Original subtitles

(theme music plays)

Any sign of him, Harriet?

Not yet.

Woman: Perhaps he won't come.

Of course, he'll come.

I made the most stringent enquiries

with regard to his activities.

Of course, he'll come, Georgina.

If you say so, Harriet.

Why, I know it's wicked of me,

but... I really am looking forward to this.

So you should after the trouble it took planning it.

Here he comes now.

He's here. Here.

He's here.

- Ready, Georgina? - Ready, Harriet.

How we'll surprise him.

It's really quite chilly this evening.

No, no.

My mother would never forgive me.

- Nephew. - Dear nephew.

A very happy birthday to you.

A happier birthday.

Aunt Harriet, Aunt Georgina, what a lovely surprise.

- We meant it to be. - We planned it that way.

- Both: We brought you these. - For your birthday.

Georgina: We do hope you like them.

Delightful, absolutely delightful.

Thank you very much, aunties. Thank you.

Rhonda, some tea.

- Would you like some tea? - Please.

- And a large whiskey for me. - Whiskey?

We're disappointed in you.

Purely for medicinal purposes.

We thought you'd have five fingers of Old Red Eye.

- What? - We read all the spy books, you know.

Five fingers of Old Red Eye is the conventional thing.

Oh, I see.

Five fingers of Old Red Eye.

Well, dear nephew, what's been happening, eh?

Are you just back from an assignment?

Yes, I am.

Then you're healed at the moment?

- Healed? - Yes.

Are you carrying a gat, a rod?

A good old equalizer?

No, I'm afraid I am not carrying a gat.

Karate is enough for you, eh?

Yes. The good old killing blows.

I suppose you wouldn't like to chop that table in half

for us, would you?

No, as a matter of fact,

I haven't been too well recently.

Well, could you arrange a trip for us round the Black Museum?

Or the morgue?

Georgina: Either would be equally entertaining.

No, I'm afraid that won't be too easy.

We thought you'd amuse us.

We really hoped.

Well, I... I...

What about a story?

Georgina: An inside story.

A story?

Georgina: A true story,

torn from the annals of time,

every fiber of emotion laid bare.

Every gory fact presented in its ghastly factuality.

A story?

The real thing.

A true story.

Well, now...

the great Great Britain crime,

- the crime of the century. - Wow.

How did it start? With a killing, eh?

Yes, I'm afraid it did.

You see, one of the agents was on the trail

of something inexplicable, something...

big.

Mother: He had been lured to a night rendezvous

but found it to be a trap.

Two arch-villains awaited him intent on...

Harriet: Rubbing him out?

Mother: Intent on engineering his demise.

He tried to make his escape up some scaffolding nearby.

Harriet: Why do they always run up?

Mother: Because... because they always do, that's why.

He couldn't shake his pursuers.

They stalked him relentlessly.

But one of the villains planned to put a spanner in the works.

Things looked black.

And then putting all his strength into one last effort,

summoning all his reserves,

he made one prodigious leap and gained safe ground.

But then...

Well, go on, go on. What happened then?

He fell.

(screams)

As soon as the news of this agent's death reached me,

I knew I was onto something big,

inexplicable.

You've already said that once.

I was just reinforcing the point.

Well, what happened next?

A second agent stumbled on the same trail.

But he too became a hunted animal,

running from an armed villain.

Georgina: He's the one who put the spanner in the works.

Mother: Our man continued his desperate run to get away,

but then he spied succor.

Georgina: A prisoner of war camp?

Mother: A fire post.

He strolled to get there, to call headquarters.

Alas, he was foiled in his endeavor.

Gosh.

You were really having bad luck, weren't you?

It happens. It happened again.

This gang organization knew no bounds.

They were ruthless, utterly ruthless.

Mother: They struck again,

catching our man off-guard when he was enjoying

a quiet pint in a local hostelry.

But... but this time,

our agent managed to contact headquarters

with a message

- before he was gunned down. - Convenient.

The message consisted of one word.

Help?

Intercrime.

