Paris - When It Sizzles

The reason for that is because
in the last 19 and a fraction weeks

I have received 134 telegrams
from Mr Alexander Meyerheim,

all saying exactly the same thing.
When will the script be finished?

When will the script be finished?
How can I write
with him badgering me this way?

Day and night, wires, messages,
telephone calls.

How was it today? Did you work well?
When will it be finished?

Talk about men in trench coats!
He spies on me constantly.

His people are everywhere.
For all I know, you might be one.

Mr Benson!
I'm sorry. Some days I just feel like
whatshisname in Les Misérables.

- Jean Valjean.
- I guess so.

Only last night... Last night
I swore to him on the telephone

that I had 138 pages in front of me.
I said, "Alex,
any man who takes your money

and tells you he's got 138 pages
in front of him and doesn't

is nothing but a liar and a thief!"
Sometimes I get the feeling
he doesn't trust me.

I know
who the mysterious stranger is.

He's a liar and a thief.
Sure. A latterday François Villon,
who lives by his wits
and what he steals.

Ajewel thief, maybe.
Expert safe-cracker.
There isn't a safe in the world
he can't open with his bare hands.
I've got it!

We have to start all over again
but that's not too serious.
We've only got eight pages.

Let's see. We're alright through
Alexander Meyerheim production,

Girl Who Stole the Eiffel Tower,
story and screenplay, Richard Benson.

We keep the Bastille Dayjazz, only
this time we don't start on Gabby,