All language subtitles for The Wild Wild West S02E20 The Night of the Vicious Valentine

We'd like to see
Mr. Dodd, please.

I'm sorry, Mr. Dodd sees
no one this late at night.

Well, can we see
Mrs. Dodd at least?

Jim, listen.

Is that Mr. Dodd playing?

If you don't mind
me pointing it out,

that's none of your business.

The question is
important. Answer it.

Well, if you must know, yes.

Then you open this door,
and you open it right away.

Courtney! Brendan!
You men get outta here.

Go, Jim. Stop him.

How dare you, whoever you are.

Your husband's life's
in danger. Where is he?

Leave at once.

Griffin! Griffin!

Hold it.

Is it really that bad?

You make one
move and I'll shoot.

That piano could be a
great source of danger to you.

You sound like a
typical half-baked critic.

This piano a source
of danger? Hm.

It happens to be a Defeasy
concert grand, worth...

Curtis. Curtis,
are you all right?

God! Aah!

I can't help but
feel that if I...

If I'd helped rather
than hindered

Mr. West and Mr. Gordon,

my husband might still be alive.

Now, now, Mrs. Dodd,
nobody in the world

could have known
what was in the cards.

Thank you, colonel,

and thank you, gentlemen.

Now if there's nothing else...

Nothing else, ma'am,

except speaking for
the whole department,

we share in your
feelings of loss.

Thank you.

It never gets any easier,

and I'll tell you,

I'd rather take on a pack of
screaming Comanches any day

than one of these
mad-dog killers.

Mm.

No word from
Washington yet, colonel?

No, except that
President Grant said...

And this is
putting it real mild.

He said he keenly felt
the passing of Curtis Dodd.

And, of course, the
capital newspapers

are whooping up the whole thing

as another one of
the alphabet killings.

Oh, yeah.

Well, let's give this here

casualty list
another goin' over.

Well, there's A:
Audley, John W.,

New York, shipping
and securities.

Batling, Myron
J., Oklahoma, oil.

And C: Candlish, Otto
M., Oregon, timber.

And of course, uh...

I know. D stands
for Dodd, Curtis,

Wichita, wheat.

Tell me something. Hm?

How'd you two reckon
that yesterday was the day

that Dodd was
in line to get his?

Well, it was just an
educated guess, colonel.

Yesterday was Easter.

What in sam hill's
that got to do with it?

That's another
angle we uncovered

about the alphabet murders.

They always attended
the victims on holidays.

Yeah, well, just
don't forget this.

There's one other thing

that all the victims
had in common.

I know, sir.
They're all wealthy.

No, sirree, Gordon.
They were extra-wealthy.

And that's just what's got
President Grant a-frettin' so.

You see, the way he figures,

that the holdings
of a reasonable,

small amount of men

add up to such a big
part of our economy

that the course of the country
could be jolted clean off-center

if these killings continue.

It sure fits into a
pattern, doesn't it?

A, B, C and D.

Gentlemen,

who do you reckon
the E victim's gonna be?

Pardon me, colonel.

You wanted me to remind you

about the Senate
subcommittee meeting.

Oh, yes, Gates. Much obliged.

Well, gentlemen, looks like

I'm gonna have
to pull up stakes.

Uh, a new aide, colonel?

Yep, and I sure do
hope you approve of her.

Oh, yeah.

"Mrs. Curtis Langley
Dodd wishes to express

"her appreciation to
Mr. West and Mr. Gordon

for their sympathy in
her recent bereavement."

Nice. Mm.

Artie.

Yeah?

Remember the flowers that
we sent to the Candlish funeral,

and the thank you
note we got in return?

Yeah. You still have it?

Oh, sure. I think we
got it here somewhere.

Here it is.

What are you doing?

Notice the decorative
M on both cards.

Complete to the
same broken serif.

There's no doubt about it.

This broken type is
identical on both cards.

That means they had to be
printed in the same print shop.

Isn't that interesting?

Interesting, but
it doesn't tell us

who the printer is, does it?

No, not until we get
word from the data bureau

on where this card
stock came from.

Well, did you hear that?

There's only one place in
town that carries that stock.

The Friendly Card Company.

Why don't we
pay a friendly visit

to that establishment, Artie?

Indeed.

Jim.

See something interesting?

"Miss Emma Valentine
takes pleasure in announcing

"the marriage of Miss
Michele Le Master

"to Mr. Paul J.
Lambert on Wednesday,

"at 6:00 in the evening.

Reception to follow."

Artie, do you
think this could be

the alphabet man's next victim?

Mr. Paul J. Lambert
happens to be

one of the richest men
in the United States.

Aahh!

Yah!

Argh!

You all right, Artie?
Yeah. That was close.

Let's start with the easy
questions. Who are you?

And we'll go on to the
more advanced ones,

like who do you work for?

Well, I've checked
that greeting card shop.

The business directory
lists it as being owned

by a Mr. E.N. Itnelav.

Probably Russian for Smith.

And last night's casualty?

Uh, no positive
identification of the body yet.

Jim,

you ever hear music
when you think of a woman?

Like, um, wedding bells?

