Original subtitles

Couldn't have better weather for traveling

if we'd planned it.

Uh, it's a short walk down the street

to the stage depot, Dr. Raven.

Think I'll be safe, Mr. West?

I really think it was unnecessary

for President Grant to assign you to safeguard me.

The president feels that until your new weapon's perfected,

that your life may be in danger.

Oh, Dr. Raven.

Well, Martin. Hello, how are you?

Good to see you. Good to see you.

Mr. Dexter, Jim West.

How do you do? How are you?

Dexter's going to our reunion in Monterey.

Good, we can travel together.

Oh, are you going too, West?

Yes, I am.

Well, then welcome aboard.

Thank you.

Well, gentlemen, I have a couple of errands to run.

I'll catch up with you later.

Oh, uh- Uh, by the way, doctor.

Uh, was it you who had a particular taste

for the Jamaican cheroot?

Well, as a matter of fact, yes.

Cursed difficult to find, though.

Then I'd recommend

the tobacconist across the street. He stocks them.

Gentlemen.

Thanks.

I'll be just a minute.

Yes, sir.

You all right?

I think so.

Dexter.

Poor Dexter. Why would anyone kill him?

Ask yourself why Dexter would want to kill you.

Well, that's only a guess.

He planned for you to be in the tobacco shop.

Why? What was your association with him?

we were both members

of a rather unique investment group.

What's so unique about it?

Our original investment of several thousand dollars

had increased in value to millions.

I see.

And this trip we're about to take to Monterey?

Our annual get-together.

Stockholders' report, just like any other investment group.

With one important difference.

What's that?

Jim!

Ah, pause a moment. Woah.

Keep the change.

Thank you.

Anything turn up in the investigation?

Oh, a little something.

It seems that the gunpowder, detonator and plunger

were all bought by a party by the name of Fields...

whose description sounds suspiciously

like one Martin Dexter.

Oh. Maybe you were right about Dexter.

I did a little more digging too.

That group you belong to, sir...

I was just telling West about it.

Yeah. One of the members was drowned last year?

Yes, Emmett Banhoff.

Well, it seems that another one of your group

fell under the wheels of a train just the other day.

Name of Hunter.

George Hunter?

Dexter makes three.

Doctor, we're gonna make sure you're not number four.

Hold that stage! Hold it!

Artie!

Artie!

Artie, can you hear me?

Perfectly. What are you yelling about?

Ah-! Ah-! Ah. Not that one.

Oh, no. Thank you.

Are you all right, Mr. Gordon?

Oh, I'm fine, I'm fine.

That settles it, doctor.

We're not taking any more chances.

We're going back. No.

Excuse me, Mr. West.

Need I remind you that yours and Mr. Gordon's job

is to protect me.

Not to direct where I'm going.

Now, we're continuing on.

Are you sure we have to take that from him?

Artie, that's exactly what I wanted him to say.

Oh, of course.

Whoever's trying to kill him isn't gonna stop

just because we turned back.

Artie, let's get our doctor to his meeting.

Ain't you dead yet, Raven?

Yes, sir.

You look kind of long in the tooth.

I thought for sure you'd never make it.

Mr. Stimson... another member of our group.

Wild Boy Harry Stimson, that's me. Gunslinger.

If the subject ever came up in your hearing.

Bounty hunter now...

from what I hear.

Specializing in killing unarmed men.

For a tenderfoot with a bad wing,

you got entirely too good a memory,

Mr. Whatever-Your-Name-Is.

Gordon.

And my name's James West.

And I've got a good memory too.

And there's nothing wrong with my wings.

Well, now, what are we all so touchy about, hm?

Come on, let's squat.

Bounty hunter, huh?

Well, now, that's the old Harry Stimson

you're talking about.

The Harry Stimson that used to count his change very carefully

when he'd belly up to a bar.

Oh, you're gonna tell us

all about the new Harry Stimson, aren't you?

Oh, well, the new Harry Stimson...