Surely, that's two words.

Intercrime.

It's the first hint that we had

that this organization was really organized.

I put the word out,

"Find out all you can about Intercrime."

That's seven words.

Informers were primed.

I was prepared to pay any amount for information.

Then I sat back and waited and waited.

And waited.

That was when we got our first nibble.

A man named Cartwright contacted Steed

and said he had information we might be able to use.

He would deliver it at Steed's apartment personally.

But what he didn't know and what we didn't know...

Was that he was driving straight into a trap.

An ambush.

Mother: His car was blocked, stopped,

and Cartwright himself dragged from it brutally,

with utter disregard that his suit might be creased,

torn, irreparably ruined.

Cartwright was taken away by the murky minions of Fuller.

Georgina: Who's Fuller?

Mother: I was coming to him.

Fuller is second in command of the Intercrime England.

Nerveless, ice-cold, he cared not for life,

limb or status.

His only joy was money, so imagine his delight

when he found Cartwright's piggybank.

- Meanwhile... - (machine-gun fire)

it was over.

Cartwright was dead.

Things looked very grave indeed.

Or did they?

Georgina: Well, did they?

Mother: On the surface, yes.

- But... - Harriet: But?

Mother: Beneath the surface,

Fuller and his execution squad,

satisfied that all was well, made their getaway.

But little did they know that Cartwright had survived.

Cartwright lived.

Just a minute.

Cartwright was riddled with bullets.

Precisely.

- Then how could he... - Bulletproof vest.

He is one of those sort of fellows.

Cartwright struggled out of his grave

in his bulletproof vest

and made his way to where Tara King and John Steed

were waiting for him.

What's your information, Cartwright?

- You'll pay me? - That depends.

You know that Intercrime are after me?

What's Intercrime?

The opposite to Interpol.

Interpol helps the police against the criminals.

Intercrime helps the criminals against the police.

I see.

That's a robbery that Intercrime have set up for tomorrow.

Bond Street Jewelers. Well, it's not my line at all.

- You ought to know that, Cartwright. - It's a diamond consignment

worth three quarters of a million pounds.

Well, ask Scotland Yard. They'll help you.

- I know something that is for you. - What?

They're planning on a big crime.

The crime of the century, they call it.

Mother: The crime of the century.

It was our first information that such a crime was planned.

But it was being planned in the headquarters of Intercrime,

the most powerful criminal organization

in the whole world.

Man: Those against.

The motion fails.

Before our next annual general meeting,

which will take place in Tokyo,

I should like to urge our members

from the United States and the USSR to reconsider

the application of the Chinese Tong society.

The political differences of our governments

are no concern of ours.

Well, gentlemen, I think that concludes today's business.

We haven't dealt with the robbery.

I should like to postpone discussion on that subject

- for the time being. - Look here, Dunbar,

we're all over in this country of yours

for one reason... To see if Intercrime

can pull off what you call the crime of the century.

What I would like to know is what century?

There are still preparations to be made, Mr. Jackson.

Look, if you're up to your old tricks again...

Mr. Dunbar is our elected president.

Yeah, and I know how he rigged that.

The cars are waiting?

- Yes, Mr. Dunbar. - Well, gentlemen,

your sightseeing continues today with Buckingham Palace.

John: Buckingham Palace?

Do you think they could be planning

to raid Buckingham Palace?

Tara: Well, if they did, then how would they come in?

Steed: Several approaches.

This way or Hyde Park corner,

Buckingham Palace gardens...

- I say, old man... - Birdcage walk

and the Horse Guards parade.

I say, old man, this suit is rather well-cut.

Very well-cut. You look awfully good, Freddie.

- Do you really think so? - Hmm, don't you, Steed?

- Yes, I do. - Oh, good.

- I'd say, old man... - The brandy's over there, old man.

Thanks, old man.

The Queen's apartment's there, the banqueting rooms,

picture gallery...

Of course, they might have come in from the embankment

along the sewers, the back way.

That would mean they'd surface alongside the flamingo pool,

outside the stables or in the middle of the parade ground.

