Ta-da-da-da-dum, ta-da-da-da-dum.
Oh, you dance divinely, Dick.
Hold me closer.
Hmm-hmm-hmm-hmm-hmm-hmm.
Dum-de-dee-dum.
Why, Margie, I'm leaving.
Hey.
Dum-de-dum, dum-de-dee-dum.
What are you doing?
I'm dancing with tears in my eyes,
because the one in my arms isn't Dick Taylor.
Oh, no, not another new boyfriend.
The newest and the most.
Well, you ought to be glad you're always complaining about Freddie Wilson.
Oh, please, don't mention that name so soon after breakfast.
Well, I suppose anybody would be an improvement.
Tell me, what's this new dreamboat like?
Oh, he's tall, athletic, and handsome.
Curly eyelashes down to here.
Six feet of the right answers to a maiden's prayer.
Oh, sounds interesting.
How long have you known him?
Oh, I haven't met him yet.
But I've seen him several times when the gang went dancing at the little club.
That's his regular hangout.
So that's why you've been spending your evenings and my money at that nightclub.
So that you can flirt with some juvenile delinquent.
I was not flirting.
Just because I smiled and maybe got off a couple of fast winks
is no reason to accuse me of flirting.
Now, wait, Dad.
I want to talk to you as a friend, not as a father.
Now then, remember, you're not my father.
As a masculine friend whose mentality I admire and whose advice I treasure,
just how do I go about contacting a strange man?
Have you tried radar?
No, seriously, how can I meet him?
I want the masculine point of view.
That's very simple.
Men have no respect for women who chase after them.
No respect and plenty of suspicion.
Oh, that's old-fashioned.
Nowadays...
Nowadays, men are still old-fashioned where the women are concerned.
And I'm surprised any daughter of mine is the kind who chase after a nightclub playboy.
Dick's not a playboy.
He owns his own business.
He's a private detective.
What?
Well, that does it.
Margie, there are plenty of nice young men around without you chasing after some unknown private detective.
I forbid you to see this man again.
But, Dad...
No buts.
I forbid it.
Do you hear?
And that is final.
Margie Hope?
Unfortunately, she is.
She's too old to send to a reform school.
Hi, Margie.
What you up to?
My father's blood vessels are popping like bubble gum.
He's forbidden me to see Dick Taylor again.
You remember the one I told you about?
Oh, yes.
He's the Shamas.
That's who done it talk for private eye.
That's him.
But how can I stop seeing a man I haven't even met?
Well, there's your out right there.
Technically, you've got to meet Dick Taylor before you can break off his acquaintance.
So, you'll only be doing your father a favor by meeting him.
Yes, but how?
I can't shadow him until he runs across a mutual friend to introduce us.
Dick's the private eye, not me.
Margie, this is easy as shooting fish in a barrel.
He's a private detective.
So, why not hire him?
Hire him?
Sure.
I'll disguise myself as an international jewel thief.
You tell him I broke in here and cleaned out the joint.
Whoa, take it easy.
He'd never go for a wild one like that.
But the idea's good.
You can hire him, all right, but this is a one-woman job.
I want to be in on this, Caper.
I thought it up, didn't I?
You did, and bless you, Mrs. Odette.
Just you be satisfied playing Cupid instead of an international jewel thief.
This Rogers deal is one you hadn't better mess up, Albright.
His signature on the contract will mean a fortune for us.
Hello?
Yes, Margie's right here.
Hello, Margie.
Oh, yes, that'll be okay.
I probably won't be home to dinner either.
I got a big deal. I gotta rush now.
Bye.
Now, all you've got to do is meet the 10 o'clock train from Chicago tonight
and get Rogers' signature before he goes on to Connecticut.
Now, for heaven's sakes, be on time.
Don't worry, Mr. Honeywell.
I'll pick up the papers at my apartment tonight and go right to the station.
Well, just to make sure, I'm gonna pick you up in my car and drive you to the station.
And not a word to Margie, you understand?
Don't want her mixed up in this.
♪♪
Oh, Gloria, when Mr. Pandit comes, will you show him in right away?
I don't want to see anybody else until I tell you.
He's sure a handsome man in that turban and beard and all.
And so dignified.
Well, you'd be dignified, too, if you were the representative of the Maharaja of Randburg.
Gee, think of that.
A real Maharaja for a client.
You're a success, you know that?
I've got to find the Maharaja's stolen emerald first.
Then I can put in for my gold-plated badge.
