Original subtitles

Try this for a deep, dark secret.

The great detective Remington Steele...

He doesn't exist. I invented him.

Follow: I always loved excitement,

so I studied and apprenticed...

and put my name on an office.

But absolutely nobody knocked down my door.

A female private investigator seemed so . . . feminine.

So I invented a superior.

A decidedly masculine superior.

Suddenly, there were cases around the block.

It was working like a charm.

Until the day he walked in...

with his blue eyes and mysterious past.

And before I knew it...

he assumed Remington Steele's identity.

Now I do the work and he takes the bows.

It's a dangerous way to live...

but as long as people buy it...

I can get the job done.

We never mix business with pleasure.

Well, almost never.

I don't even know his real name.

Yes? May I help you?

- We have an appointment... - To see Dr. Bellows.

Will you fill out this financial statement...

I'm Remington Steele...

- And also these waivers of liability. - Waiver of liability, eh?

It's a standard form. It simply states...

that if you should come out of the operating room disfigured or deceased...

the doctor assumes no responsibility...

and cannot be sued by your heirs or your assigns.

You don't understand...

It's customary to pay for medical services in advance.

The fee for consultation is seventy five dollars.

We do accept cash, money orders or all major credit cards.

Sorry, we don't accept personal checks.

Nurse Ratchet, We are private investigators, summoned by Dr. Bellows.

Why didn't you say so?

Doctor?

Call the police.

You are cordially invited to spend the weekend in the Devil's Playground

Hi.

I've got a preliminary background check on our... almost client.

Arthur Bellows was a cosmetic surgeon. You know, lift this, tuck that.

HEAVY financial problems. He recently lost three malpractice suits.

And he's known through out the medical community for his drunkeness.

Sometimes IN the operating room.

Any idea what the Devil's Playground is?

Some kind of resort. It's on an island off of Baja California

Resort? On an island? How intriguing.

Forget it, Laura. The guy killed himself. The reasons aren't important.

How cold, Murphy. How callous.

Perhaps you've been at this too long.

You're asking yourself... could that invitation have triggered his death?

And you know the only place to find the answer is in the Devil's Playground.

Miss Wolf?

run out and get me one of those little black bags Robert Young used to carry around.

And oh, an assortment of medical paraphenalia.

Give me a clue.

Appropriate props are the key to any convincing characterization.

You're going to IMPERSONATE Dr. Bellows?

What better way to get to the bottom of this tragedy?

Laura, it's getting away from us again..

Laura, you're as curioius about this as I am.

He has us there, Murph. Give me an hour to pack.

If I allow him to go out there on his own, impersonating Remington Steele...

IMPERSONATING Arthur Bellows...

can you imagine the outcome? Give me twenty minutes.

I know why you're so hot to pursue this nonexistant mystery.

You want to get Laura alone on that island don't you?

You know what I most admire about you, Murphy?

- What? - Your perception.

We'll see you on Monday.

The first thing we do is introduce you as Dr. Bellows.

What if someone knows the real Bellows?

We hit him with the suicide and gauge the reaction..

I'll be your nurse: Tracy.

Tracy Lord. I've always loved that name, Tracy.

WELCOME TO THE DEVIL'S PLAYGROUND It's so... shimmery.

Are we expecting you?

We have an invitation.

"Well. In that case, entrez-vous.

I'm Miss May.

A pleasure, Miss May.

No, not MISS May, Miss MAY.

Cindi Sikes. The 'Devil's Disciple' for May..

Oh, of course.

And I'm Dr. Bellows. Dr. Arthur Bellows..

- Oh, I'm so glad you're here, Doctor. - You are?

S�, me preguntaba si trae anticonceptivos...

Sorry. No.

- What was that all about? - She forgot her birth control pills.

Thought I might have an extra supply.

Delightful touch. I'm Dr. Bellows.

Dr. Arthur Bellows.

Madeline Vickers. And I don't do requests.

Let's try him

HI!

- I'm Randi. - That's comforting to know.

Especially on these long weekends.

Uh, I'm Dr. Bellows. Dr. Arthur Bellows.

Dr. Bellows, It's been so LONG.

