Somewhere in the Night Page #4

that you made up to start me talking.

- About what?

- Oh, just this and tha. Quelque chose.

Maybe I just thought

you ought to know about me and that...

I ought to know about you.

- Did you have fun?

- I've had more fun drinking a bromo seltzer.

- Hello.

- This is the barkeep at the Cellar.

I got that information you wanted about...

that certain party.

- About Larry Cravat?

- We're closing up now.

You come down here,

I can answer some questions.

- You can answer one right now.

Who told you where to reach me?

- I'll wait for ya.

- Come in the front way.

- Yeah, but I never told you where I...

Taylor.

Somebody wants to see ya.

How do you do,

Mr. Taylor?

Nice of you to come.

Please get in.

Hubert, open the door

for Mr. Taylor.

I didn't come here

to meet you.

True. But I came here

to meet you.

Professor Einstein

to the contrary...

there is just so much time.

Every moment gone

is a moment gone.

Please. Step in.

- Why?

- Get in the car.

The bartender was paid

to call you...

to arrange

this rendezvous.

He has long since gone home to his wife,

his bed and his racing form.

- You and I have much to talk about.

- What, for instance?

Are you being stupid, Mr. Taylor,

or stubborn?

- What, for instance?

- I can't believe you're stupid.

Larry Cravat then,

for instance.

- What about Larry Cravat?

- That was going to be my question to you.

- You tell me.

- Come.

Sit beside me,

and we tell each other.

I'll listen from here.

Not stupid...

but stubborn.

Mr. Taylor, are you ready to tell me

the whereabouts of Larry Cravat?

Then will you tell me...

why you want to know?

I'm just looking for him.

He's my friend.

Larry Cravat has no friends...

and you are to stop looking for him,

Mr. Taylor.

Do you understand?

You are to stop looking for him!

- Take him out of here. Dump him someplace.

- Where, boss?

There was an address

in his pocket.

"723 Gramercy Place."

Take him there.

Okay. Okay. I quit.

Now what?

How does the inside

of your mouth feel?

Like it's full of

raw hamburger.

That's just what

it looked like.

- What did they hit you with?

- Rubber hose.

- I can't figure you out.

- You're not an open book, exactly.

Why did you steal

Mary's picture?

Well, for one thing,

she's married to a man I'm looking for.

She's Mrs. Larry Cravat.

If you even knew Mary,

then what you just said...

is as dirty and rotten

as anything I've ever heard.

I don't know her, but if she's

Mrs. Larry Cravat, I want to.

- You can't.

- I've got to.

Mary was my closest friend.

She was my partner.

I went home one Christmas,

and she wrote to me.

In one letter,

she met Larry Cravat.

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