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<title>TOMBSTONE</title>
TOMBSTONEAn original screenplayByKevin Jarre                                           Fourth draft                                           March 15, 1993ROLLPROLOGUE OVER MAIN TITLE:  a collage of old photos, prints, etc., and silent live-action vignettes, all dark and heavily shadowed like a dimly-remembered dream.  The first images show the opulence of the Gilded Age,the epic vistas of the west, cattle drives and cowtowns with all their violence....                     V.O. NARRATION          "The economic explosion following          the Civil War created an          unprecedentednation-wide market          for beef.  Previously worthless          cattle running wild throughout          Texas were gathered into herds           And driven north to the railheads           In Kansas.  Fortunes were madeas           Cowtowns sprang up on the           Prairies, wide-open centers of          Commerce and vice, their streets          Choked with heavily-armed young          Men fresh from the cattle drives.          In those daysthe correct term          For a cowhand was 'drover'.          'Cowboy', like 'cowpoke', was          originally an insult implying          deviant sexuality and was rarely          used.  But these invading drovers          were awild breed for soon          shootings and wholesale drunken          riots became so frequent that          ordinary citizens literally could          not walk down the street.  In fact          at their height the cowtownshad          higher murder rates than modern          New York or Los Angeles and there          Was no law but that of the gun."A dashing FIGURE in a Prince Albert coat appears, long locks tumbling down his shoulders,twin Navy Colts thrust into a red sash at his waist, a tin star on his chest.  Next we see him in action, downing 3 barroom opponents at once, pistols FLASHING around the room like a strobe light:                     V.O.NARRATION          "Straight-up at 75 yards or eye-          to-eye at point-blank range, the           greatest gunman of all time was          an Illinois abolitionist farm boy          named James Butler Hickok,better          known as Wild Bill, the Prince of           Pistoleers.  But Wild Bill worked          His trade on the side of justice          And as marshal of cowtowns like          Hays City and Abilene he became a          Legend,the one man who stood          Between law and chaos."Now Hickock sits facing us, playing poker as a shabby-looking FIGURE with a gun steals up behind him and FIRES.....                     V.O.NARRATION          "Wild Bill's fame spread nation-          wide but his end came quietly in           the spring of '76 when a strange          cross-eyed little drifter put a          bullet through the back ofhis          head, apparently for no other          reason than he wanted to kill a           celebrity."Now a group of cowhands carouse a streetcorner, raising hell as 2 mustachiod young LAWMEN walk up, trying to quietthem down.                     V.O. NARRATION          "In Dodge City meanwhile, Wyatt           Earp and Bat Masterson were           Becoming known as fast-guns.  But          Their fame had nothing to dowith          Shooting."Seeing it's hopeless, the lawmen whip out their pistols and start clubbing the drover's making them stagger and grimace, holding their heads....                     V.O.NARRATION          "Earp and Masterson operated more          like modern policemen, using           teamwork and persuasion to keep          order.  Still, sometimes things           got out of hand."An ARMEDDROVER creeps up behind the lawmen, about to fire....                     V.O. NARRATION          "But Wyatt had a guardian angel."A REED-THIN FIGURE with a sawed-off shotgun steps from the shadows behindthe drover and FIRES.  The huge blast WHITES-OUT the screen for an instant, making the drover seem to disappear.  The lawmen spin around.  The thin man breaks the shotgun open then calmly holds out his wrists tobe cuffed.  Earp looks at him in shock, mouthing the word "thanks".                     V.O. NARRATION          "John Henry 'Doc' Holliday was          the son of an aristocratic,          highly cultured southernfamily.          Trained in Philadelphia, he had          Embarked on a career as a society          Dentist when he contracted          Tuberculosis.  Advised to practice          In the west where it was thought          Theclimate and clean air would          Prolong his life, Doc soon          Realized it was all only a matter          Of time and gave up dentistry to          Become a professional gambler and           Gunman..."The scene shifts toan elegant Victorian home: a stern Jewish patriarch orders his darkly beautiful DAUGHTER upstairs as her weeping mother looks on.  The girl huffs up the stairs followed by her little white dog.  Next, the girl and dog areseen escaping through a window to the street below and a waiting cab.                     V.O. NARRATION          "Others headed east.  Bent on          becoming an actress.  Josephine          Marcus defied herwealthy and          Very proper San Francisco Jewish          Family to run away with a           Traveling theatrical company,          Braving the perils of the           Frontier on her own.  Dangerous as          This mightseem, it was another          Age and women were so rare, their           Presence so cherished that they          Could travel virtually anywhere          In the west in perfect safety."Now we see HORSEMEN silhouettedagainst the night sky, a hand knocking on a door, figures conferring in darkness, then more riders, moving west in restless haste toward the rising sun....                     V.O. NARRATION          "At about thistime the Texas          Rangers, having eliminated the          Commanche threat, turned their           Attention to the outlaw gangs          Marauding along the Rio Grande,          Cleaning up the border strip in4          Years of hard riding.  Those they          Could not indict or convict the           Rangers put down in their Black          Book, letting it be known that          They could either leave Texas or          Face summaryexecution.  This          Resulted in the mass migration of          The absolute dregs of the Texas          Underworld to the most dangerous,          Uncivilized part of the entire          Country, the southeast cornerof           The Arizona Territory."A jagged, moonlit landscape, a lone prospector and his burro moving along a ridge, a pick digging into a rocky ledge, an ore car emerging from a mine shaft, finally a hilltop cluster oftents becoming the skeletal wood-frame beginnings of a town....                     V.O. NARRATION          "Harsh and inhospitable, savaged          in turn by the Apache and Mexican          bandits, this hadalways been an          accursed place, a virtual hell on          earth where it was thought life          itself could never prosper, much                     V.O. NARRATION (cont.)          less civilization.  Then in 1879,          aprospector named Ed Schiefflin          set off alone into the Dragoon          Mountains.  Friends told him he          Was crazy, that the only thing          He'd find in this Godforsaken          Place would be histombstone.          Instead he found silver, lots of           It, and overnight the town of          Tombstone sprang up.  Mining          Taking out millions in ore.  Land          Value shot sky-high and          Speculators andgamblers and          Opportunists of all nations          Scrambled in by the thousands to          Make Tombstone queen of the          Boomtowns, so rich that the          Latest Paris fashions, hard to           Find even inthe biggest cities,           Were sold there by the wagonload          From the makeshift storefronts."An engraving of a stagecoach holdup, herds of cattle moving north, a newspaper story of a massacre in Mexico,congressmen railing at each other, shaking their fists....                     V.O. NARRATION          "Meanwhile, the exile Texans had          banded together to form the          nucleaus of an organizedgang.          Seizing controp of the           Surrounding countryside they           Robbed stagecoaches at will while          The big absentee business          Interests employed them as tax          Collectors and strongarmmen.  But          The backbone of their trade          Remained border rustling,          Periodic raids into Mexico to          Steal cattle while engaging in          What was described as a virtual          Orgy of murder andviolence.  The           Raids became so frequent and so          Bloody that the Mexican          Government formally protested to          U.S. President Chester A. Arthur,          Prompting heated debatein           Congress.  General Sherman          Declared that the only possible           Way of bringing order was to send          In the army but in the wake of          Civil War Reconstruction federal          Intervention incivilian affairs          Was politically impossible."Pounding hooves, flowing manes, a pack of night-riding HORSEMEN kicking hell-for-leather across the desert moonscape....                     V.O.NARRATION          "With only some 100 members, the           gang was an elite body of gunmen,          known by the red silk sashes they          wore around their waists.          Fiercely proud oftheir          Terrifying reputation and          Answerable to no one, they were a          Law unto themselves, finally           Emerging as one of the earliest           Examples in American history of          Full-scale organizedcrime."END MAIN TITLE as the screen fades to an ominous black and....                     V.O. NARRATION          "They called themselves the          Cowboys."EXT - SONORA DESERT/CANYON ENTRANCE -DAYBurning daylight, hard reality.  A squad of uniformed MEXICAN RURALES rides through the Sonora desert, sabres glinting in the sun.  Approaching the mouth of a rocky canyon their hard-bitten CAPTAINsignals them to stop, leaning down to study a jumble of hoofprints on the ground.  He turns to the anxious-looking YOUNG RURALE on his right, speaking in Spanish viasubtitle:                     CAPTAIN          It's them, only an hour north.                     YOUNG RURALE          But this is the border.                     CAPTAIN          You saw what those animalsdid at           That rancho.  You think a border          Is going to stop me?  No, I'm           Going to see them suffer for what           They did!  I swear it on my soul!The Captain spurs his horse and they ride on at agallop, plunging into the canyon....DELETEDEXT - SKELETON CANYON - NIGHTThe full moon throws fantastic shadows across the high walls of the canyon as the Rurales ride through.  At the bendthe Captain halts them.  The young one starts to speak but the Captain shushes him, peering into the darkness.  A few beats then:                     CAPTAIN          Turn around!  Fast!  Now!But suddenlyGUNFIRE erupts from the shadows all around them, blasting them from the saddle, each powder flash lighting up the canyon for an instant, freezing each victim in the moment of his death.  Then, just as abruptly thefiring stops, leaving only the Captain, the young Rurale, and a 3rd Rurale alive.  Dazed and bloody, they struggle to their feet as 6 armed FIGURES emerge from the shadows, walking into the moonlight toward


