All language subtitles for The Avengers S04E24. A Sense of History.English

(Groans)

Steed?

Can I have my arrow back, please?

- It's the only clue I've got.
- What clue?

To the death of James Broom.
He was found murdered yesterday.

That arrow nearby,
something more lethal in his back.

- James Broom, the economist?
- The brilliant economist.

His plans were revolutionary –
unite the financial resources of Europe,

banish poverty forever.

Europia, it was a nice dream.

Broom was close to making it a reality.

And "was" was the operative word.

This is where it happened.

Steed!

- Ah ... Mr Carlyon?
- Yes.

John Steed.

I asked him to meet me here.
Mrs Emma Peel.

Oh ... How do you do?

Carlyon was Broom's
right-hand man.

- Working undercover?
- I was looking for this, actually.

Taped under the back there.
Jimmy Broom was a cautious man.

- He often carried things that way.
- Valuables?

- Haven't the faintest idea.
- Shall we find out?

- Oh, distressing business.
- Very.

Yes, it quite spoilt my appetite
when I heard.

- It ruined James Broom's.
- What? Oh, yes. I see what you mean.

- Where was he going?
- To see someone. A fellow economist.

- Who?
- Someone in opposition to our plan.

Someone intent on stopping it
at all costs.

Broom wouldn't confide
the name of the man to me.

Too dangerous, he said.

But he did mention
something about a university.

That the man was connected
with the university.

- St Bode's?
- Yes. How did you know?

On these papers here.
St Bode's.

St Bode's and James Broom.
Seems logical.

They have the finest economics
department in the country.

Really, my dear? Isn't it time
you furthered your education?

One and one are two.
Two and two are ...

I think you're right.

What I have tried to show you
is the inevitability of history.

What must be must be. We ...

(Yawning)

We delude ourselves
that we are in charge of history,

that we alter its course
by our own efforts.

This must be doubted.
In fact, refuted. It cannot be true.

There is no evidence
to support such an assertion.

Indeed, history itself does not
uphold this viewpoint.

All the great events
and changes in this world

have been the result ...

Er, as I was saying,
have been the ...

(Snapping)

Have been the result of circumstance.
Of chance, even.

I hope I have been conclusive.

(Yawns)

I ask you to ponder my arguments,
to digest them.

And that is all.

Now if there are any questions ...

- Er, yes, I have a question, Dr Henge.
- Yes?

I take it that if someone
were to suggest

that one man in the right place
and at the right time

could himself change the course
of history, you would disagree?

Mr Pettit, since I have spent
the last hour saying so,

you may take it
that I would disagree.

But there are other people,
of course, who hold other views.

I suppose so.

It's not a matter of conjecture.
Professor Acheson doesn't agree.

He is entitled to his view
as I am to mine.

One of you must be wrong, though,
wouldn't you say?

(Giggling)

I take it that on the whole
you disagree with me

and agree with Professor Acheson.

I think what Pettit
was trying to suggest, sir,

is that for the past ... 53 minutes,

you have assaulted our ears with a load
of stupid, pretentious, old rubbish.

Mr Duboys ... you have the manners
of a guttersnipe!

You are entitled to your views, sir,
as I am to mine.

(Laughter)

Hooray!

(Banging and jeering)

Dr Henge!

Dr Henge!

I do beg your pardon. Isometrics.

- Hmm?
- Exercises without apparatus.

- Oh.
- I got carried away. David Acheson.

- Professor Acheson?
- That's right.

Oh, you must be Mrs Peel.
Told to expect you.

Welcome to St Bode's, Mrs Peel.

Er, do you mind?

In such a sedentary occupation,
one must keep fit.

High-ho!

End of term.
Excuse for high spirits.

Yes, well, I've just attended
one of Dr Henge's lectures.

It didn't seem to be all high spirits.

Oh, well, Henge aggravates them a bit.
Asks for it.

Who is she? Anyone know?

- Well?
- Nobody knows.

There was one student in particular,
a young man named Duboys.

Eric Duboys? Very clever lad.
Very promising ec...onomist.

- Oh, thank you very much.
- I'd like to meet him.

Oh, well, up that staircase.
Staircase three, number 18.

She's coming this way.

Is she now?

(Jeering)

(Grunts)

Well, well, what have we here?

Ah!

Steed, take a look at this.

Among Broom's papers,
an economic thesis.

"Economics and a Sense of History."