- It has? - Did I hear you say you were a doctor?

Dr. Bellows. Dr. ARTHUR Bellows.

- My brother's in the medical profession. - Really?

- Yes. He's a proctologist. - Interesting area.

Uh, permit me to present my current enamourata - Myrtle Groggins.

Miss Groggins, I'm Ashley Feldman..

- Myrtle. Call her Myrtle. - Wanna do it, Doctor?

- I beg your pardon? - Dance.

Perhaps later.

I'm ready anytime you are.

- Impressive edifice. - Yes.

It was the former retreat of a chewing gum magnate...

before Ambrose turned it into a Devil's Playground Club.

Ambrose Blinn, Publisher of Devil magazine.

Quite an interesting logo: "For Satires of all Ages".

I didn't know you read Devil magazine, Doctor.

Only for the occassional medical article.

Would you care for a cocktail before dinner, Doctor?

A man in my profession must be...

exceedingly careful where alcoholic. spirits are concerned, young lady.

However- the judicious use of alcoholic spirit is actually a tonic for the body.

I'll have a cocktail or two now, perhaps a flagon of wine with the meal...

then an after dinner drink... followed by some Irish coffee.

After all, I might have to operate in the morning...

Poured it on a little THICK, don't you think??

The man IS supposed to be a hopeless alcoholic.

You're HOPELESS, all right.

Funny, Ambrose never mentioned you, Doctor.

Yes, well, I hardly ever mention Ambrose.

- He's not... sick, is he? - No, he isn't that kind of a doctor.

I specialize in... remodeling.

Well...

Myrtle? Myrtle Groggins?

Laura, we're on the thin edge with this masquerade, you know?

I'm simply trying to inject a little reality into the proceedings.

I mean, Tracy would have sounded as manufactured as Cindi and Randi...

Whereas Myrtle has such a dull, plodding, HONEST ring to it

- Isn't this romantic? - It's disgusting.

Like some cheap, gaudy, adult motel.

I take it you're not comfortable with the ambiance.

It's a total turn off.

- Oh. I was so hoping... - WHAT?!

Best not to discuss these matters on an empty stomach.

It will wait until after dinner.

Yoo hoo! You don't remember me, do you

- Randi Russell? - The face is somewhat familiar.

It's not the face you were familiar with.

Ah- ha, Then I'm afraid I'm at a loss...

Well, maybe this'll get the old crank turning

Uh, Miss Russell!

- They're YOURS. - Mine?

I tell everyone they're a work of art.

Ohh, clever. Uh...

Could you... uh, put them away now?

Ah,Myrtle, uh, so glad you could join us

That is, we were just going over her...

Isn't it GREAT having a body by Bellows?

I wouldn't know.

You oughta try it. It really gives you a LIFT.

We'll be seeing more of each other over... dinner

- How much more can there BE? - It's allright.

- I'm a doctor. - No! You're NOT!

Well, as a matter of fact, she thinks I... uh, renovated her.

She was a patient of Arthur Bellows? And she doesn't know you're a fraud?

They must have thrown in a lobotomy at no extra charge.

Franks and beans. On Wedgewood.

- Shades of "Citzen Hearst". - It's all poor Cindi could handle.

Just getting the can open was a major culinary triumph.

- Isn't our host joining us? - No, no.

Ambrose is giving us sufficient time...

to be properly awed by the house that smut built.

Thank you, Doctor.

You don't approve of Devil magazine?

I don't have to approve.

All I have to do is defend it against charges of pornography.

I'm a very busy boy.

- Quite a pair, eh? - Eso ser�a divertido.

That's what I've heard.

Randi was Ambrose's steady companion...

until Cindi assumed that position two years ago.

He likes them young... and dumb.

- She doesn't seem to be holding a grudge. - Randi?

She can't hold a thought in her head for three seconds, much less a grudge.

Michael Dominick.

Mr. Ambrose's business partner. Ultra silent variety.

Good evening, ladies and gentlemen.

And welcome to the Devil's Playground.

I'm delighted you could all accept my invitation.

And I promise each and every one of you a memorable weekend.