Oh.

Well, there's always the direct approach.

Sorry. What time is the robbery?

What?

Not this, the Bond Street diamond consign.

Oh, 2:30. There'll be two men and a woman.

The men will be dressed as window cleaners.

Mother: Two men dressed as window cleaners,

some might have said they looked like complete fools.

But, well, (chuckles) appearances can be deceptive.

- Rossi? - Si.

- Kruger? - Yeah.

What's the alarm system?

Thomson Partridge mark 6 electronic eye warning system

locked from head office, two meters from door height,

at 30 centimeters.

(speaks foreign language)

(speaks foreign language)

The regular window cleaners go in at exactly 15:00 hours.

Make sure you're there by 14:30.

- Yeah. - Good luck.

Intercrime had planned a jewel robbery

and we planned to let it happen.

Why?

A stakeout, isn't that it, aunts?

Let the heist happen,

follow the hoods back to their pad,

bring up the heavy mob, open fire with Tommy guns,

gats, tear gas.

(chuckles) That's how it happens, isn't it?

No, no, it doesn't really, no.

- Now where were we? - The Bond Street heist.

Ah, the Bond Street heist.

Just a minute. You made Tara King a blonde.

- Yes. - I've seen her.

- She's a brunette. - That's right.

Now look here, aunts, this is my story,

and if I wish to make Tara King sky blue, pink, I will.

Oh, you're so forceful.

Now let us get back to the hei... the robbery...

Simply planned, simply executed.

Mother: Kruger and Rossi overpowered their victims.

The spoils were theirs.

But outside, Steed and Tara were waiting

with an equally simple plan.

Little did Rossi and Kruger know what fate awaited them.

But as they ran from the jewelers,

the robbers were robbed.

Harriet: They were two complete fools.

Mother: Well, I told you, appearances could be deceptive.

Anyway, our plan had worked.

But we made two mistakes.

To continue, we made two mistakes.

The first was to assume that Intercrime

had a sense of humor, they didn't.

Execution department, please.

You said you made two mistakes.

Yes, Cartwright. You remember Cartwright?

The one with the convenient bulletproof vest.

Steed had lent him his suit,

Now he foolishly left Steed's apartment wearing it.

He was followed to a restaurant by Intercrime's execution squad

and then...

Well, well, well,

forgot his bulletproof vest, eh?

It can happen.

What next?

Another attack on Steed.

Mother: He was a marked man.

A telephone call lured him to some earthworks.

Steed found himself trapped

at the bottom of a pitiless pit

and the villains planned to fill him in.

Earth cascaded down on our dauntless hero,

tons, hundreds of tons of shale

and rubble fell in on him

until all that remained in sight

was the last battered symbol

of a very gallant English gentleman... his bowler hat.

It seemed that Intercrime had triumphed.

But had they? Had they? No.

Our indomitable hero was not finished yet.

With one bound, Steed was free.

But Steed had proved too much for them.

Another phone call, another lure.

This time, to a house in the country.

Another attack.

But the attacker had not reckoned

on Steed's physical expertise, his will to win.

Time and again,

he eluded the clutching hands of his adversary.

Steed absolutely threw himself into the fight.

His ability was starting to tell.

Georgina: His ability to do what?

Mother: To fall so nicely.

His attacker was weakening.

Georgina: Weakening?

The chair was of very inferior manufacture.

Steed pulled every trick out of the book.

Finally, the attacker made his fatal mistake.

He made Steed very angry.

Another failure.

Steed survived.

- And then? - We had a lucky break.

Ah, I was waiting for one of those.

Dunbar, the European head of Intercrime

took over from the hot-headed Fuller.

He forbade all murder attempts.

On the contrary,

he had other plans for Steed.

Well, the background is right.

- We could use this man Steed. - But he stole from us, sir.

Execute him after.

And what about the girl, Steed's accomplice?

We've traced her.

Bring her in.

Mother: So with Tara now in their clutches,

Intercrime put part two of their plan into operation...

