Original subtitles

A quiet, peaceful night in Gotham City...

except at the First National Bank at exactly 8:37.

Hold it.

Hands up. Don't move.

Escaped, gentlemen. Thanks to a bulletproof vest, escaped clean as a hound's tooth...

with precisely $100,000 in cash.

Need I tell you what this means?

That devil of an unknown bandit.

The one who strikes every April the 1st for exactly a hundred grand.

Correct, Chief O'Hara.

For the third year running an identical pattern.

Had a call from the president of the League of Banks.

He told me bluntly, the league is becoming uneasy.

Sure and I don't blame them.

A fine bunch of April fools we're looking.

Oh, don't castigate yourselves.

You're tiptop officers, all of you.

But still...

two years on this case and you men haven't turned up a single clue.

Any reason to think you'll do better this time?

This one is bigger than the lot of us.

Commissioner...

we need help.

Yes, I'm inclined to agree.

Ascend to the roof. Turn on the bat signal.

Yes, sir.

I will try the hotline.

No one to answer the bat phone...

because Bruce Wayne and Dick Grayson...

along with Alfred, the butler...

are on the roof of Wayne Manor stargazing.

How's that, Master Dick?

Fine. Thanks, Alfred.

Wow, the rings of Saturn.

This is sure some fun, Bruce.

Astronomy is more than mere fun, Dick.

- It is? - Yes, it helps get us a sense of proportion.

Reminds us how little we are really.

People tend to forget that sometimes.

Gosh, yes, that's right.

I'll bet I see those rings a little differently this time.

If you boys have finished stargazing, there's a delicious rib roast on the dining room table.

Just one more minute, Aunt Harriet.

Goodness gracious. Look up at that cloud.

Isn't that the famous bat signal?

It sure is, Aunt Harriet.

Commissioner Gordon must wish the services of the, ahem, Dynamic Duo.

Mercy alive.

Whoever that unknown Batman is, I hope he sees the signal.

Ah! Great heavens. What a fool I am.

- Isn't today Wednesday, Alfred? - Indeed, sir.

Wednesday night Gotham Town Hall.

We have tickets to that lecture on Latin American affairs.

Holy Venezuela, you're right.

If we dash, I think we can catch part of it anyway. Excuse us.

Good night, Aunt Harriet.

Oh, and don't worry about Dick's supper, Aunt Harriet.

We'll have some good hot pancakes later.

Dick Grayson...

running out on a rib roast for a lecture in politics?

Alfred, get ready to catch me. I think I'm gonna faint.

My pleasure, madam.

Sorry about the hold up. What's the problem?

You just said it yourself, Batman, a holdup. Big.

We're on our way.

To the Batpoles.

Our clue, a slug from the guard's pistol...

after it ricocheted from the bandit's bulletproof vest.

We'd hoped it might contain identifiable fibers from the bandit's clothing.

No luck, eh?

Our hopes were blasted. Lab report, negative.

I'll take this anyway.

Our own equipment in the Batcave may prove more revealing.

Meantime, let's ponder the crook's motive.

A hundred thousand smackers, that's the motive.

But why?

Why exactly $100,000, leaving another half million untouched?

Batman's right. That has a meaning.

The same strange pattern every year.

Precisely a hundred thousand each April first.

Glory be, I've got it.

It's to pay his income taxes.

A loyal taxpayer stooping to criminal methods.

Ah. Sure, when you put it that way.

I fear you're growing cynical, Chief O'Hara.

The notion of a faithful taxpayer robbing a bank is clearly ridiculous.

It's this case that's driving me mad.

We're up against a blank wall.

- Not even a single lead. - Right, Robin.

So, what do we do in such a case?

- We make a lead. - Exactly.

Make a lead?

In heaven's name, Boy Wonder, how?

Don't worry. Batman will figure it out. Won't you, Batman?

Operator, this is Batman speaking.

Get me the editor of The Gotham City Times.

I have a scheme to throw our enemies into confusion.

I'm going to plant a story.

Extra, extra. Get your newspaper here.

Read about the bandit stole the counterfeit money.

- Yes, that's what he did, counterfeit money. - Strange.

What was counterfeit money doing in the vault of the First National Bank?

If you want to know, buy a paper.

I ain't no special news service.

I wonder what it was doing there.

Oh. Waiting at the bank for disposal. Makes sense.

Hey, paper here. Read about the bandit stole counterfeit money.

Here, read about it right now.

- How are you doing with that bullet, Batman? - Amazing.

Come here and look.

Any trace of what the crook was wearing?

Wow. Those are fiber patterns, all right.

Notice from left to right.

First, nylon coveralls. Next, what seems to be orange wool.

