Original subtitles

(theme music playing)

- Man: Hello? - Tobin?

- Speaking. - Baines here.

I'm in the computer section.

You better get down here right away.

- Why? What's wrong? - It's George.

I think he's thrown some sort of fit.

- Tobin. - When did it happen?

About five minutes ago, soon after I fed him.

He looks in a bad way,

and he was desperately trying to tell me something.

I've tried all the emergency procedures,

but he isn't responding.

George!

Attention.

I have a message

of the most...

vital importance.

Steed, I was on my way to a party.

- Fancy dress? - Yes.

I hope this is very important.

Very important, murder.

One of the best brains in the country.

Oh.

Could set us back years.

That's a rather cold-blooded way of looking at it.

Very cold-blooded fella.

- Tara: Computer. - George.

Oblique Stroke XR40...

The finest electronic brain in the country.

- Who's he? - Dr. Ardmore.

He's a cybernetic surgeon.

No, there's nothing for it.

We're gonna have to operate.

But can you risk moving him?

Operating is our only chance.

Now let's see.

I'll, um, I'll perform it here.

Have the whole of this area scrubbed and vacuumed.

I shall need two technical nurses,

a standby programmer, and an electrical anesthetist.

Oh, Dr. Ardmore, this is Tara King.

She's on her way to a fancy dress party.

Mr. Tobin, Mr. Baines.

- Tara: How do you do? - Bad business, this.

Oh, senseless, quite senseless.

It's the work of a psychopath.

12-bore shotgun, eh?

Yeah, both barrels, close range.

Murder! Cold-blooded murder!

Poor George never had a chance.

Was it... he, working on any special project?

I don't think so. Nothing strategic, was it, Tobin?

No, just routine equations.

Uh, Baines fed them in.

- That's when he took sick. - Huh?

George went haywire.

Thought he was goin' to blow a fuse.

Ardmore: Well, I've never known that happened before.

That was just after you fed the equations in?

Baines: Yes.

Uh, can we by any chance see the equations?

None at all.

They're locked away inside George's memory by now.

But my original calculations are at home.

Maybe I could reconstruct them for you?

You don't own a dog, do you?

- No. - Well, let's reconstruct.

Better get scrubbed up, Doctor.

Huh? Oh, yes, yes.

Steed, you going to stay?

I can't leave poor ol' George to face it alone.

Besides you might pop up the answer to Baines' equation.

The lift's always out of order, I'm afraid. Primitive.

But my apartment itself, aha, that's another matter.

I designed it myself, the purity of the right angle.

Not a curve anywhere.

Why, to have curves in my place would be sacrilege.

Um, in that case, perhaps I'd better...

No, no, the furnishings.

I don't like right-angled girls,

although I don't mind girls with the right angle.

Ooh.

Only one more flight.

I hope this equation of yours is worth it.

Oh, it's not mine. I'm not that brilliant.

Sir Wilfred Pelley devises the equations

and sets the problem for George.

I just assemble them.

Sir Wilfred gave you the problem?

Yes, I was up at the house the other day.

He gave it to me then.

Hey!

(thumping)

(crackling)

How's the pulse?

Man: A bit weak.

- But I can boost the voltage when you're through there. - I'm nearly finished.

I just have to open up another three inches,

make the incision here.

(drilling)

Pulse erratic. You haven't got long.

Pulse failing. Can't hold it.

Switch over to pure AC.

Responding.

I don't think he can take much more.

I'm nearly there.

(drilling)

Forceps.

Clamp.

Small cutters.

Failing.

Only a few more seconds. Swab, nurse!

- Failing. - Full power!

- Pincers. - But he can blow a fuse!

Full power!

Almost through.

Can't hold this much longer.

All right, you can drop to 250 volts.

I don't think there's much more I can do now.

- How was it? - Ooh, touch and go, touch and go.

He's comatose.

It'll take electrical shock therapy to bring him around now,

but at least I think I've saved his memory circuits.

Electro-spasm!

Keep the voltage steady.

Pelley.

Oh, well, that's perfectly understandable.

You see, Sir Wilfred Pelley designed George XR40

and in moments of despair, we always turn to our creator.

Steed: Pelley... traitor.

Sir Wilfred Pelley a traitor?

Well, let's look at the facts.

It starts with the equation.

Pelley gave it to Baines, who fed it into George.

Baines is dead...

and George is disabled, perhaps for good.

Still doesn't add up.

- Unless. - Right.

Well, does George have judgment of his own?

I mean, can he interpret facts for himself?

I don't quite know what you're driving at.

Well, suppose Pelley is a traitor, and suppose,

I don't know how, just suppose he betrayed himself

in one of his equations.