Steed.

Hello?

Man: We want to talk to you, Mr. Steed.

Is it about putting holes into Freddie Cartwright?

Man: Write down this address, Mr. Steed.

199 Royal Avenue, SW7.

I'll remember it. Good-bye.

Mother: A vital contact had been made.

Intercrime were asking to see Steed.

He hurried to a waiting taxi,

but Intercrime's skullduggery was still at work.

An armed man planned to escort Steed to their headquarters.

Steed had other thoughts.

He was alone now and driving straight into the jaws

of Intercrime and untold dangers.

The first hurdle safely crossed.

The second hurdle to be encountered.

- Good evening, Mr. Steed. - Good evening.

Will you come with me?

The last hurdle lay ahead.

Steed had penetrated the ugly heart of Intercrime.

Now he had to meet the man on whose word

his life might hang in the balance... Dunbar.

My name is Dunbar.

I am the head of Intercrime in Europe.

- Please, sit down. - Thank you.

Mr. Steed...

you should be dead.

(chuckles) I gathered that.

But you're here because

I am considering putting you on probation.

We have, of course, checked up on your record,

and I think we have a job for which

you may be particularly qualified.

There is also the matter

of 785,000 pounds worth of diamonds

which you and your accomplice stole from us.

We'll give you back the diamonds.

You can keep the diamonds, Mr. Steed,

if you make a success of this job.

- What sort of job? - The crime of the century.

There it was again, the crime of the century.

Steed had penetrated Intercrime.

But...

His ploy in pretending to be a superior thief had worked.

- What about... - Steed and Dunbar?

- Harriet: Uh... - What is it then?

- What about Tara? - Yes. What happened to her?

She was in another part of the woods,

under the hot lights.

Where are the diamonds?

I don't know what you're talking about.

Miss King, it would go easier if you made a statement.

I don't know anything.

We know you and Steed took the diamonds.

I don't know anyone called Steed.

- Oh, she was brave. - Stoical.

She didn't squeal.

Squeal? I sincerely hope not.

Not a mouse, you know.

Now where was I?

Both: Intercrime.

Oh, yes, yes.

Steed had got his feet under the table.

Dunbar was even offering him drinks.

We give our criminals legal aid, pension schemes,

paid holidays,

everything a good company man can hope to find on...

On the other side.

- Who is my company, you or Orpheus Tours? - The same.

Orpheus Tours will take you on a tour anywhere.

That's extremely good of them.

To commit a crime.

- Where is the one you want me to commit? - Here.

(speaks French) Dubois.

I want you to talk your way into a top security establishment.

- Where? - You will be taken.

- Colonel Corf is in command. - Corf?

You went to the same school, you belong to the same clubs,

the same background and... More or less.

But I don't know him.

Here's a complete file on him.

Read it and use it to gain his confidence.

Then without his knowledge, open his safe

and photograph the entire contents.

What's in the safe?

Colonel Corf has a top security telephone.

The scrambler code is changed every 24 hours.

The current code is kept in the safe.

I want a picture of it.

Why?

Dubois from our French section will go with you

to open the safe.

- C'est va, Dubois? - Oui.

He's the best cracksman in Europe.

But he's a criminal. He looks like a criminal.

I couldn't get him into a security establishment.

I doubt if I can even get him into a prison.

(both speak French)

Dunbar: You must open the safe.

I suppose I could open it myself,

- but I prefer to use Miss King. - We'll test her.

Oh, dear, test her?

Did they make her sit for an exam or something?

No, no, dear, dear aunts.

They were putting her up against the brilliant Dubois...

The man with the beret.

(chuckles, clears throat)

Tara was sent for, not knowing, poor child,

what the fates had in store for her

but determined to grit her teeth,

keep a stiff upper lip, keep her back to the wall

and charge fearlessly forward...

Georgina: That's anatomically impossible.

Mother: She was brought

to where Dubois had opened the safe

in 59.15 seconds flat.

Tara King was given the unenviable task of beating

the fiendish Frenchman's time.