But for now, enjoy your meal.

pass a pleasant evening.

and when you least expect it, I will make my presence felt.

What the HELL did he mean by that?

Make his presence felt?

Well, you know Ambros. He loves the dramatic.

so let's just sit back and enjoy the suspense.

Rather cryptic greeting from our host, wouldn't you say?

Rife with all sorts of dark meaning.

You're right. No sense brooding over it tonight, ey

One pillow or two, Myrtle my pet?

DON'T call me Myrtle.

Miss Groggins hardly sounds appropriate, given the.. circumstances.

You're terribly delighted with yourself, aren't you?

Manipulating me to this island...

under the guise of investigating Arthur Bellows' death.

Laura, you're far too bright for me to manipulate...

you into anything that you didn't really want to do.

You wanted to spend this weekend with me as much as I wanted to spend it with you.

- That's right. I did. - Did?

- DID. - May I ask what changed your mind?

You.

I'm the same person you left Los Angeles with this afternoon

That's the problem.

I was hoping, the two of us, alone, without Murphy or Bernice...

or a real case, would bring out another side of you.

I was under the impression that we were inching our way in that direction.

You HAD to introduce me as your current enamorata...

just to make sure that we'd wind up in the same room.

If you were so certain that I wanted to be here with you...

why did you feel the need to manuever me into this ROOM?!

Because you're always looking for an angle here, an EDGE THERE!

You couldn't play it straight, could you? Just this ONCE.

Do you know how romantic, how exciting, how much FUN...

it would have been sneaking into one anothers room?

Perhaps I was hedging my bet.

But, I never know where I stand with you.

All this never mixing business with pleasure business.

I'll admit... my desire got the better of my innate honesty.

But if a bit of chicanery forced us to explore other facets of our relationship...

I felt it was worth it. For both of us.

You seem to be spending an inordinate amount of time locked in this bathroom.

This is beginning to resemble a honeymoon.

Ambrose?

Ambrose! What's going on in there?

Perhaps they overslept. They were up rather late last night.

Come on! What's going on in there? Open up!

She's... dead.

How did she die, Doctor?

Uh, how...?

That's probably impossible to tell without an autopsy, am I right, Doctor?

Well, take an educated guess. After all, you're the medical expert.

- Here's your cause of death. - A feather?

It's my sad duty...

to inform you that Cindi Sikes was literally tickled to death.

How can anyone be tickled to death?

Hmm? How? How.

I'm afraid the explanation is far too technical for you laymen

I remember my brother telling me...

that laughter temporarily cuts off the air supply to the lungs.

Therefore, prolonged laughter could, conceiveably induce a form of asphixiation.

Am I substantially correct, Doctor?

I sometimes wish that we gentlemen of the medical...

profession were half as concise as you gentlemen of the bar.

Tickled to death.

And I always thought that was just something you said when you were happy.

I heard Mr. Blinn and Miss Sikes around three this morning.

Found myself in the throes of Some back problems.

Attempted to walk of the excruciating pain.

Miss Sikes was giggling her way to ecstacy.

Are you saying it was an accident, Doctor?

In the heat of passion, In the grip of heavenly transport...

perhaps Mr. Blinn simply got...

carried away and didn't know what he was doing or when to stop.

Ambrose Blinn is a sadistic FREAK.

Well, he likes to inflict pain under the guise of pleasure, but...

This is just the sort of thing he'd come up with.

I think we should find our host.

Put the question of what happened to him.

Good. Let's split up. It'll be more efficient that way.

Some of us search the grounds, others take the house.

I want Dr. Bellows for a partner.

Randi, This is not an Easter egg hunt.

It's just like Blind Man's Bluff

- Come out, come out, whereever you are! - Ambrose! Mr. Blinn!

Uh, Miss Russell, refresh my memory.

When exactly did I...?

Two years ago. I'm really very naughty.

Your personal life is your own.

No, no. I mean, Dr. Harvey Burnbaum was supposed to do the operation...

but he got in a fender bender on the way to the hospital.

and since I was all prepped and everything, he asked if you could take over for him.

So you probably never even knew my name

So we've never actually met before, except in the operating room.

