 adventure, intrigue, mystery, romance, starring Humphrey Bogart and Lauren Bacall together in the sultry setting of Tropical Havana and the mysterious islands of the Caribbean. Bold Venture. Once again the magic names of Humphrey Bogart and Lauren Bacall bring you bold venture and a tale of mystery and intrigue. Now look, Mrs. Baker. Please let me finish. I know I'm not as young as you might like, but I am well off and I could make you very happy, Mr. Shannon. What are you blushing for, Slate? You've never been proposed to or catch like you? Now you keep out of this, they'll go down a shoulder strap, mend a sock. You're true, so is an apple pie, order dear. Besides, if a fellow's going to get married, somebody has to give him away. I give you away. Take him, Mrs. Baker. Thank you, dear. I'm quite sold on him. He's everything they told me he would be and more. I was recommended, huh, Mrs. Baker? By Darby and Joan. Darby and Joan. Joan sounds familiar, but Darby throws me. Look it up in my files, Sailor. Darby and Joan incorporated a lonely hearts club. It was there that I saw your picture, there that I fell in love with you. Sailor, have you been handing out my picture again? Stuffing it in mailboxes. Didn't have a lonely hearts club though. Too many people were throwing rocks at me. Now what does it matter how it got there? All I know is that I saw it and they gave me your address and I'm here to ask for your hand in marriage. Say yes, Mr. Shannon. Look, Mrs. Baker, there are a lot of other fish in the sea. You'll get over it. We'll be friends. Have another quiche, Slade. I just made some fresh. Well, you don't understand, you see. I'm a widow, a lonely, unhappy widow. My husband was lost in the Texas City disaster in 1947. Since then, I've tried to replace the man he was, but you're the first one I've found. Oh, I'm sorry, Mrs. Baker. Really sorry, I can't marry you. You don't know what a happy girl he's just made you, Mrs. Baker. My heart felt for licitations. I'll get you a cab, dear. Having fun, Laura? Love it. I like the way all of this fits you. Swank hotel, heated swimming pool, patio, all of it. It's a good background for you, Laura. Yeah. Yes, it is. Laura. Want to go in? No. Laura, what are you going to do with my wife? Don't worry about it. She'll be found. She'll make a headline in the paper. Mary Baker and I will have tea. We'll take a walk. She'll be found. Uh-huh. Just don't worry about it. I'm not worried. An executive like you, a career girl who runs a lonely arts club, odds and ends and details, tea with a woman, walk with a woman, the killing of a woman, second nature for you, Laura. Not really, darling. It becomes a matter of overcoming an obstacle like you did. I guess. After all, Frank, your wife thinks you're dead. Your wife thinks you went up in an explosion. Letting her think that's more cruel than what I'm going to do. Dying only takes a moment. I guess. But understand this, Laura. When that boat went up in Texas City and 500 people turned up, dead or missing, well, I became one of the missing. I know. You couldn't stand your wife. That's right. Why, I ever married her. For her money, darling, let's not be coy. That's why you've come back to get her money and me. Mostly you. Without your wife's money, darling, I'd look at you sitting beside me and see a man slowly turning to flab. That's me for you. Let's take a dip, Laura. Whatever you say, Frank. Got your motor, Seller. Okay. These are in. I'll hop up on the pier and make a fast. Throw me a lion, Seller. Give me a hand, Slade. The sea air make your daddy unbusy. Let me give you my hand, Senorita Doval. I have one I'm not using. Sure you can spare it, Inspector LaSalle? Explain a man like Slade to me, LaSalle. What makes him so cozy about handing a girl off a boat? Perhaps his brain is occupied with women he has handed over to death. I, LaSalle, had a rotten day today. No fish. Huh? Is that something, LaSalle? You will come quietly, huh, Senor? You will not upset the equally beam of the harbor of my delicate stomach. Yeah. You tried by car, but I got some on the boat. Fetch it, Seller. The policeman has a tummy ache. And also in the head, from looking at your picture, you look at it, Senor. What sickness does it give to you? Are you kidding? It's one of my more glamorous poses. Where else have you seen an open throat like that? You want Slade's permission to wear it in a locket around your neck, LaSalle? Gee, my Slade's in demand. Aren't you, boy? What'll I write on it, LaSalle, to my favorite John Durham with regret? A confession would be nice to write on it. What