- Mm. Read it.
- I am reading it.

No, I mean this paragraph
here particularly.

Pretty strong stuff. So's this.

What do you mean?
It's continental roasted.

There you are, you see.
It gets progressively more hysterical.

It is not an economic thesis,
it's political document.

And it reeks of ideals and dogma.

With the faintest whiff of jackboots.

Good heavens!

- No author's name.
- But it has the college crest.

A most unfortunate encounter,
Mrs Peel.

Most unfortunate.

Rag Week.

You see,
we jump first-year students

and persuade them to contribute
to whatever charity it is.

But to land a real live lecturer ...

I do apologise for the impetuosity
of my band.

Accepted.

We normally wouldn't dream
of being discourteous to our ... betters.

- No?
- No.

I'd have thought differently.
I was at Dr Henge's lecture.

Oh, Dr Henge? Dr Henge ...

- Dear Dr Henge.
- Poor, dear Dr Henge.

Poor, dear, sad Dr Henge.

- Why do you despise him so much?
- Despise? Who said despise?

No, no. It's merely a lack of admiration.
A negative appraisal.

We call him Stonehenge.

Why?

Because he's a fool, a dodderer.

He lives in the past.

All his ideas and philosophy
come from the past.

Many of his ideas
haven't been bettered.

Newton's law of gravity still keeps
our feet firmly on the ground.

A succinct remark like that
merely points the lack in Dr Henge.

He would be incapable
of reasoning such a ... simple reply.

Yet he's a knowledgeable man,

and he has many distinguished friends
who respect him.

James Broom, CBE, for example.

I suppose you've heard
of James Broom?

Of course.

- A brilliant man.
- Brilliant!

Quite brilliant. Or rather he was.

Well, thank you ... for the coffee.

Watch her.

St Bode's is only
a quarter of a mile away.

I'll walk it from here.

Tattered gown –
sign of experience, of belonging.

Only a freshmen will be seen
wearing a new gown.

I'll be in touch.

I'm terribly sorry, young fellow.

All in a good cause.

There we are.

Oh, that's the one for the houselights.

If you're taking slides or a film ...

Oh, no. I have all I need,
thank you.

If there should be something
that you've overlooked,

just go along to the porters' lodge.

- They'll fix you up.
- Thank you.

- Oh, good morning.
- Good morning.

- Who was that?
- Professor Acheson.

And the ...?

Isometrics.
Exercise without apparatus.

Oh, I can't say I approve.

I like my professors
stooped and ven...

Venerable.

And I like my students
to be wide-eyed and ... innocent.

What on earth are you doing here?

Advanced research
into the co-relationship

of the lesser crested newt
and Mrs Sybil Peabody.

- Mrs Sybil Peabody?
- An aunt. Drinks like a fish.

No! Recapture my college days.
Tea and crumpets.

The proctor and his bullfrogs
larking about in a punt.

Moments of triumph
on the rugger field!

Moments of failure
in an examination.

I'm here to find out
who wrote this.

Found in Broom's briefcase.
Makes very interesting reading.

It's diametrically opposed
to everything Broom stood for.

Exactly.
The motive for Broom's murder.

Bound up nicely in foolscap vellum with
the college crest. Point is, who wrote it?

There should be a record of it
with author's name on it.

Ah, Dr Henge,
perhaps you could help us?

Dr Henge, this is Mr John Steed.

We're trying to trace ... Excuse me.

We're trying to trace the details
of a thesis on economics.

It's called "Economics and a Sense
of History". Are you familiar with it?

This university was founded
in 1642, Mrs Peel.

Since then, there must have been
5,000 graduate theses.

2,000 doctoral dissertations
on this subject alone.

That means that within
the university archives we have ...

An awful lot of theses.

And you expect me to be familiar
with one particular thesis?

- Do you know who wrote it?
- I mean to find out.

Try Grindley, the university archivist.
He may be able to help you.

- A thesis, Mr Stead?
- Steed.

Steed ... yes.

As you can see,
we have a surfeit of them here.

You may borrow them individually
or by the dozen.

This is a particular one,
"Economics and a Sense of History".

I don't want the paper itself,
just the author's name.

I thought with your filing system ...

There is no filing system,
Mr Stead ... Steed.

No, the system is all here. That is
the way we like to work at St Bode's.

Modern methods just involve
rush and tear.

Knowledge cannot be obtained
in a hurry.

It must be studied quietly, gently,
in the traditional manner.

