British Agent (Warner Bros.) (1934)

BRITISH AGENT The story of First National’s film hit fiction ized by Arthur Zellner, inspired by R. H. Bruce Lochhart’s book. THE STORY THUS FAR Stephen Locke, unofficial representative of the British Empire in Russia during the revolution, saves the life of a beautiful young Russian girl during a Petrograd street riot. He meets her again, in company with the head of the Russian Secret Police in a gypsy cafe, and they fall desperately in love with each other. Stephen is trying, with representatwes of other nations,*to keep Russia fighting on the side of the Allies. CHAPTER V T WAS the next day—Stephen and Elena were alone in Stephen’s sitting room. He walked over to the table and took Elena in his arms. ‘‘Why aren’t you smiling as cheerfully as the sun?’’ he asked. She withdrew from him slightly and took his face in her hands, staring deeply into his eyes. Then tenderly, she kissed him. “T am afraid, Stephen,” she said. “Afraid of love, Elena?” “Yes, when we know we are doomed to part.” He smiled and kissed her again. “Surely you don’t think a matter of political opinion—” She interrupted him. “Yes— our lives are devoted to foilowing two ideals leading us in opposite directions, away from one another. That means that sooner or later we have to say goodbye. It would be painful enough now, but every day will make it more so.” =——Betore he could answeUtinere was a knock at the door. Disereetly, Elena slipped into another room and closed the door. The caller was Evans with a letter from the Foreign Office. Excitedly, Locked opened it. “Better wait,” he said _ to Evans. “I must decide this and there may be an answer.” For a moment, even Elena was forgotten and for several minutes he was engrossed in his code book. Finally, his eyes alight, he turned to Evans— “Listen, Evans” he said boyishly as he read the decoded message, “We look to you to do all in your power to prevent signing of a separate peace with Germany. This commissions you only as an individual. We cannot be responsible for your decisions or your safety, but await your recommendations.” It was nearly noon before he gained an audience with the Soviet Council. : When he walked into the council room, he noted the grim expressions on the face of the Commissioners — there was no welcome for him — no encouragement or any sort of greeting. They sat with an air of doubtful tolerance. Stephen felt their very manner as a challange to him. He did not at first notice that Elena sat beside Lenin—her face pale. When he did see her, there was a light of more than recognition in her eyes. There was nothing hopeful in the court introduction spoken by the burly man who closed the door behind him—“Mr. Stephen Locke of the British Embassy.” At first a bit hesitant, his own words seem to vitalize his confidence and in a few moments he was making a masterly plea against a separate peace with Germany. His hearers began to give him the encouragement of an occasional nod of assent. “There is a practical side to this question, also” he went on. “Wars end, Gentlemen, but trade goes on, unceasingly. And the life blood of this New Russia must be commerce. That I can promise you—English Trade.” Lenin now spoke — his quiet voice carrying a strange force of authority. “Yes,” he said, “You promise us England’s trade. You promise us recognition. On whose authority?” “T represent England” said Locke without hesitation. “You lie, Mr. Locke,” he heard a tense voice say. You represent England only unofficially. Your purpose in coming here is to delay a separate peace.” “Give me three weeks time to communicate with Downing Street,” pleaded Locke, “I will tell my government that in return for not opening peace ne gotiations, I am promising you immediate help.” The Commissioner’s eyes narrowed. “We might be willing to risk it—on our own terms.” He said very slowly—his keen eyes glinting. “And they are—” asked Stephen. “Fifty million Sterling, muni tions, and five divisions of troops.” “T’ll ask for them” said Stephen. “Another thing—we must be assured that England will do nothing to hinder the Soviet, during these three weeks.” “That much I can pledge,” said Locke solemnly. As he withdrew, Locke knew that he had obligated England to make no move against the Soviet, within three weeks. He felt sure that this was a safe promise. England would not let him down, expose him to disgrace —maybe death. After he had sent his note to London, his mind returned to the girl who had upset his plans by betraying what she had heard in his rooms. Even his bitterness and resentment were tempered with an insistent notion that she did not’ realize what she had done. “She was right,” he thought, “Love between us was doomed from the beginning. She will _ never have another chance to serve her country at my expense.” He did not know that even as he decided he was through with Elena, Fate was chuckling at his delusion. (To Be Continued Tomorrow) “You lie, Mr. Locke—You represent England only