the East River.

Jumped in to save a woman.

Neither body was found.

Oh...too bad.

Yeah, too bad.

- Oh, thank you, Charlie.

- Not at all.

How long have you been married, Chris?

Five years...

Well...

She didn't want to spend his

insurance money, so she

rented out a spare room.

Well, I was trying to save money to

buy paints,

so I moved in.

Oh, she was sweet...

Butter wouldn't melt in her mouth.

And...

Well, you know how these things go.

Smoke?

Oh...

guess I better not.

Where are your paintings, Chris?

They're out in the hall.

- Would you like to see what I did today?

- Yes, I'd like to.

Where did you find a flower like that?

You mean you see this when you look at...that?

Well, yes...that is, I sort of feel it.

You see, when I look at that

flower, I see someone...

Is there anything private in this house?

I'm sorry, Adele.

We better get out of here.

All right, Adele...

Can't you get those lazy legs

off that couch, maybe?

Come here.

Can't you do any better than that?

That's all you think about, Lazy Legs, hmm?

What else is there to think about...

If you want more heat in this apartment, Miss...

- you'll have to call a janitor.

- You idiot.

How come you're holding out on me, Baby?

Oh, stop talking about Saturday night!

I'm not talking about Saturday night...

I'm talking about this.

It sounds like a schoolboy

trying to make a date.

You must be robbing the cradle.

- What's so funny?

- You are.

He's old enough to be my father.

That's the old fellow who came

to my rescue Saturday night...My hero!

No kidding!

See? You were too tight to remember anything.

If I hadn't told the cop to go in

the wrong direction, he'd have picked you up.

This the old fellow who butted in?

The painter?

He's rich and famous and

very sweet too, Johnny.

He doesn't pull any rough stuff like you.

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