It's fed into George and George sees the implications.

George is going to tell the world...

Watch out for Sir Wilfred Pelley.

So George is attacked,

his mechanism is ruined forever...

And Baines' too.

Not a bad theory, really.

It fits in with another factor, Pelley.

Now he's on leave, he's staying quietly at home,

but he flatly refuses to come back

even in George XR's time of need.

- You stay close to George. - A bedside vigil.

I'm going to gate-crash Sir Wilfred Pelley.

(doorbell rings)

Good morning, sir.

Good morning, your master at home?

- Yes, Sir Wilfred is at home, sir, but, uh... - Yes?

Well, he has given instructions

he does not wish to be disturbed.

He'll see me, John Steed.

Yes, sir, but...

Uh, don't worry, I'll take full responsibility.

Thank you very much, sir.

Excuse me.

A Mr. Steed, Sir Wilfred.

I made Mr. Steed aware of your instruction...

Entirely my fault, Sir Wilfred. I insisted.

Steed?

From the Ministry.

M-ministry.

I-I-I'm seeing no one.

- But, Sir Wilfred. - Just go away, please.

Steed: I don't think you fully understand the implications.

I-I-I'm on holiday. I'm-I'm resting.

It's about George XR40, your pet project.

I don't wish to discuss it.

Excuse me, Sir Wilfred, it's not my place to say this,

but this gentleman has driven all the way from town.

We've always had a reputation for hospitality, sir.

Oh, very well.

- Can I get you a drink, sir? - That's very thoughtful.

It is a little early.

George XR, you said.

He's been shot, you know that?

Yes, I heard about it.

Aren't you concerned?

Ardmore is working on it. He's a g-good man.

Excellent, but he's not up to your standard.

Get this straight, Steed. I'm not giving up my holiday,

not even for G-George XR.

I worked on that project

for th-three years without a break.

Before that, five years at Harwell.

Now you, remember that.

This is an emergency.

It's always an emergency.

Is that your last word?

Well, I won't bother you again.

Good day, Sir Wilfred.

I'm very sorry, sir.

You did your best. He seems upset.

Sir.

How long has he been drinking like this?

Sir Wilfred is overstressed, sir.

You're loyal anyway.

I think if your business is not terribly urgent, sir,

Sir Wilfred really does need some rest.

He really does need to be left alone.

Yes, very loyal.

Man: Steed was here.

I didn't t-te-tell him anything.

Nevertheless, he's suspicious.

You are a fool, Pelley,

feeding that information into George.

- You are a fool. - G-George has been taken care of.

Temporarily.

They're operating, repairing him now.

I'll have to stop George from talking,

take him out of action.

You'll have to tell me how to do it.

Miss King?

Just look at those calculus circuits.

Aren't they magnificent,

capable of carrying out 2,000 calculations at once?

You just imagine a shot disabled him.

Now from the moment it was fired,

George could compute the range, velocity,

mass, kinetic energy and the impact ratio.

Only one thing he couldn't do, really.

- What's that? - Duck.

Having fun?

Well, she was saying yes to something.

Doubtless.

- How's George? - Oh, hanging on.

The last thing he computed was two plus two equals five.

I'd always suspected that.

Ah, Dr. Ardmore, what are the chances?

Well, the next few hours will be critical, very critical.

We're feeding electricity into him,

hoping that he'll respond, but to be perfectly frank,

I am amazed that he has held on so long.

You know, shock, amnesia, multiple lacerations,

to say nothing of severe internal injuries.

Still, things may be better when Sir Wilfred arrives.

- He isn't. - Hmm.

Full of the holiday spirit, determined to keep it that way.

I'd like to see his file.

- Huh? - Sir Wilfred Pelley's.

Well, I suppose Tobin is the man for that.

The man for what?

Personnel files.

Certainly. Who is it you want?

Sir Wilfred Pelley.

Certainly, get it for you.

This way.

Looks like Pelley's turned crook.

Well, he's behaving very suspiciously

and full of more than the holiday spirit.

Here we are.

What's the old boy been up to?

Oh, it's just a routine check, that's all, thank you.

Tobin, there's no point in us all missing lunch, is there?

I mean, poor ol' George won't be in a fit state

to talk for some time yet.

You run along. I'll keep an eye on him.

If there should there be any change or...

Oh, Tobin, will let us know immediately.

(sizzling)

Looks as though Sir Wilfred Pelley

is as clean as a whistle.

It looks.

Well, everything since the day he was born and recently.

In charge of computers at Foley, Berkshire and Mapleton.

In fact, a totally unblemished character.