She had to open the safe faster than he.

It was an acid test.

Steed could only stand by, powerless to help her.

But Tara did not flinch at the task.

She did not turn away from the job assigned to her.

She did not avert her eyes from the dangers.

- She did not... - I imagine she agreed to do it.

Mother: Exactly.

She was alone, on her own merit now.

Could she beat or even equal Dubois' time

of 59.15 seconds?

The tension mounted, the seconds,

fateful seconds ticked by.

Nerves were drawn tighter than a violin string.

And then, at the traditional last moment...

- Her file. - Sir.

You go with Steed.

Mother: So Steed and Tara had achieved their first objective,

to be accepted by Intercrime.

They made their way to the security vaults.

Now to dupe the razor-sharp mind of Colonel Corf.

Please, Armsmith, please.

Sorry, sir. I mean, governor.

- Hmm, yeah? - John Steed, your security inspector,

My assistant, Miss King.

Security inspector? Didn't know we had one.

- Of course not, security. - Ah.

I haven't seen any of you chaps for years.

- Ah, changes at Downing Street, you know? - Yes, yes, yes.

- Well, what can I do for you? - I'll be very obliged if you'd show me around.

Show you... Oh, no, no, no, no,

I'm afraid I couldn't possibly do that.

No, I am awfully busy at the moment, I'm afraid.

Awfully busy. It's nearly time for lunch.

Tell you what, you come back some other day.

- Of course! Corf! - Huh?

- Bumble Corf, Saint Justin's house. - Well, yes.

There's a picture of you in the pavilion.

- The time you took 10 for 17? - 10 for 16.

Mother: Pretending to be an old school chum,

recalling those good old days,

Steed infiltrated the security establishment.

Security establishment?

Sounds more like a dreary old warehouse to me.

That is the cover.

Down, more than 500 feet down is the heart of the matter,

where Corf kept his safe.

That's why Intercrime sent them there.

Exactly, to photograph the scrambler code

that was kept in it.

How did they do that?

How did they fool Corf and his razor-sharp mind?

Tara King feigned a faint.

Then Steed took Corf off, and she was left there alone.

- Paintings. - What paintings?

Great Britain's heritage.

One of my favorites that.

You like animals, don't you?

Over there... Gainsboroughs, Constables, et cetera.

Down that gallery, you've got your foreigners.

All these are your... your Flemish school...

- Primitives. - I like them.

- Hmm, yes, well. - More paintings?

Sacred objects.

Crown jewels, there.

- That is really beautiful. - Yes, isn't it?

- Here, take a look at that. - Oops.

Finest forgeries in the world.

Yes, well...

Steed: Very impressive collection, Colonel.

Thank you, thank you. Now then, how do you feel?

- Much better, thank you. - Good girl.

Good girl.

There you are.

- Hotline. - Scrambled?

New scrambling code every 24 hours, keep it in the safe.

Nothing wrong with our security, Steed.

No. I'm sure, not.

What happens when you get the call.

- Operation Rule Britannia? - I haven't the faintest notion.

Never heard it have I. Thank goodness.

So you don't know what Operation Rule Britannia means?

- He didn't know? - No.

I'm not surprised.

Doesn't seem like a young man who knows anything much.

Hasn't got all his marbles, if you ask me.

Nobody knew anything about Operation Rule Britannia.

Nobody, that is, except for me.

An impasse was reached.

What's an impasse?

- It is... - When they ran out of plot.

Mother: And that's when I made

my own indispensable contribution to the case.

- Did you get my message? - About Operation Rule Britannia?

- Yes. - Well, what is it?

And why is Colonel Corf guarding a heap of forgeries?

In the event of war,

"Operation Rule Britannia" is the signal

to clear all art galleries and palaces of their treasures

and put them in the safety of Colonel Corf's vault.

Colonel Corf's vaults?

Yes, and hang the forgeries in their place.

Oh, and that will prevent alarm and despondency

throughout the countryside?

Exactly, to prevent panic.