Of course.

Just the author's name?
"Economics and a Sense of History"?

- Yes.
- I'll see what I can do.

As soon as possible.

In the gentle, traditional manner.
Thank you.

I beg your pardon.

Grindley, that man who just left ...

Who? Stead? Steed.
Yes, he seemed a very pleasant fellow.

- Ask you to check up a thesis, did he?
- Yes.

But he isn't a member
of the college or faculty.

It isn't done, Grindley.
It's not done at all.

We have a tradition to maintain,
a position to uphold.

- Treats this place like a public library.
- He said he used to be a student here.

- And you believed him?
- Does it matter if I did or if I didn't?

Quite polite, he was.
That makes a change these days.

Quite a touch of charm.

Nevertheless,
making use of our facilities,

putting you to a great deal of trouble.

Oh, it wasn't as difficult as all that.

- You found what he was looking for?
- No.

But I know just what to do about it.

- You know your own business best.
- Indeed.

I shall have to ask you to excuse me.
I have a lecture to give.

I'm late already. I think I put
my notes over here somewhere.

Millerson?

- I ... didn't know you were here.
- Didn't you, sir?

Who's this chap Steed
I've seen around?

An ex-student of St Bode's.

- What's he doing here?
- Research of some kind.

- To do with newts or something.
- Newts?

Better check up on him.
Yes, I think the big man would like that.

Duboys ...

Well, Grindley's late.
Keeping us waiting.

Calls for a demonstration,
don't you think?

To express our displeasure.

We want Grindley! We want Grindley!

(All) We want Grindley!
We want Grindley!

We want Grindley! We want Grindley ...

Yes ... Yes, that's it.

(Hums)

(Students) We want Grindley!
We want Grindley!

We want Grindley! We want Grindley ...

Mr Grindley?

We want Grindley! We want Grindley!

We want Grindley!
We want Grindley!

We want Grindley! We want Grindley!

We want Grindley!
We want Grindley!

(Cheering)

(Girl screams)

Obviously, Grindley found out
who wrote that thesis.

- And was on his way to tell me.
- Poor man.

It can't have been Duboys.
He was in the lecture room.

He has his minions,
that young man.

Then there's severe Dr Henge.
He was coming in here as I was leaving.

- Dr Henge is an economist.
- He could have written that thesis.

Oh, this is no good. They have
absolutely no system whatsoever.

- Then you'll just have to trust to luck.
- I?

I have an appointment
with Richard Carlyon.

(Jeering and whooping)

You have to pay a toll
to walk these cloisters.

- Rag Week.
- Rather misplaced levity, isn't it?

Oh, old Grindley you mean?

We should pull
on the sackcloth and ashes bit, eh?

Well, that's not the way
we do things at St Bode's.

We, his students, bore him away

and laid him to rest,
as the college tradition demands.

That's the way he would've wished it
and that's the way it was.

But you should know all about that.
You are supposed to be an ex-student.

"Supposed"? You disbelieve me?

Very sharp of you, old man.

(Laughter)

- Calling me a liar?
- Mm, sharper and sharper!

Another incisive mind,
getting straight to the point.

I object to having my word doubted.

- I object very strongly.
- Take your hand off me.

Very strongly, indeed.

Get him!

What's going on down there?

(Duboys gasps)

Ah, professor, we were just having
a little academic conversation.

Well, get away from here.

All of you.

Well, I've no idea what was going on,
Mr Steed, but I apologise for them.

End of term and this dreadful business
with Grindley.

- There's hysteria in the air.
- Please, I understand completely.

You do?
Oh, that's jolly decent of you.

- They're basically a decent set of chaps.
- I like them enormously.

Yes!

Well, if Duboys gives you trouble,
report him to the Proctor.

I'll do better than that.
I'll break his arm.

(Banging)

Dr Henge?

Still looking for that thesis,
Mrs Peel?

Mr Grindley promised ...

Dr Grindley is dead.
I am in charge of archives now.

(Owl hooting)

Steed, I'd given you up.

Sorry. I ran into some rather
fractious students. Find out anything?

No, but I read through
the thesis again. Analysed it.

And?

The reasoning behind it
suggests a very mature mind.

- Fingers?
- What?

Oh, yes. So sorry. Almost the work
of a senior member of the faculty.

- Or an exceptionally brilliant student.
- Eh?

By all accounts, Duboys is exceptionally
brilliant and exceptionally nasty.