have you boys been up to? A confession to the murder of a Mrs. Baker. Well, that's the lady you wanted to marry me. You think I'd kill an intelligent lady like that? The motive we will discuss later in the Calabos. But first, we will study the matter of her lying on the patio of your hotel with a bullet wound in her heart. With a gun that made the wound in your room where I found it, next to her purse empty of $150 and full of this picture of you. You're crazy. That picture was taken by a chubby red-headed sidewalk photographer for 25 centavos. I never... In the jail, we will take one of you for free, Senor. Please, do not make me to shoot you in the leg. Our police doctors are so overworked, but the hangman... Slack for him, huh? Get bail, Sailor. After you get your mouth closed, get bail. Miss Sailor! Did you get it, King? Yes, Miss Sailor. To the penny. Enough to go, Mr. Slade. Bail. Did Mr. Cravelin give you any trouble this time? Oh, Mr. Cravelin was very kind. He said, this is the eighth time we have hocked the boat. Two more times and he will put the gold star beside our names. Five more times, a certificate of merit. Ten more times and... What are you staring at, Miss Sailor? A chubby redhead. It is not true what they say about chubby redheads, Miss Sailor. But this one has a camera. Wait here, King. I'm going to have my picture taken. Hi there. Oh, I fall on my face. You are so beautiful. Take my picture and I'll autograph it for you. Oh, I faint from the sheer joy of such a suggestion. However, I will take your picture and you will send me 25 centavos. See? See? Well, stand as you are. So, so, smile. So, so it is done. My card, my address and money I will send picture. No money, no picture, known as law of supply and demand. I like the way you handle your cameras, sir. Louise, my name to those who enjoy me. I enjoy you. Tingles all over, see? I'm fighting it, but tingles all over. See? The picture would still cost 25 centavos, senorita. I'll pay you for Slate Shannon's picture, too. Por favor? Slate Shannon, a man whose picture you took the other day. Is a mistake. Adios, senorita. Goodbye. Hey, come back here. Hey you, Louis. What happened, Miss Sailor? Why is he running? I don't know, King. Let's tell Slate. I'll bet it'll tingle him all over. Get arrested once more, Slate, and we'll be wearing barrels where our jeans ought to be. I get more costly all the time, Miss Sailor. 3,000 bucks to bail me out of a murder rap. You get any more costly. You can drag out the tin cup your Aunt Sophie sent for your birthday. Ah, good old Aunt Sophie. She knew I'd make it someday. You haven't got much time left for nostalgia, Slate. Better start collecting your memories. I just got you out on bail. You're still number one chum for the murder of Mrs. Baker. Tell me again about the photographer, Sailor. I told you. I mentioned your name. The wave went out of his red hair, and he took off after it. Dobby and Joan, lonely hearts incorporated. Man's wanted for murder, and he thinks so. He thinks of our picture of him got put on the market. Run on home, Sailor. No, no, no, no, no, no. Better still walk. I'll stand here and watch. And when I'm out of sight? The Dobby and Joan. Maybe they'll rent me a murderer. Name's Slate Shannon. You're a lonely heart. Welcome to Dobby and Joan, Incorporated. Here on in, your troubles will be bubbles, and the cares that infest the day will be replaced by a baby of whatever you like. Blonde brunette, Mr. Shannon, tall, short, kidnish, or one who bakes bread like mother. Oh, but I like you. Somebody I can't make up my mind about until it's too late. I'll help you out. Get up from behind this desk. Well, I'm your easiest customer in months. What do your club rules say I do now? Rule one, we find out if we have a common interest. And talk about it? If it needs talking about it. Mine does. Not mine. See, we're different. We won't get along at all. Well, I can recommend Ms. Wormsley to you. She's not beautiful, but she grows shades like the Dickens. Would you know what my picture is doing in your files? What are you talking about? You heard me. I guess so far away. Yeah, I am. This better. You're hurting. That's the impression I wanted to give, the picture. In a little while. Hold me. Wait a minute. The door. Forget it. Just hold me. Tight as slate, like you hate me and want to love me. Yeah. He didn't have to hit him so hard, Frank. That's the way you hit people with the butt of a gun. Get him out of there. Drag him away someplace. I can't look at him helpless. He's not that kind of a man. You mean you could go for a