Original subtitles

Put an edge on this like you've never seen before, sir.

Stroke that way.

Stroke that way.

Little polish.

Fine steel, this, sir.

Yeah, very fine.

Like a surgeon's scalpel.

Thank you, sir.

Thank you very much.

Welcome, gentlemen.

My name is John Steed.

Mr. Haller, Mr.

Stretlestoff, Mr. Viati, Mr. Gruner, may I welcome you on behalf of the British

government.

Oh,

that's fog.

That's fog, Mr. Haller. We still lead the world in that department.

Now, I do want your day to be a happy and secure one.

So if you are in any trouble, all you have to do is to contact me.

Goodbye. No, no, no.

Venito. Squadra.

Venito. Stitsky. I apologize for the accent, but you understand what I mean.

Now, there's a car waiting for you to take you to your hotel.

And where is Mr. Gruner? What?

Oh, I don't know. I thought he was following us.

See him back to the hotel.

What? I'll try and find him.

Lucky white heather.

Lucky white heather. Oh, we'll buy. Please.

Lucky white heather, sir.

Table Muse.

Right over there, sir.

Thank you too much. Hello.

Lucky white.

Goodbye. Goodbye.

Oh, yes. And Mr. Steed lives here, but he's not in at the moment.

So won't you come in?

You see, he's not here at the moment. Steed.

Steedski.

No.

He's not here, and he might not be back. He might be delayed by the fog.

Fog. Fog.

Lovely weather we're having for time of year.

Goodbye.

What's your name?

Name? Oh, my name is Tara King.

Me, Tara King.

King.

Yeah, king, king.

Buckingham Palace.

Buckingham.

This could go on forever.

You see, Steve has gone to meet a very important foreign delegation, and the

disarmament committee.

Are you a member of the disarmament committee?

Wait a minute. Come here.

Now.

Disarmament committee.

You?

Good.

Now, you sit down there. You sit down there. And I'll go and see mother, yes?

Well, I'll find steed.

Something.

Right. Goodbye.

Hello.

Oh, Mother, I've just left Steve's apartment and there's this man there

for him.

Foreign fellow, speaks no English.

Why, yes.

Oh, I shouldn't worry. Steve's gone to collect him. You missed him by seconds.

Oh, thanks, Mother.

Goodbye.

Thank you.

Lucky white heather, sir.

Lucky white heather.

Bless you, sir.

Top hat and cape.

And a cricket bag.

A Victorian sword stick, I'd say.

That ties in with the handsome cab.

The handsome cab, I'd forgotten about that.

Do you know, this has all the makings of an international incident.

Gruner, a revered member of the disarmament committee, only been in the

in half an hour, and... Mother, Sarah, no sign of Gruner.

Gruner has been found.

Really? Where?

Gunthorpe Street. No doubt Steed is a student of... crime, you will recall

Gunthorpe Street.

Well, actually, it was the scene of the Gaslight Ghoul Murders.

When was it?

October, November, 1888.

And we're just entering the month of November now.

Can you recall any other facts about those murders? Of course. They never

the ghoul, and he always got away in a handsome cab.

And the weapon he used?

A sword stick.

A Victorian sword stick.

Tara found Gruner's body.

She'll show you exactly where.

It'll be safer in there, Steve.

Oh, now we know how it went and where it went, my sword.

We still don't know why.

Oh, who?

Well, you've already found that out.

Top hat.

beard, cape, carrying a cricket bag, handsome cap, whatever else. You don't

believe me, do you? If the gaslight ghoul was still riding around, he would

oh, I'd say 150 years old by now.

That's no good. We'll never find him in the fog.

Well, at least we're not left empty -handed.

Has he got a label?

Yeah, look.

Mask and face, theatrical costume at 15 Quarter Street.

What they call in the trade a clue. You'd better follow it up.

What are you going to do?

I'm going to find out where this came from.

Knives to grind.

Knives to grind.

What do you want at this time of night? I'm returning some of your property.

Bring it back tomorrow.

Oh, no, I can't do that.

All right, all right, you'd better come in.

You theatricals have no sense of time.

All this fog, it's bad for my chest.

What costume is it, then?

Oh, well, I was hoping you'd be able to tell me I found it in the street.