Now what would you do if war was looming

and you saw them tucking all the Picassos,

Cézannes, and Matisse underground?

What would I do?

I'd go somewhere else as soon as possible.

Right, but they are part of our national heritage.

- Steed: Ah. - Something to rally round.

They must be seen proudly, aggressively,

a symbol of our confidence.

And the real ones are all safely tucked away.

That is beside the point.

I've got the point, the crime of the century.

Now what would you think the chances are

of robbing the National Gallery, Buckingham Palace,

the Tate Gallery, all in one afternoon?

Nil.

But make an all-out concerted effort on one area,

however well-guarded...

Well, I suppose there is a chance...

yes.

Give the signal "Operation Britannia,"

put all your art eggs in one basket,

Colonel Corf's vault, and then...

I'm going back to Intercrime.

Gentlemen, the scrambler code to Colonel Corf's

- priority telephone. - (chuckles)

Yes.

Dunbar, now I will have that drink.

Who is fixing the phones?

Ngushu, the best in the business,

from the territory of Mr. Osaka, dozo.

Mother: Cleverly using a Japanese as the man

most likely to be overlooked in a busy European street,

Intercrime put themselves in direct contact with Corf.

They now had the link, the scrambler code

and all that was needed to put.

Operation Rule Britannia into effect.

(speaks foreign language)

You are now in contact with Colonel Corf, Mr. Dunbar.

Arigato, Osaka-san.

Send in Miss King and Steed.

Ngushu, get me Colonel Corf, please.

You're doing it now?

The scrambler code changes every 24 hours.

Dunbar: I want to speak to Colonel Corf.

Fuller, a drink for Miss King.

Sir.

Tell him it's Operation Rule Britannia.

He can hardly be expected to believe me.

He knows your voice, you're on his hotline.

He can only believe that you're speaking

from the Prime Minister's office.

Colonel?

Operation Rule Britannia?

But I had no idea the situation was so explosive.

I'm with him now.

There's no alternative.

Right, Steed.

Mother: The diabolical plan had worked.

The rules succeeded.

Colonel Corf was completely taken in by...

Georgina: I'm not surprised.

Mother: I'm perfectly aware of your opinion of Corf.

He was taken in.

He opened his sealed instructions

and started the ball

that was Operation Rule Britannia rolling,

the biggest tickle in history.

The most gigantic robbery

in the annals of crime had begun.

The mighty plan swung into action.

First, our National Galleries,

haven of our most revered artists, were emptied,

stripped of their most precious sculptures and canvasses.

The Tower of London, depository of the crown jewels

and of England's history.

Even the palace itself, the very seat of government,

all were denuded of their art treasures,

and forgeries were put in their place,

whilst the real treasures were dispatched

to the safety of Colonel Corf's vaults.

But as the gallant colonel personally supervised

the stowing of his precious cargo,

little did he know that the safety of his vaults

was no longer safe,

nor was his personal safe safe any longer,

if you know what I mean.

"Nude With Violin," right at the back please.

Careful, man!

- Mother: Meanwhile, back at the... - Harriet: Ranch?

Back at Intercrime headquarters,

Steed's desperation mounted.

Watched though he was, he shirked not from his duty.

He attempted to call us, to warn us, but...

Who were you going to call, Mr. Steed?

My bookmaker.

Gambling can be terribly dangerous, Mr. Steed.

We took a gamble with you.

Get the girl. I'm not gonna lose now.

You won't win without me.

Corf trusts me. I made sure of that.

You won't get in without me, and my fee is 100,000 pounds.

All right, Steed, you get us in

and we'll meet your price.

Good. And Miss King comes, too.

Oh, no, Miss King stays here.

Your hostage.

Dubois: Put her in the cell.

Their villainy knew no bounds.

Steed found himself hopeless to their ploy.

The countdown had begun.

The final preparations were made.

Anesthetics,

tranquilizers,

hacksaw, nylon rope.

What's this?

A miniaturized transmitter,

20 pounds in gold sovereigns.