Well, now, he's got it made all the way.

All he's got to do is call out if he wants a drink.

Hey, Curly...

let's have a bottle.

That one, Curly.

I, uh, don't mean to pry into your personal affairs,

but, uh, isn't it a little messy doing it your way?

Oh, now, Curly don't mind... do you, Curly?

Uh, don't mind nohow, Mr. Stimson.

There, you see?

Why, he's even smiling, ain't he?

You know why?

Because he knows I can buy and sell him,

his saloon, and every bottle of rotgut he's got in here.

Ain't that right, Curly?

Uh, sure, Mr. Stimson.

No more counting your change, Stimson,

when you're up at the bar and you want a drink, huh?

Oh, no, sir, Mr. West.

No, sir.

No. The new Harry Stimson's got it made all the way.

Of course, I got to concentrate

on staying alive.

If I can manage that long enough,

why, I'm gonna be a very rich man.

Ain't that right, Pappy?

He means the tontine.

Tontine? Oh, don't tell me. It's, uh...

an investment group operating

on the law of survival, right?

That's right.

And nobody inherits.

The last survivor gets all the money.

That's right.

So naturally, if you just happen to get yourself killed,

why, that'd just mean that there'd be one less body

between me and all that lovely money.

Three have been downed, six corpses to go.

Stimson, you're becoming less and less attractive to me.

And that's with the right hand.

Now, I'm gonna show you the left hand.

He's dead.

At this range, how could he miss?

This gun's been tampered with to backfire.

Stimson down.

Six corpses to go.

What's keeping Mr. Gordon?

Oh, he'll be along.

Sorry I'm late. Mustache trouble.

Now, remember, it's Angus MacGordon,

your secretary, traveling companion and bodyguard.

Very clever.

Thank you, sir.

Thank you very much indeed.

At your service.

Hold it, doctor.

You hear it too?

Yeah.

Ah, Raven.

That's a fine way

to discourage peddlers and thieves.

Come in, gentlemen.

Oh, good evening, Grevely.

Quite, quite, quite.

Ah, Raven, forgive an old friend

for leaving you stand out in the cold.

Uh, and we've grown quite anxious about you.

There's something wrong with your door I think, sir.

Really?

Oh, Grevely, um, this is Mr. James West,

my very good friend. Pleasure, sir.

This is my servant and secretary, Angus MacGordon.

A very good evening to you, sir.

Quite. Uh, shall we join the others?

Oh, Grevely. First, I think

there's something you ought to know.

Dexter and Stimson have been murdered.

Huh?

Banhoff and Hunter have died

under very mysterious circumstances.

And an attempt has been made on my life.

Aha.

Well, I think the others should be notified immediately.

How long have the others been here?

Since 4 this afternoon, to be exact.

Uh, gentlemen...

An added security precaution.

As you will see...

my collection of Egyptology

rivals that of the national museum.

Well, Dr. Raven...

we'd just about given you up for lost.

Yes, just because you work for the government

doesn't give you the right to hold up other people's business.

Time is money.

Let's get on with the meeting, hm?

Forgive me, all of you,

but...I was detained by a most unpleasant business.

You see...

Grevely.

Raven, introduce your guests.

Yes, well... I'd like you all to know

Mr. West and Mr. MacGordon. They're my guests.

Dr. Raven has brought word

that a calamity has befallen our companions...

which I will impart to you now.

What? What calamity?

I go back to a night.

A stormy night off Cape Hatteras...

when we all joined arms

in the face of certain death

and pledged, "All for one and one for all."

Hm.

That was the principle of the tontine, was it not?

Grevely, what's this all about?

We all know that.

A good and noble principle.

However, we all forgot that the tontine invites man's-

Uh, or woman's...

scurrilous nature to come to the fore.

He takes a while to warm up, doesn't he?

Uh, one of us has succumbed to his or her basest nature.

Dexter and Stimson have been murdered.

