Original subtitles

(theme music plays)

Yes. Hmm.

Okay.

Are you sure?

Can you afford to pay my fee and question my diagnosis?

- (knock on door) - Come in.

- Letter for you, Mr. Camrose. - Thank you.

(man speaks indistinctly)

Camrose: See that you make good use of your new voice.

(sneezing)

Dr. Camrose.

There really is nothing like a ride in the country.

(chuckles) Blow away the cobwebs.

Breaks routine.

Commune with nature.

Hair streaming in the wind.

That's not the only thing that's in the wind.

- What else? - Trouble.

Steed, I knew you were holding back on me.

I told you this was a mystery tour.

We've got to solve the mystery.

Where?

We've been summoned to the presence.

- Whose? - Mother's.

What do you think of that, Steed?

Came in from New York this morning.

- What an upset. - What?

Gold's down two and a half points.

Not the stock market prices. Halfway down.

Oh...

"Third ear and nose and throat specialist dies

of unknown causes, growing concern at top US clinic."

Well, surely that's not our territory, Mother.

It is now.

Worldwide epidemic?

A disease that chooses its victims

too carefully for my liking.

Find the antidote before it spreads.

First of all, find the disease.

Precisely.

And you won't find it in any medical dictionary.

How can you be sure?

My nose is twitching.

- It's never let us down yet. - What hasn't?

Mother's nose.

Doesn't seem to have picked up much of a scent.

That's our department.

I'm gonna see what I can pick up in Camrose's consulting rooms.

And what about the female of the species?

She is to visit an old friend of mine.

Old?

It takes time to become an ear, nose and throat specialist.

You might ask him what the connecting link is

- between the dead men. - Okay. What's his name?

Padley.

When did this arrive?

Just before Mr. Camrose's death.

Curious.

No postmark.

Where's the wastepaper basket?

Here.

Thank you.

Do you happen to know who delivered this?

Man: Come in.

(man sneezing)

It's a match.

Not quite.

You could have fooled me.

They're different typewriters.

How can you tell?

That one has a misaligned "L."

You are a great disappointment, Steed.

- I thought we had a clue. - We have.

- What? - These envelopes.

They're identical.

Now don't tell me, they're made of antique laid

décollaged vellum produced from

(sniffs) Manitoban rag pulp.

- Naturally. - (door buzzer buzzes)

But I think we ought to get it confirmed by an expert,

don't you?

Do come in, Mr. Maidwell.

Thank you, sir.

I'm sorry, Mr. Maidwell. Put them on the desk.

Yes, sir.

Oh, what do you want me to do, Steed?

You stick close to Seaton and Herrick.

We don't want to lose any more of those ear,

nose and throat men.

- Mother would be very angry. - I see.

I go and protect the whole medical profession

while you stay at home and have a cozy paper chase.

- Bye. - Now, Mr. Maidwell,

you were gonna show me your twin ply.

Yes, indeed, sir.

A very popular line with the aristocracy.

I can imagine, but I'm a gentleman

- as yet without a title. - I quite understand, sir.

Might I suggest, as an interim letter,

a discreet monogram embossed on our unique

tissue-lined parchment.

You may indeed.

I thought I detected a man of discernment.

How much may I put you down for, sir?

A quire? Two quires? A ream?

At the very least.

Um, tell me...

is this by any chance one of yours?

I'm afraid to say it is, sir. It's our cream wove bond.

Well, cream wove or not, a firm of your reputation...

I'm well aware of that, sir.

I was saying to Mr. Pue only the other day

that we ought to discontinue it.

Mr. Pue disapproved?

It's our big moneymaker, you see, sir.

Low cost to make bulk buying a more attractive proposition.

Oh, then it's fairly common.

In every sense of the word, sir.

As a matter of fact, something pretty uncommon

happened about two months ago.

Oh? What was that?

Somebody bought 10,000 of those cream wove envelopes.

