Original subtitles

You'll have exactly 60 seconds, Loci.

Ah, there you are.

This is Mr. West and Mr. Gordon.

How do you do?

And this...

is Gerda Sharff.

The answer to all my prayers.

Oh, well, congratulations.

I hope you'll both be very happy.

Hang it all, Gordon, I didn't mean it that way.

Oh.

Now, Miss Sharff happens to be a member-

Correction. An ex-member of Count Manzeppi's organization,

who has offered to give us some very helpful information

about him.

Any questions?

Mmm. That's a delightful perfume you're wearing.

Uh, is that jasmine?

What? Oh, no. It's patchouli.

Oh, it's charming.

Could you tell us where we might find

Count Manzeppi now?

And how much money that information

is going to cost our government.

Confound it, West, that wasn't called for.

Please, colonel, let me.

The answer to your question is not a penny.

There. You see, Jim?

Shame on you.

Uh, you do want something, though, don't you?

Yes. Help. To escape.

Count Manzeppi has a long arm,

and when he finds out what I'm-

Here.

Colonel!

Where, uh... Where's the young lady?

Gone.

Luncheon appointment, no doubt. I'll take the stairs.

I'll take the high road.

Well, she wasn't on the stairs.

All I could find was that.

Little souvenir she probably dropped.

To my cherished antagonists,

if you have survived my little surprise, that is.

Let this serve as a reminder that my creative capacity

to delude you is infinite.

My resources are endless.

But my patience,

sad to say, is quite limited.

Need I say this?

You have been warned

by Count Carlos Mario Vincenzo Robespierre Manzeppi...

your servant.

The scent of patchouli is in the air.

Can Gerda be far behind?

Oh, wait, please.

Ah, yes, of course.

"The long arm of Count Manzeppi,"

as you put it.

Now, there's a coincidence.

I have a dressing gown

exactly like that.

Oh, please, Mr. West. I had to take a bath.

All that plaster dust from the explosion

was in my hair.

I do hope you don't mind my borrowing this.

Mind? I'm grateful.

I never knew how delightfully it could be filled out.

And, Mr. West, you saved my life back there.

I want you to know how very, very grateful I am.

You're very good at that, Gerda.

Good at what?

That shy, little-schoolgirl routine...

when actually you're as hard as nails, aren't you?

With a minimum of tricks, Mr. West.

Give me your gun belt if you want to stay alive.

Now let's get down to cases.

You have something I dropped, and I want it back.

A little toy chicken.

That's it. Give it to me.

I'm sorry, but it's locked in the colonel's vault.

Drop by and pick it up tomorrow.

I want it now.

What's the big hurry?

You saw what happened in Colonel Armstrong's office.

I'm on the run. You silly, silly little girl.

You're not running anywhere.

I hope you're not misguided enough

to think that I won't shoot.

Oh, no.

I'm sure you would

and I'm sure you'd enjoy it,

but your concern should be out there.

Count Manzeppi's somewhere out there.

That's enough of your tired little tricks.

He didn't see me come here.

Count Manzeppi doesn't have to see anything.

His specialty is figuring out what people will do.

And right now the count is probably figuring,

"If I were Gerda

"and I were on the run, where would I run to?

Ah, yes. James West's railroad car."

People really should make a point

of listening to you, Mr. West.

He makes a great deal of sense,

doesn't he, Loci?

My compliments, sir.

I, uh- I would invite you and your friend in,

except, uh,

you are already, aren't you?

Gerda!

My flower.

I'm afraid you've been very naughty.

Don't think I won't shoot, count. I will.

Bless you, my child, of course you'll shoot me.

Don't the ladies have unique ways

of showing their affection?

You're a connoisseur in these matters, Mr. West.

How would you rate our Gerda on the scale of pulchritude?

Very high.

And in the matter of morals?

Very low.

Hm-hm. I agree.

On both counts.

Gerda, my blossom, you seem troubled.

There's no need to be.

You're among friends.

But then, friends don't shoot each other, do they?

Any more than they steal from one another.

Return to me that which you stole from me

and I'll forgive you...

after I punish you.

Ha, ha. But more of that anon.

I do admire your quarters, sir.

Very smartly gotten up.

I could be quite comfortable here.

But then, I seem to have told you that on another occasion,

and you haven't taken the hint yet.

Very nice, indeed.

Don't you agree, Luther?

It's okay.

Luther Coil.

Another connoisseur of impeccable taste.

Delayed adolescent, wouldn't you say?

At heart, aren't we all?

Show Mr. West how your toy works, Luther.