ï»¿The Project Gutenberg EBook of Seventeen, by Booth TarkingtonThis eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and withalmost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away orre-use it underthe terms of the Project Gutenberg License includedwith this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.orgTitle: Seventeen       A Tale Of Youth And Summer Time And The Baxter Family Especially WilliamAuthor: BoothTarkingtonRelease Date: February 21, 2006 [EBook #1611]Language: English*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SEVENTEEN ***Produced by Charles Keller and David WidgerSEVENTEENA TALE OFYOUTH ANDSUMMER TIME ANDTHE BAXTER FAMILYESPECIALLY WILLIAMBy Booth TarkingtonSEVENTEENTO S.K.T.CONTENTS     I.      WILLIAM     II.     THE UNKNOWN     III.    THE PAINFUL AGE     IV.     GENESISAND CLEMATIS     V.      SORROWS WITHIN A BOILER     VI.     TRUCULENCE     VII.    MR. BAXTER'S EVENING CLOTHES     VIII.   JANE     IX.     LITTLE SISTERS HAVE BIG EARS     X.      MR. PARCHER ANDLOVE     XI.     BEGINNING A TRUE FRIENDSHIP     XII.    PROGRESS OF THE SYMPTOMS     XIII.   AT HOME TO HIS FRIENDS     XIV.    TIME DOES FLY     XV.     ROMANCE OF STATISTICS     XVI.    THESHOWER     XVII.   JANE'S THEORY     XVIII.  THE BIG, FAT LUMMOX     XIX.    "I DUNNO WHY IT IS"     XX.     SYDNEY CARTON     XXI.    MY LITTLE SWEETHEARTS     XXII.   FORESHADOWINGS     XXIII.  FATHERSFORGET     XXIV.   CLOTHES MAKE THE MAN     XXV.    YOUTH AND MR. PARCHER     XXVI.   MISS BOKE     XXVII.  MAROONED     XXVIII. RANNIE KIRSTED     XXIX.   ''DON'T FORGET!''     XXX.     THEBRIDE-TO-BESEVENTEENIWILLIAMWilliam Sylvanus Baxter paused for a moment of thought in front of thedrug-store at the corner of Washington Street and Central Avenue. He hadan internal question to settle beforehe entered the store: he wishedto allow the young man at the soda-fountain no excuse for saying, "Well,make up your mind what it's goin' to be, can't you?" Rudeness of thiskind, especially in the presence of girls andwomen, was hard to bear,and though William Sylvanus Baxter had borne it upon occasion, hehad reached an age when he found it intolerable. Therefore, to avoidoffering opportunity for anything of the kind, he decidedupon chocolateand strawberry, mixed, before approaching the fountain. Once there,however, and a large glass of these flavors and diluted ice-creamproving merely provocative, he said, languidly--an affectation, forhecould have disposed of half a dozen with gusto: "Well, now I'm here, Imight as well go one more. Fill 'er up again. Same."Emerging to the street, penniless, he bent a fascinated and dramaticgaze upon his reflectionin the drug-store window, and then, as heturned his back upon the alluring image, his expression altered toone of lofty and uncondescending amusement. That was his glance at thepassing public. From the heights, heseemed to bestow upon the worlda mysterious derision--for William Sylvanus Baxter was seventeen longyears of age, and had learned to present the appearance of one whopossesses inside information about life andknows all strangers and mostacquaintances to be of inferior caste, costume, and intelligence.He lingered upon the corner awhile, not pressed for time. Indeed, hefound many hours of these summer months heavy uponhis hands, for he hadno important occupation, unless some intermittent dalliance with awork on geometry (anticipatory of the distant autumn) might be thoughtimportant, which is doubtful, since he usually went tosleep on theshady side porch at his home, with the book in his hand. So, havingnothing to call him elsewhere, he lounged before the drug-store in theearly afternoon sunshine, watching the passing to and fro of thelowerorders and bourgeoisie of the middle-sized midland city which claimedhim (so to speak) for a native son.Apparently quite unembarrassed by his presence, they went about theirbusiness, and the only people wholooked at him with any attention werepedestrians of color. It is true that when the gaze of these fell uponhim it was instantly arrested, for no colored person could have passedhim without a little pang of pleasure and oflonging. Indeed, thetropical violence of William Sylvanus Baxter's tie and the strangebrilliancy of his hat might have made it positively unsafe for him towalk at night through the negro quarter of the town. And thoughno mancould have sworn to the color of that hat, whether it was blue or green,yet its color was a saner thing than its shape, which was blurred,tortured, and raffish; it might have been the miniature model of avolcanothat had blown off its cone and misbehaved disastrously on itslower slopes as well. He had the air of wearing it as a matter of courseand with careless ease, but that was only an air--it was the apple ofhis eye.For therest, his costume was neutral, subordinate, and even a littleneglected in the matter of a detail or two: one pointed flap of his softcollar was held down by a button, but the other showed a frayed threadwhere the buttononce had been; his low patent-leather shoes were of aluster not solicitously cherished, and there could be no doubt that heneeded to get his hair cut, while something might have been done, too,about the individualizedhirsute prophecies which had made independentappearances, here and there, upon his chin. He examined these from timeto time by the sense of touch, passing his hand across his face andallowing his finger-tips aslight tapping motion wherever they detecteda prophecy.Thus he fell into a pleasant musing and seemed to forget the crowdedstreet.IITHE UNKNOWNHe was roused by the bluff greeting of an acquaintance notdissimilar tohimself in age, manner, and apparel."H'lo, Silly Bill!" said this person, halting beside William SylvanusBaxter. "What's the news?"William showed no enthusiasm; on the contrary, a frown ofannoyanceappeared upon his brow. The nickname "Silly Bill"--long ago compoundedby merry child-comrades from "William" and "Sylvanus"--was not to histaste, especially in public, where he preferred to be addressedsimplyand manfully as "Baxter." Any direct expression of resentment, however,was difficult, since it was plain that Johnnie Watson intended nooffense whatever and but spoke out of custom."Don't know any," Williamreplied, coldly."Dull times, ain't it?" said Mr. Watson, a little depressed by hisfriend's manner. "I heard May Parcher was comin' back to town yesterday,though.""Well, let her!" returned William, still severe."They saidshe was goin' to bring a girl to visit her," Johnnie began ina confidential tone. "They said she was a reg'lar ringdinger and--""Well, what if she is?" the discouraging Mr. Baxter interrupted. "Makeslittle difference to ME, Iguess!""Oh no, it don't. YOU don't take any interest in girls! OH no!""No, I do not!" was the emphatic and heartless retort. "I never saw onein my life I'd care whether she lived or died!""Honest?" asked Johnnie, struckby the conviction with which this speechwas uttered. "Honest, is that so?""Yes, 'honest'!" William replied, sharply. "They could ALL die, _I_wouldn't notice!"Johnnie Watson was profoundly impressed. "Why, _I_ didn'tknow you feltthat way about 'em, Silly Bill. I always thought you were kind of--""Well, I do feel that way about 'em!" said William Sylvanus Baxter, and,outraged by the repetition of the offensive nickname, he began tomoveaway. "You can tell 'em so for me, if you want to!" he added over hisshoulder. And he walked haughtily up the street, leaving Mr. Watson toponder upon this case of misogyny, never until that moment suspected.Itwas beyond the power of his mind to grasp the fact that WilliamSylvanus Baxter's cruel words about "girls" had been uttered becauseWilliam was annoyed at being called "Silly Bill" in a public place, andhad not knownhow to object otherwise than by showing contempt for anytopic of conversation proposed by the offender. This latter, being ofa disposition to accept statements as facts, was warmly interested,instead of being hurt,and decided that here was something worth talkingabout, especially with representatives of the class so sweepinglyexcluded from the sympathies of Silly Bill.William, meanwhile, made his way toward the "residencesection" of thetown, and presently--with the passage of time found himself eased of hisannoyance. He walked in his own manner, using his shoulders to emphasizean effect of carelessness which he wished to produceupon observers. Forhis consciousness of observers was abnormal, since he had it whether anyone was looking at him or not, and it reached a crucial stage wheneverhe perceived persons of his own age, but of oppositesex, approaching.A person of this description was encountered upon the sidewalk within ahundred yards of his own home, and William Sylvanus Baxter saw her whileyet she was afar off. The quiet and shadythoroughfare was empty of allhuman life, at the time, save for those two; and she was upon the sameside of the street that he was; thus it became inevitable that theyshould meet, face to face, for the first time in theirlives. Hehad perceived, even in the distance, that she was unknown to him, astranger, because he knew all the girls in this part of the town whodressed as famously in the mode as that! And then, as thedistancebetween them lessened, he saw that she was ravishingly pretty; far, farprettier, indeed, than any girl he knew. At least it seemed so, for itis, unfortunately, much easier for strangers to be beautiful. Asidefromthis advantage of mystery, the approaching vision was piquant andgraceful enough to have reminded a much older boy of a spotless whitekitten, for, in spite of a charmingly managed demureness, there waspreciselythat kind of playfulness somewhere expressed about her. Justnow it was most definite in the look she bent upon the light and fluffyburden which she carried nestled in the inner curve of her right arm:a