Then, silk. Unless I'm crazy, about 10 layers of different colored silk.

Square on the button, Robin.

This bullet passed through 13 layers of brightly colored silk.

Holy rainbow.

- Who'd wear a rig like that? - Let me show you a clue.

Gosh, that's a stumper.

- I think it's organic though. - Correct.

The unmistakable spectrographic pattern of ambergris.

Ambergris? You mean that smelly, oily stuff they use in making perfume?

Correct again. Which leads to only one possible conclusion.

- The crook was a lady. - Hardly a lady, Robin, but female, yes.

The Catwoman?

No. Impossible. She's safely up the river.

- Then who could she be? - I don't know.

I think...

we're faced with some new super criminal not in our crime file.

Yes, Batman?

Here's a tip in connection with that bank job.

Alert the entire force.

Be on the lookout for a woman in an orange dress.

Good heavens, a woman?

What is the world coming to?

We can't stop to worry about that now.

Our task is to fight crime.

Goodbye for now.

The morning newspaper, sir. It just arrived.

- Ah. Good. Thanks. I want to read this. - My pleasure.

Now, excuse me, sir. Would you and Master Robin be departing soon?

- Hmm. Oh, indeed, we will. - Oh, thank you, sir.

Then I'll go and get the vacuum cleaner.

- It looks perfect, Batman. - Yeah.

It's all there. Just the way I dictated it.

Oh, boy.

I'll bet somewhere in Gotham City there's one really shook lady crook.

I hope so, Robin.

Now to make this planted story sprout.

Meanwhile, behind the facade of this innocent-looking bookstore...

there lurks the secret workshop of a strange Albanian genius...

Eivol Ekdal.

Sorry to be late, Eivol.

Counterfeit you bring me.

To me, Eivol Ekdal. Worthless counterfeit.

Look.

How could I know, Eivol?

"How could I know, Eivol?"

Zelda the Great, even greater than Houdini.

Without the marvelous escape devices which I, Eivol Ekdal...

make for you each year, you would be nothing.

Stop taunting me.

I've always paid you well, haven't I?

I've even taken up a life of crime...

to pay your price.

Poor Zelda. And I suppose it offends your lofty principles, huh?

But it does, Eivol.

I hate robbing banks.

And all I ever wanted to be was a poor but honest magician.

Tsk-tsk-tsk-tsk-tsk.

Aw.

I thought so.

A glycerin tear producer.

And now my conscience-stricken little crocodile...

wipe away those disgusting phony tears.

And let's talk sensibly, huh?

But what am I going to do, Eivol?

Mm. That is the question.

- My act's been slipping, you know? - Mm.

If I don't come up with a super sensational escape this year...

I'm finished.

Such bad luck that you were stuck with those counterfeits.

Such unusually bad luck.

For, you see...

Yes?

I had it all prepared for you, Zelda.

Guaranteed, without question...

the most super sensational escape device ever invented...

even by me, Eivol Ekdal.

Show me.

Well, since you can't pay my price of $100,000, I hardly see the point.

Well...

all right.

Behold, Eivol Ekdal's inescapable doom trap.

A cage constructed of utterly unbreakable jet age plastic.

- Will they believe that? - Of course.

Before you get inside, you will demonstrate. I show you. Duck behind the trunk.

That's fantastic.

The plastic isn't even scratched.

Of course, I told you. It's unbreakable.

Please...

come up on the stage. Examine more closely.

Step inside.

The hinged wall...

is closed and padlocked by member of the audience.

From the floor grille is pouring a deadly powdered gas.

The audience is screaming for you to escape.

How do you do it?

Well, it's too simple.

I lift the iron grille, slip out a trap door, the colored gas conceals my exit.

Please, try it.

It's shocking, eh?

- Oh, the grille is electrified. - Violently.

- Mm. Oh. Oh, it's wonderful. - Ha, ha.

Oh, wonderful.

Now, tell me...

what's the secret of my getting out?

My dear, you don't even get in until I get my money.

But I will give you one hint.

The secret of my doom trap involves guess who?

The Caped Crusader, Batman.

- Batman? - Mm-hm.

Oh, but you must be mad, Eivol.

He's a sworn enemy of crooks like us.

But he's also what you only pretend to be, the world's greatest escape artist.

- Ah. - Ha, ha.

Yes. Now I begin to see.

In perfect working order, Batman, all systems A-okay.

Right.

Bait for the mouse trap.

Let's go.

Atomic batteries to power.

Turbines to speed.

Roger. Ready to move out.

Not one more word until I get my $100,000.

Well, how will I find it? They'll be watching all the banks like hawks.

Please read the newspaper again.