(Owl hooting)

- Ah! Well, now what about a drink?
- Thank you!

(Owl hooting)

Here we are.

Now what's the next move?

With Broom dead, what chances are
there of his economic plan going ahead?

Every chance. I'll see to that. I intend
finishing off the good work he began.

Someone is determined to kill the plan.

Impossible. Not while I'm alive.

Good heavens!
You ... you don't think that ...?

You're the key man now.

Oh, dear.

I'm sorry, but you must forgive me.

The thought that my life
might be in danger ...

- Shh, shh!
- What?

Well, it's just an owl.
It's been hooting away all evening.

(Owl hooting)

I think there are two of them.

Look here, Steed. Are you serious?
Do you really think I need protection?

No, there are several of them.
They're calling to each other.

(Hooting)

Really, Steed. At a time like this.

Your interests in a nocturnal bird are ...

Mr Steed, I really must make
the strongest protest!

(Whooping)

They're coming again.

Steed!

Marianne, isn't it?
Marianne Grey?

Have a look at it.
It's a very good likeness.

Who is he?
Who does this belong to?

He's in serious trouble.
Now you be sensible and ...

Leave her alone!

Is this yours?

Yes.

- That's right.
- Oh ...

It's mine. Now get out of here
and keep away from us!

- Shall we talk?
- I've got nothing to say.

Last night you severely damaged
my bowler hat.

Incidentally, you nearly killed me.
Why?

We were just trying to scare you.

And Grindley? You've scared him
right out of his archive.

I had nothing to do with Grindley.

There's somebody bigger, isn't there?
Somebody Duboys is scared of.

I'm trying to be nice to you,
you know.

I don't think you're worth the trouble.

All right. There is someone.

But I don't know who.

But you could help me to find out.

How?

I should like to know who wrote this.

Well, it should be on file.
The archives.

- Oh!
- The archives are a shambles.

Grindley, poor old fellow, is
the only man who knows the system.

Did he tell you that?

Just trying to sound important,
that's all.

That shouldn't be difficult to trace.

Anyone used to the archives
would find that in less than five minutes.

You, for instance.
You're in this right up to your neck.

All right. I'll do my best.

But later.

Tonight ...
when there's no one around.

Pettit!

Marianne?

Haven't forgotten
the Rag Week meeting, have you?

Coming.

(Sighs)

Oh, Mrs Peel! Still hard at it?

Well, I seem to have got them into
some semblance of order at long last.

It's rather a big task, isn't it? Or are
you looking for something in particular?

- No. I'm just interested, that's all.
- Oh, well, let me give you a ...

I'm most dreadfully sorry.

Coffee?

Thank you very much.

I must say I'm very partial
to your continental blended.

I'm not taking any chances.
Not after last time.

Well ... black or white?

Since you don't seem
to have any milk, black.

Here we are, then. Is that enough?

That's fine.
Thank you very much. Ooh!

I hope you don't mind, old chap,

but I don't like exposing my back
for too long.

I quite understand.

- It's not that I'm frightened, you know.
- No, no.

To tell you the truth,
I'm absolutely petrified.

I'm not cut out for this sort of stuff.

Murder, mayhem, lurkings after dark,
attacks by young savages.

- Not to mention the damp.
- The damp?

- Yes. Yes, it always gets me here.
- Ooh!

I do beg your pardon!
I thought that was me.

Old wound, you know.

Really?
German bullet, World War ll?

Umbrella, January sales.

Darn stupid woman.

What are we going to do
about my minister?

I beg your pardon?

He demands to know
when I'll return to my department.

- Oh, I see.
- He's a most difficult man, Steed.

- What am I going to tell him?
- Send him a memo.

"Engaged in work
of the utmost importance."

"Utmost importance"?
Yes, I like that.

I say ... do you mind
if I make a few notes?

Not at all.

Good. Now fire ahead.

That the entire future of Europe
is in your hands.

"The entire future of Europe ..."
Yes, I like that.

- Beyond that, your lips are sealed.
- Mm.

That in due course,
the full account of your heroism

will be revealed to him.

And add that if he hasn't heard
from you within the week,

he must presume that you have died
for your country.

I say, that's very good!

- What?
- (Thunder claps)

I say, that's a bit strong.
Dying for my country?

There's a storm brewing.

I don't mind a little suffering,
not too much pain, mind you.

- I mean, actually dying?
- I must get back to the university.