More like "The Death March,"

arranged and conducted
by Elaine Dodd.

You know, I still
think she set up

that bushwhacking
job last night.

We don't know that.

It certainly
wasn't a total loss.

Oh, Paul Lambert's
wedding announcement.

You still think he's
the next target, huh?

No, more than that.

Read this.

"Emma Valentine, most
charming and original

"of Washington's hostess corps,

"has arrived in our town

"to preside over the
surprise wedding of the year.

"Miss Michele Le Master

"will walk the orange
blossom-strewn path

"arm in arm with P.J. Lambert,

"the Kansas City's
most prominent citizen

and renowned beef
baron of the west."

Oh.

That stir your brain, Artie?

It stirs my stomach,
that's what it stirs.

The sole piece of
evidence that we have

that links these deaths together

is a piece of broken type:

The letter M on some cards.

Now we go to the factory,
and what do we find?

On the press, we find
Lambert's invitation.

Yeah, all of which is more
than slight coincidence,

I would say.

Including the fact
that all the dead men

were recently married.

No more than six months,

and all to women much
younger than themselves.

That's...
interesting, all right.

There's also the fact
that Lambert's name

begins with an L.

Causing the killer to
set a definite pattern

from A to D,

just to break it at
the crucial moment.

Oh, yes.

While we are out
busily protecting the E's,

he is out busily
killing the L's.

Listen, that's a pretty
shrewd plan, you got to admit.

Yeah, it is, Artie.

I think I'll go over to
Paul J. Lambert's place

and stop myself
a wedding, James.

Well, why not?

I'm going back
to the card factory.

I am Enos Itnelav,

printer to the crowned
heads of Europe

and the figureheads
of Washington,

now operating in Kansas City.

What can I do for you?

A stranger would never suspect

that there was a lot
of energetic romping

going on around here last night.

Romping? Here, romping?

Is not possible,

since this establishment
is closed for the night.

You must be confusing.

I, uh... I-I suppose so.

You did print up the
wedding announcements

for P.J. Lambert, I believe.

Oh, you've seen my work.
Ha-ha. Magnificent, huh?

You are interesting, perhaps,
in placing order for same?

Uh, may I...? May I look around?

You're more than
welcome to, Mr., uh...?

West. James West.

The James West?

Of the Secret Service?

The Secret Service in
name only seems more like it.

Forgive me for
eavesdropping, Mr. West,

but I'm a confirmed
compulsive snoop.

I'm Emma Valentine.

But of course.

The most charming
and most original

of the Washington hostess corps.

Welcome to Kansas City.

How too, too charming

to discover that such
an attractive young man

reads the silly rubbish the
papers will print about me.

Enos.

The party favors
were simply marvelous.

Be a love and put
them in my carriage.

The boys will help you,

while Mr. West and I
become the best of friends.

Your slightest wish
is my command.

Mr. West, have you
ever been discovered?

I didn't know that anyone
was looking for me.

Why not?

Yes, why not, indeed.

Of course someone is
looking for you, Mr. West.

Those silly dressed-up
sheep who come to my parties.

They've come to
expect a treat from me

each time they arrive.

Someone new and different,

someone much more exciting
than last month's discovery,

and not half as thrilling
as next month's discovery.

Ah, must be nerve-racking.

My last successful
offering was a grand duke

turned Indian fighter,
playwright, hypnotist,

jockey and clothes designer.

Well, uh, how are
you gonna follow that?

You. You, Mr. West.

You're not gaudy nor shrill.

You're just too, too
wonderfully compelling.

You're a quiet, terribly
attractive young man

whose game is, uh,

life and death.

There. I've done it again.

Done what, Miss Valentine?

Mr. West, I won't
take no for an answer.

You must join my guests
and me this evening.

You know, the Lambert
wedding is quite private,

but the reception is
the event of the year.

You will come, won't you?

Do I bring my own leash,

or do I pick one up at the door?

Oh, dear, Mr. West,

such a refreshing
sense of humor,

along with everything else.

And I will see you at 7?

Lovely.

Lovely.

Miss Valentine.

Now, Mr. West,
what can I do for you?

Oh, nothing, thank you.

I got what I came for.

Mr. Lambert...

Will you please believe

that this is not to
be taken lightly?

Further note to A.J.:

Have the bond merger
papers ready to sign tomorrow.

I want complete reports

on all the Stanley
bill debentures,

and tell Drexel that
the list of directors

that he submitted
me is not acceptable,

and that binds a
little bit right in here.

Mr. Paul J. Lambert!

Mr. Lambert, I have
been talking to you

for better than half an hour.

You haven't heard
one word I've said.

Balderdash. I heard
every word you said.

Representative,
U.S. Secret Service,

uncovered plot involving
wealthy men including me.

My life in danger. Imperative
wedding be postponed.

I go into hiding. Correct?

Yeah, correct.

Wrong.

Mr. Lambert, all
this marriage will do

is make you a candidate
for the killer's list.

Oh? How?

That's been his pattern to date.

Do you want your
bride to be a widow

before the orange
blossoms are even withered?

