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Why do you suppose Herb wants to meet in
the park?He's frightened. Doesn't want
any eyes or ears around. Yeah, but can
you trust him?Two weeks ago, the answer
would have been no. Tonight, who knows?
There's the cabbage house.
No, Herc, I wonder what... Hornet! Over
here!Wait, It's me, her.
I hope this will be a friendly meeting.
How many friends have you dumped in the
river?Look, I'm only trying to do you a
favor. Somebody's out to take care of the
big racket guys, and you and me are on
the list. How do you know about the list?
Never mind. But I'm not going to be a
pushover. And if you go along with me,
neither will you. How do you know about
the list?It's bought and paid for.
What else have you bought?If we're
together, I tell you. Otherwise... I'm
going to play it my way. You talk first.
Who did the killings?Don't push me
around, Hornet. You need me. I don't need
you. I never have needed you, Hert.
And I never will. Don't you forget that.
Let's go.
Hornet, wait. Listen.
Don't touch it. It's poisoned.
No, listen.
Don't lose him. No chance.
Nothing we can do here.
Another challenge for the Green Hornet.
His aide, Cato, and their rolling
arsenal, the Black Beauty. On police
records, a wanted criminal. The Green
Hornet is really Britt Reed,
owner-publisher of the Daily Sentinel.
His dual identity known only to his
secretary and to the district attorney.
And now,to protect the rights and lives
of decent citizens rides the Green
Hornet.
What gives with the racketeers in this
town?What about them?Two weeks ago,
Kelton, thetalking racket. He gets it. A
few nights later, Al Albert's,
jukeboxes. Last Wednesday, Klinger,
gambling. And last night, Mel
Herc, the numbers boss. Good. They
keep at it?Maybe they'll finish each
other off. That's not the point. Listen
to this. Kelton killed by bow and arrow.
Albert strangled with a silk
handkerchief. Agarot. Yeah, I guess
that's what they call it. Then Klinger
buys the whole package with a native
spear and Herc a poison dart.
They're not dying the way they're
supposed to. The effect's the same. But
who's doing it?That's the puzzle. There's
a call for you on the private line.
Thanks, Miss Case. Excuse me, Mike. Play
the story up big. Yeah, sure. But what's
happened to the good old days?
It's a district attorney. I've got the
scrambler on.
Yes, Frank?I got what you wanted, Britt.
The ID on that accident victim that you
chased. You sitting down?
Why?Who was it?A.J. Clark. A
respectable accountant with no mob ties
at all. Well, I knew Clark. He was a
member of the Yacht Club. Nice little
guy. Was there any chance that you were
chasing the wrong man?None, Frank.
Thanks.
There's a pattern forming here. But which
way does it lead?To the list that Herc
bought and paid for.
And to the person from whom he got it.
Now hold on, dummy, just you listen to
me. Perk's dead, you hear me?
Perk's dead. From here on
in, you're taking orders from me. Now the
operation goes on in the same way. And
you just make your collections like
always. Yeah.
Some of the knotheads you have to do
business with these days.
Why you?
Any more unfriendly greetings?Come
on, Hornet. All you had to do was knock.
Then you would have misunderstood the
purpose of my visit. You didn't waste
much time moving in behind Herc's desk.
Oh, somebody had to run the operation. I
was #2. Maybe with the idea to become
#1. You mean, did I knock Herc off?
Not necessarily. But maybe you know who
did. Oh, you got me all wrong. How
would I know?He did. But he was killed
before he could tell me. I want to know
who told him. Beats
me.
Wait a minute. You've got 10
seconds.
Okay.
But I'm only second-guessing.
Hurt got a call from Jockey Tabor. The
tout?When he's not touting, he's stolen.
I figured Hurt would hang up on him. But
instead he sets up this meat.
Who do they think they're pushing around?
Too late. Not very. Just
enough. His body's still warm.
This is no coincidence, Kato. That's what
I was thinking. Now what?Shake down the
room. Look for a lead. Any kind of lead.
I tell you, Crane, this plan of yours has
gone too far. We agreed on our list.
Then you went and killed Jockey Tabor.
Why?Killing that innocent little man was
not on our schedule. He was only a waiter
here. Innocent little man, you say?
No danger, you say?Listen to me and
listen to me good! Who do you think
you're speaking to that way?We're not
your servants, Crane. You three men are
as deeply involved in this hunt as I am.
Before you go any further, remember that
before last night, there were five of us.
Jockey Tabor was responsible for the
death of our late fellow explorer, A.J.
Clark. He was
discharged for bookmaking three days ago,
and at that time, he approached me and
tried to blackmail me. It seemsHe
overheard bits and pieces of our
conversations and unfortunately
totaled them correctly. You denied
everything. Of course, and threw him out
of my office. But how does that figure
into Clark's death?Simple. He found
another buyer for the information. Well,
that means we're all in danger.
Isn't that the game we've always played?
We faced the fiercest animals the jungle
could offer us, and we're still here.
Someday soon, we'll be recognized for
what we've achieved, ridding the city of
the scum, of the arch criminals that
sucked the blood from our veins of
existence. Gentlemen,
I propose a toast to the next target on
our list, the biggest game of all,
the Green Hornet.