What's so important about one emerald?
I'll bet he has jewels he hasn't even used yet.
Not like the Star of Khyber.
That's something special.
He wears it on state occasions as a symbol of authority.
It's gonna be a big political storm in his country if his people find out the Star of Khyber is missing.
That's why someone stole it and brought it to America to dispose of it.
That's why I've got to get it back.
That emerald is really hot.
You'll find it if anybody can.
Thanks, Gloria.
But I'm afraid that's not why you had Khanda Pandit contact me.
I met the Maharaja during the war when I was with the OSS.
Did him a couple of little favors, so...
Anyway, I've got the job.
Remember, I don't want to see anybody but Mr. Pandit, okay?
Do you suppose that girl has anything to do with it?
Until we find the Star of Khyber, everyone is a suspect.
It must never be returned to our sworn enemy, the Maharaja.
Pandit, quick.
He must not see us.
I'm sorry, but Mr. Taylor will see no one until further notice.
But...
He said no one, and that means you.
Go right in, Mr. Pandit.
Mr. Taylor is expecting you.
I thought you said he wasn't seeing anyone.
How does that turban character rate?
Mr. Taylor is working on a case for the Maharaja of Rampur.
Any more questions?
Give my regards to the Maharaja.
She knows something.
She must be the go-between.
Come.
Hi, Maji.
How did it go?
Did you make the contact?
Our private eye is still very private.
Well, come on in and tell me what you hear from the mob.
You heard?
The girl has a gang working with her.
Quick, we will search the apartment.
Ah!
What?
Quick, where is it?
Where is what?
Who are you?
You take the Khyber Star.
I certainly do not.
I take the New York Times.
What's going on here?
This is a fine way to get subscribers.
Let me go.
The girl, Maji, she take it, eh?
She take the star.
Ah!
Help!
Find and get him quickly.
Maji, surely you're not going to give up after just one try.
That's not like you.
I'm not giving anything up.
I didn't even get started yet.
That's funny.
I thought, sure, I left that open.
Maybe your father's home.
Come on, girl.
It's not hot near one's husband.
Get on the ball.
How can I?
The only one who can even talk to the object of my affections is a Hindu character in a turban.
Turban?
I'd be ashamed to get outsmarted by some creep who wraps his brains up in a turban.
But don't you see?
Dick is busy on some deal for a Maharaja.
Maji, I got a brainstorm.
Look, if your Dickie Bird has a yen for Hindus,
shake hands with the Maharani of Odette.
Oh, now, Mrs. Odette, really?
What's the matter?
I got Indian blood.
Of course, it's from Oklahoma instead of India.
But who's going to give me a blood test?
But you'd never get away with it.
Oh, no?
I'll disguise myself in one of those Hindu nightgowns,
and honey, with a veil over my face, I can get away with murder.
You know, this idea is screwy enough for me to have dreamed it up myself.
Well, what do you say?
As a mutual friend of the Maharaja, I can introduce you to your Dickie Bird.
And Dad will be caught with his objections down, huh?
Mrs. Odette, I'll buy it.
And I'll also buy you a costume for our little masquerade.
Come on.
I must say this is a most unusual base of operations for a private investigator, Mr. Taylor.
This is where I do my best thinking.
Nothing stimulates me like pure nightclub air.
Seriously, I brought you here so that you could be seen with me,
for the benefit of whoever's trying to unload that emerald.
Let us hope the enemy agents do not find you before you find the Star of Kaiba.
They are desperate men and will go to any lengths to keep it from the Maharaja.
The detective is clever.
He's brought Pandy to a public place to make contact with the bearer of the Star of Kaiba.
Look.
Is he here?
He's right over there and with a turban escort.
Uh, the Maharaja would prefer that table.
Well, a country woman of yours, eh, Pandy?
Wonder who she is.
Pretty girl with it, too.
The old one.
He must be one of the Maharaja's agents.
Now the parts fit.
Tonight we shall take possession of the Star of Kaiba as it changes hands before our eyes.
I must apologize for this dreary establishment, Your Highness.
However, it will provide a humorous contrast with the fabulous entertainment offered by your cousin, the Maharaja of Rampur.
Ah, yes, my dear, dear cousin.
Or as we girls around the Taj Mahal used to call him, the Mah-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha.
You see, he was a bundle of laughs.
She's a cousin of the Maharaja.
The Maharaja has no cousins.
He's the only son of an only son.
The woman is an impostor, probably an enemy agent.
