Raffles (United Artists) (1930)

E DAILY (Substim^mm^'aper^j^ Theatre heading^for this diTpldy^ljtne. Tbif* display line STORY M (Name of City) (Date of Issue) From the short stories of E. W. Homing and the stage plays hy Hornmng and Eugene W. PresTbrey and the photon play adapted by SIDNEY HOW AMD ___ (Copyright 1930 by Samuel Goldwyn) F OUR men sat around a card table. A number of tally sheets were scattered about in the confusion of cards, red ones and blue. Three looked at their youngest companion—a fair-haired youth, ob¬ viously disheveled and exhausted by too many hours of intense card playing. Bunny sat and stared, a mute despair numb¬ ing him. His hand went haltingly over his fore¬ head to wipe away a strand of hair and an imaginary bead of perspiration. He startled and glanced up, not at the three players, but at the attendant standing behind him. “Where’s Raffles? ’ Bunny Manders asked. “Isn’t he here? Where is he? Can’t you find him?’’ as he fingered the little pocket check¬ book. “Come, let’s get this account straightened out,” came from the slender-faced man. He twisted his waxed yellow mustache irritably. “You don’t need Raffles to sign, your checks. It’s a thousand pounds even. Like a man throwing down a distasteful medicine, Bunny quickly signed the check, his face wincing and twisting in unexplained agony, while his companions looked on in a bored tolerance. Bunny arose, shook hands nerv¬ ously with each of the three as he mumbled good-bye, and walked to the cloak room. While the attendant helped him with his coat, Bunny asked absently, “Has Raffles come in? . . .if he comes soon, tell him ... no, never mind. I'll look him up myself . . ." as he trailed out absently. From the stone steps of the Club, Bunny hailed a cab. “The Albany, in Belgrave Square,” he ordered, as he sank back in the smelly depths. The cab made him feel funny, like being alone with his misery, when he wanted company. A thousand pounds, indeed. The check, yes, but where was the money to come from? If only Raffles .... Bunny felt relieved when the ancient coveyance stopped with a jolt. The driver opened the door. “The Albany, sir,” was the signal for him to climb out. He handed the cabman a few coins and mounted the marble-slab stairs of Raffles' apartment. I T seemed an endless time before an answer came to his ringing. The old-fashioned bell clanged and clanged before the head of Barraclough peered through the guarded opening. Brushing past Raffles' servant, Bunny peered around the flat, walking from one side to the other. "Where s Raffles? Isn't he home? When do you expect him?” Barraclough only shook his head. “You know Mr. Raffles, sir.” “I'll wait for him. I've got to see him.’’ Bunny sat down weakly. “I wonder where he could be?” In the distance, there were chimes tolling mid¬ night. They made Bunny feel chilly. He got up and came over by the fire, seating himself in a comfort¬ able leather chair. His coat, collar upturned, was still wrapped about him. His check book came out from an inner pocket. The careful examination to which Bunny subjected it seemed productive of nothing, for he put it back with a wry look. “Barraclough! 1 say, Barraclough!" he called. Raffles' man was at his side. “Do you think Mr. Raffles would mind putting me up for the night?” Bunny asked. “Indeed not, sir. The extra bedroom is this way, sir.” Barraclough led the way to the adjoining room, furnished in the same simple good taste as the huge living room. Indicating the bed with his hand, Barraclough said, "You’ll find everything you need, sir. I’ll bring you a pair of Mr. Raffles’ pajamas. Do you wish whiskey and soda or anything?” Bunny merely shook his head as he wandered ab¬ sently about the bedchamber, mumbling “Why did 1 do it? Why?” The door slammed after the retreat¬ ing figure of the butler. From the desk, he picked up a long, pointed paper knife. His contemplation of il as a dagger was obvious. He threw it down with disgust and continued his vacant, distracted wander¬ ing. A droning kind of mumble was so audible that it brought the faithful Barraclough to the keyhole in his effort to understand the extraordinary behavior of Mr. Manders. Suddenly the harassed young man peered into the bathroom, as if in the throes of a great constructive inspiration. Destructive, rather,—nothing less than self-destruction was in Bunny’s mind. He looked avidly at the hot water heater and the tiny gas flame that blazed beneath it. He turned off the gas, and then after a second, drew in a huge breath,—a pale smile coming to his face from the sickly, sweet scent of the fumes. In that smile could be seen his welcome of "a way out.” He again reached over, and without striking a light, turned on the gas full force. With a re¬ solved, desperate look, he pulled the door shut, tight. Seated on the floor, he waited for the deathly gas to fill the room and his lungs and to drive the last breath of life from his body. In a few minutes, he dropped over on his side, unconscious. W HILE Bunny was so desperately, searching for Raf¬ fles, that estimable gentleman had other thoughts in mind. He was crouched in the shadows before a great vault, labeled in bold gold letters, * Clews and Sons, Jewelers.” His gloved hands nimbly spun the dial to the right and the left, his trained ear waiting for the tell-tale click. The safe door opened within an incredibly short few minutes of„§uch deliberation. From his pocket, Raffles took keys that were success¬ ful in opening compartments. Tray after tray came out, each of which he examined with the aid of a little pocket flashlight. The one that held brooches was discarded, and then another with bar pins. Others of wrist watches, neckpieces and bracelets. But from the third of the bracelet trays, Raffles selected two. He held them up side by side for examination and comparison. Selecting the one he liked best, Raffles pocketed it, and then carefully returned each tray to its place in the safe. On the top of the last tray, the one from which he had obtained his-bracelet, he placed a card. Over the card’s engraved line, reading “The Amateur Cracksman,' Raffles wrote in pencil, “His Last Job.” To which he added an oral “Amen.” Closing the door of the vault, Raffles crept toward the street, along the side of the glass showcases. He looked back in a final salute and farewell to criminal adventure. He shook his head and smiled a little, reminiscently, as he waited for the footsteps of a pas¬ serby outside to die down. Then, when he heard nothing, he quietly slipped through the unlatched and unbolted door, and cocking his hat, jauntily strode up the street. It wasn’t eleven yet. N OT ten minutes later, Raffles was seated at a table, close to the dancing shuffle at the Embassy Club. Beautifully gowned women and immaculately groomed men eddied about, nodding pleasantly to him right and left. Lord Melrose, Ethel Crowley and the other guests at the table were absorbed in Raffles' arrival. But his interest was all in Gwen. In her wel¬ come and in his greeting, there was more than casual friendship. Gwen had the poised assurance of a well-bred Englishwoman. She talked with her head thrown back, Byronnic. Her hands were long, beautifully tapered, graceful and expressive. The lines of her face were patrician, characterful, yet the faintest suggestion of Continued on Page Two