And no paper?

I must confess, Miss King, that...

although this is my line of country,

I've never come across anything like it before.

No sign of gas or drugs?

None.

It's funny, Mr. Seaton.

Mr. Padley seemed to be struggling for breath

- just before he died. - That's what amazes me.

According to what you tell me,

he had all the symptoms of acute asphyxiation.

But as his partner, you'd certainly know

if he had anything wrong with his lungs.

We were not only partners.

We were close friends, Miss King.

I've known Henry for 30 years. We were students together.

We worked on allergy research together.

If there'd been anything medically the matter with him,

- he most certainly would have consulted me. - (knock on door)

- Your letters, Mr. Seaton. - Thank you.

Healthy man apparently chokes to death

in a large-area room, well, it's unbelievable.

- Perhaps the old... - Mr. Seaton!

I beg your pardon?

It seems there's nothing deadlier than the mail.

Just a theory. Carry on.

You people are so melodramatic.

Tell me, Mr. Seaton, I thought I heard sneezing

from Mr. Padley's room, violent sneezing.

- Now what do you make of that? - I really don't see how

it could have any relevance to Henry's death.

It seems to me he must have suffered some sort of

gigantic muscular spasm that cut off the air to his lungs.

- Collar too tight? - All his shirts were handmade.

He never wore anything that didn't fit perfectly.

- (knock on door) - Come in.

I'm sorry to interrupt you, Mr. Seaton,

but you asked to see Lord Nightingale's X-rays

- as soon as they came up. - Oh. Yes, thank you, Georgina.

If you'll forgive me for a minute.

Mm, certainly.

(Seaton sneezing)

No!

Ah, here we are, sir.

10,000 cream wove envelopes delivered on April the 13th

to the Anastasia... Nursing Academy.

The what?

Anastasia Nursing Academy.

I thought it was a bit odd at the time.

What would a nursing academy want with 10,000 envelopes?

That's a good question.

We have an uninvited guest.

Let's find out the name on the card.

Make sure she doesn't see us.

Make sure you don't lose her either.

I want to find out who she is.

- And then deal with her? - Uh-huh.

Matron will see you now, Mr. Steed.

Aren't you going to introduce us?

His name's McTavish.

What's he doing out of his cupboard?

Oh, he lives here during the exams.

So you can bone up on your facts, eh?

Thank you.

Oh, Matron, good of you to see...

- Good to see you. - Thank you.

I hope I can be of service, Mister...

Steed. You've heard of my foundation, of course.

- I'm afraid not. - No?

What a cloistered life you ministry angels lead.

No, my foundation is dedicated to the service of the sick.

I see. Buying your way to heaven?

With the meek inheriting the Earth,

it's the only place left.

We're thinking of endowing an establishment of this nature.

This establishment is unique, Mr. Steed.

We pride ourselves in setting the highest possible standards.

I appreciate that.

We can only hope to follow lamely in your footsteps.

- What is it you want to know? - The secret of your success.

That's simple.

We only accept what we consider

will be the cream of the nursing profession.

Much paperwork?

I'm hopeless at administration.

I wouldn't like to think that I was biting off

more than I could chew.

The amount of correspondence we deal with here

is nothing out of the ordinary.

Letters of acceptance or rejection,

mostly rejection.

We receive roughly 200 applications a month.

Out of those, only one or two are successful.

I'm delighted to see that you're so selective.

Would you say about 50 letters a week?

Something like that.

(typewriter clacking)

Oh, well, I'm sure that would present no problems.

I really am most grateful to you, Matron.

Always glad to meet a genuine philanthropist.

I only wish there were more of them.

Oh. If one's born with a silver spoon in one's mouth,

one must see that it feeds as many people as possible.

Goodbye.

Goodbye, Mr. Steed.

(door closes)

So our little bird comes home to roost.

Shall we pay her nest a little visit?

- But of course. - With this?

