MR. CHARLS PHIL BYRNES ALIAS RALPH WEST IS A EX CON AND WAS MARRIED TO POLLY IN TOPEKER THREE YERS AGO. HE LIVES AT THE MIL
The rest of the note has been chewed off by Asta.
Nick, indifferently. “Well, what are we supposed to do, send them an anniversary present?”
Nora. “Nick, phone Lieutenant Abrams!”
Nick. “And have him up here to keep us awake some more?”
Nora insists. “Phone him, Nick. Don’t you see, if Phil was her husband...”
Nick grumbles, “I guess you’re right,” and goes out of the room.
Nora plays with Asta for a minute or two and then goes to the door of the next room where the phone is. Not seeing Nick, she calls him. There is no answer. After a little hesitancy, she goes up to the bedroom. Nick, in pajamas, is asleep. On her pillow is a sign: SISSY.
Aunt Katherine at telephone at her home. Dr. Kammer is sitting in a chair nearby. She calls a number and asks, “Mr. Moody. This is Miss Forrest calling.”
Series of Short Shots. Printing press running off extras with enormous headlines: MEMBER OF PROMINENT FAMILY KILLED.
Editorial room of newspaper office — men being assigned to cover this story.
Then up to publisher’s office, where Peter Moody, a very dignified old man with a grave and courteous manner, is picking up the phone, saying “Yes, Katherine, how are you? I’m awfully sorry to hear about Robert’s death.”
Aunt Katherine. “Thank you, Peter. It’s terrible and that’s what I called you about. The police, it seems, are trying to make a great deal of mystery out of what must have been — it couldn’t have been anything else — simply an attempted holdup. I hope I can count on you to do your best to give the whole terrible affair no more publicity than is absolutely necessary.”
Peter Moody. “Of course, of course, Katherine. But you must understand that if the police make it news we must print it.”
Aunt Katherine. “I understand, but you will handle it as quietly as possible?”
Moody. “Certainly, I can promise you that. And will you please convey my sympathy to poor Selma.” Aunt Katherine. “Thank you, Peter.”
As Peter Moody puts down the phone, a man comes into the office bringing an early copy of the extra that had been run off with the enormous headline seen in the previous shot.
Moody looks at it and nods with approval, saying “Very good.”
Aunt Katherine phones her brother, the general, who is having his whiskers trimmed by a valet almost as old as he is. The valet hands him the phone, saying “Miss Forrest, sir.”
The general hems and haws between his words a good deal. “It’s terrible, Katherine — I just heard — I’m on my way over.”
Aunt Katherine. “Yes, terrible, Thomas and I want to see you — but first, will you see if you can get in touch with the mayor?”
General. “The mayor?” He clears his throat some more.
Aunt Katherine. “Yes. I’m sure poor Robert was killed by a robber, but the police seem determined to make as big a mystery out of it, with as much resultant notoriety for all of us as possible. I wish you would ask him to do what he can.”
General. “Certainly, my dear,” clearing his throat again, “I shall look after it immediately.”
As Katherine hangs up, he gives the valet the phone, saying “Get me the mayor” in the tone one says, “Get me a newspaper.”
As Aunt Katherine turns from the phone toward Dr. Kammer, the butler appears at the door to announce Lieutenant Abrams.
Several hours later, the general arrives at Nick’s house. He hands his hat to the butler who opens the door and says, “Take me to Mr. Charles immediately.”
Butler. “But he’s still asleep, sir.”
The general snorts, saying “Yes, yes, so you said when Miss Forrest phoned. Devilish inconsiderate of all of you.”
The butler says apologetically, “But we never disturb him when he’s asleep, sir.”
The general snorts some more. “You said that over the phone, too. Now stop this silly nonsense and take me to him.”
The butler, overawed by the general, takes him up to Nick and Nora’s room. They are sleeping soundly. The general prods one of Nora’s shoulders with his finger and says, “Here, here, wake up.”
Nora stirs a little and mumbles something but doesn’t open her eyes.
The general prods her again, saying “Come — this is no time to be sleeping. Devilish inconsiderate of all of you.”
This time Nora opens her eyes and stares up at him in amazement.
General. “Wake up your young man, my dear. Why doesn’t the fellow sleep at night?”
Nora asks, “But what’s the matter, Uncle Thomas?”
General. “Matter? We’ve been trying to get you for hours. Wake him up.”
Nora shakes Nick, who says without opening his eyes, “Go away porter, I told you not to call me till Sacramento.”
Nora. “Wake up, Nick, Uncle Thomas wants to talk to you.”
Nick. “Tell the white-whiskered old fossil to do his snorting in somebody else’s ear — I’m busy.”
Nora. “But Nick, he’s here, standing beside you.”
Nick sits up blinking and says, “Why, Uncle Thomas, how nice of you to drop in on us like this.”
General. “Come — enough of this nonsense. Selma has been arrested and you lie here snoring.”
Nora looks horrified.
The general snorts some more. “The mayor did nothing to stop it — the bounder.”
Nick. “Maybe he didn’t know.”
The general asks, “Didn’t know what?”
Nick. “That I was snoring.”
General. “Come, get up. You know about these things — Katherine is counting on you.”
Nick, putting on his robe and slippers, says, “You don’t need me now, you need a lawyer.”
The general says contemptuously, “A lawyer — old Witherington is running around in circles, completely at sea; no ability at all, that fellow.”
Nick. “Then why don’t you get another lawyer?” The general draws himself up. “Witherington has been our family attorney for years.”
Nick. “Well, what do you expect me to do?” General. “To make the police stop being so silly — to get Selma out of there right away — to put an end to all this beastly notoriety.”
Nick asks, “Is that all?”
General. “Come — we’re wasting time — get into your clothes.”
In a barely furnished office in the Hall of Justice, Nick is talking to Abrams.
Abrams. “I know how you feel about it, Mr. Charles, I guess I’d feel the same way if it was one of my family; but what can we do? Everything points to her.”
Nick asks, “You mean you found out some things I don’t know about?”
Abrams. “Well, not much, maybe, but there’s that check thing.”
Nick asks, “What check thing?”
Abrams. “Maybe the district attorney isn’t going to like this much, but I’ll tell you: I went down to Landis’ bank and that ten-thousand-dollar check he gave the girl is perfectly okay. It was okay because his wife had put ten thousand in there for him just the day before.”
Nick looks surprised. He asks, “Are you sure?”
Abrams. “Sure, I’m sure. I saw it myself.”
Nick. “Did you ask her about it?”
Abrams replies wearily, “Yes, and there’s some kind of hanky-panky there, too, but I can’t figure out just what it is. She started to say she didn’t and then the old lady, Miss Katherine,” he breaks off to add — “that one’s a holy terror—”