tiny dog withhair like cotton and a pink ribbon round his neck--ananimal sated with indulgence and idiotically unaware of his privilege.He was half asleep!William did not see the dog, or it is the plain, anatomical truththat when hesaw how pretty the girl was, his heart--his physicalheart--began to do things the like of which, experienced by an elderlyperson, would have brought the doctor in haste. In addition, hiscomplexion altered--he broke outin fiery patches. He suffered frombreathlessness and from pressure on the diaphragm.Afterward, he could not have named the color of the little parasol shecarried in her left hand, and yet, as it drew nearer and nearer,a rosyhaze suffused the neighborhood, and the whole world began to turn anexquisite pink. Beneath this gentle glow, with eyes downcast in thought,she apparently took no note of William, even when she and Williamhadcome within a few yards of each other. Yet he knew that she would lookup and that their eyes must meet--a thing for which he endeavored toprepare himself by a strange weaving motion of his neck againstthefriction of his collar--for thus, instinctively, he strove to obtaingreater ease and some decent appearance of manly indifference. He feltthat his efforts were a failure; that his agitation was ruinous andmust beperceptible at a distance of miles, not feet. And then, inthe instant of panic that befell, when her dark-lashed eyelids slowlylifted, he had a flash of inspiration.He opened his mouth somewhat, and as her eyes met his,full andstartlingly, he placed three fingers across the orifice, and alsooffered a slight vocal proof that she had surprised him in the midst ofa yawn."Oh, hum!" he said.For the fraction of a second, the deep blue spark inher eyes glowedbrighter--gentle arrows of turquoise shot him through and through--andthen her glance withdrew from the ineffable collision. Her small,white-shod feet continued to bear her onward, away from him,whilehis own dimmed shoes peregrinated in the opposite direction--Williamnecessarily, yet with excruciating reluctance, accompanying them. Butjust at the moment when he and the lovely creature were side byside,and her head turned from him, she spoke that is, she murmured, but hecaught the words."You Flopit, wake up!" she said, in the tone of a mother talkingbaby-talk. "SO indifferink!"William's feet and his breathhalted spasmodically. For an instant hethought she had spoken to him, and then for the first time he perceivedthe fluffy head of the dog bobbing languidly over her arm, with themotion of her walking, and hecomprehended that Flopit, and not WilliamSylvanus Baxter, was the gentleman addressed. But--but had she MEANThim?His breath returning, though not yet operating in its usual manner,he stood gazing after her,while the glamorous parasol passed down theshady street, catching splashes of sunshine through the branches ofthe maple-trees; and the cottony head of the tiny dog continued to bevisible, bobbing rhythmically overa filmy sleeve. Had she meant thatWilliam was indifferent? Was it William that she really addressed?He took two steps to follow her, but a suffocating shyness stopped himabruptly and, in a horror lest she should glanceround and detect himin the act, he turned and strode fiercely to the gate of his own homebefore he dared to look again. And when he did look, affecting greatcasualness in the action, she was gone, evidently havingturned thecorner. Yet the street did not seem quite empty; there was stillsomething warm and fragrant about it, and a rosy glamor lingered inthe air. William rested an elbow upon the gate-post, and with hischinreposing in his hand gazed long in the direction in which the unknownhad vanished. And his soul was tremulous, for she had done her work buttoo well."'Indifferink'!" he murmured, thrilling at his ownexceedinglyindifferent imitation of her voice. "Indifferink!" that was just what hewould have her think--that he was a cold, indifferent man. It was whathe wished all girls to think. And "sarcastic"! He had been enviousoneday when May Parcher said that Joe Bullitt was "awfully sarcastic."William had spent the ensuing hour in an object-lesson intended to makeMiss Parcher see that William Sylvanus Baxter was twice as sarcasticas JoeBullitt ever thought of being, but this great effort had beenunsuccessful, because William, failed to understand that Miss Parcherhad only been sending a sort of message to Mr. Bullitt. It was a devicenot unique amongher sex; her hope was that William would repeat herremark in such a manner that Joe Bullitt would hear it and call toinquire what she meant."'SO indifferink'!" murmured William, leaning dreamily upon thegate-post."Indifferink!" He tried to get the exact cooing quality ofthe unknown's voice. "Indifferink!" And, repeating the honeyed word, soentrancingly distorted, he fell into a kind of stupor; vague, beautifulpictures rising beforehim, the one least blurred being of himself, onhorseback, sweeping between Flopit and a racing automobile. Andthen, having restored the little animal to its mistress, Williamsat carelessly in the saddle (he had theGuardsman's seat) while theperfectly trained steed wheeled about, forelegs in the air, preparingto go. "But shall I not see you again, to thank you more properly?" shecried, pleading. "Some other day--perhaps," heanswered.And left her in a cloud of dust.IIITHE PAINFUL AGE"OH WILL--EE!"Thus a shrill voice, to his ears hideously different from that other,interrupted and dispersed his visions. Little Jane, his ten-year-oldsister,stood upon the front porch, the door open behind her, and in herhand she held a large slab of bread-and-butter covered with apple sauceand powdered sugar. Evidence that she had sampled this compound was uponhercheeks, and to her brother she was a repulsive sight."Will-ee!" she shrilled. "Look! GOOD!" And to emphasize the adjectiveshe indelicately patted the region of her body in which she believedher stomach to be located."There's a slice for you on the dining-roomtable," she informed him, joyously.Outraged, he entered the house without a word to her, and, proceedingto the dining-room, laid hands upon the slice she had mentioned,butdeclined to eat it in Jane's company. He was in an exalted mood, andthough in no condition of mind or body would he refuse food of almostany kind, Jane was an intrusion he could not suffer at this time.He carriedthe refection to his own room and, locking the door, sat downto eat, while, even as he ate, the spell that was upon him deepened inintensity."Oh, eyes!" he whispered, softly, in that cool privacy and shelter fromtheworld. "Oh, eyes of blue!"The mirror of a dressing-table sent him the reflection of his own eyes,which also were blue; and he gazed upon them and upon the rest of hisimage the while he ate his bread-and-butter andapple sauce and sugar.Thus, watching himself eat, he continued to stare dreamily at the mirroruntil the bread-and-butter and apple sauce and sugar had disappeared,whereupon he rose and approached thedressing-table to study himself atgreater advantage.He assumed as repulsive an expression as he could command, at the sametime making the kingly gesture of one who repels unwelcome attentions;and it is beyonddoubt that he was thus acting a little scene ofindifference. Other symbolic dramas followed, though an invisibleobserver might have been puzzled for a key to some of them. One,however, would have proved easilyintelligible: his expression havingaltered to a look of pity and contrition, he turned from the mirror,and, walking slowly to a chair across the room, used his right hand ina peculiar manner, seeming to stroke the air at apoint about ten inchesabove the back of the chair. "There, there, little girl," he said in alow, gentle voice. "I didn't know you cared!"Then, with a rather abrupt dismissal of this theme, he returned to themirror and, aftera questioning scrutiny, nodded solemnly, forming withhis lips the words, "The real thing--the real thing at last!" Hemeant that, after many imitations had imposed upon him, Love--the realthing--had come to him in theend. And as he turned away he murmured,"And even her name--unknown!"This evidently was a thought that continued to occupy him, for he walkedup and down the room, frowning; but suddenly his brow cleared andhiseye lit with purpose. Seating himself at a small writing-table bythe window, he proceeded to express his personality--though withconsiderable labor--in something which he did not doubt to be a poem.Three-quartersof an hour having sufficed for its completion, including"rewriting and polish," he solemnly signed it, and then read it severaltimes in a state of hushed astonishment. He had never dreamed that hecould do anything likethis.                    MILADY          I do not know her name          Though it would be the same          Where roses bloom at twilight          And the lark takes his flight          It would be the same anywhere          Wheremusic sounds in air          I was never introduced to the lady          So I could not call her Lass or Sadie          So I will call her Milady          By the sands of the sea          She always will be          Just M'lady tome.                         --WILLIAM SYLVANUS BAXTER, Esq., July 14It is impossible to say how many times he might have read the poem over,always with increasing amazement at his new-found powers, had he notbeeninterrupted by the odious voice of Jane."Will--ee!"To William, in his high and lonely mood, this piercing summons broughtan actual shudder, and the very thought of Jane (with tokens of applesauce and sugar still uponher cheek, probably) seemed a kind ofsacrilege. He fiercely swore his favorite oath, acquired from the heroof a work of fiction he admired, "Ye gods!" and concealed his poem inthe drawer of the writing-table, for Jane'sfootsteps were approachinghis door."Will--ee! Mamma wants you." She tried the handle of the door."G'way!" he said."Will--ee!" Jane hammered upon the door with her fist. "Will--ee!""What you want?" he shouted.Janeexplained, certain pauses indicating that her attention waspartially diverted to another slice of bread-and-butter and apple sauceand sugar. "Will--ee, mamma wants you--wants you to go help Genesisbring somewash-tubs home and a tin clo'es-boiler--from the second-handman's store.""WHAT!"Jane repeated the outrageous message, adding, "She wants you tohurry--and I got some more bread-and-butter and apple sauce andsugarfor comin' to tell you."William left no doubt in Jane's mind about his attitude in referenceto the whole matter. His refusal was direct and infuriated, but, in themidst of a multitude of plain statements which he wasmaking, therewas a decisive tapping upon the door at a point higher than Jane couldreach, and his mother's voice interrupted:"Hush, Willie! Open the door, please."He obeyed furiously, and Mrs. Baxter walked in with adeprecating air,while Jane followed, so profoundly interested that, until almost theclose of the interview, she held her bread-and-butter and apple sauceand sugar at a sort of way-station on its journey to her