Oh!

(Thunder claps)

- Steed said no more than that?
- Duboys, I've told you a dozen times.

Tell me again.

He asked me a lot of questions
about the university.

How their attitudes had changed
since he'd been here.

- He was never here.
- We checked.

Oh. Well, that's what he told me.

- That's all?
- Yes.

- You're sure?
- How many times do I have to I tell you?

Just asking, dear fellow.
Just asking.

You're a bit on edge, aren't you?

Yes. I'm a little tired
of all these questions.

Too many late nights, old chap.

Cut along now.
Make it an early night.

I think perhaps I will.

That was all Steed wanted to know.

Marianne ... Marianne, you'd better
run along now, too,

before the Proctor finds you.

Run along, my dear.

- He's lying.
- Yes.

Well?

Oh, no. Not this time.

I've had my share of the dirty work.

Come to that, so have you.

- What are you driving at?
- The big man.

Well, he's in charge, isn't he?

He keeps finding nice little tasks
for us to do. Well, now it's his turn.

We're committed. Why not him?
Let him get his hands dirty for a change.

Millerson,
that is a very real contribution.

A very astute idea.

(Dials number)

Hello, sir. Duboys here.

(Thunder claps)

(Thunder rumbles)

(Door opens)

(Thunder rumbles)

(Books crashing)

(Bookshelf creaks)

Look out, you fool!

There's been an accident.
A terrible accident.

(Bells toll)

I doubt if we'll have any luck.

The thesis will probably
have been destroyed by now.

Carried on the shoulders
of four stalwart students,

laid to rest, mourn no more.

- You shouldn't blame yourself.
- It goes back to the days of the plague.

Old college tradition –
bury 'em quick, forget 'em quick.

I should never have let him go it alone.

- He must have known the risks.
- In that case, so should I.

What did Dr Henge
have to say for himself?

He found the archives door open,
went in to investigate, found Pettit.

- That's all he saw?
- That's all he said he saw.

Ah, there you are.
I've been looking for you.

The Rag Committee
asked me to deliver these.

- Thank you.
- You will come I hope? Tomorrow night.

It's going to be quite mad, a rave.
Anything can happen and probably will.

Great fun.

They certainly do, don't they?
Bury and forget.

- Anything can happen.
- And probably will.

I wonder who else has been invited.

Gentlemen, we are on the threshold
of shaping history.

I ask you to reaffirm your vows.

(Grunts)

Yes.

With blood, we bind.

And in blood, we advance.

(Knock on door)

Well, Marianne?

This just arrived.

Thank you, Marianne.

It's from Carlyon. He's bit.

- He accepted?
- He has accepted.

He will arrive tomorrow night.

And this will taste blood again.

It occurs to me that the one person
we've omitted to talk to is the principal.

Ah, well, he's on extended leave.

- Really?
- Rea...

I'm most dreadfully sorry! There might
have been the most dreadful accident.

There might, indeed.

Foolish, isn't it?

One would expect it perhaps
from a student, but from a professor ...

Well, the truth of the matter is
that I couldn't resist trying it out

before tomorrow night.

- Tomorrow night?
- Rag Night.

It's an integral part
of the whole affair.

Don't tell me you didn't know.
I thought everybody knew.

It's fancy dress.
And this is to be the theme.

- Bows and arrows?
- Well, of course.

The central theme is Robin Hood.

(Laughter)

(Cheering)

(Fireworks popping)

- Has he arrived yet?
- No.

Well, when he does, stay close.

And remember, the lecture room.
We must lure him to the lecture room.

Steed, so you finally decided
on your costume?

- The Sheriff of ... Bashful Ben?
- Nottingham.

I hate to mention it, but in the books
I've read, the Sheriff is a baddie.

Beneath this doublet
beats a generous heart!

- That looks a bit droopy.
- Wait till it's challenged.

After you, Robin Hood.

(Laughter)

Here he is.

Mr Carlyon, so very glad
you could make it. Duboys.

- Oh ... how do you do?
- Have some punch.

- How is the plan going, Mr Carlyon?
- The plan? Oh, the plan!

- The plan. The Europia plan.
- Yes.

- We all admire your audacity.
- Audacity?

That you should think it could succeed,
that it would be allowed to.

- Why don't we discuss it further?
- In greater detail.

It'll be much quieter
in the lecture room.

Ah, Dickie! Dickie Carlyon!
I haven't seen you for ages.