Before going on a mission,

each man would be issued with one of these survival kits.

Good idea.

Phrase book in 15 languages.

"I'm on the run from the police.

Kindly direct me to a suitable hideout."

(all laughing)

Six drugged cigarettes.

Cigarette lighter.

Turn the fuel screw round...

(clicks)

the mechanism is now primed.

Flick it, in three seconds,

there will be a concentrated explosion

sufficient to blow a gap in a prison wall

up to 10 feet thick.

Of course, you have to release the safety catch.

The scene was set.

They were well-equipped.

Yes, they were.

- The time... - Just one thing.

Yes?

How on Earth did they carry it all?

The time had come.

Mother: Dunbar and his nefarious nasties,

his felonious felons,

his cronies in crime,

made their final move.

They set out to accomplish their evil coup.

Steed could do nothing but accompany them,

hoping for a lucky break.

Georgina: You've had your ration of those.

Mother: But the break did not come.

Steed's mind was troubled as he and the top brass

of Intercrime set off en route to...

Harriet: Now hold it.

Intercrime are going to commit the crime

of the century, yes?

Right.

And Steed's helping?

Right.

He had no option. He tried to call us...

Why did he give them Colonel Corf's scrambler code

- in the first place? - Good question.

Ah.

Both: Well?

Steed had to go along with the whole plot.

Suppose the theft of the scrambler code

was just a test,

a test of Steed's loyalty to Intercrime?

Good answer.

It is, you know, Harriet.

Oh, well, I suppose so.

But Miss Christie and Mr. Erle Stanley Gardner

never leave such loopholes.

- May I continue? - Both: Please do.

Mother: Intercrime made their move,

en route to pillage the vaults,

and Steed forced to accompany them.

However, they had overlooked one factor,

the courage and resourcefulness of Miss Tara King.

She launched into the attack and disposed of her adversary.

But the game was not yet won.

Excuse me.

Could you help me for a moment?

(bangs and clatters)

(indistinct conversations)

Man: Come in, Tokyo. I'm receiving you.

Come in Tokyo.

Hey!

Ah! You've laddered my stocking!

My goodness!

- They were an awfully noisy lot, weren't they? - Awfully.

As I told you, they were ruthless, utterly ruthless.

They cared not who they aroused.

They were unconcerned that little children,

tender babes might be awakened by the noise of their shooting.

- Dreadful. - Despicable.

Beyond the pale.

They certainly were not gentlemen.

They certainly were not.

Now shall I continue?

Both: Please.

Where was I?

Steed, hoping to penetrate Intercrime,

set himself up as a thief,

achieved his aim...

And was given the task

of getting Colonel Corf's scrambler code.

Corf's vaults, being the repository

for the real art treasures of Great Britain

in times of emergency.

Fake ones having been put in their place,

and Intercrime, holding Tara as a hostage,

forced Steed to accompany them on the big heist.

Tara, however, engineered her escape

and was on her way to foil the plot.

Well, dear aunts,

you have been paying attention.

Tara was on her way to foil the plot.

Mother: Tara, brilliant, gallant, blonde Tara,

the last hope of foiling the plot,

climbed into Corf's security area where even now the last

of the forgeries were being dispatched.

She ran pell-mell to find Colonel Corf

to warn him what was afoot.

If she could reach him in time,

while there were still precious minutes to spare

before the Intercrime mob arrived, she could...

Harriet: Now, just a moment.

You said the Intercrime team left ahead of Tara.

Mother: That's right.

Then how did she get there first?

They took the pretty route.

They wanted to see the sites.

On their way to a crime?

This is my story.

Go on. Please go on.

I will endeavor to.

Now where was I?

- Tara had arrived at the warehouse. - Oh, yes.

She tried to persuade the skeptical Colonel Corf

that his warehouse was in danger of a mass raid.

She told him of how she'd opened his safe before,

and she even opened it again to prove it.

Now do you believe I photographed your codes?

Excuse me, please.

Yes, yes, I do.

And, of course, I know what's going on when Steed rang me.

