Original subtitles

We have already seen a quiet Gotham City Bank.

A sneaky operation.

Apprehended?

Not quite.

A load of lead.

Good night, sweet guard.

A call to Batman.

He's on his way.

Hey, hey, hey.

The brass was stumped.

But Batman wasn't.

He'd plant a story.

A pair of crooks and one's a doll.

Batman sets a doll trap.

And the doll was tempted.

The trap looked tasty.

But the doll turned the tables and snatched Aunt Harriet.

Holy backfire.

One hundred thousand dollars' ransom or a hot tub for Aunt Harriet...

in exactly one hour.

Sizzled or saved?

But wait, the worst is yet to come.

Where can he be? Where can Bruce Wayne be?

I keep telling you, commissioner, stop worrying.

Batman will find him.

Twenty minutes gone, 40 minutes remaining...

for Bruce Wayne to appear and contact the criminal or else.

Oh, that poor, unfortunate Mrs. Cooper.

It's always the pawns who get the worst of these games.

- Any luck, Chief O'Hara? - Thank you, thank you just the same.

Yeah, goodbye.

Well, that's the last of them.

I've called every rich man's club and eating place in Gotham City.

- He's in none of them. - These millionaires.

It's hard for us to comprehend the sort of lives they lead.

Yeah, it's true, commissioner.

I'll bet Mr. Wayne is out on some yacht eating sherbet and changing his clothes.

- That's not true. - Why do you jump at me so, Boy Wonder?

- Gosh, chief, I'm sorry. - There, now.

There, we understand. The lad's under great strain, Chief O'Hara.

No doubt he can't have imagined himself in the position of Dick Grayson...

the nephew of the kidnap victim.

- Right, lad? - Uh, so right, commissioner.

Console yourself, my boy.

We haven't been able to locate young Dick Grayson either.

He's fortunately ignorant of this whole tragic situation.

Twenty-five minutes.

Why the devil can't Batman find Bruce Wayne?

- Am I in time? - Thank heavens, Mr. Wayne. I hope so.

- Our little team, Chief O'Hara. - My pleasure.

And Robin, The Boy Wonder.

I'm sure glad Batman found you, Mr. Wayne.

Me too, Robin. He located me on the outskirts of my estate, Wayne Manor.

- He asked me to give you a message. - Yes?

Batman said, "Tell Robin to carry on."

He himself had to dash in search of a clue.

- What was it? - He didn't stop to stay.

- What's the situation? - Tight, Mr. Wayne. Ugly.

- I'll explain on the way. - On the way?

- Chief O'Hara, alert my driver. - Yes, sir.

The criminal has asked us to make contact in a strange but clever manner.

Over television, Mr. Wayne.

Yes, I have every Gotham City channel waiting on standby. Let's go, come on.

Ladies and gentlemen, we apologize for the interruption...

of our regularly scheduled programs.

This is a special announcement from Commissioner Gordon's Office.

Switch it, Joe, Studio Nine.

You're on the air, commissioner.

Hello, criminals, wherever you are out there. Do you hear me, criminals?

This is Police Commissioner Gordon.

- I'm Bruce Wayne. - And I'm Robin, Batman's aide.

I speak for him officially.

Our phone number is 555-2345.

I give you my solemn of word of honor, this line is not being traced.

That's right, no trace.

Our only interest is the safe return of Mrs. Harriet Cooper.

We give crooks no quarter, but we always deal with them fairly too.

Uh, correct, criminals, we don't wish to undermine what little remaining faith...

you might have in organized society.

Yes?

This line better not be traced, my friends...

- or it'll be very sad for Mrs. Harriet Cooper. - How is she?

Oh, quite well, Boy Wonder.

At least, as well as one can be...

in a straitjacket over a fatal pool of flaming oil.

You devil.

How could a woman stoop to such a trick?

Talk of tricks? What about that phony Star of Samarkand this morning?

It was a perfectly fair weapon in the fight against crime.

- You know that as well as I do. - Enough of this prattle.

Mr. Wayne, listen to my instructions about the ransom.

- Wait. - Why are you trying to give me orders?

Wait, the Boy Wonder is about to make a dramatic confession.

That story in the paper, about the bank money being counterfeit...

- it was false. - What?

It was a ruse. It was a trick of Batman's to make you try again.

That money you stole last night is real.

A statement from the editor of the Gotham City Times.

"This morning's headline was entirely untrue."

Look.

It's signed and notarized.

Let me add my assurance.

As the director of the First National Bank of Gotham City...

let me tell you that the money in your possession...

is 100 percent bona fide.

You got to believe Mr. Wayne.

