They Won't Believe Me Page #3

will make you feel better.

Thanks.

- Greta.

- Yes?

I've been wondering.

How did you know my going to Montreal

wasn't just a business trip?

Janice telephoned me on Friday

to say goodbye.

That still doesn't prove...

She happened to mention

she was taking the 8 o'clock train

Saturday night for Montreal.

So you put two tickets together?

That wasn't difficult.

You see, darling. I've known about

your Saturdays for a long time.

How?

Couldn't we just consider

the topic closed, Larry?

But they were all perfectly harmless.

- I don't you think Janice...

- I'm just thinking one thing.

We're trying to keep our marriage going.

That's what I want more than anything.

I understood all right.

It was a contract.

Just as if it had been typed.

Signed. And notarized.

No more Saturday afternoons.

No Wednesday nights.

No telephone calls.

No cocktails at back tables.

I was private property.

Covered with signs marked

" No Trespassing".

I admit I felt like a heel

for a couple of weeks.

When I married Greta, I kidded

myself that I was in love with her.

But this time I knew it was the money.

I tried to forget Janice.

My work helped.

Trenton and Ballantine,

investment brokers.

Stocks and bonds.

Direct wire to New York.

I kept busy for about six months.

Up at 5:
30 to be on hand when

the market opened in New York.

Lunch at the Athletic Club.

Tennis or riding after work.

The model young businessman.

Right down to the

double-breasted blue suit.

Guess I fool nearly everyone.

Customers, Greta, even myself.

Only Trenton saw through

the fancy dress.

And maybe one other.

She looked like

a very special kind of dynamite.

Neatly wrapped in nylon and silk.

Only I wasn't having any.

I'd been too close

to one explosion already.

I was powder shy.

I hear you've had

the bloodhounds out for me.

I had a phone call

from Clark Boyd this morning.

He wanted to know what's

happened to the analysis

of his holdings we were

preparing for him.

Or perhaps I should say

that you were preparing.

Mr. Boyd has more than

$200,000 in the market.

An active account that would bring in

anywhere from 10 to $20,000 a year.

A well-prepared letter

with sound intelligent suggestions

would've thrown his business our way.

What is it, Verna?

Mr. Ballantine asked me to

bring you a copy of the letter

he sent Mr. Boyd yesterday.

He thought you might want to see it.

That's all you wanted,

wasn't it, Mr. Ballantine?

Yeah, that's all.

Why did you tell me about this?

I just like to hear you talk, Trenton.

It saves me from going to

Chamber of Commerce lunches.

Suppose you tell me what that

was all about, Miss Carlson?

Is something wrong, Mr. Ballantine?

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