Banhoff and Hunter died under mysterious circumstances.

And now one of us is trying to...

...knock off Dr. Raven.

And now let me introduce you

to the survivors of the tontine, gentlemen.

He better hurry. There won't be any of them left.

The first lady of the theater, Amelia Mateland.

Hardly the first, Charles, but I'll settle for second.

When do we get down to business, Grevely?

I didn't trek out in this wilderness to make friends.

I want to know what our profits came to.

Mr. Applegate is only a banker.

He doesn't appreciate the harmony of the spheres...

the rhythms between certain people.

For us...no introduction is necessary.

Do you know Gunther Pearse?

Pearse? Oh, I had an old aunt in Glasgow

that married one of the Edinburgh Pearses.

Uh, this Mr. Pearse

is the leading heavyweight contender.

A pugilist?

That's, uh, very interesting.

Another member of our company...

And here we have the Archduke Maurice of Valdofia.

Uh, abdicated.

At the time there was 17 feet of snow in my country,

but they still managed to make it hot for me.

If you're wondering why I still wear the, uh, uniform

of my former rank, it is, uh...sheer nostalgia.

Uh, sheer vanity, he means.

Edward Baring.

Ah. Ah.

Mr. Baring... I've read your books.

Aye, so have I.

Mr. Baring, here,

specializes in murder mysteries.

Ah, very nicely phrased, MacGordon.

All right, let's go. How about getting down to business, hm?

All right, shall we get started?

Amelia, gentlemen, be seated.

Uh, Mr. West, MacGordon, and you too, Pearse,

I'm afraid I must ask you to leave now.

We never allow non-members at our meetings.

Oh, under the circumstances,

don't you think you ought to make an exception?

I think not, Mr. West. Hm-hm.

Now, if you don't mind...

I do mind, sir.

Listen to what he has to say.

Why? I don't see why.

Confound it, Grevely,

let the fellow speak his peace, then give him walking papers,

and maybe, just maybe,

we'll get down to business at long last.

You're on, Mr. West.

Thank you, Miss Mateland.

The point I'm trying to make is this:

Dexter and Stimson were murdered.

That could happen to everyone else here in this room.

Ridiculous.

You're right, sir.

I should have said everyone here...

minus one.

Fascinating.

Are you suggesting that one of us in this house is greedy?

One of us?

My dear Baring, all of us are.

And don't you agree, Amelia?

Really, Maurice, I don't think that's particularly-

All right, all right.

The young man has spoken his peace.

We've all been properly frightened.

Where's that mineral water?

So now may I suggest that we bid him adieu,

so that the rest of us can get down to b-

I don't know who is responsible for this,

but now that we have all had our little laugh...

suppose we get back to business.

Hold it.

Mr. Applegate?

Oh!

I think you've proved your point, Mr. West.

One of us in this house is very probably a murderer.

No.

Was it not you, Mr. Baring,

who passed Mr. Applegate that carafe of mineral water?

Of course.

I came here in the middle of last night

and arranged all of this.

Rigged the carafe and, uh, the knife in the chair.

Well, I'm not going to worry about it anymore.

I no longer want to have a meeting in my house.

I move we adjourn...right now.

It won't work. The mechanism's jammed.

Where are your other exits? There are no other.

There's no other way to the outside,

and that door is all metal.

It's impervious to explosives or acids.

We're trapped.

Well, there must be some other way out of here.

You can always jump out the window, Amelia.

It's only 1,200 feet down to the surf.

How can you say a thing like that?

Oh.

Can't we at least get him out of here?

Uh, Pearse...

bring the body over here.

Put it in the wine cellar.

What now, Mr. West?

I discover who the murderer is.

The only problem is you all have the same motive.

West.

My job is to keep you alive, sir...

even if it is to face a murder trial.

An interesting group of suspects, huh, Mr. West?

Martin Grevely, cattle baron...

fortune founded on slaughter.

Hm.

