All language subtitles for The Wild Wild West - 02x20 - The Night of the Vicious Valentine.Unspecified.English.updated.Addic7ed.com

We'd like to see
Mr. Dodd, please.

I'm sorry, Mr. Dodd sees
no one this late at night.

Well, can we see
Mrs. Dodd at least?

Jim, listen.

Is that Mr. Dodd playing?

If you don't mind me
pointing it out,

that's none
of your business.

The question is important.
Answer it.

Well, if you must know,
yes.

Then you open this door,
and you open it right away.

Courtney! Brendan!
You men get outta here.

Go, Jim.
Stop him.

How dare you,
whoever you are.

Your husband's life's
in danger. Where is he?

Leave at once.

Griffin! Griffin!

Hold it.

Is it really that bad?

You make one move
and I'll shoot.

That piano could be a great
source of danger to you.

You sound like a typical
half-baked critic.

This piano a source of danger?
Hm.

It happens to be a Defeasy
concert grand, worth-

Curtis. Curtis,
are you all right?

God! Aah!

I can't help but feel
that if I-

If I'd helped
rather than hindered

Mr. West and Mr. Gordon,

my husband
might still be alive.

Now, now, Mrs. Dodd,
nobody in the world

could have known
what was in the cards.

Thank you, colonel,

and thank you, gentlemen.

Now if there's
nothing else...

Nothing else, ma'am,

except speaking
for the whole department,

we share
in your feelings of loss.

Thank you.

It never
gets any easier,

and I'll tell you,

I'd rather take on a pack
of screaming Comanches any day

than one of these
mad-dog killers.

Mm.

No word from Washington yet,
colonel?

No, except that
President Grant said-

And this is putting it
real mild.

-he said he keenly felt
the passing of Curtis Dodd.

And, of course,
the capital newspapers

are whooping up
the whole thing

as another one
of the alphabet killings.

Oh, yeah.

Well, let's give
this here

casualty list
another goin' over.

Audley, John W.,

New York, shipping
and securities.

Batling, Myron J.,
Oklahoma, oil.

Candlish, Otto M.,
Oregon, timber.

And of course, uh...

I know. D stands for
Dodd, Curtis,

Wichita, wheat.

Tell me something.
Hm?

How'd you two reckon
that yesterday was the day

that Dodd was in line
to get his?

Well, it was just
an educated guess, colonel.

Yesterday was Easter.

What in sam hill's
that got to do with it?

That's another
angle we uncovered

about the alphabet murders.

They always attended
the victims on holidays.

Yeah, well,
just don't forget this.

There's one other thing

that all the victims
had in common.

I know, sir.
They're all wealthy.

No, sirree, Gordon.
They were extra-wealthy.

And that's just what's got
President Grant a-frettin' so.

You see, the way he figures,

that the holdings of a
reasonable,

small amount of men

add up to such a big part
of our economy

that the course of the country
could be jolted clean off-center

if these killings continue.

It sure fits
into a pattern, doesn't it?

A, B, C and D.

Gentlemen,

who do you reckon
the E victim's gonna be?

Pardon me, colonel.

You wanted me to remind you

about the Senate
subcommittee meeting.

Oh, yes, Gates.
Much obliged.

Well, gentlemen, looks like

I'm gonna have to
pull up stakes.

Uh, a new aide,
colonel?

Yep, and I sure do hope
you approve of her.

Oh, yeah.

"Mrs. Curtis Langley Dodd
wishes to express

"her appreciation
to Mr. West and Mr. Gordon

for their sympathy
in her recent bereavement."

Nice.
Mm.

Artie.

Yeah?

Remember the flowers that we
sent to the Candlish funeral,

and the thank you note
we got in return?

Yeah.
You still have it?

Oh, sure. I think
we got it here somewhere.

Here it is.

What are you doing?

Notice the decorative M
on both cards.

Complete to the same
broken serif.

There's no doubt about it.

This broken type
is identical on both cards.

That means they had to be
printed in the same print shop.

Isn't that interesting?