And me behind a surgical mask.

And when I came to, there was Dr. Burnbaum

and as soon as I got out of the hospital, I went straight to Switzerland,.

I never got a chance to thank you properly...

Miss Russell, Oh, please!

This is FUN!

Um, Miss Russell, please.

I'm a man of medicine...

Miss Russell. Miss Russell!

He's... dead.

- And then there were none. - That's what I'm afraid of.

- No, The movie. - What movie?

Barry Fitzgerald, Walter Huston, Louis Hayward, June Duprez, for God's sake

Get a grip on yourself. You're coming unhinged.

A group of people are lured to a remote island and systematically murdered.

Laura, we're trapped on this island with a crazed killer.

Ambrose Blinn was choked to death.

- How? Rope? Wire? Strangled? - Garbage.

I'm sorry, sir. I thought it was a pertinent question.

- Garbage. - Okay, okay, Doctor. You've made your point.

Ambrose Blinn was literally choked to death with garbage.

You know: pork rinds, lettuce stems, potato peels.

- Are you sure? - I saw it with my own eyes.

The man's mouth was a veritible salad of death.

Believe me, it wasn't a very appetizing sight.

And from the appearance of the body, he'd been dead several days.

Then he couldn't have greeted us last night from his bedroom, could he?

Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. And welcome to the Devil's Playground.

I'm delighted you could all accept my invitation.

It was on tape,

All anyone had to do was press the 'Play' button...

and Ambrose magically appeared on the screen...

allowing everyone to think he was upstairs.

But we were all in the dining room when he started talking

- All except... - I was playing the piano.

And I was just as suprised as any of you when Ambrose appeared on that television.

- It's obvious you turned the tape on. - There's a timer on this machine.

Anyone of us could have set it...

and been safely in the dining room surrounded by witnesses.

- Which means... - One of US is the murderer.

I think it's time we called the authorities.

No phones. They won't be hooked up until the official opening next week.

No phones?

No nothin. No radio, no TV, no shortwave.

even the electricity's runnin on the emergency generator.

How do you know this, Mr. Dominic?

- I checked. - Why?

I like to know them things.

It seems our first priority is to stay alive...

until the helicopter returns next Monday.

Toward that end, I suggest never being alone with one other person.

Always make sure there's a third party present.

That way, the killer won't be able to strike again.

And then there were none?

You must admit, a knowledge of cinema occassionally comes in handy.

Well, that's sound advice, doctor.

Except for one thing: What if there's more than one killer?

Do you think that's possible?

- Whoever it is has a certain poetic bent. - Oh?

Well, Ambrose Blinn was accused of publishing garbage...

and he was choked to death with it.

And Cindi Sykes, who had an irritating propensity for giggling...

- ...giggled herself to death. - Any candidates?

None of the guests seem overly fond of their host.

Hmm. That might account for Blinn's death, but what about Cindi?

I hate to speak ill of the dead...

but she seemed far too vacuous to do anything that might drive someone to murder.

She did replace Randi in Blinn's affections.

Yes, but you should have heard the two of them over dinner...

exchanging annecdotes over Blinn's sexual preferences like so many recipes

Are you familiar with the honey thing?

Well... Apparantly... ...you heat a bowl of honey,

take half a pound of shredded walnuts...

Help me!

He's trying to kill me!

- �S�? - �Int�ntalo! �Int�ntalo!

- He came at me with that pool cue! - She's crazy!

I turned around and she's standing over me with that poker!

- LIAR! - Slut.

Pornographer!

You should know. You were my biggest star.

A little warm for a fire, Miss Russell.

Ask him what he was doing in here, going through Ambrose's desk.

- I wanted a look at the books. - Why?

I put up the green to back these clubs.

We were supposed to be partners, fifty fifty.

Only Ambrose forgot how to add when it came to my share.

So I wanted to see just how much he snookered me out of.

How's that for a motive?

It's fine for Ambrose, But it still leaves Cindi.

All last night, he was comin on to her, tryin' to get her to go

upstairs with him, She just looked in his ugly face and said:

"if she wanted an animal, she'd go to the zoo".