Edward Baring...

a man who, in a sense, lives by murder...

on paper.

Robert Raven...

an inventor of munitions, a dealer in death.

Oh, a useful friend to presidents.

And myself...

accustomed to a life of leisure

and now, um, indubitably impoverished.

And, uh, why did you leave me out?

Because, my dear Amelia, your impressive protector

has just returned from Applegate's vintage tomb.

And how do I rate in this cast of characters, Mr. West?

Oh, even you could be guilty of murder.

Hm-hm.

Hm. I, for one, am glad

you showed up here tonight, Mr. West.

That does it.

I have seen enough for one evening, thank you.

Think everyone should go to their rooms. Good night.

Uh, Mr. West...

...we really picked the funny farm

this time, didn't we?

Not so funny.

He didn't walk up here alone.

I'm going down there.

Fine, I'll go with you.

No. Stay close to Raven.

Right.

I'm going to lie down.

All right. I'll be here.

Welcome to Subterranea, Mr. West...

the end of the line for you.

I think you'll appreciate

the appropriateness of your situation.

That cart is on rails.

At the end of the rails

is an opening in the face of the cliff.

From there, all you have to do is step down

a mere 1,200 feet.

Look down, Mr. West.

Get the idea?

Pyrotechnic propulsion.

oblivion.

Oh, I've also insured against

even the remotest possibility that you can escape.

Once the rocket sends you into flight,

I've arranged a secondary explosive device,

which will blow you to bits before you even reach the ocean.

You shouldn't have gone to all this trouble

for such a short trip.

Oh, no trouble, Mr. West.

Uh, no trouble at all.

Farewell, Mr. West.

Raven! Dr. Raven!

What was all that noise?

Come with me.

Uh, what are all the fireworks about?

Is, uh, someone celebrating something?

What was that light?

I heard a terrible noise.

Yes, what was it?

I don't know...

but I intend to find out.

Why, Mr. MacGordon...

The name is Gordon, not MacGordon.

Artemus Gordon.

My partner.

Jim.

Well, I'm glad you're alive.

What happened?

I've been working on the railroad, Artie.

Mr. Grevely knows what I'm talking about.

What railroad?

The railroad beneath your house.

I gave one of this country's foremost architects

a completely free hand in designing this house.

And if anything puzzles you, Mr. West, I suggest you ask him.

Go on, ask him.

Ask Martin Dexter.

But he's dead.

Uh, try to use this bit of irony in your new novel, huh, Baring?

There is one dead person who can tell us:

King Rafakhanan of Ancient Egypt.

In moments of sorrow and stress...

I ask him for guidance.

Ask him what?

Ask him to name...

who is the murderer among us.

Ridiculous.

Well, I'd have no objection.

It certainly is more amusing than sitting around

staring at each other.

I'd ask anyone at this point. What do we have to do?

Dim the lights...

sit around the table...

and join hands.

Uh, Baring.

Uh, won't you be seated?

Uh, no, no, no, no, my dear archduke.

Nobility before talent.

Hands, please.

O great King Rafakhanan

of the ancient world

and beyond the barrier of death...

speak of that which only you may truly know

without being destroyed by the terrible knowledge

of the sights that only you

may glimpse without being seared.

Of the sounds that only you may hear

without being deafened.

Summon for us the spirits of our murdered friends.

Only they...

through the barrier of death...

can identify the killer.

Tell us. Oh, tell us.

Grant us this terrible knowledge.

Tell us.

O great King Rafakhanan,

let us be blinded if necessary,

that the corporeal scales may fall from your eyes

and the vision of darkest night be granted us.

Speak. Speak.

Tell us. Oh, tell us.

No.

No!

What is wrong, o great king?

I cry.

I cry for you, Amelia.

Why?

Because you...

are the next to die.

No! It's not true.

Oh, tell me it's not true.

Artie...get the lights.

Where's Amelia?

What?

Baring.

Baring?

A treasure. Ch�teau Rothschild.

1806.

