All language subtitles for S04E04. Death at Bargain Prices.English

(Clock chimes)

(Clock continues to chime)

(Lift whirrs)

(Gunshots)

(Indistinct conversations)

May I help you, sir?

- Yes, may I see some hats?
- Headwear? Certainly, sir.

Mr Massey.
Our Mr Massey will escort you.

- Headwear, Mr Massey.
- Yes, sir.

And Mr Massey, your carnation
is crooked. Kindly adjust it.

Yes, sir. I'm sorry, sir. This way, sir.

(Sighs)

Ah, Steed!

What a pleasant surprise
meeting you here, my dear.

I think I'll just browse around the stock
if you don't mind.

- Certainly.
- What do you mean a pleasant surprise?

- There I was, deep in thermodynamics ...
- I think a curly brim?

You'll be wearing a curly brim
for a collar unless ...

One of our agents was murdered
yesterday. His name was Moran.

He was shot six times
and dumped in an alley.

- Ostentatious.
- Eh?

- Six times.
- Oh, yes.

He was on to something big,
but unfortunately we don't know what.

Ah, I think this cuts
rather a dash, don't you?

What are we doing here?

I've only got one lead.
This was found in his pocket.

It's a receipt from Pinters.

- An ordinary receipt.
- Look at the date.

- And yesterday was Sunday.
- The store was closed.

- Did you find anything to suit you, sir?
- I'll take 12 of these on account.

Certainly, sir.

I've got to collect something
for a friend. What department was it?

Hm, 19.

- Through the next department, sir.
- Thank you.

May help us to find out
what Moran was buying.

(Peel) Mm.

- Did he have any children?
- Not so far as I know.

May I help you?

- Oh, yes. Is this department 19?
- That is correct.

- Then it's the right place.
- Yes, of course, of course.

This must be very happy time
for both of you.

Oh, it's not exactly that.

I wonder if you're buying a cot,
if I might recommend this one, sir?

Baby will be very happy in it.

I think baby's too big.

Come along, my dear.

Excuse us.

Now, what would he have wanted
with a pram?

Perhaps his nanny
had her licence endorsed.

For reckless pushing?

- That's funny.
- What?

- Isn't Old Bates. It's Royal Creighton.
- It's quite an easy mistake.

Not to anyone
with half an idea about china.

Old Bates and Royal Creighton
are as different as chalk from cheese.

- Someone doesn't know his job.
- Perhaps.

Perhaps they need an assistant.

- Mrs Peel?
- Yes.

Jarvis.

House dick.

Detective.

- Settling in OK?
- Yes, thank you.

That's the ticket.
Ever worked in a store before?

No.

Well, watch out for those
with big shopping bags, the open type.

Especially if they put it on a counter.

Get half the store in a bag like that.
Never see it go.

Oh, cheques. Don't accept
any big ones without I say so. Got it?

I think so.

You'll do.

Oh, erm ...

(Whispers) Don't worry
about not knowing the ropes.

None of 'em here do.

May I have some service, please?

Charming!

I asked the chief predator
where to find you and he said,

"Our Mrs Peel is in ladies' underwear."

I rattled up the stairs three at a time.

Merry quips department
on the fifth floor, sir.

"Our Mrs Peel. Our."

Only been working here half a day,

already enfolded
to the communal bosom.

- Find anything?
- Yes.

None of the staff have the faintest idea
about running a store.

Whatever they are, they're not salesmen.

- Fact?
- Instinct.

- Interesting.
- What have you been doing?

Pinters were taken over a year ago,
lock, stock and barrel,

a chain of stores, by Horatio Kane.

- King Kane?
- One of the original fathers of industry.

That's what they meant.

I heard the staff talking about
the "king upstairs".

- He's here?
- Mm. Living at the top of the building.

A disused department converted for him.

- Really? Where is it?
- The department of Discontinued Lines.

- You should fit in rather well.
- That's a matter of opinion.