Interesting,
but it doesn't tell us

who the printer is, does it?

No, not until we get word
from the data bureau

on where this
card stock came from.

Well, did you hear that?

There's only one place in town
that carries that stock.

The Friendly Card Company.

Why don't we pay
a friendly visit

to that establishment,
Artie?

Indeed.

Jim.

See something
interesting?

"Miss Emma Valentine
takes pleasure in announcing

"the marriage
of Miss Michele Le Master

"to Mr. Paul J. Lambert
on Wednesday,

"at 6:00 in the evening.

Reception to follow."

Artie, do you think
this could be

the alphabet man's
next victim?

Mr. Paul J. Lambert
happens to be

one of the richest men
in the United States.

Aahh!

Yah!

Argh!

You all right, Artie?
Yeah. That was close.

Let's start with the easy
questions. Who are you?

And we'll go on
to the more advanced ones,

like who do you work for?

Well, I've checked
that greeting card shop.

The business directory
lists it as being owned

by a Mr. E.N. Itnelav.

Probably Russian for Smith.

And last night's casualty?

Uh, no positive identification
of the body yet.

Jim,

you ever hear music
when you think of a woman?

Like, um, wedding bells?

More like
"The Death March,"

arranged and conducted
by Elaine Dodd.

You know,
I still think she set up

that bushwhacking job
last night.

We don't know that.

It certainly wasn't
a total loss.

Oh, Paul Lambert's
wedding announcement.

You still think
he's the next target, huh?

No, more than that.

Read this.

"Emma Valentine,
most charming and original

"of Washington's hostess corps,

"has arrived in our town

"to preside over the surprise
wedding of the year.

"Miss Michele Le Master

"will walk the
orange blossom-strewn path

"arm in arm
with P.J. Lambert,

"the Kansas City's
most prominent citizen

and renowned beef baron
of the west."

Oh.

That stir your brain, Artie?

It stirs my stomach,
that's what it stirs.

The sole piece of evidence
that we have

that links these deaths
together

is a piece of broken type:

The letter M on some cards.

Now we go to the factory,
and what do we find?

On the press, we find
Lambert's invitation.

Yeah, all of which is more
than slight coincidence,

I would say.

Including the fact
that all the dead men

were recently married.

No more than six months,

and all to women
much younger than themselves.

That's...interesting,
all right.

There's also the fact
that Lambert's name

begins with an L.

Causing the killer
to set a definite pattern

from A to D,

just to break it
at the crucial moment.

Oh, yes.

While we are out
busily protecting the E's,

he is out
busily killing the L's.

Listen, that's a pretty
shrewd plan, you got to admit.

Yeah, it is, Artie.

I think I'll go over
to Paul J. Lambert's place

and stop myself
a wedding, James.

Well, why not?

I'm going back
to the card factory.

I am Enos Itnelav,

printer to the crowned
heads of Europe

and the figureheads
of Washington,

now operating
in Kansas City.

What can I do for you?

A stranger would
never suspect

that there was a lot
of energetic romping

going on around here
last night.

Romping? Here, romping?

Is not possible,

since this establishment
is closed for the night.

You must be confusing.

I, uh- I-I suppose so.

You did print up
the wedding announcements

for P.J. Lambert,
I believe.

Oh, you've seen my work.
Ha-ha. Magnificent, huh?

You are interesting, perhaps,
in placing order for same?

Uh, may I-?
May I look around?

You're more than
welcome to, Mr., uh...?

West. James West.

The James West?

of the Secret Service?

The Secret Service
in name only seems more like it.

Forgive me
for eavesdropping, Mr. West,

but I'm a confirmed
compulsive snoop.

I'm Emma Valentine.

But of course.

The most charming
and most original

of the Washington
hostess corps.

Welcome to Kansas City.

How too, too charming

to discover that such
an attractive young man

reads the silly rubbish
the papers will print about me.

Enos.

The party favors
were simply marvelous.

Be a love and put them
in my carriage.

The boys will help you,

while Mr. West and I
become the best of friends.

Your slightest wish
is my command.