Mrs Peel,
I told you about Dickie!

- We were just going to show him ...
- Come and have another drink!

Mrs Peel,
we seem to be in competition.

Two Robin Hoods,
that will hardly do.

One will have to be eliminated,
don't you think?

I don't think we need bother.

In a situation like this,
a gentleman would bow to a lady.

Well, what do we do now?

I see Carlyon has been thoughtful
enough to provide us with a target.

Honestly, Steed, aren't you carrying
this faithful watchdog business a bit far?

- This young chap Duboys, he ...
- Helped to murder Broom.

Huh? Oh.

You, you ... you don't think
he might attempt ...

Might try to ...

- Me?
- You.

That's why you're here, old man.

We want to bring the top man
into the open.

And you're just the live bait to do it.

- What?
- Don't worry.

Circulate. Move around.
Keep your eyes open.

Mrs Peel ...

They killed John, didn't they?
They killed him.

- Might have been an accident.
- They killed him, as they did the others.

Do you want the man behind it all?
The big man?

He'll be here. They're going
to meet him in the lecture room.

Marianne!

Look for Friar Tuck.

What were you saying to Mrs Peel?
It must've been important.

You don't often have much
to say for yourself, do you?

She asked me
where I got this dress.

- There you are, old boy.
- Oh, thank you.

I don't know
how they wore these things.

- The man we want is Friar Tuck.
- Who told you that?

Marianne. He's due here soon.
There's a meeting in the lecture room.

Friar Tuck. Of course it would be.

He was the real brains
behind the Robin Hood setup.

Is anything wrong?

- Some sort of trouble, is there?
- Your troubles are almost over.

- My dear Friar ...
- We'd like a word with you.

A private word!

What do you want? Historical memoirs
or Encyclopaedia Erotica?

- The memoirs. They're heavier.
- Right.

Dr Henge.

- Back to the party?
- Back to the party.

Ah, my dear chap,
as I said your troubles are over.

You can relax now. Enjoy yourself.
Have a drink. Have fun!

We have the top villain
under lock and ... key?

Take cover!

My dear, dear Friar!

- Hm ...
- The Erotica!

- Professor Acheson!
- So much for isometrics.

They can't both be
the man we want.

Just stroll along with us, Mr Carlyon.
Somebody wants to meet you.

Quietly, please.

We've bagged two of them,
but could you point out ...

- (Peel) Which is the right one?
- It's neither of them.

And they've taken Carlyon
to the lecture room.

This is an historic moment,
Mr Carlyon.

I-I-I don't understand.

I should have said, perhaps, we are
about to create a historic moment.

To change the course of history.

Hence the small ceremonial
of the occasion.

Allen ...

We have followed you this far, sir,

but triumph and the coup de grâce
belongs to you.

Grindley.

DB Grindley, MA.

But you're dead. Steed told me.

A small piece of pantomime,
stage-managed by my worthy students.

Things were hotting up.

We thought it better
if Grindley was no more.

After all,
he was only an archivist.

Just a small man
of no consequence.

Only an archivist,
a sort of glorified librarian.

And yet one tends to overlook that
such a man spends his entire life

surrounded by thoughts
committed to paper.

Ideas, wisdom.

I am a voracious reader,
Mr Carlyon.

And in the end,
I wrote a modest thesis myself,

"Economics
and a Sense of History".

I've read it.

Then you'll appreciate its genius,
the pure simplicity of its basic premise.

What, that history can be
created to order?

Yes, well, an understatement,
but quite near enough.

- Poppycock!
- I disagree!

I'm afraid we shall have to.

You see, we are going
to manoeuvre the course of history,

here and now in this very room.

With your death, Mr Carlyon,

we shall create
a small economic snowball.

We shall then guide it downhill,

charting its progress,
watching its growth,

and changing with it
the entire economic face of Europe!

Well, do it! Do it now!

You shall have your immortality,
Mr Carlyon!

You shall have
your rightful place in history!

(Groans)

(Grunts)

Mrs Peel was right.

(Yells)

- You said you'd look after me.
- I'm terribly sorry, old chap.

I wonder if history
will be kind to him.

Ahoy for the open road!

Marvellous day!

An invigorating nip in the air!

Ah, the air is so fresh.

Open her up, Mrs Peel,
and let's feel ...

What was that?

I said let's feel the wind
in our faces!

Steed, you're a fraud.

An unmitigated fraud.