It's the top of the building, sir.

Up the stairs
and beyond the staff restaurant.

Extremely civil of you, madam.
Thank you.

(Clanging)

(Lift whirrs)

Mr Wentworth? It's Farthingale here, sir.

I fear there may be an intruder
somewhere on the top floor.

Yes, sir. I understand.

(Cocks gun)

(♪ Piano music playing on gramophone)

Wentworth?

Wentworth?

- Who are you?
- My name is Steed, sir. John Steed.

I don't know you.

No, sir. My company told me to look
for business. We're efficiency experts.

We step in and try to ginger up
any business that may be failing.

Yes, know what you want,
go out and get it.

That's the way fortunes are made.
The key to power.

You think business is failing?

I wasn't very impressed
with what I saw downstairs.

Weren't you now? Weren't you?

Your staff seem to be inexperienced,
which in my book is inefficiency.

But don't you worry.
My company will put it right.

If we just have your cooperation,
access to your records and ...

The department of Discontinued Lines.

That's what they call this place.

Discontinued Lines.

Relics of a bygone age, Steed.

Yes, sir.

A glorious age.

Gracious, leisurely, ordered.

A time ... for many things.

A machine was a thing of joy then.

(Horn honks)

Built to last a man's lifetime.

Now it's out of date
before it's left the assembly line.

Rush, tear, grab and grub.

That's life today.

Out of date.
That's what they say about me, you know.

They say that this is where I belong.
A discontinued line.

The old man run down at last.

Yes, run down.

They say that I live
only for the good old days,

try to recapture them.

Well, that's partly true,
but it's only half of it.

A man can possess a Michelangelo,
can't he, Steed,

and still appreciate a Picasso.

I can't compete any more,
that's what they say.

I haven't got the grasp
of modern technique.

Haven't got the grasp!

Well, I'll surprise them yet.

I'll show them
that Horatio Kane can still ...

Yes, sir?

How can you show them?

Efficiency expert, eh?

- Yes, sir, but you were just about to ...
- You're talking to the wrong man.

I'm just a sick old man.

Foolish, sick old man.

Robert Wentworth
governs the policy of this store.

- You'll have to impress him.
- (Wentworth) That's correct.

I'm sorry about this disturbance, sir.

This man had no right to come up here.

He says his name's Steed.

Thinks he can improve our business.
Well, perhaps he can.

After all, he did get up hereto see me.

This way, please.

I enjoyed our little chat. Very enjoyable.

You should have used
the proper channels, Mr Steed.

Written to us. Made an appointment.

You'd have turned me down.

Perhaps.

You see, we have to be very careful
whom we allow in to see Mr Kane.

He's a frail man these days. Susceptible.

So many characters try to talk him into
putting up money for dubious schemes.

We have to protect him.

Excuse me.

It's not always easy.

Old age can sometimes be querulous.

On the whole we do a very good job.

Once in a while
someone finds a chink in our armour.

I imagined you used
the emergency stairs.

Yes ... We'll post a man there in future.

Well, goodbye, Mr Steed.

- Good night, Mrs Peel.
- Good night.

- See you tomorrow.
- Mm-hm.

Really, Jarvis,
what this store coming to, I do not know!

What's up now?

Another staff meeting tonight
and again I'm not invited.

- I told Mr Wentworth.
- Another one tonight, eh?

- The third this week.
- Same as before? Senior staff only?

The selected few. I am chief window
dresser here. One might think that ...

Everything's changing here since the
takeover. It might be just growing pains.

Well, I hope you're right.

Is that usual?
Three staff meetings in one week?

Sometimes more than that.
Sometimes every night of the week.

Even Sundays?

Mr Wentworth believes in working
his staff hard around here, doesn't he?

Where do they hold their meetings?
In the store?

That's right and I should get that idea
right out of your head.

Staying on to find out what happens.

Why should I want to stay on?

They're pretty careful about that.
They check the store from top to bottom.