No. We want her alive.

We must find out what she knows and who she's working for.

Hello? Institute of Allergic Diseases?

Could I please speak to Dr. Fawcett?

You'll be able to come over this afternoon, then?

Okay, lovely. I'll be waiting for you.

Thank you, Dr. Fawcett. Bye-bye.

(buzzer buzzes)

Good afternoon. Market research.

We're canvassing for opinions of a new perfume

that's due to come in the shops next spring.

We call it Oblivion. I think you'll fall for it.

Hold her! Hold her!

Constable?

No.

You ought to be ashamed of yourself.

I frequently am.

Using curtains like those?

Well, I rather like them.

Highly dangerous.

22.3% of all hay fever sufferers are allergic to velvet.

But that's common knowledge, surely.

And look at this dust,

breeding ground for all kinds of bacteria.

Where's Miss King?

Well, I haven't the faintest idea, Mister...

Fawcett. Dr. Fawcett.

Institute of Allergic Diseases.

Am I to understand that Miss King asked you

- to meet her here? - You do.

Four hours and 31 and a half minutes ago.

In connection with the death of Dr. Padley?

In connection with Dr. Padley and Dr. Seaton's death.

What?

Dr. Seaton died this morning

soon after the death of his partner.

From the same symptoms?

So I gather, yes.

Then Tara was onto something.

Now when did you...

- That's odd. - Very.

What do you deduce from this, Doctor?

That Miss King was here before I arrived.

Right. Smell that.

- Steady. - Well?

- This is chloroform. - I don't like it.

You're not the only one.

When chloroform is exposed to light and air,

it oxidizes into...

Now, would you mind if we postponed our little chat?

What's another four hours for a busy man?

I have an unpleasant interview ahead.

Already I can hear the voice say...

Lost her? Lost Tara King?

- Disappeared. - Dirty work?

Trifle unhygienic, I'm afraid.

Scotch?

I wouldn't worry too much if I were you.

I'm afraid I don't share your apparent knack of unconcern.

- Practical. - Eh?

I'm being practical.

Fill your mind with anxieties about Tara

and you'll be thinking below par,

reducing your chances of finding her.

Well, that's one way of looking at it.

It's the right way. And what have we got so far?

A puzzle.

Why should a nurses' training college

order 10,000 envelopes and no writing paper?

You want any help?

One-man job. I'm breaking in tonight.

"Dear Matron,"

glad to know our plans are going ahead without a hitch.

Keep up the good work.

Victory... Final victory looms ahead.

"Sincerely, Maurice Timothy, Colonel, retired."

What do you know about Colonel M. Timothy?

Timothy?

Indian Army, retired.

Served in two World Wars. Wealthy.

Endowed various worthy causes, clean.

You see, I've nothing else to do but think.

It's my job to know these things.

What do you, uh... What do you know about Tara?

Well, you know what they say, no news is good news.

Lots of good news?

I'm afraid so.

What about Colonel Timothy?

I think he merits a visit.

Mother, if you hear anything of Tara...

Of course, you'll be the first to hear.

After me.

Curiosity, sir, was responsible for the demise of the cat.

(chuckles) Not to worry. I have eight lives left.

My advice would be, sir,

not to throw them away too easily.

I rang the bell, got no reply.

- My card. - Thank you, sir.

Would you have the goodness to remove your coat

and roll up your shirtsleeves, sir?

What, fisticuffs?

No. Antibiotic injection.

Colonel's orders.

No visitor be permitted without one.

I should have brought my health certificate.

Wouldn't have been any use, sir.

The colonel insists on his own form of protection.

- Against what? - Other people's germs, sir.

The colonel has enough of his own to contend with.

Infection-prone?

Ever since his return from Malaya, sir.

No resistance to western bacteria.

You do that like a connoisseur.

Practice makes perfect, sir.

Colonel Timothy won't keep you a moment, sir.

No white coat or mask?