Mr. West, have you
ever been discovered?

I didn't know that anyone
was looking for me.

Why not?

Yes, why not, indeed.

Of course someone
is looking for you, Mr. West.

Those silly dressed-up sheep
who come to my parties.

They've come to expect
a treat from me

each time they arrive.

Someone new and different,

someone much more exciting
than last month's discovery,

and not half as thrilling
as next month's discovery.

Ah, must be nerve-racking.

My last successful offering
was a grand duke

turned Indian fighter,
playwright, hypnotist,

jockey
and clothes designer.

Well, uh, how are you
gonna follow that?

You. You, Mr. West.

You're not gaudy
nor shrill.

You're just too, too
wonderfully compelling.

You're a quiet,
terribly attractive young man

whose game is, uh,

life and death.

There. I've done it again.

Done what, Miss Valentine?

Mr. West, I won't
take no for an answer.

You must join my guests
and me this evening.

You know, the Lambert
wedding is quite private,

but the reception
is the event of the year.

You will come,
won't you?

Do I bring my own leash,

or do I pick one up
at the door?

Oh, dear, Mr. West,

such a refreshing
sense of humor,

along
with everything else.

And I will see you at 7?

Lovely.

Miss Valentine.

Now, Mr. West,
what can I do for you?

Oh, nothing,
thank you.

I got what I came for.

Mr. Lambert...

Will you please believe

that this is not
to be taken lightly?

Further note to A.J.:

Have the bond merger papers
ready to sign tomorrow.

I want complete reports

on all the Stanley
bill debentures,

and tell Drexel
that the list of directors

that he submitted me
is not acceptable,

and that binds a little bit
right in here.

Mr. Paul J. Lambert!

Mr. Lambert,
I have been talking to you

for better than half an hour.

You haven't heard
one word I've said.

Balderdash.
I heard every word you said.

Representative,
U.S. Secret Service,

uncovered plot involving
wealthy men including me.

My life in danger.
Imperative wedding be postponed.

I go into hiding.
Correct?

Yeah, correct.

Wrong.

Mr. Lambert,
all this marriage will do

is make you a candidate
for the killer's list.

Oh? How?

That's been
his pattern to date.

Do you want your bride
to be a widow

before the orange blossoms
are even withered?

All you can get, buy it.

Mr. Lambert...

you have to call off
this wedding.

Believe me.

I believe you, Gordon,

primarily because you
have no reason to lie to me.

But may I
tell you something?

I've been a widower
now for 17 years,

and during all that time

I've dreamed of finding a woman

like my first wife.

Finally, I found her.

Then do it
for her sake, sir.

You owe it to her.

Yes, I suppose.

I suppose a delay

of several days
wouldn't do any harm.

No.

Oh, Paul.

Oh, Paul,
I've just seen my dress.

It's absolutely beautiful.

Mwah.

I feel like
a fairy-tale princess.

Oh, darling,
I'm so excited.

I wish we could just run off
and get married now.

Mr. Lambert, if you'd
like me to tell her, I-?

Is something wrong?

It's about the wedding,
Miss Le Master.

What is it, Paul?

You haven't changed
your mind, have you?

You still want
to marry me, don't you?

Of course I want
to marry you.

Today at 6:00,
as per schedule.

Mr. Lambert, if you-

That's final, Gordon.

I'm sorry you can't stay

and have a glass of champagne
with us, young fella.

Of course, sir.

Miss Le Masters.

Ah.

Why, that's lovely.
Lovely.

Turn.

Yes, I think...

I think the hem should be
the merest glance shorter.

Ah.

Oh, come, come, Michele, dear.

Let's have a rush
of teeth to the head.

Come on, smile.

Smile.

We can't be unhappy
on our wedding day, now can we?

I really don't understand you,

you silly girl.

From a barmaid
in a filthy French bistro

to the wife of the wealthiest
man in America.

You should be leaping in the air
with glad little cries.

Well, at least
you should be grateful.

It wasn't easy teaching you
how to walk and to dress,

and to speak in just the way
calculated to win P.J.