I've seen you today,

listening in to every conversation,
watching every little move.

You didn't come here
just to sell ladies' nighties, Mrs Peel.

(Whispers) Look, I'm with you.

There is something odd
going on round here.

Well, I could help you.

Nothing much escapes old Jarvis.

Besides, I've got a pass key.

Ministry of Labour.

Not satisfied with the way
things are being run around here.

Need to know more.

You can reach me. Here.

I'll keep my eyes open. Let you know.

Good night, Mrs Peel.

Good night, Mr Farthingale.

(Rings)

(Sighs)

I know just how you feel.
Come on. Open up.

Go away! I'm not at home!

Mrs Peel, you can't possibly
send me away.

I'm contagious. I've got beriberi,
myxomatosis and hard pad.

But I'm grievously wounded.

- Come in.
- Cyclops.

- Ooh ...
- Well ...

Whatever happened to you?

Department of Discontinued Lines.
Wentworth threw me out.

I've got just what you need.

(Chuckles) I'm thinking of lodging
a complaint against the management.

- They must have something to hide.
- Jarvis thinks so, too.

House detective. He's agreed to help.

- Cheers.
- I expected a larger glass.

(Groans)

Oh ...

Really, Steed, the fuss
you make over a tiny bruise.

- Tiny? What on earth's that?
- Hm?

It's a exploded molecular construction.

So that's what hit me.

(Groans)
I feel as though I'm sprouting two heads.

Have you room for expansion?

You're supposed to be
a ministering angel!

- Here I am grievously hurt ...
- Bruised.

My pride was hurt.

Come now. Surely you've been
thrown out of places before.

Only the best places.

You'll survive.

- Would you like a drink?
- Intravenously.

Well, you didn't waste your time today.
You made an ally.

- Jarvis?
- You think you can you trust him?

I don't know.

Ah! The corpuscles
are beginning to function normally.

Good. Then perhaps you can function
normally and get back to work.

I have a paper to prepare
on thermodynamics.

A conflict of science and humanity.

Equations. Isotherms.

I have a dynamic, too, you know.

- Mm, very colourful.
- Red-blooded.

Good night, Steed.
You've had a strenuous day.

Ooh! You're quite right.

I broke into Wentworth's
apartment earlier. Found this.

Makes very interesting reading.

Well, gentlemen, our campaign
is nearing its conclusion.

It's been a long hard road.

Sometimes a dangerous one,
but the end is in sight.

Our main strike area is set up.

All that remains now is
to trigger off the final action.

When will that be, Major?

Yes, when is D-day?

(Wentworth) That depends
on the professor, of course.

And on your security arrangements,
Marco. Are they all fixed up?

Well, how are you, professor? Fit
and ready for another night's work, hm?

We're all getting anxious. We'd like
to know when the job will be completed.

Oh, come, come now. Surely ...

Surely you're not going
to be stubborn again, hm?

I thought we'd cured you of that.

I'm doing my best.
Working as fast as I can.

What else do you expect when I'm kept
cooped up here all the time?

You'll have to work faster. Then you
won't be cooped up here any longer.

Will you?

(Groans)

(Phone rings)

Oh, get your wires crossed.

(Sighs)

Hello?

Yes. Who's speaking?

(Whispers) It's Jarvis. Jarvis!

I told you I'd keep my eyes peeled,
didn't I?

I found something that might interest you.

Ground floor. Camping display.

I left the side door unlocked.
Make it snappy.

(Steed) So you left the body there.

I had to. Couldn't raise the alarm
without explaining what I was doing there.

- This morning?
- Not a sign of it.

- Probably dumped in an alleyway.
- Mm-hm.

(Farthingale) Mrs Peel?

Excuse me.

Thank you.

It's quite simple, sir.
Just pull a few strings.

Just like the civil service.

Quick promotion.

From lingerie to space-age woman
in one big jump.

Store policy – move you around.

So even with one man dead,
business as usual.

