Original subtitles

(theme music playing)

- (knock on door) - Come in.

Everything's set for tomorrow's board meeting, Sir Jeremy.

Good.

If there's nothing else, I would like to get away early.

- Oh, certainly. - Thank you.

Important date, Miss Charles?

Just want to leave early. That's all.

Good night, Sir Jeremy.

(horn honks)

(horn honks)

(gunshot)

(pantomime jingle plays)

I suppose the area has been thoroughly searched?

Thoroughly.

The results are waiting for us in Sir Jeremy's office.

Right.

Haven't you forgotten something?

It's 230 shopping days to Christmas?

- It's your birthday? - Why have we been called in?

Why have we been called in?

This company... the Capitol Land and Development Corporation

have just landed the contract.

I see. Which contract?

- CUPID. - CUPID?

- CUPID. - Who is he?

What is it?

In the event of a war, where would the government go?

The moon?

Underground, CUPID...

Cabinet Underground Premises in Depth,

to be built by this company.

So, naturally, when one of their directors gets popped off...

We are very concerned.

Let's have a look at the evidence.

And what is exhibit one?

A footprint found on the grounds.

I hope they took a plaster cast.

Whoops.

What does that say?

Well, apparently, despite the size of the shoe,

the depth of impression suggests the person

was of normal weight.

Not a giant?

Unless it was a very thin giant.

- Hmm. - What, may I ask, is that?

I don't know.

It looks rather like a...

A bunch of flowers.

- It could be a clue, of course. - Could be.

If it is, immortality is ours.

Well, it's bound to go in the archives

of the criminal museum.

With a little card discovered and donated by Steed and King.

One bunch of...

Bananas.

It was a walking stick when you found it.

- It was. - Metamorphosis.

- Tadpole into frog. - Could be awkward.

Swaggering down Bond Street with a bunch of bananas.

Imagine yourself hailing a cab?

Bound to happen right outside my club.

I can see it now.

Taxi.

- Air-conditioning. - I already have it.

Extra air-conditioning.

I think you'd better put that down.

Well, I should have eaten the bananas when I had them.

But the trick is...

very theatrical.

Man: (laughs)

Man #2: Excellent, excellent, excellent.

You're doing excellent.

Man: Are you sure no one saw you?

Quite sure. There was no one about.

It was like first house on a Monday.

(honks)

A wet Monday.

Man: Sir Jeremy was only one of the board.

Our revenge will not be complete

until all the directors are gone.

Look at this man, gentlemen... Another director

of the Capitol Land and Development Corporation...

The honorable Thomas Randolph Cleghorn...

Your next victim.

Strike and strike now!

He must be killed! Killed!

Killed! Killed, killed...

(whistle quacking)

(pantomime jingle plays)

- Out. - Ooh.

- 15-8. - What do you think it is?

Well, a red Ping-Pong ball with a hole in it.

Of course, it needn't necessarily have anything to do

with Cleghorn's murder.

It was found at the scene of the crime.

I know, but the honorable T. R. Cleghorn was drowned.

And bopped, severely on the top of his aristocratic head.

Bopped with the traditional bopper.

A blunt instrument.

Ah!

Just doesn't make sense.

Gigantic footprints, magical bunches of flowers,

red Ping-Pong balls,

♪ Do-do-do-do-do-do dee day and dum pam pam pam ♪

- Now why didn't I think of that? - Think of what?

Noses.

Red noses.

What does that conjure up?

Inebriates.

Now there's a long word for you.

I know lots, actually.

Antidisestablishmentarianism.

You've been doing the crossword again.

I try.

- What does it mean? - Hmm?

Antidisest... Or whatever you said?

- Clowns. - Eh?

You're not gonna tell me that antidis...

- or whatever means... - No, no, the vermilion proboscis.

- A nose by any other name. - Ah.

Now this nose is part of a clown's makeup.

And this is the section on clowns.

Jesters, mimes, mummers, and harlequins.

And what does it say?

It says...

section 247, vaudeville.

And what does that say?

It says turn to appendix G5, dying arts.

Vermillion Proboscis. Proboscis Vermillion.

I'm going through a phrase.

Ah, eggs. (mumbles)

Eggs?

Eggs? Clowns don't lay eggs.

Bad ones do.

Ah, this is more important.

Each clown's makeup is copyright

and as individual as fingerprints.

These makeups are painted and preserved on eggs...

by one Marcus Rugman.

Eggs?

(knock on door)

Marcus Rugman? Makeup registration artist?

- Yes. - I'm Tara King.

I phoned you earlier.

- Well? - Can I come in?