What about you? What about you?

Ambrose kicked you out on your kazoo!

Don't be too sure, toad face. I got invited here, didn't I?!

Maybe Ambrose missed a REAL woman.

There ain't more than 10% of you that's real.

People PLEASE! Let's confine ourselves to name calling!

It's far more civilized.

Well, it's obvious that we

can't keep our eye on everyone.

Maybe our killer has bagged his limit.

There won't be anymore victims.

- There should be at least one more. - What makes you so certain?

Because I know who it should be.

Alright, I'll bite. Who?

You. 'And Then There Were None'?

Barry Fitzgerald and Walter Huston faked Fitzgerald's death.

With everyone believing that he was just another victim...

he was free to search for the killer.

Believe me, Laura, it will work.

When Dr. Arthur Bellows pronounces you dead, who'll question it?

With everyone downstairs...

you'll be free to go through their rooms and search for evidence

You'll be able to... watch their every move without them knowing it.

- Loose something? - A cufflink. Oh, here it is.

- Your plan is brilliant. - Of course it is. It's from a movie.

- Except for one flaw. - Flaw?

The killer will know he... or she didn't kill me.

Hmm. THAT'S why it worked in the movie.

Barry Fitzgerald was the killer.

- Unless... - Yes?

My death... is an accident.

Laura, You've done it again.

Saved the day with your analytical approach, your inspired inventiveness

What say we take a little rest...

before we launch into this strenuous plan of yours?

- I'm not tired. - Perfect. Neither am I.

We'll need some kind of diversion.

Are you wearing pantyhose, by any chance?

- Yes. Why? - Strip.

Generator's running low. If we don't conserve energy,

we won't last the night. Come on, help me get some candles.

I'm not going anywhere alone with you.

Myrtle, Would you please join us?

Before we go anywhere, I have a confession to make.

Oh, no. No,

it's not that... I hate the name Myrtle.

My middle name is Laura. Please. Please, call me Laura.

You really know how to disappoint a crowd.

Just get the ball rolling, will you?

- Ready to do it, Miss Russell? - What?

- Dance. - I'm ready to do a lot more than that.

but if it gets the ball rolling...

That's the idea.

The Doc and I want to dance.

- Play something we can grope to. - I told you, I don't do requests.

- Not even for old times sake? - Especially for old times sake.

Hey, don't take it out on me.

I'm not the one who shafted you.

You wanna get even with someone, go shove some more garbage down Ambrose's throat.

That is, if you didn't do it the first time.

Look who's talking.

I take it you and Mr. Blinn weren't on the best of terms.

He was a lowlife, A sick growth.

Then why accept his invitation?

He owed me.

Artie doesn't wanna hear your sad story, Madeline.

On the contrary, Artie's fascinated.

Two years ago, Ambrose formed a record company.

Just for me. Six months later, he folded it.

Said he couldn't GIVE my albums away.

I was reduced to playing sleezy little clubs in the Valley.

You had your shot, Madeline. More than most.

I wanted another.

Besides, he owed me, after all I did for him.

What did you do for him, Madeline?

How's this?

�Qu� hizo Madeline por Ambrose?

It's the Wrong Time

Yel lugar equivocado

I'm gonna turn off the generator.

Would you like us to go with you?

I brought a friend.

Why don't we continue our gyrations up in my room?

You slip away now, and I join you at the propitious moment.

You didn't happen to notice if there was any honey in the kitchen, did you?

I'll check.

Care to finish this dance, Myrtle?

Excuse me. Laura.

Is the ketchup still on the dining room table?

I wish we could find something a little less phony.

No one will be able to tell. Relax.

Are you all right, Randi?

I walked in- and something clammy grabbed me

Est�n mojadas.

Qu� extra�o que las colgara aqu�.

- S�, si ella las puso aqu�. - � Y si le preguntamos?

�D�nde est�?

Pens� que ven�a detr�s de nosotros.

Stand back. Let a professional attend to this.

She must have fallen in the commotion.

- Or was pushed. - I'm afraid we shall never know.

Myrtle Laura Groggins... is dead.

Putting on a little weight, aren't we?