You throw it up, you get ready...

you throw it up and you aim...

you throw it up...

and you fire.

Some fun. Huh?

Very nice.

Okay...

now let's start playing rough.

Come, come, Luther.

Greediness is unbecoming.

Let others amuse themselves.

Dodo.

Dodo le Blanc.

Another valued colleague of mine

from the isle of Mauritius.

Solid,

foursquare, with his feet fixed firmly on the ground.

So to speak.

Dodo.

How well-named your colleague is.

Hmm?

"Dodo:

"large flightless bird from the isle of Mauritius

distinguished for its clumsiness"?

Which eventually became extinct.

I do not become extinct, monsieur.

I make others extinct.

Hmm. You cope very well, Mr. West.

Very well, indeed. But then, you always did.

It's just a knack.

Behind you!

Want to play some bounce ball, Mr. West?

I got the ball.

And guess who we're going to take turns

bouncing it off, monsieur?

Dear me, Mr. West...

this looks like a situation

that would strain even your talents for survival.

Can you cope?

No problem at all.

Hold it right there.

Ugh.

Upon my word, gentlemen, that was well done.

You planned this little ploy?

Well, let's just say that we stole a page

from the handbook on tactics by that eminent tactician-

Count Manzeppi,

whom we figured would be coming our way

in his search for Gerda.

After figuring out that she might be

coming out our way too.

Are we getting a little too complicated for you, count?

Hmm? Oh, no. I adore complicated devices.

Witness my affection for Gerda.

Come along, my love.

We mustn't wear out our welcome, must we?

Sit down, count.

We wouldn't think of seeing you go.

I have no quarrel with you or Mr. Gordon.

But the United States government does

have a quarrel with you.

And your two juvenile delinquent friends there.

So just sit down, count.

On the other hand,

we don't have any reason to detain Miss Sharff, do we?

I can't think of any.

Then if she were to, uh, sashay out of here,

what could we do about it?

Not one blessed thing.

More of this anon.

You look a little upset, Count Manzeppi.

The article that Gerda pinched from you, perhaps?

Must have been something very valuable.

In point of fact,

the value was largely sentimental.

It was a toy chicken.

But it's the principle of the thing.

Artie, while Count Manzeppi and I are discussing

the finer points of principle,

why don't you tap off a message to headquarters?

It'd be a pleasure.

Uh, Jim, let's, uh...

I never thought I'd hear myself say this.

Ahem. Let's search the monkey.

Nice going, Artie.

Count, if you have any influence with your furry little friend,

get him to hand over that tin cup...gently.

Loci, never argue with anyone

when you're on the wrong side of a gun. Hmm?

Do as the man says.

Thank you.

Come along, Loci. Where are your manners?

Return the compliment.

He's gone.

Most of him.

All right, Wanda.

Cut it.

Nothing, huh?

It just doesn't figure.

Here's a chicken manufactured

similar to thousands of them all over the country.

There has to be some manufacturer's name,

some country's name, some casting stamp.

But you can't find anything.

I've photographed that refugee from a henhouse

from every conceivable angle.

I've enlarged it under the belopticon.

I've examined it under that microscope.

There's nothing, just nothing.

Too bad, Artie.

If we can find out who made this,

we might find out why the elusive count

is so interested in it.

Oh, how well I know.

Ahem. Excuse me, gentlemen.

The, uh, colonel's waiting for your report.

Oh, yes. Thank you. Well, come on, Jim.

We may as well get this over with.

"Heinrich Sharff."

Heinrich Sharff.

Oh, my apologies to Mr. Gordon and the colonel.

I've just developed a splitting headache. Bye.

Yes, sir?

I believe Mr. Sharff made this toy.

I'd like to confirm it.

Certainly, sir. I'll show it to him.

I've got a better idea.

Show me Mr. Sharff.

As you please, sir. I'll fetch him.

Amuse yourself till then.

Thank you.

Count, I never tire of your entrances.

Very important, aren't they?

After all, what is life

but an entrance, a brief performance,

then an exit?

To coin a phrase.

Benji tells me you have a bird.

Bird?

Little bird that goes, peck...

peck...

peck.

Oh, yes. That bird.

Well, I brought it here to Mr. Sharff

to see if he could repair it.

Oh, by the way, is, uh, Gerda related to Mr. Sharff?

He's her uncle or something, I believe.

Forgive me! Herr Sharff,

may I present Mr. West.

It is a pity, isn't it?

He was an enormously talented man.

He made the chicken you have to my exact specifications,

but then he decided to keep it.

Theft most foul.

I ask you, what could I do but...

It seems everyone winds up trying to keep the chicken,

including Gerda.