- Come in? - Yes.

- It's most unusual. - You are a public office.

Yes, that's the trouble.

But I have a query, an important one.

You've read the notice.

I like it.

One section applies to you.

No handbags.

I'll leave it outside.

You must be very, very careful.

Eggs break, you know.

So I believe.

You will see before you 22 years of patient brushwork.

Every clown's face in Britain

registered and copyrighted by being painted on an egg,

large size.

I'm here to trace a clown.

Well, if you know what he looks like,

we can find him.

Please!

No wandering, please.

Follow me.

Keep to the white line...

then they're out of reach.

- Be careful. - I promise, I promise.

(groans)

You did promise.

I didn't know you were going to stop.

Won't happen again.

Well done, Miss King, well done.

Now what does this clown of yours look like?

I think it's a red-nosed comedian.

A red-nosed comedian?

That's the line we're following up, Lord Dessington.

I give you... myself,

or a troupe of young girls, high-stepping young fillies.

Look, where's the sense in it?

Two of our board have been murdered,

and now you're trying to tell us

that some fella wearing a red nose...

Would be excellently disguised.

You've got a point there. All clowns look alike.

All right, I'll concede that, Seagrave,

but I still say where's the point in it?

Steed here was brought in because of Project CUPID

and because these murders might be part of a bigger plot

to wreck the project.

Now we're talking about comedians, red noses.

Been nothing but trouble from the start.

- Dessington: Eh? - Project CUPID.

Oh, come now, Brigadier Wiltshire.

What do you mean, trouble?

I understood it was all going smoothly.

- And so it is. - What about the fights we had?

Broadfoot and Cleghorn arguing about the choice of materials

and you and Dessington arguing about the choice

of subcontractors.

Perfectly normal procedure in a project the size of CUPID.

Well, certainly the happy indifferences of opinion

as to how to tackle the job and the happy disagreements.

Oh, but on perfectly amiable terms.

- Oh, perfectly. - I see.

Well, I won't keep you gentlemen any longer.

I don't have to warn you to be on your guard.

Wiltshire: Against comedians?

What'll he do, tickle us to death?

Oh, by the way, Mr. Seagrave, you were wrong.

- Hmm? - About all clowns looking alike.

They don't.

Every makeup is copyright and preserved on eggs.

Eggs?

Marcus: It'll take time, Miss King, time.

There are so many faces and you have so few clues.

- How long? - Hard to say, really.

I might just put my finger on him in a few minutes,

and then again, it might take a few days.

- I'll come back. - No, no, no!

There's, uh, there's no need for you

to actually come back here in person.

Um, perhaps I could phone you.

Okay, I'll give you my colleague's phone number.

It's in my handbag.

Miss King!

Um... (clears throat)

- Follow me, Miss King. - Certainly.

Hey, wait a minute!

Here's Steed's card.

- Now you will ring. - Yes, yes.

Don't worry, yes, I will ring.

Bye.

(horn honks)

Man: Emergency!

We summoned this emergency meeting

because we do have an emergency.

Well, we were all set to move against Brigadier Wiltshire.

Wiltshire will have to wait.

You carelessly left part of your makeup

at the scene of the crime.

Oh, no, I didn't.

Oh, yes, you did.

Oh, no, I didn't.

Oh, yes, you did.

Oh, no, I didn't!

Man: A red Ping-Pong ball,

It was a vital clue to your identity.

But we work better in full makeup.

But your makeup is distinctive to you.

That's right.

And if I found anybody pinching my act, I...

Marcus.

- (phone rings) - Hello.

Oh, hello, Miss King. Marcus here.

I think I've found what you were looking for.

(cracks)

(bangs)

What's that?

Sounded like eggs breaking.

(pantomime jingle plays)

"All the king's horses..."

"And all the king's men."

He must have been trying to tell us something.

- But what? - What indeed?

And who killed him?

Look.

Merry Maxie Martin.

(honks)

(explosion)

(pantomime jingle plays)

Man: Congratulations!

Superbly, if you'll forgive the pun, executed.

(honks)

And Marcus the egg man?

Oh, they don't call me the man with a million cracks

for nothing.

(honking)

I don't think Marcus saw the joke.

What's next, or rather, who?

Another director.

But first, think carefully.

Is there anyone else like the egg man?

Someone from your past who might expose you?

He's dead.

Right, off you go, then.

Your target will be working late tonight.

- It should be as easy as... - Pie?

(pantomime jingle plays)

All right, that ends our session.

Man: Just a minute.

Merry Maxie Martin didn't write all his own material, did he?