unofficially—” (The Russian War inister denounces the discredited “British Agent” protrayed by Leslie Howard, as the world rocking events of the Russian Revolution are screened in the First National drama “British Agent,” coming to the Strand Theatre soon.) BRITISH AGENT The story of First National’s film hit fictionized by Arthur Zellner, inspired by R. H. Bruce Lockhart’s book. THE STORY THUS FAR The beautiful Russian girl, whose life Stephen Locke, British consular agent, had saved in a Petrograd street riot, turns out to be an agent of the Secret Police, and despite her intense love for the man, tells his secrets to her chief, thus upsetting Locke’s plan to prevent Russia from making a separate peace with Germany. Locke gets a delay of three weeks on the strength of his representations to the Revolutionary leaders. CHAPTER VI T was late when Locke returned to his lodgings that evening. Weary and distraught, he climbed the stairs and let himself in. The room was in darkness, except for the flood of silver from a new moon. As he reached for a match, to light the lamp his eyes caught the silhouette of a figure outlined against the window. At first startled, he soon realized that it was Elena. “T am sorry,” said he with slow deliberation, “if I interrupted you while you were going through my papers.” His voice was icy. “IT wasn’t going through your papers — I — I just came to see you,” she answered quietly. “What for? To ingratiate yourself again so you can betray another confidence.” After a long pause, her answer came—faintly. “I didnt betray your confidence.” “Really ?” “It was my duty” she said-— her voice still soft. “IT gathered it was” he said were streaming down her cheeks. “Elena” he said. She faced him, erect and unashamed. She could not help the tears but otherwise her pride offered no admission of her heart. Stephen felt himself swept by a wave of tenderness. Vien he spoke, it was with a new gentleness. “Poor foolish Elena. You believe so terribly in your hysterical mob ideals that you can’t see how wrong they are. He led her toward the couch and drew her down beside him. to kiss her touseled head, she was sound asleep. The days that followed were serene enough, but for Locke they tried his patience. His expected answer from the Home Office never came. Day after day he went to the Embassy, where Medill, LaFarge and Del Val dropped in for long sessions of poker. Even these games did not relieve the tedium of waiting. His nerves were on edge. He felt that he should have some sign from his superiors. Two weeks passed, and by now he could not bring himself to join the others in their trip to the Gypsy Inn. He found restfulness nowhere except with Elena. Just before the three weeks were up, Elena was announced at the British Embassy Office. He was surprised, because she had never before come to him here. When Evans showed her in, it was evident that souething was terribly wrong. He rose to meet her. “Elena, you shouldn’t have come here—the Cheka is watching me—they may suspect you.” “T had to come—I wanted to tell you, rather than have you humiliated by learning it from them.” “What are you talking about” he asked, some of her excitement communicating itself to him. “British troops” she said slowly—her eyes not daring to meet his,” landed at Archangel today under General Poole.” Stephen’s head went up — a light of triumph in his eye — “That’s the answer to my telegram—J’ve won.” Elena took his stroked it tenderly. hand and “No Stephen,’ she said slowly, “You’ve lost. They’ve come to fight against the Soviet.?’ “No—No” he almost shouted— “They wouldn’t do that. Why England—” “Has betrayed you” she interrupted. He bowed his head. He saw the truth, now. He would be discredited—disgraced. The So viet Government would have no dealings with him. His future helpfulness to England nil. He found his voice with difficulty. “You’d better go now — you'll get in trouble here.” She rose and stood looking at him. “You shan’t see me. again, Stephen.” “Not see you?” “The government is moving to Moscow,” she told him. “Naturally I go with it. We shan’t see each other again, even in Moscow.” Stephen flared. So you think more of this red ideal, your God, Lenin—than you do of me?” Her eyes softened. Her answer was almost sobbing. “Yes” she said, “And I worship you, I adore you too much She did not speak, but rested her head on his shoulder, sighing like a tired child. to stand the hatred of everything for which you stand. Don’t see me again. “I worship you, I adore you too much to stand the hatred of everything for which you stand. Don’t see me again—” (Love and duty clash in a tense scene between Kay Francis and Leslie Howard in First National’s drama “British Agent,” suggested by the best seller novel of R. H. Bruce Lockhart, and coming to the Strand Theatre.) almost sneeringly. She started toward the door, and as she passed the table, her head high, Locke saw that tears A little later, when he leaned (To Be Continued Tomorrow) Page Twenty