Not quite.
Mr Glynn was dismissed this morning.

Chief window dresser.

- Where is he now?
- You might find him through there.

- Mr Glynn?
- Yes?

I'm John Steed.
I'm a shareholder in Pinters.

I've been hearing
some disturbing rumours

about the way the store is being run.

Rumours? They're not rumours.
This store has gone to pot.

Look at me.
After six years of faithful service ...

- Why were you sacked, Mr Glynn?
- Your guess is as good as mine.

All I did was to tell Mr Wentworth
about my ground-floor display.

- Display? What about it?
- Someone keeps changing it.

Last night and the night before.

I set out a display on the ground floor
and then next morning, it's all changed.

Strange things happening here,
Mr Steed.

Six years of faithful service and I won't
be the last to go. Julie will be next.

Julie?

Julie Thompson in the food market.
She'll be next.

- It isn't her fault about the food.
- Eh?

The food that disappears
during the night!

- Good morning.
- Good morning, sir.

- Cheese.
- Yes, sir.

Stilton. Port-fed.
Its feet firmly manacled.

Firmly ma...
You want a very ripe one, sir?

Leaping about.

I'll see if I catch one for you.

Splendid! I'll take half an ounce.

Will that be all, sir?

Goodness me, no.
I have a list as long as my arm.

"One tomato, two egg whites,"

"a handful of chives, half an onion
and a squeeze of lemon."

- It's a recipe.
- So I gathered.

- Do you want it wrapped?
- Except for the squeeze of lemon.

Pour in a pint-and-a-half of burgundy.
Add 3 lbs of best steak.

And leave to marinate.

Mmm. Sounds marvellous.

More than enough for two.
We can leave out the half an onion.

Is that a proposition?

More of a sly suggestion.

Where does the food disappear to?

I've been speaking to Mr Glynn.

Where do you think
the food disappears to?

- I've really no idea.
- But it does disappear.

Oh, come now. I'm trying to help.

Well, I really haven't any idea.

All I know is that for the past few weeks
food has been disappearing.

During the night?

It seems the only possible explanation.

Any particular kind of food?

Cans of fruit, bread, some ripe Stilton.

And some bumble bees.

Honey bumble bees.
We import them from Japan.

- And all this disappears every night?
- Just lately.

- It's funny now I come to think of it.
- Eh?

The honey bumblebees.
Why someone should steal them.

I mean, we hardly ever
sell any in the store.

We only stocked them because
a customer placed a special order.

Oh, what customer is this?

My Popple.
Well, Professor Popple, really.

You know, the one
who disappeared a few months ago.

More?

(Doorbell rings)

Too many late nights.

I've got nine-and-a-half minutes
to finish lunch and get back to the store.

- I brought you bottle of wine.
- Lovely.

Specially imported for Pinters.

- Do you know a Professor Popple?
- Popple?

Mm, physicist.
Expert on nuclear fission. Atom splitter.

Did he disappear a few weeks ago?

That's right.
He was addicted to bumble bees.

Honey bumble bees.
Pinters keep a special stock in for him.

Eight minutes and 45 seconds.
Pinters and Popple, any connection?

Moran was the catalyst.

Mmm.

Found dead with a receipt
from Pinters in his pocket.

It was dated on Sunday.

So he must have broken in.

It's worth seeing
if it has any special significance.

Hm, I shall use it when I get
the opportunity. Oh, eight minutes!

Go on with the jigsaw.

- Kane?
- Discontinued. Senile.

(Chuckles) Perhaps. Wentworth?

Pinters' strong-arm salesman.

I shall take great pleasure
in closing my account there!

Oh, seven minutes 40. Go on.

Jarvis, Glynn, Julie Thompson.

Er ... Professor Popple. Bumble bees.

(Alarm rings)

Time's up! Got to go!

Bumble bees. Bumble bees.

Now who would want to steal
some honeyed bumble bees?

Pilfering, Massey.