(sings) You know, I think you're right.

I am right.

Merry Maxie always used the same gag writer.

Someone who could lead to us?

Possibly.

Who is it? Who is it?

Bradley something.

(sings) Bradley, do, re, me.

Right, get on to him.

Find out where Bradley Do, re, me is.

No, no, no, you misunderstand.

His name is Marler.

(sings) Do, re, me, fa, so, la, tee, do,

Bradley Marler!

No, I don't want to hire a comedian.

I'm enquiring about one... Merry Maxie Martin, Martin.

You are the vaudeville artists information bureau?

I think I've got the man who killed vaudeville personally.

Take a card.

No, I don't want Hilarious Harry Horsefly.

I want Merry Maxie Martin.

(whispers) Look at it.

Retired?

Semiretired?

Resting.

- He's out of work. - Put it back.

Yes, well, that's the chap. Now where can I find him?

Through his gag writer.

Well, who...

Marler... Bradley Marler, thank you.

Well, what's the card?

Three of clubs in your handbag.

(giggling)

That's a great one, that.

- (knock on door) - Come in.

- Bradley Marler? - Well, if I'm not Bradley Marler?

I'm having a great time with his wife.

I'm having a great time with his wife.

No, that was a joke. I'm not even married.

A great time with...

Bradley Marler, the comedy writer?

Here, look, look...

This girl was gonna marry this millionaire, see,

and one of her friends says,

"Look, do you know what you are doing? He's 87."

And the girl said,

"Look, if somebody gives you a check like that,

you don't look at the date."

(laughs)

You liked that one.

It has a certain humorous shade.

Well, don't go away because it's...

It's here somewhere.

Let's see now.

I'm hoping that you can help me.

Oh, well, what is it you're doing?

A stag party, a club, bar mitzvah?

- I'm not in the entertainment business. - Oh, television.

Here, look, I've got a hilarious brain surgeon routine.

- It's only been used once. - I want some information.

Oh, I see. Look, doe rabbit...

A doe rabbit comes out of the prairie bush.

She looks back and she says,

"I wouldn't do that again for 50 bucks."

Forget it.

I understand you used to write for Merry Maxie Martin.

Maxie Martin? Oh, dear old Maxie Martin.

What ever happened to him?

I was hoping you might be able to tell me.

No, no. I haven't seen him for years.

Maxie Martin. He's a great comedian, he was.

- Red nose, big feet? - Yeah, that was Maxie.

He's a quick-change artist, you know,

fastest in the business.

Do you know, he could make about six changes of costume

just walking across the stage.

But you don't know where he is now.

No. I mean, where did they go?

Theaters and musical halls closed,

vaudeville, variety dies, you know.

Actually, that was the old style.

You see, he couldn't adapt himself to the new.

Oh, here you are.

A fella comes out of his house, throws himself in the road,

wallop!

Old lady passed him by, she says, "Here, are you all right?"

He says, "Yes, but I could have sworn I had a car."

No. Forget it.

Tell me some more about Maxie.

I mean, what is there to tell?

He ruled the Gladchester Palladium,

worked there for years, he did.

- They loved him. - Gladchester Palladium?

Yeah, well, it's closed now, isn't it, you know.

Been standing empty for I don't know how long.

Fallen to pieces, I shouldn't wonder,

like all the other old theaters.

- Times change. - Yes, I know,

but it's a bit sad to think

you're not gonna see those big feet of his again.

(honks)

(pantomime jingle plays)

Oh, Dessington.

Call Steed.

Tell... tell him someone's tried to kill me.

Mmm, lemon-flavored.

- Glue? - Yes, and extremely fast-setting.

- If I hadn't managed to... - At least it proves one thing.

Our killer is quite capable of making a mistake.

- You're still alive. - Just.

No thanks to you, Steed, three of us dead already

and now another murderous attack.

What are you doing about it?

Chasing eggs or is it red noses this time?

One red nose attached to one Merry Maxie Martin,

clown comic, quick-change artist,

star of the Gladchester Palladium.

This company owns the Gladchester Palladium.

- What? - Oh, yes.

- Get the file on it, would you? - I'm afraid it isn't available.

It's gone into our archives.

Well, take my word for it.

The Gladchester Palladium is ours.

We bought it with a whole chain of vaudeville theaters,

30 or 40 of them, all due for demolition.

As you know, vaudeville is dead.

It looks as though vaudeville

may have just decided to fight back.

- We're sorry, Mr. Punch. - Sorry?

- It was a failure. - A failure.

Failure.

Oh, what a pity. What a pity.