Hmm... but there is something wrong.

He was frightened.

He definitely had something to hide.

The way he turned his back on poor George,

left him wounded, defenseless.

Tobin you can go... Tobin!

Sound the alarm!

- Tobin! - (alarm bell rings)

Come on, what happened?

Oh, oh, someone behind me.

Oh, my head.

Doctor, quick!

He's been poisoned.

- Poisoned. - Yes.

Acid poured into him, about half a pint, I'd say.

You saw no one?

As I said, I was working at the bench

and then suddenly...

it's all I remember.

Of course, the grounds were searched immediately,

but whoever did it had a head start.

That's it, then, poor George.

No, not quite. I have an idea.

- This is Fred. - Is it?

Mark III.

George's ancestor as it were,

but of course by comparison with George

a half-witted, empty-headed fool.

- A moron. - What are you thinking?

I was thinking of a transplant.

You see, George's brain is destroyed,

but his memory circuits might, just might, be unimpaired.

Now, if I were to take Fred's brain and...

But it's never been done.

Oh, I know, but there's a chance, just a chance.

Anything's worth a chance.

- I agree. - It's impossible!

Well, maybe, but why not give it a try?

I agree with Miss King. Why not give it a try?

Come on!

We'll prepare to operate at once.

Tobin, you've had quite a day.

I won't expect you to stop.

Oh, no, no, I want to help.

I want to be there when you do it.

- How long will it take? - Oh, several hours.

Well, I'll be back later. You'll stay on.

Steed.

It looks as though my theory could be right.

Someone's awfully anxious to stop George talking.

I have a shrewd idea of who that someone might be.

Pelley?

I'm gonna push him a bit harder.

Offer him some bait, see if he bites.

Steed, what kind of bait?

Me.

(doorbell rings)

- Oh, Mr. Steed. - I'd like a word with Sir Wilfred.

- Uh, sir, um... - Oh, just a very quick word.

Well, if you'll just wait here a minute.

Thank you.

- Sir Wilfred will see you now, sir. - Thank you.

Uh, how is he?

- Much the same. - (clicks tongue)

Sorry to bother you again, Sir Wilfred.

I wanted to be the first

to convey the good news about George.

He's on the mend.

But that's not possible.

From the d-description of the damage,

I'd have thought him beyond repair.

Ardmore has come up with a new approach,

so you'll get the answer to your equation after all.

M-my equation?

The one you gave to Baines to feed in.

What was the substance of that by the way?

- What? - The equation.

What was the problem that you fed him?

Oh, it was something to do with metal fatigue.

- I-I can't remember the details. - Oh, never mind.

I'll find out for myself at firsthand.

You'll find out at firsthand for yourself?

Yes.

Baines was a good man. He was very thorough.

He kept a duplicate set of notes in his apartment.

Well, I'll be on my way to pick 'em up.

Good day, Sir Wilfred.

Duplicate set of notes.

Jacobs!

Woman: Jacobs!

Thank you.

Who's the lady friend?

It's... sir?

I don't want to put you in an invidious position.

I know you're the soul of discretion.

And I have served Sir Wilfred all my working life, sir.

And doubtless very well, too.

You know, you're the sort of chappie,

just like the dodo that cracked its egg, extinct.

Oh, well.

Thank you, sir.

Steed, the man just leaving,

he's on his way to Baines' apartment.

- I know the place well. - Kill him.

- No! - Follow him and kill him.

Your mistake started this thing, now we have to finish it.

(whistles)

(whistles)

- He took the bait? - Hook, line and sinker.

So what do we do now? Send in the Marines?

No, not yet. We've no real proof.

We don't know exactly what Pelley's up to.

No, we've got to be more subtle, someone inside the house.

Infiltration? But how?

- Surely Pelley's got... - Uncle Wilfy.

Pelley has a niece. She's an American.

She's brunette, about your age,

and Pelley hasn't seen her for years.

- You want me to... - I want you to.

Oh, but surely Uncle Wilfy is gonna realize...

Oh, no, I think there's kind of a resemblance.

Now, the last time that Pelley saw her,

ain't she sweet,

- was exactly like that, Prunella. - Prunella.

And all the relevant details about Prunella are in there.

Oh, by the way,

I should make friends with the butler.

His name is Jason. Very nice fella.

Where's the resemblance?

The knees. Good luck.

Prunella.

Right. Here we go.

Well?

Jacobs is dead.

Don't ask me how. Steed, I imagine.

Then Steed is still alive?

All I know is I saw Jacobs' body

being carried out of the house.

I didn't stay around to ask questions.

Jacobs is dead, but Steed's alive.