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RETURN OF THE JEDIbyLawrence Kasdan&George LucasFrom The NovelbyGeorge LucasThird DraftProperty ofLucasfilm Ltd.Completion Date December 1, 19811    SPACE                                                           The boundless heavens serve as a back-drop for the MAIN TITLE, followed by a ROLL-UP, which crawls intoinfinity.Episode VIRETURN OF THE JEDILuke Skywalker has returned to his home planet of Tatooine in an attempt to rescue his friend Han Solo from the clutches of theÊvile gangster Jabba the Hutt. Little doesLuke know that the GALACTIC EMPIRE has secretly begun construction on a new armored space station even more powerful than the first dreaded Death Star. When completed, this ultimate weapon will spell certaindoom for the small band of Rebels struggling to restore freedom to the galaxy...PAN DOWN to reveal a monstrous half-completed Death Star, its massive superstructure curling away from the completed section like thearms of a giant octopus. Beyond, in benevolent contrast, floats the small, green moon of ENDOR.An Imperial Star Destroyer moves overhead toward the massive armored space station, followed by two zipping TIEfighters. A small Imperial shuttle rockets from the main bay of the ship and hustles toward the Death Star.2    INT IMPERIAL SHUTTLE - COCKPIT The shuttle captain makes contact with the DeathStar.SHUTTLE CAPTAINCommand station, this is ST 321. Code Clearance Blue. We're starting our approach. Deactivate the security shield.DEATH STAR CONTROLLER (filtered VO)The security deflector shieldwill be deactivated when we have confirmation of your code transmission. Stand by... You are clear to proceed.SHUTTLE CAPTAINWe're starting our approach.3    INT DEATH STAR - CONTROLROOMOperators move about among the control panels. A SHIELD OPERATOR hits switches beside a large screen, on which is a display of the Death Star, the moon Endor, and a bright web delineating the invisibledeflector shield.A control officer rushes over to the shield operator.OFFICERInform the commander that Lord Vader's shuttle has arrived.OPERATORYes, sir.The control officer moves to a view portand watches as the Imperial shuttle lands in the massive docking bay. A squad of Imperial stormtroopers moves into formation before the craft.4    INT DEATH STAR - MAIN DOCKING BAYThe DEATH STARCOMMANDER, MOFF JERJERROD, a tall, confident technocrat, strides through the assembled troops to the base of the shuttle ramp. The troops snap to attention; many are uneasy about the new arrival. But the DeathStar commander stands arrogantly tall.The exit hatch of the shuttle opens with a WHOOSH, revealing only darkness. Then, heavy FOOTSTEPS AND MECHANICAL BREATHING. From this black void appears DARTHVADER, LORD OF THE SITH. Vader looks over the assemblage as he walks down the ramp.JERJERRODLord Vader, this is an unexpected pleasure. We're honored by your presence.VADERYou maydispense with the pleasantries, Commander. I'm here to put you back onschedule.The commander turns ashen and begins to shake.JERJERRODI assure you, Lord Vader, my men are working as fast as theycan.VADERPerhaps I can find new ways to motivate them.JERJERRODI tell you, this station will be operational as planned.VADERThe Emperor does not share your optimistic appraisal of thesituation.JERJERRODBut he asks the impossible. I need more men.VADERThen perhaps you can tell him when he arrives.JERJERROD (aghast)The Emperor's coming here?VADERThat iscorrect, Commander. And he is most displeased with your apparent lack of progress.JERJERRODWe shall double our efforts.VADERI hope so, Commander, for your sake. The Emperor is not asforgiving as I am.5    EXT ROAD TO JABBA'S PALACE - TATOOINEA lonely, windswept road meanders through the desolate Tatooine terrain. We HEAR a familiar BEEPING and a distinctive reply before catchingsight of ARTOO-DETOO and SEE-THREEPIO, making their way along the road toward the ominous palace of Jabba the Hutt.THREEPIOOf course I'm worried. And you should be, too. Lando Calrissian and poorChewbacca never returned from this awful place.Artoo whistles timidly.THREEPIODon't be so sure. If I told you half the things I've heard about this Jabba the Hutt, you'd probably short-circuit.The two droidsfearfully approach the massive gate to the palace.THREEPIOArtoo, are you sure this is the right place? I better knock, I suppose.6    EXT JABBA'S PALACE - GATE Threepio looks around for some kindof signaling device, then timidly knocks on the iron door.THREEPIO (instantly) There doesn't seem to be anyone there. Let's go back and tell Master Luke.A small hatch in the middle of the door opens and a spiderymechanical arm, with a large electronic eyeball on the end, pops out and inspects the two droids.STRANGE VOICETee chuta hhat yudd!THREEPIOGoodness gracious me! Threepio points to Artoo, thento himself. THREEPIO Artoo Detoowha bo Seethreepiowha ey toota odd mischka Jabba du Hutt.The eye looks from one robot to the other, there is a laugh then the eye zips back into the door. The hatch slamsshut. Artoo beeps his concern.THREEPIOI don't think they're going to let us in, Artoo. We'd better go.Artoo beeps his reluctance as Threepio turns to leave. Suddenly the massive door starts to rise with ahorrific metallic SCREECH. The robots turn back and face an endless black cavity. The droids look at one another, afraid to enter.Artoo starts forward into the gloom. Threepio rushes after his stubby companion. Thedoor lowers noisily behind them.THREEPIO Artoo, wait. Oh, dear! Artoo. Artoo, I really don't think we should rush into all this.Artoo continues down the corridor, with Threepio following.THREEPIOOh,Artoo!  Artoo, wait for me!7    INT JABBA'S PALACE - HALLWAYThe door slams shut with a loud crash that echoes throughout the dark passageway. The frightened robots are met by two giant, greenGAMORREAN GUARDS, who fall in behind them. Threepio glances quickly back at the two lumbering brutes, then back to Artoo. One guard grunts an order. Artoo beeps nervously.THREEPIOJust you deliverMaster Luke's message and get us out of here. Oh my! Oh! Oh, no.Walking toward them out of the darkness is BIB FORTUNA, a humanlike alien with long tentacles protruding from his skull.BIBDie WannaWanga!THREEPIOOh, my! Die Wanna Wauaga. We -- we bring a message to your master, Jabba the Hutt.Artoo lets out a series of quick beeps.THREEPIO (cont)...and a gift.(thinks a moment, then toArtoo)Gift, what gift?Bib shakes his head negatively.BIBNee Jabba no badda. Me chaade su goodie.Bib holds out his hand toward Artoo and the tiny droid backs up a bit, letting out a protesting array ofsqueaks. Threepio turns to the strange-looking alien.THREEPIOHe says that our instructions are to give it only to Jabba himself.Bib thinks about this for a moment.THREEPIOI'm terribly sorry. I'mafraid he's ever so stubborn about these sort of things.Bib gestures for the droids to follow.BIBNudd Chaa.The droids follow the tall, tentacled alien into the darkness, trailed by the twoguards.THREEPIOArtoo, I have a bad feeling about this.8    INT JABBA'S THRONE ROOMThe throne room is filled with the vilest, most grotesque CREATURES ever conceived in the universe. Artoo andThreepio seem very small as they pause in the doorway to the dimly lit chamber. Light shafts partially illuminate the drunken courtiers as Bib Fortuna crosses the room to the platform upon which rests the leader of thisnauseating crowd: JABBA THE HUTT. The monarch of the galactic underworld is a repulsive blob of bloated fat with a maniacal grin. Chained to the horrible creature is the beautiful alien female dancer named OOLA. Atthe foot of the dais sits an obnoxious birdlike creature, SALACIOUS CRUMB. Bib whispers something in the slobbering degenerate's ear. Jabba laughs horribly, at the two terrified droids before him. Threepio bowspolitely.THREEPIOGood morning.JABBABo Shuda!The robots jump forward to stand before the repulsive, loose-skinned villain.THREEPIOThe message, Artoo, the message.Artoo whistles,and a beam of light projects from his domed head, creating a hologram of LUKE on the floor. The image grows to over ten feet tall, and the young Jedi towers over the space gangsters.LUKEGreetings, ExaltedOne. Allow me to introduce myself. I am Luke Skywalker, Jedi Knight and friend to Captain Solo. I know that you are powerful, mighty Jabba, and that your anger with Solo must be equally powerful. I seek an audiencewith Your Greatness to bargain for Solo's life. (Jabba's crowd laughs) With your wisdom, I'm sure that we can work out an arrangement which will be mutually beneficial and enable us to avoid any unpleasantconfrontation. As a token of my goodwill, I present to you a gift: these two droids.Threepio is startled by this announcement.THREEPIOWhat did he say?LUKE (cont)... Both are hardworking and will serve youwell.THREEPIOThis can't be! Artoo, you're playing the wrong message.Luke's hologram disappears.Jabba laughs while Bib speaks to him in Huttese.JABBA (in Huttese subtitled)There will be nobargain.THREEPIOWe're doomed.JABBA (in Huttese subtitled)I will not give up my favorite decoration. I like Captain Solo where he is.Jabba laughs hideously and looks toward an alcove beside the throne.Hanging high, flat against the wall, exactly as we saw him last, is a carbonized HAN SOLO.THREEPIOArtoo, look! Captain Solo. And he's still frozen in carbonite.9    INT DUNGEON CORRIDOR One ofJabba's Gamorrean guards marches Artoo and Threepio down a dank, shadowy passageway lined with holding cells. The cries of unspeakable creatures bounce off the cold stone walls. Occasionally a repulsive arm ortentacle grabs through the bars at the hapless droids. Artoo beeps pitifully.THREEPIOWhat could possibly have come over Master Luke. Is it something I did? He never expressed any unhappiness with mywork. Oh! Oh! Hold it! Ohh!A large tentacle wraps around Threepio's neck. He manages to break free, and they move on to a door at the end of the corridor.10   INT BOILER ROOMThe door slides open,revealing a room filled with steam and noisy machinery. The guard motions them into the boiler room, where they are met by a tall, thin humanlike robot named EV-9D9. Behind the robot can be seen a torture rackpulling the legs off a screaming baby work droid. A second power droid is upside down.  As smoking branding irons are pressed into his feet, the stubby robot lets out an agonized electronic scream. Artoo and Threepiocringe as the guard grunts to EV-9D9.NINEDENINEAh, good. New acquisitions. You are a protocol droid, are you not?THREEPIOI am See-Threepio, human-cy...NINEDENINEYes or