As a bank director, if he made a false statement...

- he would be liable to prosecution. - Yes.

Don't you see out there? This reckless crime of yours isn't necessary.

You already have your filthy lucre.

For your own sake, release Mrs. Cooper immediately.

Oh, come on, you crook. You can't be all bad.

Let the poor lady go, huh?

Yes, thank you.

I believe you.

It was only desperation that drove me to this.

- You'll release your victim? - At once, with pleasure.

- Where? - Don't worry. You'll find her.

Goodbye.

Goodbye.

Uh, thank you, ladies and gentlemen. Thank you very much.

And now we'll return you to our regular scheduled program in progress.

- Holy hallelujah, we've done it. - Thanks to you, Robin.

- It was your warm appeal that turned the tide. - I'll call Chief O'Hara.

I'll put the entire force on the alert. Get me Chief O' Hara.

Chief O' Hara. Yes, thank you.

- Are you all right? Can I help you, madam? - I'm Mrs. Harriet Cooper.

The kidnap victim?

Yes. Would someone please call a policeman?

- My relatives must be terribly worried. - Yes, ma'am.

Scarcely minutes later, back at stately Wayne Manor.

Is she all right, doctor?

Amazing woman, Mr. Wayne.

- It was a real fight to make her accept sedation. - Well, that's Aunt Harriet all over.

You're sure she had no clues to divulge about the crooks?

Not one, alas.

It seems that the minute she was lured into the taxi...

she was subjected to a potent but harmless drug.

- Now, if you'll excuse me, I must go. - Yes, of course. Thank you, doctor.

I suppose you'll be wanting to find Batman now?

That's right, Mr. Wayne, I will.

- What's the matter, Alfred? - Excuse me, sir...

but I can't help feeling that this whole somber episode is my fault.

- Your fault? - Indeed, sir.

Had I not been down dusting the Batcave when that false phone call arrived...

Good heavens. Perish the thought, Alfred. You were performing your proper duty.

Begging your pardon, sir. Not true.

Ordinarily, I tend to the Batcave on Wednesday evenings.

I failed to do so because of my addiction to a certain television program.

- Alfred, rid yourself of guilt. - That's right, Alfred.

- Aunt Harriet is fine now. - She's more than fine.

If it hadn't been for her mishap, I wouldn't have deduced the criminal's identity.

- What? You know? - Dear me.

And I thought, uh... I thought I had discovered the decisive clue.

This, uh, book of matches, sir.

"The Gnome Bookstore."

- Where did you find this, Alfred? - Just now, sir, on the staircase.

They must have fallen out of Mrs. Cooper's pocket when we helped her upstairs.

I had hoped that, uh, they might indicate the whereabouts of the, um, felon's lair.

Nice thinking, Alfred. Darn nice thinking.

To the Batpoles.

Atomic batteries to power. Turbines to speed.

Gosh, Batman, I'm stumped.

- Who the heck is the crook? - Think over the clues.

- A female magician. - So, what use is that?

Like we found in the files, there are 27 female magicians licensed to practice in Gotham City.

Think harder. Remember what she told us about Aunt Harriet's plight.

Suspended in a straitjacket over a... Holy birthday cake.

- Right. - My last birthday, you took me to see her.

- We even met her backstage. - Zelda the Great.

Sure, I remember.

That straight jacket escape was her big gimmick.

As usual.

Vain boasting has been this criminal's undoing.

Gosh, though, where does this Gnome Bookstore come in?

Where indeed? For back behind the phony book store...

Eivol is ready with his inescapable doom trap.

Ha, ha. Well, well, legal tender after all.

Isn't life surprising? Hmm?

You have your money, Eivol. Now tell me the secret.

How do I escape from the doom trap?

You mean you haven't guessed, Zelda? Even after the hint I gave you?

- There is no way to escape. - True.

Even I, Eivol Ekdol, with all my twisted Albanian genius...

even I cannot devise the answer.

That is where Batman comes in.

Oh, we lure him into the trap, then he shows us the way out.

Exactly. We use him as our pawn.

- You mad Albanian. - Ha, ha.

Even if Batman does work out the trick, how can I use it on stage when Batman knows?

We have an obscure peasant saying in my country:

"Dead men tell no tales."

- Dead men? - But of course, dear Zelda.

After Batman escapes from the doom trap, he walks into instant liquidation.

Wait, I'll show you. Ah.

Gentlemen. Welcome, gentlemen.

- All set up for the rubout? - Yes, yes.

Show me the money.

- One hundred grand. - Don't bother to count.

It might make us mad.

A slight fringe benefit, another hundred thousand.