She found it in the street.

Gunthorpe Street, to be precise.

That's a coincidence.

That's where the gaslight ghoul committed his... His first murder.

Correct. But I don't think it's been lying there for the past 80 years.

No, no, no, of course not. But it is part of one of our gaslight ghoul

You have more than one?

Oh, yes. Very popular line, this. The macabre element, you know.

Any way of telling which outfit this belongs to? Of course.

Every garment is numbered.

There we are.

This is number seven.

I don't suppose your records would show who hired it?

Yes. It's all in the book.

Let's see now.

The addresses aren't in this book.

But we should find the... There we are.

Mr. C.

Osgood.

Dr. Watson.

Mr. Holmes, what brings you to this neck of the woods?

Just follow the trail.

All roads lead to Rome.

So it appears.

Osgood's toga? Part of it.

Yes? Ah, Mr. Osgood back yet?

Back? He hasn't been out, sir.

Are you sure?

He told me he was going to bed early.

And he's there now?

As far as I know, sir. Then we'd like to see him.

I don't know about that. Sir, he doesn't like to be disturbed.

Do you recognize this?

Why, yes, it looks like part of his gaslight ghoul costume.

Perhaps you'd be good enough to check for us.

Come in.

Thank you.

Mr. Osgood?

There's a strange thing.

Not here?

No, sir, and I never heard him go out. Is he wearing his gaslight ghoul outfit?

I just see.

Thank you.

Ah, the old curiosity shop.

Hello. He moved.

Hundred guineas reward for information leading to the arrest of the person

as the Gaslight Ghoul, perpetrator of many vile and grisly murders.

What year did the Gaslight Ghoul commit his first crime?

1888. Why? Look.

This costume's not there, sir.

So I suppose he must be wearing it.

Now it's you again, sir.

I will soon put an edge on this for you, sir.

I'll do the latter for you.

There we are, sir.

As sharp and as keen as ever.

Again.

Good evening.

Somebody coming. Plan 14.

Subsection D, gaslight goal.

I must ask good.

You again.

The proverbial bad penny.

Well, is it incumbent upon you to be so rough?

Better safe than sorry. Have a look in the bag.

Well? Hmm, quite an interesting assortment.

Swords? Sandwiches.

Ham, cheese, lettuce.

If you're some species of cut purse, you're welcome to my wallet. I detest

violence.

Seems we're at cross purposes, Mr. Osgood. Let's give you a hand.

Glad to hear about my life, I am.

Why were you running away in Gunthorpe Street?

Well, did you expect me to do otherwise?

Some dissolute dog and his accomplice advancing menacingly towards me in a

alley? Why did you attack me?

Well, we thought you were the gaslight ghoul.

Oh, I see.

How exceedingly droll.

May we share the joke?

My card.

Charles H. Osgood, Gaslight Ghoul Club.

Formed to investigate the unsolved murders of the Gaslight Ghoul.

Bit late in the day, don't you think?

Well, the identity of the ghoul has remained a source of constant

through the years, Miss King.

Tonight, it seems, he stalks again through the alleys of the East End. It

With somebody else's weapons.

Where on earth did you get that?

Gunthorpe Street. When?

Tonight, after the murder.

But it's mine.

I know. Can you explain it?

Well, I didn't even know it was missing.

It's kept in the club's black museum.

Then any of the members could have taken it. You're surely not suggesting that

one of them... No, all we're suggesting is that you take more personal care of

your possessions, Mr. Osgood.

And good night.

Good night, sir, Mr. Seed. I'm obliged to you.

What a good idea to leave the court with him.

I doubt if he's our man.

Why? No murderer in his right mind would return to the scene of the crime an

hour later.

The Gaslight Ghoul Club.

Society of Harmless Eccentrics.

Harmless? So far.

You were thinking of joining.

Yes. Well, it won't be easy.

Restricted membership.

My great -aunt Florence will smooth the way. She kept a diary.

Did she?

No, she didn't. I made it up.

It contains an account of a gaslight ghoul murder, hitherto undiscovered. It

goes something like this.

Twas the very witching hour of midnight.

And I passed a disheveled maiden of no more than 17 summers. And she was

hurrying in the direction of Great Tower Street.