   <title>"Beloved," early draft, by RichardLaGravenese</title>
                               BELOVED                              Screenplay                                  by                          Richard LaGravenese                         Basedon the Novel by                             Toni Morrison     HARPO FILMS     345 N. Maple Drive     Beverly Hills, CA 90210     (310) 278-5559 - O     (310) 278-6110 - F                           October 11, 1996     FADEIN...     EXT. 124 BLUESTONE ROAD - DAWN.     It is winter in Ohio. A house sits isolated beside a barren     field. The field stretches beyond, until a line of distant     woods stops it. Around the back of the house standsa rundown     STORAGE SHED, a cold house, a privy and a water pump. A porch     with a single door serves as the only entrance.     Camera begins a slow move toward the house as we;     SUPER - OHIO,1865     WE HEAR SOUNDS from inside the house - BUMPS, A CHAIR FALLING     OVER...and FEET RUNNING on wooden floor boards.                                                            CUT TO:     INT. 124 BLUESTONEROAD - DAWN.     C.U. - THE HANDS OF TWO BROTHERS HOLDING EACH OTHER AS THEY     RUN DOWN THE STAIRS..     BULGAR (13 yrs. old) and HOWARD (14 yrs. old) run down the     steps from the second floor.They are fully dressed, carrying     a small bag of belongings.                         HOWARD               We gonna need food. Wait here.     Bulgar reluctantly lets go of Howard's hand as the latter     runs into the kitchen.Alone, he edges towards the front     door, when suddenly;     THE DOOR SLOWLY CREAKS OPEN on it's own. Scared, he steps     away slowly.     INT. KITCHEN - DAWN.     Howard is trying to toss some food into abag. He spots A     CAKE sitting on top the wooden table, with some pieces     already eaten. He finds a knife and approaches the table.     He is about to cut into the cake when he sees TWO TINY HAND     PRINTSappear on the cake's surface. Howard stops cold -     dropping the knife.     INT. FRONT ENTRANCE - DAWN.     Howard exits the kitchen and takes Bulgar's hand;                         HOWARD               Comeon!                         DENVER (OS)               Bul?     The boys look up the stairs and see their baby sister, nine     year old DENVER.                         DENVER               Where you goin?     The brothers arebrokenhearted at the sight of her. They love     their sister. But there are stronger forces here.     A MIRROR on a wall beside Howard cracks down the middle.                         HOWARD               We gotta go!     Bulgarlooks up to Denver. They exchange a look of deep     affection and pained longing. He wants to take her.                         HOWARD               Bye, Denver. You take care.                         DENVER               Bye?Bul?     Bulgar is starting to cry. He rushes up the steps and hugs     his sister. He kisses her hard then breaks away. Denver's     outstretched hand misses his shirt and hangsmid-air.                         DENVER               No..Bul...     Bulgar flies down the steps and disappears out of the house     holding Howard's hand once more.     Denver sits alone at the top of the stairs.  She sadlylooks     up and weeps, as if to the house itself:                         DENVER               Now what you go and do that for?     EXT. ROAD TO THE TRAIN - DAWN.     THE VOICE OF SETHE HUMMING A MELODY carries overthe images     of:     The two boys running for their lives towards the train,     holding hands all the way.  Howard is the first to reach it.     As it passes by, he throws his bag upon it and jumps in.     Bulgar races besideit as Howard reaches for him.     C.U. - HOWARD'S HAND reaching for BULGAR's...They connect.     WIDE SHOT - The boys are on the train as it leaves town.     On it's route, the train passes a ramshackleGRAVEYARD.     CAMERA MOVES SLOWLY INTO THE GRAVEYARD until it reaches A     HEADSTONE, made with flecked pink stone. Upon the headstone     is only one word:     BELOVED.     EXT. 124BLUESTONE RD. - CONTINUOUS.     Camera moves slowly towards the side exterior of 124, into a     Close-Up of a WOMAN looking out of a second floor bedroom     window. It is SETHE, mother of the two boys andDenver. She     hums her melody, softly, sadly, with a resigned understanding     of why her boys are running away...and a deep pain that is     too constant to notice.                                                          FADEOUT;     FADE IN:     INT. 124 - BABY SUGGS BEDROOM - LATER THAT DAY.     BABY SUGGS, grandmother and mother-in-law to Sethe, sits in     her bed fondling colored fabric of BRIGHT GREEN..It is the     onlyvibrant color in an otherwise drab surrounding. Suggs is     bed-ridden, exhausted to her bones - her face a mosaic of     suffering and sacrifice and tested faith.                         BABY SUGGS               Ya know what I'dlove to see? I loved to               see me some lavender. You got any               lavender? Or even pink - pink'll do.     Sethe is placing folded laundry into a dresser. She stops and     checks her pockets for rags orswatches...She looks around     the room..                         SETHE               No. Sorry.                         BABY SUGGS               Ah, winter in Ohio is especially rough if               you've got an appetite forcolor.     Suggs goes back to contemplating her green until;                         SETHE (OS)               Oh wait...     Suggs looks up to see Sethe sticking her pink tongue out at     her. Suggs smiles.                         BABYSUGGS               Oh, that's fine. Fine.     Sethe lets out a small laugh. She walks toward the window,     stretching her body. Her expression changes as she thinks of     her boys. Baby Suggs reads her like abook.                         BABY SUGGS               They'll be all right. I'm surprised they               lasted here this long.                         SETHE               I don't know. Maybe we should have moved.                         BABYSUGGS               What'd be the point? Not a house in the               country ain't packed to the rafters with               some dead Negro's grief. We lucky our               ghost is a baby. My husband spiritcome               back? Or yours? Don't talk to me! Ha..You               lucky. You got one child left, still               pullin at your skirts. Be thankful. I had               eight. Eight with six fathers. Every one               of themgone from me. Four taken, four               chased and all, I expect, worrying               somebody's house into evil. My first born               - alls I can remember of her now is how               she loved the burned bottomof bread. Her               little hands..I wouldn't know'em if they               slapped me. Can you beat that? Eight               children and that's all I remember.                                        SETHE                    (returning toher work)               You remember Halle.                         BABY SUGGS               Oh, I remember bits and pieces of all               of'em I guess..Halle, of course..I had               Halle a lifetime. Almost twentyyears...               My two girls, sold and gone before I               could even a heard about it, and them               without their grown up teeth yet. My               third child, my son after Halle...I let               that strawboss have me for four months               so's I could keep that boy. Next year, he               had him traded for lumber anyway and me               pregnant with his child. I couldn't love               that child. I wouldn't. Notany of the               rest either. God take what He               would....and He did...                         SETHE               The boys wouldn't have left if Halle were               here.                         BABYSUGGS               Those boys didn't even know him. You had               six whole years of marriage to my Halle               Fathered every one of your children. A               blessing. I learned hard that aman's               just a man, but a son like that...like               Halle..now that's somebody.     Sethe's mixed feelings show all over her face. Although she     loved Halle, there is clearly something unresolved inher.                         SETHE               Just got a few more things to do, then               I'll start supper.     Sethe exits.     EXT. 124 BLUESTONE RD. - LATE DAY.     Denver is playing in the front yard by herself.     Setheis pumping water into a bucket for clothes washing. A     gentle breeze carries a LEAF into the bucket. Sethe sees it     floating atop the water for a moment, then picks it up.     C.U. of SETHE as the image triggers afeeling - and the     feeling a memory - from long ago.     Sethe looks around her and finds she is no longer standing in     the barren field of 124...but rather-     MEMORY;     EXT. SWEET HOME - LATE DAY.     Astunning vista of the plantation SWEET HOME - sun beating     down on groves and rows of gorgeous sycamores for as far as     the eye can see. Sethe's figure dwarfed by the majestic     landscape.     Sethe looksfrightened. Her breathing grows shallow. She     hears something;     THE SOUND OF A WAGON'S WHEELS - rolling over a road, growing     louder, coming towardsher                                                          INTERCUT;     C.U. OF A WAGON WHEEL MOVING RAPIDLY ON A ROAD. CAMERA PANS     UP TO THE MAN DRIVING THE WAGON - A STERN WHITE MAN WEARINGA     DISTINCTIVE HAT...     SETHE TURNS away from the sycamores towards the road to see;     END OF MEMORY;     EXT. 124 BLUESTONE - LATE DAY.     A MAN driving a horse and wagon with two children inthe     back, coming up Bluestone Road. He wears no hat.     Sethe breathes easily. She looks around her -the reality of     124's barren field has returned. The memory of Sweet Home's     sycamores havevanished.     Denver is playing near the road. As the wagon nears 124,     Denver looks up and smiles. The Man whips the horse hard so     as to ride past the house faster. The children stare at     Denver and 124, withhorror and curiosity.     The stares of the children destroy Denver's smile. She     watches them go, then turns to hide her upset and sees her     mother watching her.     Sethe looks to Denver with empathy andimpotence: wanting to     ease her daughter's pain and knowing full well she cannot.     