I certainly hope you're the last victim.

We're beginning to run out of rooms.

- Somebody else saw the movie. - Did I hear a shot?

I hope so, because there's a bullet hole in my pillow the size of Detroit.

Miss Groggins, You're not dead.

No, Miss Groggins is not dead.

In fact, Miss Groggins is not Miss Groggins.

She's Laura Holt, my most able assistant...

from the detective agency which bears my name:

Remington Steele. Perhaps you've heard of me.

- Oh. Well, It IS a bit far south for us. - I heard a shot!

What the HELL'S going on here?

We're private detectives, Mr. Feldman.

investigating the death of our client, Dr. Arthur Bellows.

- But... - You mean I bared my soul to a peeper.

And a delightful soul it was, Miss Russell, Surgically speaking.

- Pervert. - Just a moment, Miss Russell.

Someone attempted to kill Miss Holt just now.

I think it's time we searched everyone's room for a weapon.

Unless Mr. Dominic cares to show us his 'friend'.

I don't know what you're talking about.

The one you carry in your inside coat pocket.

I'm not showing you anything, lady.

Hold it!

Where is it?

- Where you'll never find it. - I'll find it.

Wait a minute. We're not all here.

- Where's Madeline? - She was downstairs, playing

But she stopped right before the shot.

It's her. That dippy broad always hated Ambrose.

She's probably downstairs, waiting to pop us off, one by one.

Ivory. For someone who tickled the ivories.

Another grim piece of poetry.

Well, We're down to four possible victims...

and one definite murderer.

I've been thinking of what you said. About honesty in our relationship.

And in the interest of a new forthrightness...

I feel there are certain things you should know about me.

Pleasant things?

Well...

Sometimes, not knowing is better.

For instance, I wouldn't want to know you had a wife and kiddies...

tucked away somewhere Or that you killed someone...

Or swindled little old ladies out of their life savings.

When I invented Remington Steele...

I gave him all the qualities that I admire in a man:

honest, integrity, compassion...

desire to help others.

Sounds as if you're destined to be endlessly disappointed in me.

Maybe I created an impossible role for anyone to play.

We... have a very... tenuous relationship, you and I

And if we ever cross that line...

take that step... turn that corner...

All those awful euphemisms for going to bed with someone...

Then maybe I'll want to know...

Everything.

Then again, maybe I won't.

But I would want to know it would... mean more than a moment.

That it would last longer than a weekend in the Devil's Playground.

A commitment, of sorts.

I've spent the better part of my life...

avoiding those things like the proverbial plague.

I figured as much.

But the fact that you wanted to be honest with me is a hell of a start.

Sleep well.

You too.

- Yeah? - Rise and shine, Dominic.

- Mr. Feldman? - Yes?

Miss Russell.

Can't smell anything.

Could have been an air bubble.

Poor Randi. She slept her way right to the bottom.

You want to tell us about it, Mr. Feldman?

It was Randi who came up with the initial financing for Devil magazine.

Ambrose promised they'd split everything down the middle...

But when the magazine took off, which was almost after the first issue...

he realized what a gold mine, he was sitting on and he...

didn't want to split up anything with anybody. So, she hired me to

take him to court. She had him, too... even though...

there was nothing in writing they had a verbal contract, an oral agreement...

witnessed by one other person... Madeline Vickers.

Lawyers, Miss Holt, are a glut on the market.

When you're merely adequate, as I am...

there aren't a lot of firms clamoring for your services.

So, it wasn't a difficult decision for me to make when Ambrose offered to...

let me represent the magazine in exchange for sabatoging her case.

No, it was depressingly easy. Everybody has a price, I guess.

- And Madeline's was a recording contract. - Ambrose set up the label,

she had a convenient lapse of memory, the case didn't even come to trial.

Why don't you ask him who gets control of the magazine now that now that Ambrose is dead?

Are congradulations in order, Mr. Feldman?

Only, as long as those two broads were alive...

There was always the chance that Madeline would tell the truth...

and he'd wind up with Randi as a partner.

What about you, huh? With Ambrose with out of the way...

he'd have full ownership of the Devil's Playground clubs.