You know I don't stand for pilfering.

No, sir.
It's just for the professor, sir.

He's not a bad sort of chap, sir, and
he's not too happy with the grub so ...

- Well, I thought ...
- You could disobey my orders.

- Where's Marco?
- Marco, sir?

Yes.
He's in charge of the commissariat.

Where the devil is he?

Downstairs, I think, sir.
Trying his luck with the new girl.

Mrs Peel?

Tony Marco.
I'm the chief accountant here.

Would you mind
checking your documents

to make sure
I have all the details correct?

(Sighs) Mm, that's correct.

I noticed one important omission.
Your telephone number.

I think you have the necessary details.

We ought to keep all our goods
on the top shelf.

Have you nothing better to do,
Mr Marco?

I'm open to suggestions.

Can you think of a better way
of passing the time?

As a matter of fact, I can.

This receipt doesn't seem
to belong to our department.

- I wonder if you'd mind checking it?
- For you, anything.

- Where did you get this?
- I found it. Why, what's wrong?

Oh, nothing. at all.
You did right to show it to me.

Mr Wentworth will want
to talk to you about it.

This way, Mrs Peel.

Would you wait here for a moment?

(Kane) In the old days, I'd have handled
the whole business, the whole shebang.

This way it's second-hand.
I'm putting a great deal of trust in you.

- It's not misplaced, sir. I assure you.
- I hope not, I hope not.

- Major ...
- Excuse me, sir.

- Marco, I want to see you.
- Not as much as I want to see you.

(Whispers) Take a look at that.

- Trouble?
- Nothing we can't handle, sir.

- Where did this turn up?
- That new girl, Mrs Peel.

Did she say where she found it?

Thought I'd better leave that to you.
She's downstairs. I locked her in.

(Grunts)

Idiot!

What can I do for you, sir?

Oh, the lady assistant
who served me earlier ...

- Mrs Peel?
- Yes.

- What about her?
- Well, it's nothing, really.

She said she might have a drink with me.

Mrs Peel was dismissed
for philandering with the customers.

This is Pinters.
We don't stand for that here.

No, quite.

Well, I'm afraid that Mrs Peel
is no longer with us.

(Tuts)

Anything else you might require, sir?
The store is just about to close.

Well ...

No, thank you.

- Farthingale?
- Sir?

- Everything's secure, Major.
- Good.

- Where have you got Mrs Peel?
- Furniture department, sir.

- Who's guarding her?
- Massey.

Right. I'll go check the detonation area.

- Carry on.
- Sir.

That's the winner!

(Grunts)

(Chair rocking)

(Peel groans)

Eeny, meeny, miny, Mo.

(Grunts)

That's how I like my mummies.
Well preserved.

Ah. Carpet bagger.

- I take it you're not hurt.
- Only my pride.

- Steed, there's a laboratory upstairs.
- That fits in. Professor Popple.

- Oh!
- Hey!

- Drugged.
- Steed ...

Store receipts.

Uh-huh. Feed cards for this computer.

High-pressure accounting.

Let's see, shall we?

Hold on to your hat.

It's a perfect cover.

Conceal these programming cards
by making them look like store receipts.

- Moran must have stumbled onto it.
- It isn't a shopping list.

I told you to hold on to your hat.
I think it's the plans for a nuclear bomb.

Now how can you tell, Madam Curie?

Thermodynamics, Mr Magoo.
The two sciences are co-related.

The bomb! Must stop them!
Got to stop them!

This bomb, is it your invention?

My job is finished.

Where have they got it, Professor?
Where have they hidden it?

In the store.

It's down there in the store.

I've got to stop them.
I've got to stop them!

- Oh, well, we better start somewhere.
- Yeah.

What sizes do bombs come in, anyway?

- It could be any size from this to this.
- Oh, let's just look.

The size depends on what they intend ...

What would Pinters want
with an atom bomb, anyway?

Perhaps they intend
mushrooming out, expanding.