Still alive!

Pull yourself together.

They'll find out.

They'll find out and they'll burst in here...

They can only find out if George talks,

if he blabs out your information,

and we still have Tobin.

He'll prevent that.

(doorbell rings)

Yes, miss.

Jason.

Oh, but, of course, you don't remember me.

Tell me, is that old ghost still here?

You know, wasn't there a story about a ghost

in the west wing or somethin'?

Well, yes, there was some local tale about it, uh...

Oh, I think I'm going to love it here.

I beg your pardon, miss.

Tell me, how is Uncle Wilfy?

- Uncle? - Uncle Wilfy.

Sir Wilfred Pelley.

- Sir Wilfred's your uncle? - But of course.

Don't tell me you didn't get my letter.

But you must have, I got the address from Dad

and I wrote it down on an envelope very...

And I forgot to mail it.

- Oh, Prunella. - Miss, um...

Prunella, I'm his niece.

You see, I wrote him this letter from America

saying I was coming over here

and I'd love to spend a few days with him.

Well, never mind, it'll be a surprise.

Tell me, is he home?

- Yes, miss, but... - I can't wait to see him.

Is he in here?

Uncle Wilfy? It is Uncle Wilfy.

Now surely you recognize me.

The good ol' Pelley knees, I mean, the nose.

Prunella.

Prunella?

Oh, oh, yes.

Of course, Pru-Prunella. This is a surprise.

Well, it really wasn't meant to be.

What a beautiful place you have here.

Really, it's... it's lovely.

Oh, I've so much to tell you.

Mother sends her love.

- Ho-how is your mother? - Oh, she's well.

Everyone's fine, fine.

May I introduce my niece, Prunella, this is Miss...

- Loris. - How do you do?

She-she's staying here.

- She-she's my... - Helping your uncle.

Sort of general factotum, correspondence,

finance, keeping hours.

Do you have time to have tea with me?

Oh, well, I was hoping to stay here for a few days.

- Stay? - Why, isn't that convenient for you?

- Well, I... - But of course you must stay.

Have to promise to keep out of your uncle's hair, though.

Of course.

He's been overworking recently.

Jason, put Miss Prunella into the blue room.

If you will accompany me, Miss Prunella.

Certainly.

I'll see you later, Uncle Wilfy.

Yes, all right, later, my dear.

We'll have a long chat.

Staying for a few days.

- Wha-what will you do now? - Well, what do you think?

She's just a gi-girl, an innocent girl.

Loris, I beg of you.

Well, our work here is almost finished.

If we can manage to keep her out of the way long enough.

Make sure she doesn't stumble on anything.

Will that be all, miss?

Yes, thank you, Jason.

Vandalism! Sheer vandalism!

How about the memory circuits?

Well, if the acid has seeped that far,

there's no point in continuing. Probe.

Torch.

Well?

Unmarked.

Still in perfect condition.

Then we're in luck.

There's still the next step.

There is still the transplant.

But if we succeed?

George will remember.

George will talk.

(door closes)

Wilfred: I'm so tired.

Terribly tired.

Loris: But we're near the end now and you promised.

You promised us full details of your work

on The seek-and-destroy mechanism

of the antimissile system.

You promised full details, Sir Wilfred.

What kind of range, guidance ratio?

Wilfred: The direct equation

would be nine stroke four seven.

Woman: Sir Wilfred, Uncle Wilfy.

Minus GR

10 squared.

Now we're getting somewhere.

(door slams shut)

AC terminals.

- Check. - DC terminals.

- Check. - Rotary circuits.

- Check. - Primary circuits.

What happens now?

Well, we have temporarily linked Fred's brain to George,

but when we switch on, George may reject Fred's brain.

It is the crisis point.

Start at 100 volts.

Switch on.

- Pulsation? - Normal.

Well, push it up to 250 volts.

Responding?

Responding.

The limit.

Full voltage.

This is the moment of truth.

Now he will either accept or reject.

- (phone rings) - Answer it!

Hello?

Hello, can I speak to John Steed?

He's in theater at the moment.

Well, tell him it's urgent. It's Tara King.

One moment.

Response?

Normal.

All absolutely normal.

You've done it, sir! You've done it.

- Masterly. - Thank you.

What now?

Well, we make the temporary connections permanent

and then George will be a well computer again.

Mr. Steed, a call from Miss King.

- Thank you. - Come on!

Soldering iron, flex, sutures!

- Hello? - Hello, Steed, I'm phoning from the house.

Isn't that taking an awful risk?

I thought you ought to know, now just listen.

Pelley's giving away secrets,

giving them away by the mouthful.