Unless you brought your own with you, sir.

They're not yet household amenities.

Do you know the only creatures that get colds

are human beings and chimpanzees?

Fascinating.

There's a lesson to be learned from that.

Safer to walk on all fours?

No, the more civilized you are, the more susceptible.

- A disease of the sophisticated. - Got it in one.

- Ever thought of going to Malaya? - Well, I...

Don't. Dreadful place. Take a look at that.

Early Etruscan?

No, not the flask. Inside.

Common cold virus preserved in 76 degrees in dry ice.

I see. That's stupid of me.

Now then...

what was it you wanted to see me about?

Steed Foundation. Never heard of it.

That's nothing to be ashamed of.

I assume you've never had a serious illness in Mozambique.

You must be clairvoyant.

We've endowed three hospitals there.

And we're founding a nurses' training establishment

to staff it.

Now, you've had experience in endowing the Anastasia Academy.

- Do you want my advice? - Please.

Don't. More trouble than they're worth.

Anastasia Academy, I never go near the place.

Boring.

Dreadfully boring.

Now, if you want to see something

really interesting, here.

Got a tiny bit of a headache, have we?

Oh, no, I'm...

I just feel the tiniest bit homesick.

If you wanna play games, little lady,

we must get you a copy of the rules.

Come in.

Cold-cure clinic, my pet project.

Decided if the medical profession

couldn't cure my cold, I'd do it myself.

- Like to have a look around? - Nothing I'd like better.

Not much achieved yet, you understand.

These things take time.

Softly, softly, catchee monkey.

That's the ticket. Hey, Glover.

This is Dr. Glover, my chief of research.

Frank, I'd like you to meet Mr. Steed

- of the Steed Foundation. - Sounds impressive.

Only if one comes from Mozambique.

Mr. Steed's branching out, thought we might put him

in the picture, show him the shop window, as it were.

- Prospective buy-in? - Prospective competitor.

Good!

This is a field in which competitors are always welcome.

This way, Mr. Steed.

What goes on in here?

Deep-freeze rooms.

That one's empty at the moment.

Deep-freeze?

To give our guinea pigs artificially induced colds.

Perhaps you'd like to see one in operation.

I'd be fascinated.

Follow me.

How do you do? They're guinea pigs.

- That's right. - They do this for fun?

- For science. - They get free board and expenses.

That's nothing to sneeze at.

This room is kept just below freezing point.

Prolonged exposure at such a temperature

usually induces a cold within 48 hours.

This case is getting out of control.

No panic, we'll see what medical science

- can get out of her. - Shall I make a phone call?

Not yet. It's delivery time.

When we get back, we'll bring professional help.

- What if that proves ineffective? - Then it's up to the boss.

Then it's his pigeon and his problem.

Come along and see our allergy room.

How's the weather in there? (shivers)

Ah, you employ Anastasia nurses.

All part of the organization. Glover here insists on it.

The best. Only the very best.

- I can see that. - This way, Mr. Steed.

75% of the population have at least one cold a year.

25% have four or more.

The loss of working hours is staggering.

The mind boggles.

So this is where we experiment

on antidotes for allergic diseases.

And we're after complete victory.

No use chasing the enemy into the foothills

where they can regroup.

Search and destroy while they're out

on a raiding party, that's the ticket.

Fight them in the veins and the arteries!

- In the cells and in the membranes! - In the handkerchiefs.

The biggest mistake they made was to invade me.

That's me.

I intend to fight back with every weapon at my disposal.

(sneezes)

I hope you'll join us, Mr. Steed.

The more, the merrier.

That's very good of you, Dr. Glover, goodbye.

Carry on the good work.

Remember our aim... Unconditional surrender.

Yes, it's gonna be a long campaign,

long campaign.

And you're running short of allies.

Eh?

Camrose and Padley,

they're both experts in their field and both dead.

Oh, did you know them?