I was suspicious.

I read the newspapers, you know, Miss King.

- What does that mean? - This country is not in danger of going to war.

That's what I've been telling you.

- And it was Steed who gave that false alarm... - Yes.

As a security check on me and my little unit.

No.

New broom? Sweep clean?

Oh, I know all about Whitehall, Miss King.

This is not a security exercise.

This is a plan by a criminal organization called Intercrime.

They're going to break in here and steal all of this.

- And what should I do, Miss King? - Let them in.

Once they're here, seal the place off

and make an armed arrest.

Yes. It is a little complicated for my taste,

but then I suppose that's how security minds work, eh?

This is not a security check.

One thing I can't understand.

Mother: What?

This Colonel Corf, how did such a fool

come to be in charge of a top security vault?

Oh, Harriet, let him go on.

We're almost at the big fight, aren't we?

Indeed we are.

Now, Tara hid herself in the vaults whilst Corf...

Did he marry into an important family?

Is that how he got the job?

Whilst Corf, thinking the whole thing

to be an elaborate exercise,

awaited the arrival of the Intercrime team.

He didn't have long to wait.

In the Queen's name, gentlemen, you're my prisoners

and I must ask you to lay down your arms.

Be your age, Colonel.

You are our prisoner, Colonel.

But you can't say that. I said it first.

- Where's the umpire? - These men are criminals.

They're trying to steal the most valuable piece...

- But that's what Miss King said, I... - Miss King?

Find that woman!

Mother: So whilst armed men were dispatched

to dispatch Miss King to hunt her down

like a... Like a hairy beast,

Dunbar and Co. Indulged in a different kind of hunting,

ferreting out our art treasures,

splitting them up amongst themselves...

A nude here, a violin there

gloating over the Gainsboroughs

drooling over the Da Vincis,

sharing the profits of their ill-starred scheme.

They were worse than Philistines.

They were villain-stines.

Art to them was just loot, cabbage, spondulicks,

cold hard cash.

They showed no respect for anything,

anything at all.

Yes.

Now I'm afraid we'll have to break this one up, gentlemen.

It's rather a pity, isn't it?

It's Britain's crown jewels.

Well, go on, go on.

- Why have you stopped? - You can't stop now.

I haven't stopped.

- But you've... - Merely pausing.

- I have run out. - Of ideas?

Of breath. My throat is dry.

I think I'll take a glass of...

Both: Five fingers of Old Red Eye.

That's better. Now I will continue.

It's a double-cross, isn't it, Dunbar?

Right, check the office.

(speaks foreign language)

We'll take the corridors.

Well done.

Corf: Look out!

Hold it.

- Oh. - Yes.

(machine-gun fire)

By Jove.

- Your gun, Colonel. - Thank you.

Thank you.

Oh, dear. That's the only one I liked.

- Game, set... - And match.

It all ended happily ever after.

Naturally.

But they always end like that.

Couldn't we have a downbeat ending for once?

Well, as a matter of fact,

there was a slight tragedy.

- Really? - Oh, tell us.

Steed sprained his thumb.

And Tara, poor girl...

Both: A fate worse than death?

Worse.

Both: Worse?

The shock turned her...

brunette.

Your card, Steed.

It's astonishing.

What?

Rhonda.

She is rather tall, isn't she?

No, no, I don't mean that.

I mean, after all this time,

I haven't heard a squeak out of her.

I sincerely hope not.

Rhonda squeaking?

That would mean skullduggery afoot.

Oh, no, I mean, I never heard her say a word.

What word?

Well, any word.

She's not the chatty type. I like her that way.

Yes, but you would have thought,

say, once a month or so

that she'd say a word?

Bothers you?

Unaccountably, yes.

Oh.

Rhonda.

Say hello to Mr. Steed.

Hello, Mr. Steed.

That's her?

No, it was me.

Rhonda's lost her voice.

I was practicing my ventriloquial art.

A, B, C, D, E, F, G,

H, I, J, K, Gottle of Geer...

- B, D... - (laughs)