At the entrance to the saddle of Mutton Public House. A monster!

And a black beard and a top hat and a cape.

Carrying a cricket bat.

Dragged his victim into Miller's yard.

Her blood -curdling scream echoed.

over the cobbled street.

Mother, I don't think we need to take it. His knife flashed in the gaslight.

Mother, we need to take it. Her crumpled body fell like a broken doll upon the

place beneath.

Mother.

I'm sorry, Steve. I was carried away.

It'll be delivered to your apartment within the hour.

How's your breaking and entering?

Hmm, rusty.

Here's a chance to brush it up. Where?

Home of Sir Geoffrey Armstrong, president of the Gaslight Ghoul Club.

And what am I looking for?

I've no idea.

Oh, that could be difficult.

I know, but as my Aunt Clary used to say... Life is not a bowl of cherries.

I didn't know you'd met her.

Well, your aunts are all so predictable.

Well, where are you going?

Well, as they always say, life is not a bowl of cherries. If you can't beat

them, join them. All the glitters is not gold. What's that?

My entry card.

Heard it in the den.

May I direct your attention to the notice outside?

These are private premises.

So I should hope I'm not in the habit of frequenting public houses.

When I say private, I mean exclusive.

All quite right.

We don't want any Tom, Dick or Harry wandering into it. We?

We members.

I didn't know the club was open for new membership.

Didn't poor old Charles put you in the picture? Charles? Charlie Osgood. He's

dead, you know.

Yes, you just heard. Tragic news. Tragic. Ah, well, it's an ill wind and

that. Here I am.

Well, Mr... Steed, John Steed.

Steed.

Perhaps you'd like to explain why.

To drop a bombshell.

Ah, a bombshell.

This.

My favorite auntie's diary, page 194, paragraph 2.

Mm -hmm.

My dear fellow, this is a fantastic revelation.

Yes, isn't it? I thought you'd be interested.

Interested? Another ghoul murder?

This will give the old club a new lease of life. Gentlemen, this is Mr. Steed,

who has unearthed a tense gaslight ghoul murder.

Would you like to sit down?

Thank you.

The club was first founded about 80 years ago after the first ghoul murder.

When it became apparent the police were getting nowhere, several amateur

detectives decided to form a society to bring the murder to justice.

And you're carrying on the good work?

Yes. Of course, nowadays the chances of discovering anything new are remote, but

the motto of the club is... Never say die.

My troubles.

Meet our new member, Mr. Steed.

Mark Travers, our secretary, and Black Sheep. Always glad to welcome a fresh

face. How do you do?

Mr. Travers treats the society with a little less respect than one could wish.

Well, it doesn't do to get too involved. One must keep a sense of proportion.

Come along and I'll show you the nasty things in our woodshed.

Hey, that's a cosy little place, isn't it?

Right out of the pages of my favorite author.

Edgar Allan Poe would have approved of this.

Quite a home from home.

Take a look at this.

Some of these figures are remarkably lifelike, aren't they?

You'd be quite a shock, sir. Me too.

Very well beloved.

This is Mr. Steed, a new member.

Pleased to meet you, sir. How do you do?

Well beloved is the curator of the museum.

Now, this will interest you, Steed.

What do you think of that?

Absolutely ripping.

Victorian scalpel. They don't make them like that anymore.

I should hope not. Can you imagine that in the wrong hands?

Clean, quick, and efficient.

19th century dueling pistols, aren't they, beauties?

Depends as to where you're looking at them.

Guaranteed accurate at 50 paces.

Hello.

Something missing?

Swords, and some of them quite valuable.

Well, beloved?

Yes, sir. Have you seen this?

Gracious. When did you last check the swords?

This morning. They were all presently correct then.

Then they must have been stolen earlier this evening.

I don't fear.

Sir Geoffrey was here all the time.

Rowley, where's the president?

Got home.

When?

Ten minutes ago.

Sent his apologies.

Does the Geoffrey often dash off like that? Well, it happens quite often. He's

permanent now on call. You know how it is with these surgeons.

Perhaps you'd like to explain what you're doing?

Just admiring your toys.

But they're not toys for little girls to play with.

Just when I was having such a good time.

