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: Go home Martins, like a sensible chap. You don't know what you're mixing in, get the next plane. Martins
: As soon as I get to the bottom of this, I'll get the next plane. Calloway
: Death's at the bottom of everything, Martins. Leave death to the professionals. Martins
: Mind if I use that line in my next Western?
: Listen, Callahan! Calloway
: Calloway. I'm English, not Irish.
: Have you ever seen any of your victims? Harry Lime
: You know, I never feel comfortable on these sort of things. Victims? Don't be melodramatic. Look down there. Tell me. Would you really feel any pity if one of those dots stopped moving forever? If I offered you twenty thousand pounds for every dot that stopped, would you really, old man, tell me to keep my money, or would you calculate how many dots you could afford to spare? Free of income tax, old man. Free of income tax - the only way you can save money nowadays.
: I guess nobody really knew Harry like he did... like I did. Calloway
: How long ago ? Martins
: Back in school. I was never so lonesome in my life until he showed up. Calloway
: When did you see him last ? Martins
: September, '39. Calloway
: When the business started ? Martins
: Um, hmm. Calloway
: See much of him before that ? Martins
: Once in a while. Best friend I ever had. Calloway
: That sounds like a cheap novelette. Martins
: Well, I write cheap novelettes.
: I told you to go away, Martins. This isn't Santa Fe. I'm not a sheriff and you aren't a cowboy. You've been blundering around with the worst bunch of racketeers in Vienna, your precious Harry's friends, and now you're wanted for murder. Martins
: Put down drunk and disorderly too. Calloway
: I have.
: Nobody thinks in terms of human beings. Governments don't. Why should we? They talk about the people and the proletariat, I talk about the suckers and the mugs - it's the same thing. They have their five-year plans, so have I. Martins
: You used to believe in God. Harry Lime
: Oh, I still do believe in God, old man. I believe in God and Mercy and all that. But the dead are happier dead. They don't miss much here, poor devils.
: I'd make comic faces... and stand on my head and grin at you between my legs... and tell all sorts of jokes. I wouldn't stand a chance, would I?
: I was going to stay with him, but he died Thursday. Crabbin
: Goodness, that's awkward. Martins
: Is that what you say to people after death? "Goodness, that's awkward"?
: Oh, Anna, why do we always... have to quarrel? Anna Schmidt
: If you want to sell your services, I'm not willing to be the price. I loved him. You loved him. What good have we done him? Love. Look at yourself.They have a name for faces like that.