Hurt and angry, Denver runs past Sethe, towards the woods.     EXT. WOODS - LATE DAY.     Denver runs with a purpose,knowing exactly where she is     going.     She reaches FIVE BOXWOOD BUSHES planted in a ring. The tall     bushes stretch toward each other four feet off the ground,     forming a round, emerald room in the center,seven feet high,     with walls fifty inches thick of murmuring leaves.     This is Denver's private place. She bends low and crawls     through the leaves into the center. Once there, this lonely     child wipes away hertears and tries to pull herself     together. She lays her face against the cool earth.     INT. 124 BLUESTONE RD. - NIGHT.     Denver walks to her room in her night dress. She passes the     opened door of her mother'sbedroom and peeks in:     INT. SETHE'S BEDROOM - NIGHT.     Sethe kneeling by her bed, as if praying...     Beside Sethe, A WHITE DRESS KNEELS as well, with it's sleeve     around Sethe's waist. Like two friendlygrown-up women,     comforting each other in prayer.     Denver tip toes away.     INT. DENVER'S ROOM - NIGHT.     Sethe enters to check on Denver, whom she thinks is asleep.     She leans over and kisses herforehead, only to discover she     is awake;                         DENVER               Mama?                         SETHE               What is it baby?                         DENVER               You think maybe when daddy comes,he               could talk to the baby ghost. Maybe make               her behave and then people won't be               scared of here no more.                         SETHE               I don'tknow.                         DENVER               Why won't she ever settle?                         SETHE               She's mad like a baby gets mad. You               forgetting how little it is. She wasn't               even two years oldwhen she died. Too               little to understand.                         DENVER               For a baby she throws a powerful spell.                         SETHE               No more powerful than the way I loved her.     Hearing hermother say this, moves Denver.                         DENVER               What do you pray for Mama?                         SETHE               Oh, I don't really pray anymore. Ijust               talk.                         DENVER               About what?                         SETHE               Oh, about time. How some things go. Pass               on. Some things juststay.                         DENVER               What things?                         SETHE               Like, the place I was at before here -               Sweet Home. Even if that whole farm and               every tree and blade of grasson it died -               it'll still be there. Waiting. And if you               go and stand in the place where it was,               what happened there once, will happen               again.                         DENVER               If it'sstill there, waiting, that mean               nothing ever dies?                         SETHE               Nothing ever does. That's why I had to               get my children out. No matter what.               That's why you can never gothere.                         DENVER               You never tell me all what happened. Just               that they whipped you and you run off               pregnant with me.                         SETHE               You don't need toknow nothing else.                         DENVER                    (nods)               I saw a white dress kneeling next to you               when you was praying.                         SETHE               White? Maybe it was my beddingdress.               Describe it to me.                         DENVER               Had a high neck. Whole mess of buttons               coming down the back.                         SETHE               Buttons. Well, that's not mybedding               dress. I never had a button on nothing.               What else?                         DENVER               A bunch at the back. On the sit down               part.                         SETHE               Abustle?                         DENVER               I don't know what it's called.                         SETHE               You say it was holding on to me. How?                         DENVER               Kneeling next to you while youwere               praying. I mean, talking. It looked just               like you.                         SETHE               Well, I'll be.                         DENVER               I think it was a sign. I think maybe               baby's gotplans.                         SETHE               What plans?                         DENVER               I don't know, but that dress holding onto               you got to mean something.                         SETHE               Maybe. Maybeit does.     Sethe smiles sympathetically for her lonely child. They hear     a sound in the house - floor boards creaking.                         DENVER               She's crawling again.     Sethe nods and holds her daughter'shand as they listen.                                                          FADE OUT;     SUPER: 1873.                                                           FADE IN;     EXT. 124 BLUESTONE ROAD - DAY.     C.U. - PAUL D.GARNER.     Paul stands on the road, gazing up at the house. Grateful     he's arrived, cautious about what he'll find, he steps     towards the porch. His clothes are ragged. His feet sore and      blistering in hisshoes.     EXT. THE PUMP - DAY.     Off to the side of the house, Sethe washes her feet and legs     at the pump. She looks up and sees Paul's figure walking     towards the house. The sun blazes in her eyes. She can'tmake     out who it is, or whether or not he's even real. As he     reaches the porch, Paul disappears from view.     Sethe walks towards the front of the house. When she is     little more than forty feet away, she stops -still not     certain Paul is a real man or an hallucination of the past.                         SETHE               Paul? Paul D.? Is that you?                         PAUL                    (smiles)               What's left.                    (Herises)               How you been girl, besides barefoot?     Sethe jams her balled up stockings into her pocket. She     smiles like a little girl, not able to believe her eyes.                         SETHE               You lookinggood.                         PAUL               Devil's confusion. He lets me look good               long as I feel bad.                         SETHE               How long has it been?                         PAUL               'Bout eighteen years, Ifigure.                         SETHE               Eighteen years.                         PAUL               And I swear I been walking every one of               them. Mind if I join you?     He begins taking off hisshoes.                         SETHE               You want to soak them? Let me get you               some water.                         PAUL               No, uh, uh. Can't baby feet. A whole more               tramping they got to doyet.                         SETHE               You're not leaving right away, are you?               You stay awhile.                         PAUL               Well, long enough to see Baby Suggs,               you..Where isshe?                         SETHE               Dead.                         PAUL               Aw no. When?                         SETHE               Eight years now. Almost nine.                         PAUL               Was it hard? I hope shedidn't die hard.                         SETHE               Soft as cream. Being alive was the hard               part. Sorry you missed her though. Is               that what you came by for?                         PAUL               That'ssome of what I came for. The rest               is you.     Sethe doesn't know what to do with her eyes when he says     this..she looks away instinctively. Paul realizes that may     have sounded too intimate so he leansback and sighs:                         PAUL               The truth be known, I go anywhere these               days. Anywhere they let me sit down.                         SETHE               Come oninside.                         PAUL               Porch is fine. Cool out here. Sit with               me.     Like a nervous little girl, Sethe takes a sit beside a man     for the first time in years, folding her sweat stainedskirt     beneath her.                         PAUL               So Baby Suggs is gone. Somehow never               thought death would find her.                         SETHE               It findseveryone.                         PAUL               We managed well enough without meeting               it.                         SETHE               I suppose.     Awkward pause. Sethe tries to find the words to a difficult     question -but one that is foremost in her mind;                         SETHE               I wouldn't have to ask about him, would               I?...You'd tell me if there was anything               to tell, wouldn't you?     Paul knows instantlyshe is asking about Halle.                         PAUL               You know I would. But I don't know any               more about what happened to Halle now               than I did then.     Something about Paul's expressionmight suggest he's keeping     something from her. He turns his gaze outward as he says;                         PAUL               You must think he's still alive.                         SETHE               No. I think he's dead. It's justnot               being sure that keeps him alive.                         PAUL               What did Baby Suggs think?                         SETHE               Same. Ha, listen to her, all her children               dead and she felt each onego the very               day and hour it happened.                         PAUL               When she say Halle went?                         SETHE               1855. Same day my baby was born.                         PAUL               Youhad that baby, did you? Damn, never               thought you'd make it. Running off               pregnant.                         SETHE               Had to. Couldn't be no waiting.                         PAUL               All by yourselftoo.                         SETHE               Almost. A white girl helped me.                         PAUL               Then she helped herself, God bless her.     Awkward silence.                         SETHE               We got spare rooms.You could stay the               night, if you had a mind to.                         PAUL               You don't sound too steady in the offer.                         SETHE               Oh it's..it's truly meant. I just hope               you'llpardon my house.     Paul smiles a warm, touched smile that after all that they've      survived, Sethe is worried about what he'll think of her     home.                         PAUL               My house. I like the sound ofthat.     Sethe smiles, then rises to escort him in.     INT. 124 BLUESTONE ROAD - DAY.     Sethe opens the front door and enters, with Paul behind her,     hanging his shoes by the laces over his shoulder. As