Well.

Well, an uninvited guest.

Ah, he's in the downstairs
sunroom.

Ah, but he's restless.

He's in the drawing room.

Oh.

He's moving into
the upstairs hallway.

Well, whoever it is

seems to be headed
towards the chapel.

Michele, dear,
you wait for me here.

I'll change very quickly.

I have to greet our guests.

Do you approve,
Mr. West?

A marriage made in heaven.

Too, too clever a theme
for the reception,

wouldn't you say?

Particularly with the fallen
angels you have around.

What can Mr. West mean,
Lenny?

Have you ever wished
for a harem, Mr. West?

Your very, very own harem,

with dozens of eager
dainty little hands

to reach out to you,

to embrace you,

perhaps even to crush
the life out of you?

Have you ever been adored

by your very own harem,
Mr. West?

And I should add,

a harem whose
dainty little hands

can be adjusted
from an adoring embrace

to an embrace
that demonstrates

that I want
no nonsense from you?

Dear Mr. West,

I regard myself
not as a criminal,

but a savior
of all womankind.

Interesting.

And what do women
have to be saved from?

From domination
of the spirit,

economic exploitation,

annihilation of the mind.

In brief, all the injustices
wrought by men.

And now, as long
as you're not going anywhere,

I'd like you to answer
a few questions.

Fair enough.

If you'll answer
a few for me.

Oh, I should be delighted.

But mine first.

What, uh-?

What is your favorite wine,
Mr. West?

Ch�teau Rothschild, 1846.

If you're going to serve me,

please see that
it's properly chilled.

My question.

You arranged
not only the deaths,

but also the marriages
of four men, right?

Ingenious, isn't it?

Heh. It seemed a natural way
to go about my task.

After all,

love is the strongest
weapon in the world,

and the one so few women
have ever used intelligently.

Question.

Which do you prefer:

Blonds, brunettes,

or redheads?

Yes...

all three.

So you married off
four beautiful women

to four lonely men,
killed off the men,

the women took control
of the corporations

and you control
the women.

You put it so concisely.

After today, I will control
enough strategic wealth

to become a real power
in this nation,

enough to make Congress
meet my every demand.

Question.

What do you demand
in a woman,

intelligence or beauty?

Beauty
if they're intelligent,

intelligence
if they're beautiful.

And what are your demands?

That this country
be temporarily governed

by the monarchy system,

under which
I shall reign as queen.

Do you think a woman should
know how to cook and sew?

If they intend to be cooks
or seamstresses.

You mentioned
a temporary monarchy.

Oh, yes.

I should not like
to rule forever,

just long enough to secure
total independence for women.

Then, after a time,
I should release

this country into a democracy

and allow a grateful nation
to elect me president.

Ah, Mr. West,

what do you notice
first in a woman?

Her lips, her eyes,
her hair, her figure.

Not, uh-
Not necessarily in that order.

Oh, Mr. West.

Colonel, we've gotta
do something.

I know, but-

Well, take this Itne-
This printer fella.

I don't see any
big clue about him,

except that he printed
up the cards

for Dodd and Lambert both.

To return to my rule,

under my scientific reign,

this country will
flourish as never before.

Scientific?
Yes.

A prosperous country
is composed of happy people,

and happy people are made
by happy marriages,

and happy marriages...

Happy marriages are made
by the love eternal machine.

Here is a picture
of your personality, Mr. West.

The sizes and shapes
of the hearts

shows your likes and dislikes.

I feed your record
into the machine...

and it raises
tiny metal fingers,

which react to the message
you have written on the paper.

Soon a card like yours

will be on file for every
person in the United States,

and only people can marry
whose card corresponds.

Ah.
Ha-ha-ha.

Dear me, Mr. West.

This poses quite a problem.

On the basis
of your answers,

it would seem
that your ideal mate

is a combination
of Aphrodite, Helen of Troy

and Lola Montez.

Oh, Mr. West,

I'm afraid it can't be done.

Oh, frankly, I like
to do my own shopping anyway.