Now, put them down.

There's a good girl.

I'm a ghoul.

Eat. Didn't fool you, eh? No, I'd recognise you anywhere.

How? Oh, the nape of the neck.

Unstakably primped.

That's a family characteristic.

All the steeds have it.

It's a bit hard on the steed girls, though.

Did you find out anything at the Jeffreys' place?

No, just that the furniture's breakable. Trouble? Nothing a healthy girl

couldn't handle. Why the disguise?

The Gaslight Pool Club.

That's the standard kit.

Oh. Oh, so auntie's diary worked a treat. They welcome me with open arms.

There's been another murder.

Anyone we know?

A chap called Velati.

Another member of the World Disarmament Committee.

Where? The other scene of the other killing.

Several people say that they heard a handsome cab driving away.

Well, I mean, how many handsome cabs can there be in London?

Oh, we can only find out. There's the address.

Well, if all you missounders conveyance is of quality.

It's a handsome cab hired service. It should be a mine of information.

What's that?

These are the remaining two names of the disarmament committee.

I've got to get to them before the ghoul.

Sorry, Mr. Heller. Not much chance of a cab tonight.

I walk.

Well, I'll see about that later.

Excuse me.

Can I help you, sir?

I'm looking for Mr. Haller. Oh, you've only just missed him, sir. He went down

that passageway a minute or so ago.

Mr. Haller?

Mr. Haller?

Mr. Haller?

Mr. Haller?

Thank heaven you've come. You saved my life.

Hold on, Herman.

Now look, I'll send my security people to you.

But I think it would be wise until then to go to your hotel.

Surrounded by bright lights and a lot of people.

She's a little beauty, Miss King.

Trim and easy to handle.

I'm sure she is, Mr. Saunders. It's just that I've got my heart set on another

one. Oh?

What does she look like?

Oh, that's the trouble. I haven't seen her.

You've set your heart on something you haven't seen?

Oh, but I've heard her.

She just sounds so luxurious.

The door shut with such a satisfying click.

There's not much of a description to go on.

Here.

Anything like that?

No.

What about that?

No.

Ring a bell?

I'm afraid not.

It's obviously still out on hire.

Well, where did you hear it?

Just right everywhere, really.

I just can't find anyone who's actually seen it.

That's odd.

It is, isn't it? You'd have thought something as large as the handsome cab

be difficult to miss.

I can't see how I can help you, Miss King.

I see.

Well, if you do hear of any cab owners who've been driving around an awful lot

lately, will you let me know?

With pleasure.

Thank you.

Never seen it?

Only heard it?

Only heard it?

Oh, good evening, sir.

Sanders here.

I'm sorry to trouble you at this time of night.

You remember that cab you hired from me the other day?

You wanted it for a special purpose, you said.

Do you mean to tell me he drove away in a horse -drawn vehicle and you couldn't

catch him? I can't understand it. He seemed to disappear into thin air.

I don't know what the department's coming to. Any suspects?

Too many.

All the members of the Gaslight Ghoul Club, for a start.

What do you know about Sir Geoffrey Armstrong?

Eminent surgeon.

Served as a fighter pilot in the Battle of Britain.

Politically extreme right wing.

And a member of the SADOBE.

Eh? The Society Against the Disintegration of the British Empire.

Interesting. Why?

What would constitute to him a threat to the British Empire?

Defense pacts? Trade agreements?

Disarmament conferences?

Yes, I see what you mean.

I suggest you put a round -the -clock guard on the other delegates.

Par thinking, Steed.

And I'll keep an eye on Sir Geoffrey.

That's not cricket, is it, Steed?

Is it, Steed? No, it isn't. But I'm a rowing man.

What were you looking for?

A wolf.

In wolf's clothing.

Burning the midnight oil, Mr. Jeffrey.

Huh?

Oh, hello, Steed.

I didn't recognize you. It's time you grew a beard.

Successful operation?

Beg your pardon?

The one you were called away to perform.

No complications?

Oh, no, no. It went like clockwork.

Just came back here to relax for half an hour before going home, you know.

My profession plays absolute havoc on the nerves.

I can imagine.

Well, I'm off.

You coming?

Soon. I think I'll just soak up the atmosphere for a bit.