ï»¿The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Mystery of a Hansom Cab, by Fergus HumeThis eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and withalmost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it awayorre-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License includedwith this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.netTitle: The Mystery of a Hansom CabAuthor: Fergus HumePosting Date: July 2, 2009 [EBook#4223]Release Date: July, 2003First Posted: December 8, 2001Last updated: February 28, 2013Last updated: June 8, 2013Language: English*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE MYSTERY OF AHANSOM CAB ***Produced by Col Choat.  HTML version by Al Haines.The Mystery of a Hansom CabbyFergus HumeCONTENTS      I.  WHAT THE ARGUS SAID.     II.  THE EVIDENCE AT THE INQUEST.    III.  ONEHUNDRED POUNDS REWARD.     IV.  MR. GORBY MAKES A START.      V.  MRS. HAMILTON UNBOSOMS HERSELF.     VI.  MR. GORBY MAKES FURTHER DISCOVERIES.    VII.  THE WOOL KING.   VIII.  BRIAN TAKES AWALK AND A DRIVE.     IX.  MR. GORBY IS SATISFIED AT LAST.      X.  IN THE QUEEN'S NAME.     XI.  COUNSEL FOR THE PRISONER.    XII.  SHE WAS A TRUE WOMAN.   XIII.  MADGE MAKES ADISCOVERY.    XIV.  ANOTHER RICHMOND IN THE FIELD.     XV.  A WOMAN OF THE PEOPLE.    XVI.  MISSING.   XVII.  THE TRIAL.  XVIII.  SAL RAWLINS TELLS ALL SHE KNOWS.    XIX.  THE VERDICT OF THEJURY.     XX.  THE "ARGUS" GIVES ITS OPINION.    XXI.  THREE MONTHS AFTERWARDS.   XXII.  A DAUGHTER OF EVE.  XXIII.  ACROSS THE WALNUTS AND THE WINE.   XXIV.  BRIAN RECEIVES ALETTER.    XXV.  WHAT DR. CHINSTON SAID.   XXVI.  KILSIP HAS A THEORY OF HIS OWN.  XXVII.  MOTHER GUTTERSNIPE JOINS THE MAJORITY. XXVIII.  MARK FRETTLBY HAS A VISITOR.   XXIX.  MR. CALTON'SCURIOSITY IS SATISFIED.    XXX.  NEMESIS.   XXXI.  HUSH-MONEY.  XXXII.  DE MORTUIS NIL NISI BONUM. XXXIII.  THE CONFESSION.  XXXIV.  THE HANDS OF JUSTICE.   XXXV.  "THE LOVE THAT LIVES."PREFACEInits original form, "The Mystery of a Hansom Cab" has reached thesale of 375,000 copies in this country, and some few editions in theUnited States of America. Notwithstanding this, the present publishershave the bestof reasons for believing, that there are thousands ofpersons whom the book has never reached. The causes of this havedoubtless been many, but chief among them was the form of thepublication itself. It is for thissection of the public chiefly thatthe present edition is issued. In placing it before my new readers, Ihave been asked by the publishers thoroughly to revise the work, and,at the same time, to set at rest the manyconflicting reportsconcerning it and myself, which have been current since its initialissue. The first of these requests I have complied with, and the manytypographic, and other errors, which disfigured the firstedition,have, I think I can safely say, now disappeared. The second request Iam about to fulfil; but, in order to do so, I must ask my readers to goback with me to the beginning of all things, so far as this specialbook isconcerned.The writing of the book was due more to accident than to design. I wasbent on becoming a dramatist, but, being quite unknown, I found itimpossible to induce the managers of the Melbourne Theatres toaccept,or even to read a play. At length it occurred to me I might further mypurpose by writing a novel. I should at all events secure a certainamount of local attention. Up to that time I had written only one ortwo shortstories, and the "Cab" was not only the first book I everpublished, but the first book I ever wrote; so to youth and lack ofexperience must be ascribed whatever was wanting in the book. I repeatthat the story waswritten only to attract local attention, and no onewas more astonished than I when it passed beyond the narrow circle forwhich it had originally been intended.My mind made up on this point, I enquired of a leadingMelbournebookseller what style of book he sold most of. He replied that thedetective stories of Gaboriau had a large sale; and as, at this time, Ihad never even heard of this author, I bought all his works--elevenorthereabouts--and read them carefully. The style of these storiesattracted me, and I determined to write a book of the same class;containing a mystery, a murder, and a description of low life inMelbourne. This was theorigin of the "Cab." The central idea i.e. themurder in a cab--came to me while driving at a late hour to St. Kilda,a suburb of Melbourne; but it took some time and much thought to workit out to a logical conclusion. Iwas two months sketching out theskeleton of the novel, but even so, when I had written it, the resultproved unsatisfactory, for I found I had not sufficiently wellconcealed the mystery upon which the whole interest ofthe bookdepended. In the first draft I made Frettlby the criminal, but onreading over the M.S. I found that his guilt was so obvious that Iwrote out the story for a second time, introducing the character ofMoreland as ascape-goat. Mother Guttersnipe I unearthed in the slumsoff Little Bourke Street; and I gave what I am afraid was perhaps toovivid a picture of her language and personality. These I have toneddown in the presentedition. Calton and the two lodging-house keeperswere actual personages whom I knew very well, and I do not think I haveexaggerated their idiosyncracies, although many have, I believe,doubted the existence of suchoddities. All the scenes in the book,especially the slums, are described from personal observation; and Ipassed a great many nights in Little Bourke Street, gathering material.Having completed the book, I tried to get itpublished, but every oneto whom I offered it refused even to look at the manuscript on theground that no Colonial could write anything worth reading. They gaveno reason for this extraordinary opinion, but it wassufficient forthem, and they laughed to scorn the idea that any good could come outof Nazareth--i.e., the Colonies. The story thus being boycotted on allhands, I determined to publish it myself, and accordingly aneditionof, I think, some five thousand copies was brought out at my own cost.Contrary to the expectations of the publishers, and I must add to myown, the whole edition went off in three weeks, and the publicdemandeda second. This also sold rapidly, and after some months, proposals weremade to me that the book should be brought out in London. Later on Iparted with the book to several speculators, who formedthemselves intowhat they called "The Hansom Cab Publishing Company." Taking the bookto London, they published it there with great success, and it had aphenomenal sale, which brought in a large sum of money. Thesuccesswas, in the first instance, due, in no small degree, to a very kind andgenerous criticism written by Mr. Clement Scott. I may here state thatI had nothing to do with the Company, nor did I receive any moneyforthe English sale of the book beyond what I sold it for; and, as amatter of fact, I did not arrive in England until a year after thenovel was published. I have heard it declared that the plot is foundedon a real criminalcase; but such a statement is utterly withoutfoundation, as the story is pure fiction from beginning to end. Severalpeople before and since my arrival in England, have assumed theauthorship of the book to themselves;and one gentleman went so far asto declare that he would shoot me if I claimed to have written it. I amglad to say that up to the present he has not carried out hisintention. Another individual had his cards printed,"Fergus Hume.Author of 'The Mystery of a Hansom Cab,'" and also added the price forwhich he was prepared to write a similar book. Many of the papers putthis last piece of eccentricity down to my account.I may statein conclusion, that I belong to New Zealand, and not toAustralia, that I am a barrister, and not a retired policeman, that Iam yet two decades off fifty years of age, that Fergus Hume is my realname, and not anom-de-plume; and finally, that far from making afortune out of the book, all I received for the English and Americanrights, previous to the issue of this Revised Edition by my presentpublishers, was the sum of fiftypounds. With this I take my leave, andI trust that the present edition may prove as successful as did thefirst.CHAPTER I.WHAT THE ARGUS SAID.The following report appeared in the Argus newspaper of Saturday,the28th July, 18--"Truth is said to be stranger than fiction, and certainly theextraordinary murder which took place in Melbourne on Thursday night,or rather Friday morning, goes a long way towards verifyingthissaying. A crime has been committed by an unknown assassin, within ashort distance of the principal streets of this great city, and issurrounded by an inpenetrable mystery. Indeed, from the nature of thecrime itself,the place where it was committed, and the fact that theassassin has escaped without leaving a trace behind him, it would seemas though the case itself had been taken bodily from one of Gaboreau'snovels, and that hisfamous detective Lecoq alone would be able tounravel it. The facts of the case are simply these:--"On the twenty-seventh day of July, at the hour of twenty minutes totwo o'clock in the morning, a hansom cab drove upto the police stationin Grey Street, St. Kilda, and the driver made the startling statementthat his cab contained the body of a man who he had reason to believehad been murdered. Being taken into the presence of theinspector, thecabman, who gave his name as Malcolm Royston, related the followingstrange story:--"At the hour of one o'clock in the morning, he was driving down CollinsStreet East, when, as he was passing the Burkeand Wills' monument, hewas hailed by a gentleman standing at the corner by the Scotch Church.He immediately drove up, and saw that the gentleman who hailed him wassupporting the deceased, who appeared to beintoxicated. Both were inevening dress, but the deceased had on no overcoat, while the otherwore a short covert coat of a light fawn colour, which was open. AsRoyston drove up, the gentleman in the light coat said,'Look here,cabby, here's some fellow awfully tight, you'd better take him home!'"Royston then asked him if the drunken man was his friend, but this theother denied, saying that he had just picked him up from thefootpath,and did not know him from Adam. At this moment the deceased turned hisface up to the light of the lamp under which both were standing, andthe other seemed to recognise him, for he recoiled a pace, lettingthedrunken man fall in a heap on the pavement, and gasping out 'You?' heturned on his heel, and walked rapidly away down Russell Street in thedirection of Bourke Street."Royston was staring after him, and wonderingat his strange conduct,when he was recalled to himself by the voice of the deceased, who hadstruggled to his feet, and was holding on to the lamp-post, swaying toand fro. 