guy like that? The way he looks now? All right. Don't answer me, Laura. I'll just drag him away. Old venture, our stars, Humphrey Bogart and Lauren McCall, and the second act of our story. Crazy in the head. It once happened to a lady. It killed her dead. King, what is it with you men? What do you mean, Miss Sailor? I mean, what is it? Mrs. Baker was looking for a husband. She was gentle looking, had a kind of beauty that becomes a woman her age. Why should everything suddenly get violent? I don't know. I just don't know. All people have secrets locked away, secrets sometimes have death in them. That chubby photographer, King. He's the boy that someone ought to talk to. He's the boy I'm going to talk to. No, wait for Mr. Slate. He will be back from that lonely house club soon. I doubt it. When Slate gets mixed up in a club like that, he starts organizing smokers, field trips, good and welfare committees, first aid classes. Oh, I've seen him operate before. That kid's a joiner. I'm going to see that photographer. Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't see you. Can I help you? Do you have a payphone here? Right over there by the steps. Oh, thank you. When Slate gets back, tell him to wait for me. I'll be back shortly. Al Dames going to see Louie. Meet me there right away. Frank, your bag is so full of tricks. Why didn't you wait for me in front of Lewis's shop where you told me you'd wait? Someone else is waiting there. Mr. Val, Shannon's good companion. Is the lady shilling for the snapshot artist? Why didn't you go right on in? Because his shop is locked. Because there's a sign on his door that says out back in 30 minutes. And I'll bet the run in my stocking you made him hang it there. Uh-huh. I called him, disguised my voice, told him there was a wedding party that couldn't go on unless he was there with his tripod and flash bulb. Say, that's a bad run. When we've finished, I'll buy you all the stockings you'll ever need. I'll come higher than that, dear. Higher because I killed your wealthy widow, remember? I'll remember it like it was our song. Now that you've met me, talk to me in an alley. What? It leads to the back entrance of Lewis's shop into his dark room. That's the one we'll use because it'll be interesting what Mr. Val has to say to our Louis. We break in like common burglars hide in the dark. Uh-huh. I thought, T. G. Laura. I did things like this when I was a little girl hiding under front porches. Go on, Frank. It'll be fun. Come on, Lewis. Stop fumbling with those keys. Open the door. Very well, senorita. Inside, I will lock it. Now what is it you wish? The picture you took of Slate Shannon. Poor Favre, senorita. You talk great. Laura, all right. Let's hear what the cops think. Unlock the door. Wait, senorita. You're going to give me that picture? Wait. I will give you the picture. Yes. Yes, I will tell you. I will tell you everything. But permit me. There are some prints in the room and back. I must attend to them. I will return immediately. All right, back. Get him out of the way, Frank. Yeah. But he just relax. Just inhale. This stuff takes no time at all to put you asleep. That's it. Frank, it's the police. They heard the shots. She's groggy enough. Just stick the gun in her hand. Mr. Slate, howdy, Miss Lonely Hearts took you in her arms. And all of a sudden, there was a slam, bang, a leg a zang on the back of your skull. And the nightingale sang, and the stars dripped gold. I really made it live for you, huh, King? Where's Sailor? Fly, Mr. Slate. It is thin fingers of the law. Save it for amateur night, King. Tyler Sal, what brings that sparkle to your teeth? Hmm, they sparkle when I green. I green because I am jolly. I am jolly because I have come to return the deposit you made on your life. What? Your $3,000 bail, Senor. We have found the motive for the murder of Senora Mary Baker. It was jealousy. I'm sorry she's dead. She seemed a fine woman. She was. This we have learned. When her husband was lost in the Texas City disaster, she was insane with grief. They had to prevent her from taking her own life. But it didn't stick, huh? She told me she was rich. Who gets her money? For the dead, there are always those who wait to get the money. They weep, then grovel for the money. But from Louise, the photographer, they will get nothing. Well, right ahead, what are you talking about? He has also been murdered, Senor, by the same who killed the Senora. Murderer, to wit, one sailor duval. You lost your marbles, LaSalle. I thought it would interest you. Visiting hours are from 2 to 2.15, Senor. And don't bring back