(Popping)

"You have a kind and
considerate nature." How true.

You search upstairs.

(Groans)

- Any luck?
- Oh, no.

Nor me.

We've searched this store from top
to bottom and there's not a sign of it.

- It has to be here.
- What makes you so sure?

A feeling. Intuition.
Let's have a look at that.

Toddler's Toy Fair, ladies' underwear.
gentlemen's outfitting,

large persons, small persons.

We've been through the lot.
It has to be somewhere!

Steed ...

- We found our bomb.
- We're standing in it.

What have you got to lose?

"Inefficient," that's what you said,
wasn't it? "Inefficient."

Well, what do you think now?
My biggest takeover bid yet.

Yes.

This store is a bomb.
The entire fabric of it.

- Mr Kane!
- Oh, nonsense, Farthingale.

It can't do any harm now.

Besides, I'm proud of my scheme.

I want them to know.

- What were you hoping to achieve?
- A takeover, Mrs Peel.

Tomorrow I'm going
to take over the entire country.

Hold it to ransom with my bomb.

It won't work.

They'll agree to your demands,
then play for time,

locate the bomb and dismantle it.

They won't know
where to look, will they?

Only you know that.

Suppose they don't believe you.
Suppose they ...

Oh, they'll believe me.

After I've destroyed London.
I told you, didn't I, Steed?

Horatio Kane isn't finished yet.

No grasp of modern techniques?

Let's see what they think

after I've turned their
modern techniques against them.

A demonstration of power!

Tonight I and my special staff

will be on our way
to somewhere far from here.

Tomorrow the store will open as usual.

And then sometime during the day

this store and 50 miles surrounding it

will disappear completely from the map.

That ought to convince them,
don't you think?

- Sometime during the day?
- Surely you can be more exact.

The bomb, this store, will explode

with the first customer
who buys a washing machine.

You tell them, Farthingale.

It's really terribly simple.

All bombs need a detonator.

And ours is imbedded in the floor
of the lift shaft on the northern side.

Yes, I know that lift's been out of order.
Alterations, structural repairs.

But that's all been seen to now,
hasn't it, sir?

All working smoothly again now.

The customers will be able
to use it as usual tomorrow.

And washing machines
are in the basement.

Sooner or later a customer
will ask to be taken there.

He'll step into the lift.

The lift will descend. Down, down,
down, down and then ... brrmm!

- Wentworth, is that you?
- Yes, sir.

Over here in the corner.

You again.

Came for my teddy bear.
Can't sleep without one.

I'm tired of these two, Wentworth.
You deal with them.

With pleasure. Any last request?

A ride on a Tornado Roadster.

Or this.

(Gunshot)

(Clattering)

Get up! Get up! Get up!
Get up, you idiots!

After them! After them!

Massey! After them! After them!

Don't let them reach the door!
Go on! After them!

After them!
After them, you fool! After them!

- We'd better go to the basement.
- Mm-hm. Better split up.

- What's wrong?
- They've escaped.

(Bowl clatters)

Split up! Cover the exits!

Don't move.

Right ... back up.

(Clicks fingers)

- Give me the gun.
- Back up.

Give me the gun.

(Clattering)

(Groans)

Mrs Peel, you're remarkable.
Oh, I've broken my umbrella.

(Marco) Here they are!

(Gunshot)

(Gunshot)

Straight drive to mid-on.
It's all in the grip.

Really?

(Gunshots)

Kane!

Kane!

It's no use.

- It's all over.
- Over?

Yes, Steed and the woman,
they've ... they've beaten us.

Over?

No, Wentworth. Not yet!

No! Come back! No!

Get off, you idiot!

No!

(Yells)

The lift!

(They grunt)

Try the hardware.

(Sighs)

Are you sure it was all right, Steed,
taking these?

Of course, Mrs Peel.
It was a gift for services rendered.

After all, we did save them from
the biggest closing-down sale of all time.

(Bicycle bell rings)