I... I wrote to them. Neither of them have answered.

Perhaps they thought themselves too grand,

too good, too brilliant

to interest themselves in the common cold.

Thank you very much, Colonel. I simply must go now.

I'll see you again soon.

- But look here... - Goodbye.

(telephone ringing)

(car engine starts)

(sneezes)

(sneezes)

Special delivery. Get back as quick as you can.

We've got our little pet next door to deal with.

Who is it this time?

Somebody who's likely to become a nuisance.

Mother: Urgent?

Well, of course, we appreciate it's urgent.

Of course, we're working on it.

Yes, Grandma.

Yes, Grandma. Yes, Grandma.

Grandma.

Time's running short, Steed.

Four more ear, nose and throat men dead

in the last eight hours, one in Brazil,

one in Australia, and two in Russia.

An absolute mayhem in the medical profession.

Now what have we got so far?

Three envelopes.

Well, that's an improvement. Last time there were 10,000.

Narrowing it down?

And what have you got so far on Tara?

The word's out. The word's out.

She was onto something before she disappeared.

She contacted a Dr. Fawcett. Allergic Diseases.

- Does that tie in? - Perhaps.

Now the Anastasia Academy, they have over...

Well, about 200 applications a month.

Bully for them.

Now I'm gonna expect those applications to be vetted

to produce a young woman of the highest caliber

and moral stature.

Now supposing that system was inverted?

Reject all the honest ones?

Retain all the dishonest ones.

You know, that'd be the nucleus

for a nice nasty organization.

- Possible. - Probable.

You know, I think I'll talk to Dr. Fawcett again.

- May I use your phone? - Help yourself.

Not that one, unless you happen to speak fluent Swahili.

The word is out, eh? Tara?

Control those anxieties or you'll be...

Both: Thinking below par.

All the same, I hope she's keeping a cool head.

So you still refuse to talk.

(grunts)

Who are you working for?

I think she needs cooling off.

(door closes)

Potassium chlorate explodes under impact,

is... is inflammable.

Something's got to give.

Was there anything left in there?

Enough.

I'll have to have it analyzed, of course.

But my guess is it's a common cold virus powder

manufactured to a fantastic concentration.

Virus powder?

(chuckles) Yes.

Sounds innocuous enough, but there's enough strength

in there to kill an elephant.

So the victim could sneeze to death.

If he didn't choke himself to death first.

How do you isolate a common cold virus?

By a freeze-drying process, but how you concentrate it

to this extent is absolutely beyond me.

Death by post. Simple.

And effective.

Any unsuspecting victim wouldn't really have a chance.

But why ear, nose and throat specialists?

Camrose, Padley, Seaton, Herrick.

What have they got in common?

Ah, well, the tragedy of that

was that if they had known what was in that envelope,

each would have known how to deal with it.

Why?

Because they were working in the same field.

What field?

Anti-allergy research.

Common cold allergies.

- That's right. - What I can't understand

is why you haven't received one of these envelopes.

Possibly because I'm concerned with virus analysis.

- Whereas the dead men... - Were all concerned with antidotes.

Aha.

One of them might have discovered one already,

- for all I know. - And if they'd lived,

they would've been a constant threat.

- To whom? - To someone who has the facilities

to produce this powder, excuse me.

Matron: Steed should be out of the way by now.

Yeah, there were no delivery complications.

- He'd have found the envelope, sniffed it... - And snuffed it.

- What's next? - A final allergy test,

then we can start eliminating the rest of the opposition.

- What kind of a test? - A very final one.

- We need a special guinea pig. - What's the survival risk?

- Nil. - Then how about...

(sneezes)

Exactly who I had in mind.

- Our guinea pig. - Just what the doctor ordered.

Take her to the allergy room.

The chief can deal with her.

An Englishman's home is his castle, Mr. Steed.

Won't be long now.

Nope.

That's a pity to keep her waiting

now that she's dressed for the occasion.