'I wan' g'ome,' he said in a thick voice, 'St.Kilda.' He thentried to get into the cab, but was too drunk to do so, and finally satdown again on the pavement. Seeing this, Royston got down, and liftinghim up, helped him into the cab with some considerabledifficulty. Thedeceased fell back into the cab, and seemed to drop off to sleep; so,after closing the door, Royston turned to remount his driving-seat,when he found the gentleman in the light coat whom he had seenholdingup the deceased, close to his elbow. Royston said, 'Oh, you've comeback,' and the other answered, 'Yes, I've changed my mind, and will seehim home.' As he said this he opened the door of the cab, steppedinbeside the deceased, and told Royston to drive down to St. Kilda.Royston, who was glad that the friend of the deceased had come to lookafter him, drove as he had been directed, but near the Church ofEnglandGrammar School, on the St. Kilda Road, the gentleman in thelight coat called out to him to stop. He did so, and the gentleman gotout of the cab, closing the door after him."'He won't let me take him home,' he said, 'soI'll just walk back tothe city, and you can drive him to St. Kilda.'"'What street, sir?' asked Royston."'Grey Street, I fancy,' said the other, 'but my friend will direct youwhen you get to the Junction.' "'Ain't he too muchon, sir?' saidRoyston, dubiously."'Oh, no! I think he'll be able to tell you where he lives--it's GreyStreet or Ackland Street, I fancy. I don't know which.'"He then opened the door of the cab and looked in. 'Good night,oldman,' he said--the other apparently did not answer, for the gentlemanin the light coat, shrugging his shoulders, and muttering 'sulkybrute,' closed the door again. He then gave Royston half-a-sovereign,lit acigarette, and after making a few remarks about the beauty of thenight, walked off quickly in the direction of Melbourne. Royston drovedown to the Junction, and having stopped there, according to hisinstructions heasked his 'fare' several times where he was to drivehim to. Receiving no response and thinking that the deceased was toodrunk to answer, he got down from his seat, opened the door of the cab,and found the deceasedlying back in the corner with a handkerchiefacross his mouth. He put out his hand with the intention of rousinghim, thinking that he had gone to sleep. But on touching him thedeceased fell forward, and on examination,to his horror, he found thathe was quite dead. Alarmed at what had taken place, and suspecting thegentleman in the light coat, he drove to the police station at St.Kilda, and there made the above report. The body ofthe deceased wastaken out of the cab and brought into the station, a doctor being sentfor at once. On his arrival, however, he found that life was quiteextinct, and also discovered that the handkerchief which wastiedlightly over the mouth was saturated with chloroform. He had nohesitation in stating that from the way in which the handkerchief wasplaced, and the presence of chloroform, that a murder had beencommitted, andfrom all appearances the deceased died easily, andwithout a struggle. The deceased is a slender man, of medium height,with a dark complexion, and is dressed in evening dress, which willrender identification difficult,as it is a costume which has nodistinctive mark to render it noticeable. There were no papers or cardsfound on the deceased from which his name could be discovered, and theclothing was not marked in any way. Thehandkerchief, however, whichwas tied across his mouth, was of white silk, and marked in one of thecorners with the letters 'O.W.' in red silk. The assassin, of course,may have used his own handkerchief to commit thecrime, so that if theinitials are those of his name they may ultimately lead to hisdetection. There will be an inquest held on the body of the deceasedthis morning, when, no doubt, some evidence may be elicited whichmaysolve the mystery."In Monday morning's issue of the ARGUS the following article appearedwith reference to the matter:--"The following additional evidence which has been obtained may throwsome light on themysterious murder in a hansom cab of which we gave afull description in Saturday's issue:--'Another hansom cabman called atthe police office, and gave a clue which will, no doubt, prove of valueto the detectives intheir search for the murderer. He states that hewas driving up the St. Kilda Road on Friday morning about half-past oneo'clock, when he was hailed by a gentleman in a light coat, who steppedinto the cab and told himto drive to Powlett Street, in EastMelbourne. He did so, and, after paying him, the gentleman got out atthe corner of Wellington Parade and Powlett Street and walked slowly upPowlett Street, while the cab drove back totown. Here all clue ends,but there can be no doubt in the minds of our readers as to theidentity of the man in the light coat who got out of Royston's cab onthe St. Kilda Road, with the one who entered the other cab andalightedtherefrom at Powlett Street. There could have been no struggle, as hadany taken place the cabman, Royston, surely would have heard the noise.The supposition is, therefore, that the deceased was too drunk tomakeany resistance, and that the other, watching his opportunity, placedthe handkerchief saturated with chloroform over the mouth of hisvictim. Then after perhaps a few ineffectual struggles the latter wouldsuccumbto the effects of his inhalation. The man in the light coat,judging from his conduct before getting into the cab, appears to haveknown the deceased, though the circumstance of his walking away onrecognition, andreturning again, shows that his attitude towards thedeceased was not altogether a friendly one."The difficulty is where to start from in the search after the authorof what appears to be a deliberate murder, as thedeceased seems to beunknown, and his presumed murderer has escaped. But it is impossiblethat the body can remain long without being identified by someone, asthough Melbourne is a large city, yet it is neither Parisnor London,where a man can disappear in a crowd and never be heard of again. Thefirst thing to be done is to establish the identity of the deceased,and then, no doubt, a clue will be obtained leading to the detectionofthe man in the light coat who appears to have been the perpetrator ofthe crime. It is of the utmost importance that the mystery in which thecrime is shrouded should be cleared up, not only in the interests ofjustice,but also in those of the public--taking place as it did in apublic conveyance, and in the public street. To think that the authorof such a crime is at present at large, walking in our midst, andperhaps preparing for thecommittal of another, is enough to shake thestrongest nerves. In one of Du Boisgobey's stories, entitled 'AnOmnibus Mystery,' a murder closely resembling this tragedy takes placein an omnibus, but we question if eventhat author would have beendaring enough to write about a crime being committed in such anunlikely place as a hansom cab. Here is a great chance for some of ourdetectives to render themselves famous, and we feelsure that they willdo their utmost to trace the author of this cowardly and dastardlymurder."CHAPTER II.THE EVIDENCE AT THE INQUEST.At the inquest held on the body found in the hansom cab the followingarticlestaken from the deceased were placed on the table:--1. Two pounds ten shillings in gold and silver.2. The white silk handkerchief which was saturated with chloroform, andwas found tied across the mouth of thedeceased, marked with theletters O.W. in red silk.3. A cigarette case of Russian leather, half filled with "Old Judge"cigarettes. 4. A left-hand white glove of kid--rather soiled--withblack seams down the back. SamuelGorby, of the detective office, waspresent in order to see if anything might be said by the witnesseslikely to point to the cause or to the author of the crime.The first witness called was Malcolm Royston, in whose cab thecrimehad been committed. He told the same story as had already appeared inthe ARGUS, and the following facts were elicited by the Coroner:--Q. Can you give a description of the gentleman in the light coat, whowasholding the deceased when you drove up?A. I did not observe him very closely, as my attention was taken up bythe deceased; and, besides, the gentleman in the light coat was in theshadow.Q Describe him from whatyou saw of him.A. He was fair, I think, because I could see his moustache, rathertall, and in evening dress, with a light coat over it. I could not seehis face very plainly, as he wore a soft felt hat, which was pulleddownover his eyes.Q. What kind of hat was it he wore--a wide-awake?A. Yes. The brim was turned down, and I could see only his mouth andmoustache.Q. What did he say when you asked him if he knew the deceased?A. Hesaid he didn't; that he had just picked him up.Q. And afterwards he seemed to recognise him?A. Yes. When the deceased looked up he said "You!" and let him fall onto the ground; then he walked away towards BourkeStreet.Q. Did he look back?A. Not that I saw.Q. How long were you looking after him?A. About a minute.Q. And when did you see him again?A. After I put deceased into the cab I turned round and found him atmyelbow.Q. And what did he say?A. I said, "Oh! you've come back," and he said, "Yes, I've changed mymind, and will see him home," and then he got into the cab, and told meto drive to St. Kilda.Q. He spoke then as ifhe knew the deceased?A. Yes; I thought that he recognised him only when he looked up, andperhaps having had a row with him walked away, but thought he'd comeback.Q. Did you see him coming back?A. No; thefirst I saw of him was at my elbow when I turned.Q. And when did he get out? A. Just as I was turning down by theGrammar School on the St. Kilda Road.Q. Did you hear any sounds of fighting or struggling in the cabduringthe drive?A. No; the road was rather rough, and the noise of the wheels goingover the stones would have prevented my hearing anything.Q. When the gentleman in the light coat got out did he appear