Hm.

Careful, my friend.

Yes, I'm coming.

Who is it?

Maurice.

It will be most rewarding for you to let me in.

Will you join me?

Ch�teau Rothschild,

bottled in that most 1806.

Oh, yes, yes, a real find.

Oh, you're preparing to leave, huh, Baring?

Oh, no. No, no, no.

Uh, well, let us say I am preparing to be ready to leave.

I...

Oh, why do I find it necessary to make excuses?

Yes, I am preparing to leave.

As a matter of fact, I can't wait to leave!

That's odd.

As a novelist...

I should think you would enjoy the gothic atmosphere here.

Let me tell you something, Maurice.

I have written a whole bookshelf full of books about characters

whose lives are about to be dramatically or suddenly

snuffed out...

but I do not relish finding myself

in a position where I do not know when or where

death is suddenly to appear.

Through the upholstery of a chair...

or from the depths of a crystal ball?

Or, yes, even from a wine glass.

How do you feel about an executioner's ax,

my dear Baring?

Well...?

No matter.

You are wise to be cautious, Baring.

Maurice, what is it? What is it?

The wine.

It has gone flat. Pity.

I shall have to search for another bottle. Bon voyage.

Dexter?

I try never to ask stupid questions,

but if you could explain, Mr. West.

How did Dexter manage to get himself killed for your benefit

and brought back to life for ours?

He reads a lot.

For instance...

one of Mr. Baring's lesser-known novels, The Matching Set.

a man murders his twin brother

to provide himself with an alibi.

A very excellent alibi too.

Even the police investigation failed to disclose the fact

that Martin Dexter... had a twin brother.

To kill your own brother...

You know, if I had thought of that,

I could still be on the throne.

Now, if Dexter was presumed to be dead...

he could never have collected from the tontine...

which can only mean that he has to have an accomplice.

I was waiting for one of you gentlemen

to come to that very obvious conclusion.

Well done, my love.

Checkmate, Mr. West.

Oh, Amelia's not afraid to pull the trigger.

It will only save me time.

We'll take care of Mr. Gordon and the rest in just a minute.

First, Mr. West and I

are going to have a little...

heart-to-heart.

Excuse me.

You've been very clever, Mr. West...

and a lot of trouble to me.

Very good, Mr. West.

Oh. Very angular.

You know, Mr. West...

I built this room merely as an intellectual device.

I never thought anyone would be so troublesome

that I'd have to use it.

I wouldn't if I were you, Mr. Gordon.

Another little present for you, Mr. West.

It's no use, Mr. West.

Thank you very much.

What happened to Dexter?

He's, uh, stuck in the rumpus room.

My friends, until we are somehow

released from this place...

may I suggest we wile away the time with a parlor game?

You know, in this country, there is one

which everyone seems to know how to play:

murder.

Everyone?

Oh, my, I do declare.

What a glorious little parlor car you boys have here.

Well, it isn't exactly Buckingham Palace-

No, but we call it home.

Uh, make yourselves comfortable, ladies.

You never got through telling us

whatever did happen with that tontine.

Remember? Oh, uh...

Well, they decided to make a different deal.

Now, they're turning the money over to a scholarship fund

for deserving students.

Yes. That's not only a noble gesture,

but it also does...wonders for the life expectancy.

Imagine giving up all those glorious little old millions.

Yes.

Whatever do you imagine Amelia and Dexter would have done

if they had knocked off all those others?

Oh, gotten married and lived happily ever after.

And speaking of Amelia...

this is one of her crystal balls.

Remember the last time we watched Amelia

do her crystal ball act, Artie?

Hm? Oh. Never forget it.

Not if I lived to be a million.

There was Amelia, moaning away...

"O great King Rafakhanan...

send us a sign."

And then she started to make passes over the ball.

It started to smoke.

And to glow.

Yes, with a kind of a...

white-hot incandescence.

Eerie, as though ready to explode.

Great scott, look.