We can do it properly second performance.

Lord Dessington should now be dead.

He will be. We'll leave right away.

Wait!

There is another matter even more urgent.

I asked you earlier if there was anyone who knew you,

who could be a danger.

There's nobody.

- We think differently. - Who?

Your old gag writer, Bradley Marler.

I don't get it.

(honks)

Maxie!

(laughs)

Hey, Maxie! How are you, boy?

Looking great. You're all right.

Here, here, here.

Come in. Have a chair.

Have a chair.

Hey, there was a fella here looking for you.

Well, I mean, that's no way to find work, is it?

Where have you been hiding?

Vauda Villa?

You can't fool me, Maxie. I know why you're here.

I know why you're here.

Material, that's what you want, isn't it, material?

I've got some lovely material here.

I was doing one this morning which is a beauty.

Just right...

Do you remember that?

Do you remember that lovely knife-throwing routine?

Wasn't that sensational? A sensational routine.

And what about the girl you had in there?

What a beauty standing there and the roll of the drums

and... straight past and you had to be drunk.

That was it.

You was drunk all the time, tottering about.

Great stuff it was.

And then when you threw that knife, oh!

(pantomime jingle plays)

(door slams)

Now, you're quite sure you know what to do?

Three things.

- One, stay close to Dessington. - Very close.

- Two, never let him out of my sight. - Not for a second.

Three, be prepared for another attempted murder.

At any time. Good.

I'll get right on duty.

Anything else?

Yes, why'd you hold up four fingers?

I can't seem to manage three. They all bend.

Why didn't she do it with her thumb?

(phone rings)

- Hello. - Marler: Steed?

- Marler? - Yeah.

I don't know what you're gonna make of this,

but it killed me.

Maxie was here, Merry Maxie Martin.

Did you get his address? Where is he now?

Hello.

Hello.

I'm still here.

I wrote it down.

It's on the desk.

Marler.

Marler!

- Is that everything, Mr. Seagrave? - Yes.

There are a few queries, but I'll raise those

with the architects myself.

I have a couple of visits to make now anyway.

You'll be back today?

It depends on when I get through.

I'll... I'll phone in for any messages.

Dessington: Come in.

It's the correspondence on Project CUPID, sir.

- Oh? - Private and confidential correspondence.

Oh, yes. Thank you.

Just go ahead. Act normal.

Darn it. I am normal.

- Who is this person? - King, Tara King.

- Steed sent me. - Steed sent you?

- Why? - To look after you.

- Look after me? - Personal bodyguard.

Really, is this absolutely necessary?

Oh, extremely.

Well, I suppose there's no real harm, then.

Not really my place to say so.

I thought I'd leave if you have no objection.

Leave? Now?

If you don't mind.

Of course not. Off you go.

Well, well, bodyguard, eh?

- King, you said? - Mm, Tara King.

Tara King.

Well, well...

Bodyguard.

Perhaps you'd care for a drink?

No, thanks.

Perhaps you wouldn't mind if I had one?

Not at all.

Marler?

Written on the desk.

Bradley Marler has taken his last curtain call.

Yippee!

(tapping)

Excellent, excellent.

But you must leave at once

and rectify your previous mistake...

Lord Dessington.

He must be killed, killed.

Ow, ow, ow, ow, ow, ow, ow.

Well, well, well.

Bodyguard, eh?

And you come to keep an eye on me, eh?

That's the idea.

I don't suppose you were ever in the army.

No.

Of course not. Foolish of me.

I spent most of my time in the Middle East.

Funny place, hot...

uh, lots of sand.

Lots of sand.

I was in charge of camels.

I don't suppose you...

Of course not.

"There was a young lady of Gloucester,

she met a young... ".

Are you sure you won't join me?

No, quite sure.

I was once in North Alaska.

North Alaska?

Have you been there?

No, never.

- Very interesting, I believe. - I don't remember.

I was only 2 years old at the time.

Oh.

No camels in North Alaska.

Oh, I believe it's one of the main features of the place.

- What? - The absence of camel.

Oh... yes.

Dessington: Lots of sand. Lots of sand.

Tara: I beg your pardon.

In the Middle East.

Oh.

Lord Dessington, please relax.

After all,

we must have something in common besides camel.

Well, let's try, shall we?

- Cricket? - Skiing.

- Stock exchange. - Fashion.

- Golf. - Motor racing.

Glass walking sticks.

Together: Music!

- Classical or modern? - Either, like Bach?

Don't mind a spot of Hindemith either.

- Or Brubeck. - I went to a concert.

Dessington: A great concert, a great symphony,

a great conductor.