I get for, um... What is the word?

Fingering the Batman.

I signed a contract with the syndicate.

Kidnapping. Murder. Where will it end?

- You know I abhor violence. - You wretched weakling.

You should've thought of that before you robbed your first bank.

Now stop the stupid questions and think of a way to lure Batman into our trap.

- Done. - What done?

As I told you, Eivol, I had guessed your scheme. I've cleverly left a clue.

I stuck a book of your matches in Mrs. Cooper's pocket.

- No doubt he's on his way already. - Heh, heh. Not a moment to lose.

Gentlemen, into the sarcophagi. Quickly.

You see they have peep holes.

What's the shooting schedule?

The instant Batman escapes from the doom trap, shoot.

Why not shoot him before he gets in?

Because we need Batman to show us how to escape from the doom trap, you fools.

Ha, ha. Gentlemen, dear friends.

Remember, contract calls for bumping Batman after he escapes.

- It's in writing. - Okay, if it's in writing.

Please, gentlemen. Heh.

There it is.

- Closed. Back in one hour. - Could be a deception.

Right you are. It's not even locked.

The electric eye.

Someone's coming into the shop.

- Quickly, Zelda, quickly. - Where?

Into my secret control booth in the wings.

Quickly. We will look in this periscope.

Look, Batman, a note on the counter.

"To whom it may concern.

Try interesting volume on top shelf. Last book of back row."

- Gosh, could it concern us? - It certainly could. Look at that title.

The Truth About Bats. Wow.

That book worked a concealed switch.

Let's see how the plot goes, huh?

Bizarre.

- A play without actors. - The script could be for us.

One way to find out.

Let's get in the limelight.

Look, in this booth.

It's a bat.

I bet it means something.

Holy fish bowl.

- We're shut in. - Got them.

A trick magnetic padlock.

Oh, it seems such a waste.

- They are such handsome creatures. - Shut up.

- Eivol, Eivol, can I help being a woman? - Shut up, I said.

Now I turn on the secret speakers hidden in the doom trap.

Gosh, Batman, what kind of trap is this?

It is a doom trap, Boy Wonder.

Welcome to my greatest achievement, the inescapable doom trap.

Poor, twisted mind.

You stupid fools, I am a genius.

Yeah, that's what they all say.

Pipe down, Robin. We have to humor him.

What's the big idea, genius?

Very simple, Batman. Ha, ha.

Try to escape.

Let's just do that.

Our utility belts.

Ha, ha. Useless.

My jet age plastics are impervious to your tools.

Eivol, what if even Batman cannot escape the trap?

That would be very sad.

Then I would have to give back your money.

Or I could go back to the drawing board.

Gosh, I'm afraid it's true. This stuff is tough.

You are wasting time, and you have so little left.

Now...

Look down at your feet.

A deadly colored gas is issuing.

Quick, let's get that grill off.

Electrified.

Holy graveyard, Batman.

- This could be curtains. - Don't quit, Robin.

Let's get our heads down.

This gas is rising.

Lighter than air. We'll have a few more life-saving seconds.

Oh, what a noble struggle.

Hey, a gas lighter than air?

Must have hydrogen in it.

- If we could electrify it... - We can.

High voltage grill, metal buckles of our belts.

Give me your utility belt and step back, Robin.

All right, here it goes.

Sensational. He has done it.

Batman, watch out. Those mummies.

- Aah. - Look, Batman.

Holy crossfire.

Hoist on their own murderous petards.

A couple of mummies.

Let's taketh them to the morgue.

But, uh, where's Zelda?

Look at her. Glycerin tears.

No, Robin. Real.

Some other lifetime, Batman.

Perhaps.

Some other lifetime.

Sometime later at Gotham State Penitentiary, Female Division.

- Hello, Zelda. - Hello, Mr. Wayne.

I'll come right to the point. While I can't pretend that your conduct...

has earned you any medals, on the other hand...

you did save Batman's life and the Boy Wonder's too.

- It was the least I could do, Mr. Wayne. - True, true.

But not many criminals would see it that way.

- I think you've earned a new chance. - A new chance?

The Wayne Foundation, of which I'm the head, maintains a number of children's hospitals.

Now, here's my offer. When you get out of here...

I'll see that you get a position in one of those hospitals as resident lady magician.

Oh, how wonderful.

What a joy to entertain small children.

I'm glad you feel that way.

- Consider it settled then. Goodbye. - Oh, wait. Please.

Yeah?

Good heavens.

If you ever see him, give this to Batman.

Please. Will you, Mr. Wayne?

Next week, Batman versus The Joker.