A brave man, eh?

I wouldn't care to be left alone in here for a night.

Lock up when you go, will you?

And don't forget to turn the gas off.

And the fog.

Of course.

Good night, Steve.

Good night.

Hello. Oh, it's Sanders here, Miss King.

You asked me to telephone you if I discovered anything about your elusive

Yes. Well, I think I can explain a mystery.

Only, um, it's a little more complicated than you thought.

Could you come round and see me?

Be there in five minutes.

Oh, sure, sir.

Come tomorrow, another instance.

Mr. Saunders?

Mr.

Saunders?

Where to, miss?

Speed. What are you doing here?

Making sure the fox doesn't break cover.

Any news?

Yes, Saunders. Dead?

Yes.

Found it in his garage.

Looks as though we're barking up the right tree.

Now, are you sure Sir Geoffrey's at home? He arrived a few minutes ago.

Who's there?

Next thing I knew, I was lying on some very hard cobblestones and there was no

sign of him. So you waited for him here?

Well, he must have been on his way to deal with Saunders when you lost him.

When you arrived, he ran away.

That fellow has the luck of the...

He's

got some more business in hand.

My car's down there. Take it and follow him. I'll look around the house.

Carefree. What happened?

Stabbed. Did you see who did it?

No, but he took a file from the cabinet. What file?

See which number's missing.

One, two, three, four, five, six. Six is missing.

What was in it?

Names and addresses of club members.

And professions.

Yes, but what...

What do you mean?

His profession could have been the clue to his motive.

This said something curious.

What was it?

Said that's secure for your fever.

Fever?

Fever, fever. Of course.

Is there a duplicate?

Is there a duplicate file?

At the club.

I was afraid of that.

Didn't have much time.

I must get you a doctor.

And you find out who did it. I know who did it.

Lucky way, eh, the lady?

No, thank you.

I warned you not to interfere.

I can't allow anyone to come between me and my objective.

The destruction of the disarmament conference?

Of course.

Why? What did you think you'd achieve?

Protection of my livelihood, armaments, guns, ammunition, all the trappings of

war. These fools wanted to drown the world.

A bunch of wooden -headed idealists who'd make me as extinct as the dodo.

I couldn't have that, could I?

I'm conducting my own fight for survival.

But this club is a perfect cover. Until you instead appeared.

Not so good at long range, eh, Travis?

We shall see.

We will. But I don't think you'll be curing my fever.

You know, you gave yourself away when you said that you could cure Sir

Geoffrey's fever for him. How does the poem go?

The lingering illness is over at last.

And the fever called living is conk. That's it.

That's it. Edgar Allan Poe. I remember you saying that Poe was your favorite

author.

Not so effective at long range, aren't I?

I have another poem, a couplet.

Contrive to stay alive.

Kisorky of the Russian Imperial Guard taught me the saber, Travis. He was

unique.

He used to fire darts faster than the eye could see.

Instinctive reflex training, he used to call it.

If those darts stuck, they hurt.

I wasn't often hurt.

Now, that's a problem.

Easily solved.

I

saved

you from a fate worse than... You mind?

Not at all. I think I prefer you with an umbrella.

Oh, Steve, you're a gentleman.

And a Scotland.

Thank you very much. How's your ankle?

I just can't bear traps.

All right.

I'll take you out into the... Oh, bright, clear daylight.

No fog.

Well, that's marvellous. Makes life a lot easier. For everyone.

Hey, including Mother.

Oh, poor Mother.

I wonder how she's getting on.

Here, please.

Is your glass full?

I can't see you. Wait a minute.

No, it's empty.

I'll recharge it for you.

I can't seem to locate the drink table.

Straight ahead.

But look after my... My favourite China ornament.

Ah, here we are.

Pity about your air conditioning system.

Great pity.

Going into reverse on a foggy day like this.

Now, where are you?

Over here.

Keep talking, keep talking. I'll soon find you.

What shall we talk about?

Oh, that reminds me, Mother.

I wonder if his navigation systems work.

Oh, undoubtedly, Mother as one do.

That's it, Wanda.

Left here, then on we go. We're on the home straight now.

Tara?

Yes? I think you left the front door open.