And you adore shopping,
don't you, Mr. West?

Because all those
fluffy-headed little girls

thrill to the touch of you.

Is that about right?

As if only fluffy-headed
little girls

know what it is
to be drawn towards a man.

You understand,
don't you, Mr. West?

Ah, Mr. West.

If I have a choice,
may we go back

to questions and answers?

Whose turn was it,
Miss Valentine?

You wanted to see the veils.

Naturally.
Naturally.

Michele,
meet James West.

You'll have to excuse me
for not getting up.

Tell me, Michele,

when did you join
the murderous matchmaker here?

Just remember,
mercy is not my strong point.

Don't make me
lose sight of it completely.

As for this
little ball of fluff

you're probably drawn to,

who seems to reduce
even the most astute men

to blithering idiots,

this little ball of fluff
is a common thief

whom I transformed
into a lady.

You did quite a job.

Thank you.

Oh, it seems Mr. Lambert
has just arrived.

You will excuse me,
won't you?

Michele,

Miss Valentine
says you're a thief.

Is that true?

I stole once. I had to.

Don't ask me why.

Do you think
that makes you a thief?

That doesn't matter.

Miss Valentine took me
from a prison in France.

She could put me back there.

Does Miss Valentine
control all her women

through, uh-
Through blackmail?

Michele, you're not like
Miss Valentine and Elaine.

You get out, before you're
an accomplice to murder.

It's too late.

Let me out of this love seat,

and I'll show you
it's earlier than you think.

Uh-huh. Huh.
Ha.

I told you.
I told you, huh?

Look, you see?

The left sleeve is a quarter
inch longer than the right.

Well, so is my left arm.

That I can't help you.
I'm a tailor, not a doctor.

Oh!

Oh, you look marvelous, P.J.
Thank you, ma'am.

Are you ready
for the proceedings?

Excuse me, lady.
Yeah he looks, not marvelous.

Not with a sleeve
that is long enough

to put in a whole family.

Would you be so kind, please?
You're standing in my light.

Well, really!

All right, this has
gone far enough now.

You're holding up my wedding.

Wedding?

You mean you wanna get married
in a- In a sleeve

that's long enough for a
gorilla?

Shame on you, shame on you.

That will do.

Aah! Don't move!

Oh!

What a beautiful
piece yard goods.

And the dress!

Look at the satin lining.

Oh, that's beautiful.

A regular living doll.

But then, with a figure
like yours,

what wouldn't look beautiful?

Oh,
this old thing?

Ain't you ashamed
for yourself, huh?

A nice lovely young
girl like that

and you wanna get
married to her in a suit

that's a disgrace
to the neighborhood?

That's terrible.
I'm not gonna marry her.

I'm not gonna let you,
not in that sleeve.

Now take it off.

For the last time,
that will do.

I think the sleeve
is first-rate.

First-rate? It's not.

It's not first-rate.
It's not second-rate.

It's not third-rate.
Take it off.

I wouldn't let a gorilla
get married in it.

I'm happy with it!
It's perfect!

It's paid for.

Now leave me be.

You a tailor?
No.

Then who knows better,
you or me?

I like the suit!
I tell you, I like it!

And I tell you it don't fit,

and before
I would let you go out

and make a monkey
for yourself in that suit,

I would sooner tear it
right off your back.

Oh.
I would-

Now I did it.
Now you gotta fix it.

There, there, P.J.

Now you run along
and slip into another coat

while I talk to this
impetuous tailor.

I'll put a pleat in
and I'll pick up the rest.

A full quarter
of an inch, you hear me?

He thinks he's got-

Gordon is the name,

isn't it?

All right, hold it.

In the name
of the United States government,

you are all under arrest.

Oh, gentlemen.

Oh, this must seem
unnecessarily complicated,

but I assure you,
my plan is quite simple.

And you're going
to tell us all about it,

aren't you,
Miss Valentine?

Knowing your thirst
for knowledge,

of course, Mr. Gordon.

You are fastened

to the top of my
stained-glass chapel roof.