Oh, yes.

You know about that.

It's odd. It seems to be contagious.

Now no more monkey business. Drop your gun belt.

You have put us through

a great deal of trouble, Mr. West.

You might have known in the end

you'll have to yield the bird.

But first I would like to be allowed

to teach monsieur West a dancing lesson.

All right, Dodo.

If it doesn't kill you,

it'll be very good for your soul.

You are not afraid, Monsieur West?

Perhaps you have ice water in your veins?

Kismet. What will be, will be.

I believe a man's destiny

is written in the stars.

Benji, get him.

He thinks he got away.

So very good of you to drop in, Mr. West.

I'll have the bird now.

The bird.

Oh, win a few, lose a few, huh, count?

Benji.

That's not what he showed me, maestro.

It was the chicken.

I swear it.

He had the real chicken. I saw it with my own-

Search our honored guest,

with his permission, of course.

Mr. West,

in the past,

you and I have had our little differences,

but we would do well to remember

the bard's immortal reminder:

Strive mightily,

but eat and drink as friends.

Won't you join me?

Why not?

Five minutes with you always does wonders for my appetite.

Here for your edification

is a savory dish I prepared with my own hand,

and it is my humble wish

that you find it as memorable as those timeless words

of the Byzantine emperor Herodotus-

"If you can't beat 'em,

kill 'em."

What it comes down to is this:

West suddenly gets a notion

to go skylarking off to heaven knows where,

and just like that, he picks up and goes.

Sir, if Jim just picked up and went, as you say,

it had to be to follow a hot lead,

something that just wouldn't wait.

Leaving us to wait, huh?

Just how long are we supposed to sit around here,

twiddling our thumbs, hm?

I don't know, sir.

If there were only some way

we could make contact with the enemy, I-

All right. Come on.

What does that Mona Lisa smile mean this time?

Uh, nothing. It just occurs to me, sir,

if we can't make contact with the enemy,

maybe we can make the enemy contact us.

I'm taking this. Don't try and stop me.

Relax, Gerda.

I know you've got a gun in your other hot little hand,

but you don't want this chicken.

Watch.

White milk chocolate.

It's an expert copy, if I do say so myself.

All right, you've had your little joke.

Now I want the real chicken.

I want the real Jim West.

Did it ever occur to you that we could both

get what we wanted by working together?

Welcome back from your trip, Mr. West.

Thank you.

I remember thinking it was the kind

from which there is no return.

No, no, no.

That comes later.

This time you were merely lulled to sleep

by a quick-acting opiate triad

from the tasty dish I set before you,

during which time my colleagues and I

searched for the chicken you so cleverly hid.

Good hunting?

Point of fact, no.

I want that bird, do you hear me?

You must have a real sentimental attachment for it.

Benji.

Mr. West,

you almost made me lose my temper,

and that's not an easy thing to do, I assure you.

By the by, in case your curiosity is aroused,

these are the instruments

with which Benji will perform on you

the ancient oriental rite known as-

What is that lovely name again?

The divine stripping away of the husk.

Yes, that's it.

In less flowery language,

it refers to the little-known art of flaying,

the skillful removal of the skin,

leaving only thousands

of outraged nerve endings exposed.

Mr. West, long before Benji is finished with you,

you'll not only tell us where you hid the chicken,

you'll plead eloquently for the swift mercy of death.

Just what is the big attraction

for that little bird?

Are you ready, maestro?

Wait a minute.

We owe Mr. West the usual last request.

What is the big attraction,

you ask?

It lays these kind of eggs.

Nut and bolt of solid gold.

And this.

A few nights ago,

these homely little objects were made of iron.

I myself placed them beside the chicken

by the light of a full moon, you understand,

for that is a basic prerequisite,

and before my very eyes,

they changed to purest gold.

Does that bring anything to mind?

The philosopher's stone, of course.

Yes. The philosopher's stone,

the fabulous stone that transmits base metal into gold,

the stone that demented old alchemists of the Middle Ages,

frittered away their lives trying to compound,

and look, you...

one of them did compound it.

Said stone is now inside the chicken.

A convenient cover from prying eyes.

How you acquired this stone

might make interesting telling.

That story would weave

a tangled thread

down into the misty stench

of ancient crypts,

through the brooding bazaars of Damascus,

up to the high wastes of Tibet,

watered by a small ocean of blood.

How time flies when you're having fun.

You had your curiosity satisfied, Mr. West,

and your time has come for Benji's treatment.

He's apt to prove unpleasantly athletic.

Have Luther and Dodo lend you a hand.