- And there's a woman here. - I suspected that.

I don't know what her relationship is with Pelley,

what kind of hold she has over him,

but she carries a hypodermic in her handbag.

All getting very complex.

Well, it may be simpler than you think.

And there's someone else here,

someone hiding behind a locked door.

- The mastermind. - That's my guess.

Well, I intend finding out.

- Now look, don't go charging in! - Call you later.

- Tara, Ta... - (dial tone)

Come on, Tobin,

you handle the mandatory circuits.

Certainly.

- Steed, have you gone... - Stark raving mad?!

- Tobin. - Sabotaged the whole operation.

But... but why?

Well, perhaps he can tell us.

Not for some hours, he won't.

What on earth did you hit him with?

With a great deal of venom.

I suppose George is the only who can help us.

Is he badly damaged?

Ah, nothing we can't put right fairly quickly.

- Let's get started. - Come on, quick.

Perhaps he's the only one who can provide us with the answer.

It's no good, Steed.

I just don't believe your theory,

Pelley working with the other side.

- That's the way it looked. - Why should he?

Ideology, bitterness,

maybe you worked him too hard.

That stint at Harwell, weeks without a break.

Uh, maybe.

Wait a minute, you... you said Harwell.

- Pelley was never at Harwell. - Are you sure?

I'm certain. He was never there.

That's funny. I'm sure he said Harwell.

In fact, I know he said Harwell,

so he must have been lying

- or he was trying to tell... - Steed!

Steed! He started to talk.

Jason: (clears throat)

- Oh, Jason. - Can I help you, miss?

Shh, not so loud. What's in there?

It's just a cellar.

Have you been in there recently?

No, I don't think, but, um...

Listen, Jason, I'm gonna have to trust you.

Now, you know Uncle Wilfy

has been acting a bit strangely lately.

I know he's been overworking.

Oh, I think it's more than that

and I think the answer's in there.

I've already told you, just an empty cellar,

hardly been used...

Well, I've got to open it up.

Now you keep watch, all right?

I'm beginning to suspect that you are an impostor.

That's right.

I'm sorry, I didn't mean to deceive you.

I had to get in here somehow.

Please don't apologize, miss.

You see, I am an impostor too.

Help me.

I am being held a prisoner in my own house.

I'm being drugged and interrogated daily.

Systematically they are milking every secret from me.

My staff are being held as hostages.

They will kill them if I do not cooperate.

Tobin is in with them. Tobin is a traitor.

But the ringleader, the man behind it all is...

The man who is posing as Jason, my butler.

Jason! Tara.

What a brilliant bit of cybernetics!

I sent her in there. I told her to trust Jason.

Pelley fooled them into believing that

it was a routine equation

and then George just converted it into ordinary speech.

Brilliant! Good ol' George!

What about her?

How are you doing with him?

A few fine details and we're through.

- Keller. - Sir?

It's a dry night.

That summerhouse, it's wooden, dry as tinder.

If somebody was in there,

someone careless with matches...

No, no, you can't!

Carry on, Keller.

(blows)

No, no, no.

Drop it.

Hands behind your back.

Chin out.

Tara, Tara.

Ah, my prince on his fiery steed.

No an asbestos-clad Steed.

An un-inflammable, un-fiery steed.

- They were going to burn me. - Yes, just like Joan of Arc.

Come on.

- That's the lot? - Everything he knows.

Oh, and you?

Then let's move.

Well, what about him?

Keller's started a fire in the garden.

No reason why it shouldn't spread to the house.

Yes, fire is so very cleansing, don't you think?

Keller put this in the car.

So what's holding you up, man?

- I am. - Steed.

You expect to still pass, one man?

- My strategy. - Strategy?

I'm relying on a surprise attack, from the rear.

Well, that's the way to win wars.

Let's attend to the prisoners and the wounded.

- Hello, hello, hello. - Shh, careful.

What are you doing?

On the verge of a major breakthrough.

I didn't know you were a physicist.

It has nothing to do with physics.

- Well, can I help? - Hand me the scotch.

- Scotch. - A thimble full.

We're nearly there.

Nearly where?

They allowed me to put a problem into George Oblique Stroke XR40.

I asked him to give me the recipe

for the most deliciously potent cocktail in the world.

And he gave you the answer?

He hiccupped it up in four seconds flat.

Do you realize that would take 500 bartenders

- four years... - Licensing house permitting.

To accomplish what George did in four seconds?

- Mm. - Final ingredient, an olive.

(explosion)

What now?

- This. - Ah, and this?

Goes straight onto the top secret restricted list.

Whoops!

(theme music plays)