I certainly envy you being related to such a fascinating man as the Maharaja.
Maharaja.
Of course, I'm only related by marriage.
My first husband was just a plain old Raja.
He lost his ma at an early age.
Yes.
Now, about the...
I wish you could have been at the wedding ceremony when I married the Raja.
Four Indian potentates gave the bride away.
It took four of them to give you away?
One to hold the ring, one to hold the rice, and two to hold the Raja.
You're obviously doing this for our benefit.
I think it's time we moved in and found out what's up.
Why don't you introduce yourself to your Kancha woman?
Permit me to introduce myself, your highness.
I am Kanda Pandit, humble subject of the Maharaja of Rampur.
Any Pandit of the Maharaja's is a Pandit of mine, to be sure.
Won't you sit down?
Won't your friend join us?
How do you do?
My name is Margie Albright, and this is a cousin of the Maharaja's.
Won't you sit down?
My name is Richard Taylor.
I'm a private investigator.
Your cousin is a client of mine.
How too, too delightful.
A private eyeball.
Watch very closely.
They may even transfer the jewel here.
This is exciting, Mr. Taylor.
You don't know how anxious I've been to meet you.
That is, to meet a real-life private detective.
And I'll bet you're a live one.
I'm just an ordinary guy when you get to know me.
That's an excellent idea.
Mrs. I mean, Maharani.
Yoo-hoo, Miss India.
Don't you think it's past your bedtime?
Oh, dear me, no.
Besides, I can't get used to these strange American beds of yours.
We Hindus can't sleep without our bed of spikes, can we?
Well, I'll fix you up with some nice broken glass when I get home, dear.
Now, don't you worry about me.
You run along.
But I don't want to go now.
I want to be in on the payoff like you promised.
I said it's time for beddy-bye.
I'll take it from here.
You can wait up for me if you like.
The apartment door is open.
Oh, very well, if you're going to be selfish about it.
Call me sometime, Mr. Pandit, and we'll split a chicken curry.
Good night, gentlemen.
Follow her.
I'm going to stay with the girl.
I haven't figured her out yet.
You wait here.
I will follow the old one.
She may be going to get the emerald now.
Where's Mr. Pandit going?
Not that I'm complaining.
I thought I might as well get rid of my chaperone as long as you'd sent yours home.
I thought we ought to be alone while you tell me why you wanted to meet me.
Or that is, meet a private detective.
Let's dance while we talk, shall we?
The story I've got to tell you needs a romantic musical background.
Marbury!
Where the devil are you?
I'm here, Mr. Pandit.
I'm here.
I'm here, Mr. Pandit.
What's the meaning of this?
Don't you realize you've got a business appointment?
Shut up.
I wouldn't believe your story anyway.
I suppose this is one of Margie's cute ideas.
You ought to be ashamed of yourself.
to let a little thing like Margie tie you up and throw you in a closet.
What are you, a man or a worm?
Oh, it wasn't Margie. It was... it was a Hindu.
Well, that's different. Yeah.
A what?
Uh, two Hindus. They... they grabbed me from behind.
All right. Are you crazy?
Don't answer that. It's a waste of time.
Do you think I'm gonna believe a cock and bull story like that?
Honestly, Mr. Honeywell, I swear, when I came home to get the papers,
two giant Hindus attacked me.
Huge, powerful fellas. That big!
Say, if they were midgets, they'd still knock you out in the first round.
I tell you, they were savages.
They wore turbans with huge knives concealed in them.
This big!
Stop that! You look like a baggy-pants comedian.
Now, you listen to me.
We're supposed to meet Rogers at the station in exactly 15 minutes.
Have you got the contract?
Oh, yes, yes. Right here in my pocket.
Oh, where's my belt?
I've got to get a fresh necktie. I'll be right back.
Yeah, I'll go down and meet Rogers at the station myself.
And while you're dressing, wrap a turban around that hole in your head.
Hi. How's Tariq Sahib?
Yeah, yeah.
Anybody home?
All right, stay where you are.
Who are you? Speak up. Who are you?
That's a very good question.
Guess who?
Look out behind you.
That's the guy who slugged me.
Who slugged me?
Mr. Albright, you slugged the wrong man.
Don't tell me who made that cowardly attack on me.
What are you doing in that outfit? Where's Margie?
I'll bet she's in on this deal, whatever it is, isn't she?
I tell you, you belted the wrong man.
He's a friend of Margie's private detective.
So, you admit that Margie's the reason for all this.
