The Big Clock Page #3

With a five-year-old child?

Yes. You know why?

Janoth.

Seven years ago,

I was assistant editor

at the Wheeling Clarion,

a happy man.

Then I run down a guy

police in three states

have been looking for.

Headlines three feet high.

I got a $15 raise.

So I marry my girl,

and we go on our honeymoon

to Indian Lake.

Idyllic.

I'm about to carry her over the

threshold when the phone rings.

It's Janoth. Wants me to run

Crimeways magazine, "the Police

Blotter of the Nation."

Not next week

or tomorrow,

but tonight!

Two hours later,

we're on the train

for New York.

You'd have done better

to stay at 50 bucks a week?

I had more in the bank then

than I have now, and my wife

still hasn't had a honeymoon.

Put yourself

in her place, Steve.

How would you like to be a woman

who never had a honeymoon?

It's become an obsession.

I've been working

Christmases, Fourth of Julys,

Mother's Days.

What does Janoth think I am,

a clock with springs and gears

instead of flesh and blood?

That's not the right attitude.

Janoth expects loyalty.

Oh, I'm loyal, all right.

Shut that thing off.

What are you

doing here?

Just tidying up, darling.

Isn't that the young man

you pointed out as

"the troublesome Mr. Stroud"?

You find him interesting?

How did you get up here?

Well, it did

present a problem.

The tycoon's lair,

the Berchtesgaden

of the publishing world,

seemed impregnable

till I thought

of your private elevator.

How did you

get past the guard?

He's human.

Mm-hmm.

You're the only

Superman around here.

I think he must've been

winding his watch.

You don't expect me

to approve

of your being here.

Not even on business?

My singing lessons.

Hagen attended to that

yesterday. You should have

had a check this morning.

But he made a mistake.

They were to cost $2,000.

Remember?

Perhaps you think my voice

isn't worth cultivating.

Your voice

is worth exactly

what that check reads.

Miss Perkins?

Yes, Mr. Janoth?

Get me the name of the guard

on my private elevator.

Yes, sir.

The public elevators

are this way. I'm

six minutes behind schedule.

I have to fly

to Washington at 6:10,

and I will not have

my papers disarranged.

It confuses my secretary.

I'll see you

tomorrow night.

If I wasn't up to my ears,

I'd tell Janoth...

to take his $30,000

and buy another clock.

Nobody's indispensable

to this organization

except Mr. Janoth.

Mull it over.

I don't have to.

It's honeymoon

regardless.

Even if it means your job?

Well, does it?

Mull it over.

Yes, Earl.

When does he think

he's leaving?

Late this afternoon.

I couldn't do a thing.

I'd better take charge

of the young man.

Oh, and, Steve,

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