Great reason to ice Ambrose...

But I had no beef with the others. YOU are it, Feldman.

I've had enough of this kangeroo court.

Well? Aren't you gonna stop him?

We're on an island, Mr. Dominic, he can't get very far.

You think he was planning to be found here with all these stiffs...

when the helicopter showed up?

He's got a way off this island we gotta find him!

He does make a certain amount of sense.

Not very poetic, But it certainly got the job done.

We'd better get back to the house. Before he does.

You lock the doors and windows down here, I'll take the second floor.

I found it hidden in Dominic's room.

That seems to nail it.

He killed Madeline, put that tape on...

and was back in his room in time to react to the attempt on your life.

He won't leave this island until...

he's positive we're not around to testify against him.

What a wonderful, romantic weekend this has turned out to be.

Trapped in a house piled with corpses...

while a determined killer lurks outside.

On the remote chance that, uh... we don't survive this till tomorrow.

I'd feel better if you knew a few things about me.

Perhaps not very pleasant things, but...

It was Dublin;

the city was rife with unrest

Trouble to the north, trouble to the south.

- Is that where you were born...Dublin? - Laura, please.

These confessionals are trying enough without interruptions.

- Sorry. - Uh, where was I? Uh...Ahh, Dublin.

What was that?

It sounded like a shutter... Banging.

Does that mean we have to go back upstairs with all those...?

Well, I don't think we want Dominic to find a way in...

especially with him having the only gun in the house. Okay?

If we're fortunate to leave this island alive...

I'm going to insist that we carry weapons.

Especially when we're NOT working on a case.

I suppose this is- one instance where ladies don't go first?

- Think of me as your backup. - Yes.

Dominic? Laura... If he's, then who's...?

Of COURSE.

Of course what? This would seem to suggest that one of us is the murderer.

- Oh, what a weekend. - Something I said?

Something you said?

About somebody ELSE having seen the movie.

You mean, pretending to be a victim?

We have to start checking rooms.

I'm afraid that won't be necessary.

Detente.

Come out, come out, wherever you are.

Miss Russell. I must admit, this is quite a surprise.

Why? Because you thought I was too dumb to plan this weekend?

No offense...

but you do give the impression of someone more comfortable with cartoons than Kafka.

Shame on you, Mr. Steele.

You're just like everybody else.

When you have a face and a body, that's all people figure you have.

Devil magazine was going to be my chance to prove I was good...

at something besides showing myself.

Only, Ambrose didn't give me what was coming to me.

So he got what was coming to him.

How'd you get him to tape that greeting?

He LOVED to prove how clever he was.

When everyone was in watching him on television...

he was going to sneak through the kitchen...

and be waiting at the dinner table when you came back.

I didn't fool you for a moment with my impersonation of Dr. Bellows, did I?

No, Mr. Steele.

Not when it took two years in Switzerland to...

put me back together after that drunken butcher cut me up.

How did Dominic get in the house? I hope you don't mind us asking...

all these questions. But we're really quite taken

with your creativeness. I unlocked the rear door.

Obviously you intend to leave this island before tomorrow morning

There's a boat moored on the next island, just two point six miles with the current.

I swim every day to keep in shape.

I, for one, salute you, Miss Russell.

You know, I liked you a hell of a lot better when you were Dr. Bellows.

Nothing like a weekend away from the pressures of work to...

rest the body and renew the spirit.

Just one thing before we leave the Devil's Playground behind us for good.

What exactly was in that hypodermic needle?

Something called digitalis leaf.

The right dose, and it slows down the pulse and heart rate to the point...

where only a doctor...

a REAL doctor... can tell you're not dead.

Um. I never told you about the walnuts and honey, did I

Well, well, How was it?

Incredible. Fantastic.

Couldn't have been a more rewarding experience

We started to get to know one another quite well.

You did?

Our leader was getting very heavy into the truth game.

- Really? - Absolutely.

Honesty is the new watchword around here now.

Good. Then we'll start with your name.

Your REAL name.

My name.

As William Shakespeare so aptly put it: "a rose by any other name"...

Still has thorns.

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