You do know that,
don't you?

And this overgrown
spiderweb. What is this?

The musician
who built this house

called this
the echo tower.

It's really a sort
of resonating chamber.

The wires that actuate
the hammers

run all the way down
to the piano keyboard

in the chapel.

Which I shall play
during the wedding ceremony.

When the proper
final chord is struck,

it re-

Oh. Why don't
we demonstrate it, Elaine?

Do keep your eyes
on the glass goblet, gentlemen,

while Elaine
strikes the chord.

You may go now,
Elaine.

You do begin to see,
don't you, gentlemen?

The particular chord

that will shatter
the stained glass under you

is only sounded once,

at the end
of the bridal recessional.

Quite a finale
for a wedding.

And for poor P.J.

When that one chord
is struck,

like a great amen,
the glass breaks.

And as the glass goes,
so goes the framing.

Precisely,

allowing you
to fall a great distance down,

and poor, dear Paul Lambert

is struck
by your hurtling bodies.

Well,
that should kill

the three of us
pretty thoroughly.

And all the kings horses
and all the kings men-

Will be unable to put
any of you together again.

There is even the possibility

that you may be blamed
for Paul J. Lambert's death.

And you, in turn, will gain
economic control of your empire.

Queen Emma I.

It has a pleasant ring,
hasn't it?

Ah, excuse me,
gentlemen,

and thank you so very much
for your help.

You know, I don't
usually cry at weddings,

but I may make
an exception in this case.

Dearly beloved,
we are gathered here today

to join this man and this woman

in the bonds of holy matrimony,

which is an honorable estate.

Do you, Michele, take Paul

to be your lawful
wedded husband,

and keeping thee
only unto him

so long
as you both shall live?

I do.

The ring, please.

Thank you.

Join hands, please.
Repeat after me.

I, Paul, take thee, Michele...

I, Paul,
take thee, Michele...

To be my lawful wedded wife.

To be my lawful
wedded wife.

And with all my worldly goods...

Artie.

Yeah?

What do you do with one foot
free in a situation like this?

I don't know.
Play hopscotch?

For as much
as Paul and Michele

have consented together
in holy wedlock

and have witnessed
the same before God...

And thereto have given...

Hold it steady, Jim.

By the power vested in me,

I now pronounce you
man and wife.

I think I got it.

Yeah.

Okay.

I'm in good shape.

What about you, Jim?

I'll tell you
in a minute, Artie.

Wait a minute.
Wait a minute.

We're going to take photographs
of the happy bride and groom.

Will you get your
equipment, please?

Yes. Now I think we should take
individual photos first.

Michele, will you come
down here with me?

Yes.
Uh, P.J.?

P.J., we'll take yours
first.

Now, I think- Oh, yes.

Will you please
put it over there?

Will you back up there
just a little bit

and turn to your right?

Yes. You have to look
at the camera, you know.

Heh-heh.
There you are.

Now, that's perfect, P.J.

Well, James, my boy,

get set for a big letdown.

Michele, are you all right?

Mr. West.

Goodbye, Mr. West.

Where'd Miss Valentine go?

Gone.
I-I don't know where.

You all right, Michele?

You won't have any trouble
having the wedding annulled.

What?

After all the trouble
I've had marrying you,

why should I have it annulled?

You-
You can't marry a girl

who's been a part
of this terrible conspiracy.

Can you?

Roses are red
Violets are blue

Crime does pay

I'll show you

Will you remind me
never to go out

with you again
after a working day?

I'm bushed.

Jim, look at that.

That couldn't be
from Miss Valentine, could it?

She's in jail.

Well, it was several hours
before she was apprehended.

She could have had time
to cook up a little something.

Last time I saw
a box like this,

it was chocolate-covered
cherries.

Jim.

That's a bomb.

There's only one way
to find out, Artie.

I gotta know what that was.

Um...

Care for some
sloshed chocolate cherries?

Who sent it?

Uh...

Oh.

Roses are red
Violets are blue

I do love Paul J
We're getting married at 2

Michele.