Please.

The Star of Samarkand.

- That fabulous emerald. - Exactly.

It will be at Stonewin's Jewelry on display one day only.

Not quite as convenient as cash.

But quite acceptable.

Quick, let me think.

I'll, uh... I'll need equipment.

Oh, please consider the contents of my humble secret workshop as yours.

- A trick mirror. - Yes.

A disguise. And a set of...

- Wait a minute. - What is the matter?

- Heh. Batman. - Oh?

You're a strange Albanian genius, Eivol.

But you're also a bit of a fool.

Don't you see? This is almost a bit too convenient.

What do you mean?

My feminine intuition tells me I better have two strings to my bow.

The Star of Samarkand...

it could be a typical Batman trap.

How does it look, Miss Stonewin?

Beg your pardon?

This emerald of ours, does it look life-like?

- Oh, yes, the emerald. - Do you feel all right, ma'am?

Huh? Oh, yes, certainly.

It's just that I've read so often about you and Batman in the press...

and well, the experience of actually viewing you in the flesh is faintly faint-making.

Please, there is no reason to be disturbed.

That's right. Behind our masks, we're perfectly ordinary people.

This unique garb of ours is one of our weapons in crime fighting.

It shouldn't bother anyone who abides by the law.

Of course.

Do forgive me.

You were saying about that synthetic emerald?

Bait, Miss Stonewin.

Green cheese to trap a dangerous female bandit.

We need your cooperation.

Well, just name it, Batman. I'll do it.

Our scheme is to conceal ourselves somewhere on the premises.

- Just upstairs. - That balcony, Batman.

Perfect. When the crook strikes, we'll pounce on our prey.

- Even if she eludes us, we've still got her. - Robin's right.

The inside of the Star of Samarkand is hollow, you see.

It contains a tiny superpower homing transmitter.

- We'll pick up the beam in our Batmobile. - You're merely simply too much, Batman.

I hope so, Miss Stonewin. Too much for this crook anyway.

- Robin, run outside, take a final check. - Roger.

In the street, Miss Stonewin, look.

Two of Chief O'Hara's finest patrolmen in the guise of power company workers.

And under the tent...

our trump card...

the Batmobile.

As I guessed, another Batman trap.

I'll have to get my hundred thousand somewhere else...

somewhere Batman wouldn't even dream of.

Then if it's games they want, they'll have them.

You read me, Batman?

Loud and clear.

Emerald's working. All systems go.

All right. Come back inside. We'll hide on the balcony.

- Over and out. - Roger.

Traps and counter traps.

Back in the front hall of stately Wayne Manor.

Mr. Wayne's residence.

What?

Dick Grayson struck in the head with a batted ball?

Oh, dear.

I'll get there at once.

Which playground is it? Oh.

Oh, you've already sent a special taxi to pick me up?

Why, that's very kind of you, Miss...

What did you say your name was?

Miss Smith?

Playground Matron?

Oh. Thank you, Miss Smith.

Thank you so much. I'll be waiting out in front.

It's been almost two hours.

- Could we have made mistake? - I don't see how.

Me neither. But still, we're only human.

Good morning, madam.

Would you care to see the Star of Samarkand?

Uh, yes, I, uh, would indeed, young lady.

This way, please.

- Look. - The old lady in black.

Oh. It's amazing.

- It looks almost real, doesn't it? - What?

Surrender.

We've got you, bank bandit.

Holy hole in a doughnut. What happened?

She's a master illusionist.

She projected a false image with those tiny mirrors in her hat.

- The emerald's gone. - And so are all my customers.

Officer Clancy, alert the entire force. Unwrap the Batmobile.

Don't worry. We'll get her.

Batman, look in the gutter, fake emerald with a homing transmitter.

She threw it away.

That tricky little she-devil.

She must have smelled our trap.

She was merely taunting us.

So, what's the real game?

Hey, Batman, your Batphone's blinking.

Batman here.

Shocking news, Batman.

Your scheme has worked but not quite the way you planned.

- What do you mean? - Your story about the counterfeit...

it's driven the felon to strike, but not at the Star of Samarkand.

- She pulled a kidnap. - Who?

A certain Mrs. Harriet Cooper.

What?

Oh, a clever choice of victim, Batman.

This Mrs. Cooper is the aunt of Dick Grayson who's the ward of millionaire, Bruce Wayne.

Great heavens. Has there been a ransom note?

That's the worst of it, Batman.

We've received a note with instructions for $100,000 to be delivered within one hour.

One hour only.

And no one can find Bruce Wayne.

Holy backfire. What have they done to poor Aunt Harriet?

What have they done to that Mrs. Cooper?