It's preposterous. Ridiculous.

Murdered by mail, deadly dust!

- And even if it were true... - I think you know it's true.

And even if it were true, that you should suspect me.

I don't know why you bother to deny it.

You're holding all the cards.

I don't intend to play them unless I have to.

I'm not in the habit of shooting people down in cold blood.

Only by killing them by remote control.

I warn you, Steed, I'm not gonna put up

with much more of this nonsense.

Now look here, Colonel, if you're telling the truth,

you're likely to receive one of these envelopes

- in the very near future. - Good gracious!

I found this letter last thing, sir.

I'm terribly sorry.

Of course, I would have brought it up

- with your breakfast tray, sir. - Now do you believe me?

- Do you mean someone is trying to... - Exactly.

And we gonna find out where that someone is.

We'll start with the standard allergy test.

Find her resistance.

Well? Open up for me, please.

Better still, I'll come with you.

Nothing like a call to the flag

to bring the color to the cheeks.

And what's the plan of campaign?

- Frontal assault. - And what are we looking for?

- A tall, attractive brunette. - Who isn't?

She's not allergic to caviar...

champagne...

Oysters, no. Quail, no.

Ragweed, yes.

- What? - Perfect.

A rather plebeian allergy, Miss King,

but perfect for our purpose.

Which is?

A test of my serum. A test to destruction.

Ah, well, if you're going to destroy me anyways,

you can at least tell me why.

Why are you killing off all these men?

The oldest motive. The oldest cliché.

They knew too much.

I've discovered an allergy to which no one is resistant yet.

And presumably one of your colleagues

would have eventually discovered an antidote.

Precisely, now a little whiff of my dust

can destroy an entire population,

a whole country, and there will be no defense against it.

A weapon to be sold to the highest bidder.

A few grains of my powder

will make me a rich man, Miss King.

A few grains of powder

or a few milligrams of my liquid.

Only one of them in sight.

- Combined operation. - Indubitably.

Cold for the time of year.

- All over again. - Direct attack.

- The pincer movement. - The subtlety of approach.

- Man: Hands above the head. - The hands above...

High above the head.

The doctor's busy, doesn't want to be disturbed.

A few milligrams of liquid.

- Prisoners of war, it seems. - Absolutely.

Sorry, but we don't take prisoners.

- Remember the Battle of... - Who could forget it?

- Nice strategy. - Copybook.

- Remember how it began? - Of course.

- Diversionary attack. - That's it.

Hands high!

Hold her.

Glad to see you haven't lost your grip.

Always keep a hold on nurse

for fear of catching something worse.

Stay where you are!

There's enough in this to kill the whole clinic.

Now drop that gun, Colonel.

Drop it!

Drop it!

That's better.

I'm leaving.

Help Miss King.

I hate to see a woman hanging around aimlessly.

Glover...

I warned you.

I know.

But I never could follow doctor's orders.

By the way...

you forgot your mail.

(sneezing)

Gesundheit!

(sneezes)

(sneezes)

What's that?

Aunty Ermintrude's patent cold cure remedy.

Have you all cleared up in no time.

Aren't you going to have one?

It's a little too... heady for this time of day.

- (sniffs) - Go on.

Clears up all the sinuses.

Cheers.

Well?

It's quite nice.

It's awfully kind of your aunty.

Perhaps I ought to write to thank her.

That won't be possible, I'm afraid.

Why not?

Poor Aunty Ermintrude, she died at an early age.

Oh.

What did she die of?

Steed...

She caught a cold.

Well, it's a lucky thing I didn't catch it.

Oh.

Well, it just wouldn't do,

you and I both with a cold at the same time.

- Tsk tsk. - People might talk.

And talk...

(sneezes)

(laughs)

You'll just have to face it, Steed.

You're hopelessly compromised.

- (laughs) - (sneezes)

Oh, dear!

(theme music plays)