Yes, sir, may I help you?I'm interested
in applying for membership. Well, this is
not a regular club, sir. The requirements
are unusual. Big game hunting,
exploring. I've done a little of both.
Here's my card.
Mr. Reed, of course. Of course. If
you'll make yourself comfortable, I'll
get Mr. Crane. He's chairman of the
membership committee. Fine.
Brett. Brett, how are you?Hi, Quent.
Haven't seen you in a long time. I was
asking about you at the country club. Oh,
hasn't my advertising department been
paying its bills?No, seriously, I've been
away for a year, Africa or the Near East.
My latest trophy. Mean-looking devil.
And a tricky one, too. Come on, sit down.
Thanks.
Now, what's this about your wanting to
join the club?Well, that's one of the
reasons I'm here, Quint. But there's
another. Have you been reading about our
latest crime wave?I never missed my copy
of the Sentinel. I even had it sent to me
overseas. Then maybe you can tell me what
I'm curious about. The strange way the
upper echelon of racketeers has been
depleting itself, the unusual weapons
used. Aud, you should
mention that. I was puzzling on that
myself just this morning. It's as though
someone were trying to implicate this
club and its members. What do you think?
Frankly, Britt, I think it's ridiculous.
I've known every member of this club for
too many years. There's not one of them
capable of killing. Well, what about the
connection with A.J. Clark's death?He was
a member of the club. Well, that's what
started me thinking. I'll tell you
what I'll do. I'll run a little private
investigation myself. Look back into the
membership applications. If I turn up
anything, I'll give you a call. Good. I'd
appreciate that. And Britt, let's keep
this conversation between ourselves. You
have my word. If you're still interested
in joining the club, I'll send you an
application. Do that, Quint. See you.
This is Crane.
I want a man taken care of. His name is
Britt Reed. You mean Reed?The
publisher?That's crazy.
And it'd blow this town wide open. He
just may do that anyway. He's getting
close to some answers. Too close. But I'm
not set up for that kind of a rub-out.
Then get set up. I'm giving you
Herc's spot with the understanding that
you'll take my orders without question.
But, boss, I-- No, buts.
Do it.
Thanks, Cato. See who they are?Yeah,
Crocker's men.
Yeah?I don't know yet.
I thought this was them calling. Yeah,
yeah. I'll let you know.
Sir. Oh,
come on, Hornet. You're gonna break me
getting that door fixed. The
information I have might make that very
unimportant. What are you trying to tell
me?What Jockey Tabor told me.
But he's dead. We know. We
watched him die. You
meanYou got to him while he was still
alive?Just barely.
But he managed to whisper a few last
words.
Quentin Crane. Crane?I just had
another visit from the Green Hornet.
Never mind about that. What about Reed?
Now you listen to me. The Green Hornet
says I'm on your list. And you believe
him?He said Tabor told him before he
died. Listen, Crocker, I took care
of Tabor myself. He couldn't have told
anyone anything. I'm not a fumbler.
Then why do you suppose the Hornet said
what he did?I can only think of two
reasons. One, that he wants to come
between us. Divide and conquer.
Yeah. You could try
something like that. Cut in on the
action, huh?Or...
this is what I want you to do.
.
.
.
the spear trap is set. Good. If
that doesn't get him, the snare will.
Excellent. You still haven't told us how
you're getting the Green Hornet here. The
method is unimportant. It's the end
result that counts. And a few more
minutes will give us the answer.
What do you think?Probably the same as
you. He knows he's being followed and
that's exactly what he wants.
I can see everyone who enters and leaves
that gate. Be a marvelous thing to have
in the jungle. Sit in the comfort of your
lorry until the game shows up. Yes.
Who's that?gentleman is the bait.
Bait?What do you mean?Look.
To your stations, no guns. Why no guns?
We'd have every policeman in the area on
us. We'd use bows and arrows. Silent and
efficient. Okay, let's go.
What's the plan?Well, that's to play it
by ear. Who knows what they have planned
for us. It's not good. We know that.
Don't look now, but there's a television
camera up above us in that tree. Our
presence has already been announced.
Let's stick together. Watch out for traps
and snares.
That was a near myth. And deliberate too.
They're steering us, guiding us towards a
certain point.
The area is right in front of us. That's
where they want us to go. Now listen.
carefully.
We'll get behind them and herd them
toward the snare.
Hey!
Right!
Breeze, right there. Well, here's one
half of the quarry.
Look, Hornet, can we make a deal?
There's plenty for both of us. No deal,
Crane. But my position in the community
is perfect cover for more murders,
including mine. There isn't room for both
of us.
Harnett! Get me out of here! Go away!
Harnett, please! That's one
way to get to the top, but it's hitting
bottom the hard way. Let's call Scanlan.
Let him hang up out here. Get me down
from here! Get me out of here!
Harnett!
And so Quentin Crane, supposed
paragon of virtue, was in
reality a vulture. preying on the good
people of this city. He hit it right on
the head, Mike. He had just about every
racket in this town sewed up. It's open
and shut. Bud Crocker's still at
headquarters, singing like a soprano, and
he's got the Green Hornet tied and tight.
That figures. Yeah, and there's one more
optimistic note. When this
investigation's over, there won't be a
game for the Green Hornet to play.
I hope you're right, Mike. I hope you're
right.
.
.
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