I thought so.
I'm going to stash this joker in the den and tie him up.
And then I'm going to come back and settle with you.
Don't worry, I got the right guy, all right.
Correction, wrong turban.
Make one move and your life is over.
I started this Hindu paper, but you boys are sure giving it a whale of a good last act.
Now, come on, what's the real lowdown?
What's the truth? Really, Dick?
All right, Mrs. Odets is waiting for me in my apartment.
Take me home and she'll corroborate everything I've told you.
Where is your apartment?
In the Carlton Arms, 10A. Will you come?
Just as soon as I've made a phone call.
Excuse me.
Yeah, Lieutenant, looks like the whole thing's going to blow tonight.
I promised you I'd work with the police, didn't I?
Now, listen, I want you to stake out an apartment, 10A in the Carlton Arms.
Just give me time to get there with the girl.
Yeah, 15 or 20 minutes.
Right.
I did not have time to search. A strange man joined the old lady, then pundit came.
We must get the girl while the detective is gone. Come.
Wait, my friend. We know where they are going, do we not?
By the way, Margie, if there should happen to be a man with your Mrs. Odets,
it'll be Mr. Martin.
By the way, Margie, if there should happen to be a man with your Mrs. Odets,
it'll be Mr. Pandit, not your father. I had him follow her.
Fine thing. You certainly don't trust any woman, do you?
Well, that's good. It'll weed out my competition.
Hi, Dad. You home?
Somebody's in there. Dad!
Mr. Pandit!
Looking for kicks. This is the place.
Quick, get some water. There's a carrat in the den.
Mr. Pandit!
I'll get something to bathe your face.
The old woman met an accomplice here. Before I could defend myself, he attacked me.
Who was it?
An Indian. One of the Maharaja's enemy agents.
Then it must have been Margie's father.
What a sucker I've been going along with that wild picture of hers.
I'll get you some water. There's a carrat in here someplace.
You'll feel better in a minute, Mrs. Odets. This'll perk you up.
Dad!
Yes, her father. He's the key to this whole thing.
Here's where we wrap it all up.
My belt. Where's my belt?
Everything that's happened to me tonight, I've been beaten, bound, gagged, and generally fractured.
It's all because of that old woman.
Everything that's happened to me tonight, I've been beaten, bound, gagged, and generally fractured. It's all because of you.
I'm going to get the police, and it's going to be just too bad for you.
But Dad, wait!
Wait? What for? To get clobbered again?
This place is full of crazy people. Crazy people!
There's your man. He's the one who attacked me.
Don't shoot! I can explain everything.
Oh, no! You hit Dad!
You're darn right I hit him. Now cut out the clowning. What's your angle on the Star of Khyber?
I don't know what you're talking about. All I know is I wanted to meet you, and now I'm sorry I ever got such a revolting idea.
Never mind the cracks. Just make with the explanations, if you've got any.
I think no explanations will be necessary.
Drop your guns, Mr. Taylor.
Now, where is the Star of Khyber?
Well?
I... I...
I... I... I... I... I... I...
The man on the floor. He's the leader of the gang. Search him.
All right. Reach for the ceiling, everybody.
You, too. You're all under arrest.
Dick, you've been reading too many detective stories.
We haven't done anything. We're not suspicious characters.
Oh, no? Well, what do you call that?
Put down that rubber hose, boys. I'll confess.
I was a Hindu for the FBI.
Boiled as a mackerel.
Oh, please. You can't arrest me. I'm a respectable businessman. I'll be ruined.
Oh, and it's all your fault. Why do you do these things to me?
And don't ask me what things, because I don't know myself.
So you're going to plead insanity, huh?
But he's telling the truth. He is a respectable businessman.
He's the vice president of Honeywell and Todd.
Yes, and you can ask Mr. Honeywell.
He'll be here any minute now, and he'll straighten everything out. He'll vouch for me.
You just mention my name to Mr. Honeywell and see what he says about me.
All right, Dickie boy. I'll take over now.
Call one of the gang myself. I conked out when he's trying to crash the party.
Oh, Mr. Honeywell.
Look, Dad, I just got a letter from Dick in India.
He's delivered the star of Khyber to the Maharaja and everything's hunky.
Good. He finally located it, eh?
Now I suppose he'll hurry back to you and my troubles will start all over again.
No, he's going to stay in India for a while and hunt tigers.
He says it's a lot safer than running around with...
I can't make out this word.
Well, that's my little Margie.
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