the bail. We have no use for it. I will give you three minutes, Senor. Thanks. Maybe I can do something for you sometime, like break your leg. Three minutes, Senor. I will stand here watching them fly by on my watch. Look at me, Slate. I'm a killer, like the road. What happened, sailor? I went to Louis to get that picture of you. He balked. I said I'd call the cops. So he gave it to me. Then he went to the back room to enlarge a snapshot or something. Then there were shots. Then I woke up with a gun in my hand. Louis at my feet. And a cop pulling my eyelids open and saying, quits, darling babe, or the Spanish equivalent. Then... You got the picture? Yeah. I'll give it to you. Turn your back, Slate. You going stir happy? Give me the picture. Here. Huh. Now, what do you know? We only saw half the picture the first time, sailor. This is all of it. Now, you see that woman pointing a finger at me there in the background? What about her? I thought she was a tourist pointing out one of Havana's oddities. Ah, that's Laura of the Lonely Heart. Don't go away, sailor. Bounce your iron ball. I'll be back soon. Well, you don't have to bribe me. Well, take a look. You and me together in one picture. We'll take a million more. You were pointing out a pigeon to the photographer. You were showing him Slate Shannon. I wanted you for my album. I stay up late nights with my album. Pigeon. Me. For the murder of Mrs. Baker. I thought you were a man in the crowd. Now I know better. How were we the last time? Like this? Just about. About now comes the hit over the head. A jealous customer. We get all kinds. Relax, Slate. This time there'll be no hurt in it. Show me. All right. My lips on your cheek. Here. Here. Here. You'll never make it, Laura. You just get a customer. Get out of here, Frank. I'll see you later. What's he got to give you, Laura? Get out of here. I just gave her something, Frank, a picture. You want to see it? Here. Go ahead. Look at it. Laura. You lost it good, didn't you? Laura here handles all your work, huh? You won't like her, Shannon. Ask her to love, she'll love. Ask her to kill, she'll kill. Either one buys a man grief. Slate, don't listen to him. He's furious because I'm with you and not him. You got anybody want kill, Shannon? A photographer, a wife? A wife? You had one of those, Frank? Yeah. I lost her. Uh-huh. No, that's not the way it was. She lost you in Texas City in 1947. Then you followed your wife to a van and teamed up with Laura because you got lonely for your wife's money. It's a great loneliness. Now what, Frank? Now what? I start running. I'm leaving you, Laura. To Mr. Shannon. He can have you and the two murders on your hands. Bye. Frank. What, Laura? Now you know how much I hated him, Slate. You did it for me, huh? I wanted you to see me do it. You know, it's a time like this when I'm putty in a girl's hands, especially when she's holding a gun on me. You can change that. How? Make me believe you want to change. All right, believe me. Making love at the point of a gun, that's exciting. So the gun away, I can take it from here. I believe you. I'll keep my eyes open, Slate. I want to watch your face. Slate, don't touch that gun. Slate. For a girl in a lonely heart's business, you sure got a talent for being lonely. Slate, I believe you. Don't you see this is Laura for you, Slate? For no one else. Listen to me. Listen to me, Slate, just you and me. Let me know when you finish, Laura. And we'll take a walk. Sailor's hands must be numb, bouncing that iron ball. Hey, sailor, where are you? Out here on the patio, taking your sun bath. Come on out. Hi, Slate. Sit down. That's a jazzy sun suit you're wearing. You like it, huh? Never saw the like. Blue and white striped canvas. The latest thing. Picked it out of a mail order catalog, huh? Swiped it while the turnkey wasn't looking. The issue suits like that for the girls in the pokey? Uh-huh. I cut it down for my uniform. Well, bye, sailor. Hey, where are you going? I don't know that convict suit. That stuff's allowed to rub off. No, it won't. Come here. See? Hey, where are you going? It rubbed off. You made me a happy convict, sailor. So, where are you going? To get me a couple of rocks. I'll make sand out of them with my bare hands. And so our two stars, Humphrey Bogart and Lauren Bacall, have brought to a close our latest bold venture story. Special music was composed and conducted by David Rose. May we invite you to listen again next week at the New York Film Festival. At this time, for another exciting adventure starring Humphrey Bogart and Lauren Bacall together in Adventure.