Oh, joyous, joyous.

I particularly liked that violin stanza that goes...

(hums tune)

And then the cymbals.

- A flute. - The brass rises up.

- The piano. - The piccolo.

Now the strings come in again.

- The French horn. - The cello.

A wave of sound buildup. The drums.

A roll...

Building up to a pitch.

A crescendo.

And now the whole orchestra joins in,

the grand finale!

Ta-da!

(pantomime jingle plays)

She's still on our tail.

(horn honks)

No, no, no. Straight on.

I've got an idea.

(tires screeching)

- Oh! - Could I be after helping you now, Miss?

Oh, Officer. Thank goodness you're here.

You see, there were these two men.

Which two men would they be now, then?

Well, they just went in there in a taxicab,

you see, and I...

Vauda Villa.

Man: Who is it? Who is it?

That's the way to do it.

Did anybody see you?

No, she were on her own.

Well, then, this illusion is simple.

She must be eliminated.

Not me. I'm not killing a woman.

Why the distinction, Mr. Martin?

I don't care. I won't do it.

Let me have her, Mr. Punch.

Who is it? Who is it?

It's me, Fiery Frederick.

I need a new assistant to perfect my act.

Yes. Give her to Fiery Frederick.

- No. - Yes!

Yes!

There will be a final meeting this evening at 6:00.

But there's only one director left.

Six, six, six, six, six.

You'll go down in history

like a... the very first woman

to be burnt in half.

Oh, I know plenty who have been sawn in two...

but burnt, never.

But it's in its early stages, you understand.

I think it might work,

but even if it doesn't, it's stage history, isn't it?

Relax, my girl, relax.

Yes.

Gentleman Jack... a smile, a song and an umbrella.

Merlin the Magnificent Magician.

I'm the principal here. Can I help you?

This is Vauda Villa,

the stopping place for resting artists?

Yes.

Then you can because I'm a resting artist.

Ooh, I'm afraid we've no room, no vacancies.

- You can't stay here. - But surely you can show me around.

- Uh... - Good, that's settled, then.

Merlin: We're very comfortable here.

This, of course, is the lounge, stage, reading room.

Charming.

I can't wait until a place becomes available.

Now what goes on in there?

Just a store room, props and hampers, you know.

Who is that?

Gentleman Jack... a smile, a song and umbrella.

Oh.

Get rid of him.

- It's nearly time for our meeting. - I'm trying.

I'm trying.

Gentleman Jack, I'm sorry, but that's private.

I really must ask you to leave now.

- But I haven't seen anything. - Some other day, perhaps.

I haven't met any of your guests.

- How do you do? - Pretty well, thank you.

- Nice fan. - Gentleman Jack, please.

But I was so looking forward to meeting them.

But you wouldn't like them, you know.

They're all eccentric, all of them.

All of them, except me, of course.

(clock chimes)

No gag.

And now for the final stage of our plan.

I have a big surprise for you.

A big surprise.

What are they planning?

- To wreck CUPID. - Is that a fact?

A guess.

- And the merry Vauda Villains? - They've been duped.

They think they're getting back at the company

that closed their theaters.

So what do we do? Join the meeting?

In a suitable disguise.

And now the big surprise.

We have decided to call a halt to operations for a while.

- We can't stop now. There's one director left. - That's right.

Get rid of him, then we can get back to the theaters again.

- We can't stop now. - No.

(all shouting at once)

This whole operation was ours.

We want action.

Actions you will get.

I'm not having it.

We demand an inquiry. There's only one director left.

Isn't there only one direct...

(honks)

Young man, you're sitting on my washing.

(gunshot)

Blagger!

(honking)

What's next?

Find out who really pulls the strings around here.

(grunts)

Did I ever tell you the one about the chap

who wanted to clean up with the foreign power?

No, you never did tell me the one about a chap

who wanted to clean up with the foreign power.

- Thought he'd sabotage CUPID. - Sabotage CUPID?

Persuaded a group of variety artistes

to do his dirty work for him.

Steed, you forgot the punch line.

Man: (grunts)

Tara: The last director.

- Steed: Seagrave. - Curtain?

Curtain.

(giggles)

(doorbell rings)

Tara, more beautiful than ever, come in...

and on time too.

- Steed, you promised to take me to the opera. - I know I did.

I thought it would be a change from red-nosed comedians.

But the performance starts in half an hour.

Oh... oh, I see.

You'll never be ready.

I promise you won't be disappointed.

- No. - No?

Well, you can't work on a case like this

without learning something.

Shall we go?

(theme music plays)