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Oh, I thought you would know, you're a writer. Of course you do. Good night, old man. |
Well, yes. I suppose that is what I meant to say. |
Of course, of course, of course. |
Zane Grey. |
Oh, that is Mr. Martins' little joke, of course... |
Get me Major Callaghan on the phone. |
Oh, Mr. Martins... |
...excuse me. |
Please hurry up just get him on the telephone. |
Do you know his number? |
No, I don't know... |
...his number. |
I'll look it up for you. |
Well, look, is there a car here I can use? |
Please be careful, sir. Up we come. Written anything lately? |
Take him to Sacher's. |
It's a military hotel. |
I'm so glad to have met you, sir. I've read quite a few of your books. |
Write her out a receipt, Paine. Give her a receipt for these letters too. |
This way, miss. |
Very good, sir. |
You know, Paine's one of your devoted readers. He's promised... |
...of Santa Fe." |
I'd like to visit Texas one day, sir. |
Shall I go over there, sir? |
No, no. Leave them for a while. |
Can you tell me whose... |
Fellow called Lime. |
My name is Calloway. |
Martins. |
You a friend of Lime's? |
Yes. |
Been here long? |
No. |
You've had a bit of a shock, haven't you? You could do with a drink. |
Could you buy me one. I haven't got any Austrian kroners. Thanks. |
Schmolka! |
Back in school. Never so lonesome in my life till he showed up. |
When did you see him last? |
September '39. |
See much of him before that? |
Once in a while. |
I'm afraid I've never heard of you. What's your name again? |
Holly Martins. |
No, sorry. |
Did you ever hear of "The Lone Rider of Santa Fe?" |
I can't say that I have. |
"Death at the Double X Ranch" Ra anch. |
No. |
Must have known I was broke. Even sent me an airplane ticket. It's a shame. |
What? |
Him dying like that. |
Best thing that ever happened... |
...to him. |
What are you trying to say? |
He was... |
...policemen. I have to call them sheriffs. |
Ever seen one? |
Pin it on a... |
...a cop. You're a real cop I suppose. |
It wasn't petrol. |
Why don't you catch a few murderers for a change? |
Well, you could say that murder was part... |
Listen, Callaghan. |
Calloway I'm English, not Irish. |
...expense. |
Going to find me the real criminal? It sounds like one of your stories. |
What the devil? |
Getting around, Martins. |
Oh, pinning things on girls now. |
And there was a third man there. I suppose that doesn't sound peculiar to you. |
I'm not interested in whether a racketeer like Lime was killed by his friends or by accident. The only important thing is that he's dead. |
Tactful too, aren't we, Callaghan? |
Calloway. |
Miss Schmidt. |
You're not locking her up? |
Get the next plane. |
As soon as I get to the bottom of this, I'll get the next plane. |
Death is at the bottom of everything, Martins. Leave death to the professionals. |
Do you mind if I use that line in my next Western? You can't chuck me out, my papers are in order. |
What do you want to see a doctor for, huh? |
A bruised lip. |
A parrot bit me. |
Oh, stop behaving like a fool, Martins. |
I'm only a little fool I'm an amateur at it you're a professional. You've been shaking your cap and bells all over town. |
Well? |
In Vienna... |
Do you see what that means? |
Are you too busy chasing a few tubes of penicillin to investigate a murder? |
That is the racket Harry Lime organized. |
Calloway, you haven't shown me one shred of evidence. |
Next, Paine. |
I would like a word with this orderly Harbin. |
So would I. |
Bring him in. |
I can't. He disappeared... |
...a week ago. |
It's more like a mortuary than police headquarters. |
...be responsible for you in the streets. |
I'm not asking you to. |
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