Mr. West...

enjoy.

Lucky for you. Look what my next move would have been, Dodo.

Hello, boys. Heinrich.

We're closed for the day.

It's Hansee.

We don't want any.

Your Uncle Hansee from Pennsylvanee.

That's all right, sonny. I am not here on business.

Here, have a smoke.

That's a good eastern smoker

that's on me to you.

It's your Uncle Hansee, Heinrich, here all the way...

♪ Da-da dee dee da-da dum ♪

♪ Dee dee dee-doo da doo ♪

♪ Da da dee dee ♪

Mr. Sharff didn't mention any Uncle Hansee.

He didn't?

Hoo-hoo. I answer that in two words:

oom-possible.

Hee hee. I am the only relative he has that's an uncle,

and he wouldn't mention me?

No, that don't make sense.

Heinrich, I brought food.

We're going to have a marvelous celebration,

and then we all going to have a lot of laughs.

Here, catch that.

♪ Dee dee dee-dee-doo da da da-doo ♪

have a little bit of spritz water.

Sleep tight, boys.

Don't stumble on the way up,

Mr. Gordon.

Heinrich, it's your Uncle Hansee from Penn-

Oh, hello.

Oh, you must all be friends of Heinrich's, I guess, huh?

Would you like a little something to eat I brought?

How about some spritz water?

Oh, what a time to run outta gas.

How'd you figure out where I was?

Little bird told me named Gerda.

What's all the fuss about?

Wonderful bird, Gerda.

I wish I could turn my back on her.

Right there, Artie.

We can reach that.

How's that?

I got it.

Coming down. Go.

Brilliant, Mr. West.

The one point of the compass where I never thought to look.

Uh, speaking of things brilliant, uh,

was our comely young thing part of the plot

when she looked me up?

It really went very well, didn't it?

Oh, yes.

The bird, Mr. West.

It would be a deplorable mistake

for you to assume that Gerda won't shoot to kill.

I'm sure she would.

The only thing I'm wondering

is why she permits you to get the brass ring.

Yes, considering the fact

that she's the only one carrying a gun.

Ah, yes. Divide and conquer.

Well, it's a bit heavy-handed, gentlemen,

but at least you're trying.

And, uh, after all,

there's never been a prize quite like that

since the world began.

We'll take that bird.

Gerda, I forgave you once.

The bird.

And remember what you said about my shooting.

It's useless, my dear. You won't get away with it.

Oh, I think I will. You made one mistake.

You showed me your escape route on the roof, remember?

Come on.

Bye.

Gentlemen,

you have won.

But allow me the final courtesy

of a formal speech of capitulation.

The moral of all this

is that no sensible sorcerer

should ever have an apprentice.

I stand before you destitute,

deserted,

and unarmed.

I surrender.

Adieu, my blossom.

The moon was your undoing.

Confess it, sir.

Until this instant,

you didn't believe my story

of the philosopher's stone, did you?

Dust into dust,

and under dust to lie.

Why Gerda?

Why not this gun, for instance?

Why Gerda?

Something to do with her soul, I suppose.

Hi-ho.

Another chapter closed,

another horizon to turn one's eyes to.

My friends...

Farewell.

Count,

Mr. Gordon and I have come for you.

Have you forgotten that?

You're threatening me with a golden gun.

I don't think I've ever been threatened

with a golden gun before. It's charming.

A golden gun that fires a golden bullet, Count Manzeppi.

No, gentlemen.

Gerda has been transformed

into a wisp of smoke,

as has the treasure

for which I searched the world over.

Why not the gun also?

Later, gentlemen. Later,

at my choice of time and place.

I assure you,

we shall meet again.

And until then, comfort yourselves

with those ageless words

of the Pompeiian composer Herodotus

Behold, ladies,

24-karat gold leaf,

all that remains of Miss Gerda Sharff.

Or could it perhaps be Count Manzeppi's chicken?

You know, Jim, I was thinking.

If we could take these and expose them

to the same influences that acted on them originally,

they might be reconstituted

so that they take on their original structure.

Artie, excuse me, but I'd like to make two important points.

Number one, we're going to be late for the theater,

and number two, we have failed to toast

the world's greatest cook.

Mama Angelina.

You liked it, huh? You enjoyed it?

Still, there is plenty more left. Wait.

No, no, that's fine. Thank you very much.

Come on, girls, let's go. We're going to be late.

Goodbye and thank you.

Good night, mama, and thank you again.

You will marry me, won't you?

Oh, such a nice little chicken. Peck-a-peck-a-peck.

And my little Dominique will enjoy so much

if I bring it home.