Uh, Landbar: All
you can get, buy it.

Mr. Lambert...

you have to call
off this wedding.

Believe me.

I believe you, Gordon,

primarily because you
have no reason to lie to me.

But may I tell you something?

I've been a widower
now for 17 years,

and during all that time

I've dreamed of finding a woman

like my first wife.

Finally, I found her.

Then do it for her sake, sir.

You owe it to her.

Yes, I suppose.

I suppose a delay

of several days
wouldn't do any harm.

No.

Oh, Paul.

Oh, Paul, I've just
seen my dress.

It's absolutely beautiful.

Mwah.

I feel like a
fairy-tale princess.

Oh, darling, I'm so excited.

I wish we could just run
off and get married now.

Mr. Lambert, if you'd
like me to tell her, I...?

Is something wrong?

It's about the wedding,
Miss Le Master.

What is it, Paul?

You haven't changed
your mind, have you?

You still want to
marry me, don't you?

Of course I want to marry you.

Today at 6:00, as per schedule.

Mr. Lambert, if you...

That's final, Gordon.

I'm sorry you can't stay

and have a glass of
champagne with us, young fella.

Of course, sir.

Miss Le Masters.

Ah.

Why, that's lovely. Lovely.

Turn.

Yes, I think...

I think the hem should be
the merest glance shorter.

Ah.

Oh, come, come, Michele, dear.

Let's have a rush
of teeth to the head.

Come on, smile.

Smile.

We can't be unhappy on our
wedding day, now can we?

I really don't understand you,

you silly girl.

From a barmaid in
a filthy French bistro

to the wife of the
wealthiest man in America.

You should be leaping in
the air with glad little cries.

Well, at least you
should be grateful.

It wasn't easy teaching
you how to walk and to dress,

and to speak in just the
way calculated to win P.J.

Well.

Well, an uninvited guest.

Ah, he's in the
downstairs sunroom.

Ah, but he's restless.

He's in the drawing room.

Oh.

He's moving into
the upstairs hallway.

Well, whoever it is

seems to be headed
towards the chapel.

Michele, dear, you
wait for me here.

I'll change very quickly.

I have to greet our guests.

Do you approve, Mr. West?

A marriage made in heaven.

Too, too clever a
theme for the reception,

wouldn't you say?

Particularly with the fallen
angels you have around.

What can Mr. West mean, Lenny?

Have you ever wished
for a harem, Mr. West?

Your very, very own harem,

with dozens of eager
dainty little hands

to reach out to you,

to embrace you,

perhaps even to crush
the life out of you?

Have you ever been adored

by your very own
harem, Mr. West?

And I should add,

a harem whose
dainty little hands

can be adjusted from
an adoring embrace

to an embrace that demonstrates

that I want no
nonsense from you?

Dear Mr. West,

I regard myself
not as a criminal,

but a savior of all womankind.

Interesting.

And what do women
have to be saved from?

From domination of the spirit,

economic exploitation,

annihilation of the mind.

In brief, all the injustices
wrought by men.

And now, as long as
you're not going anywhere,

I'd like you to answer
a few questions.

Fair enough.

If you'll answer a few for me.

Oh, I should be delighted.

But mine first.

What, uh...?

What is your favorite
wine, Mr. West?

Château Rothschild, 1846.

If you're going to serve me,

please see that
it's properly chilled.

My question.

You arranged not
only the deaths,

but also the marriages
of four men, right?

Ingenious, isn't it?

Heh. It seemed a natural
way to go about my task.

After all,

love is the strongest
weapon in the world,

and the one so few women
have ever used intelligently.

Question.

Which do you prefer:

Blonds, brunettes,

or redheads?

Yes...

all three.

So you married off
four beautiful women

to four lonely men,
killed off the men,

the women took control
of the corporations

and you control the women.

You put it so concisely.

After today, I will control
enough strategic wealth

to become a real
power in this nation,

enough to make Congress
meet my every demand.

Question.

What do you demand in a woman,

intelligence or beauty?

Beauty if they're intelligent,

intelligence if
they're beautiful.

And what are your demands?

That this country be
temporarily governed

by the monarchy system,

under which I shall
reign as queen.

Do you think a woman should
know how to cook and sew?

If they intend to be
cooks or seamstresses.

You mentioned a
temporary monarchy.

Oh, yes.

I should not like
to rule forever,

just long enough to secure
total independence for women.

Then, after a time,
I should release

this country into a democracy

and allow a grateful
nation to elect me president.

Ah, Mr. West,

what do you notice
first in a woman?

Her lips, her eyes,
her hair, her figure.

Not, uh... Not
necessarily in that order.

Oh, Mr. West.

Colonel, we've
gotta do something.

I know, but...

Well, take this Itne...
This printer fella.

I don't see any
big clue about him,

except that he
printed up the cards

for Dodd and Lambert both.

To return to my rule,

under my scientific reign,

this country will
flourish as never before.

Scientific? Yes.

A prosperous country is
composed of happy people,

and happy people are
made by happy marriages,

and happy marriages...

Happy marriages are made
by the love eternal machine.

Here is a picture of your
personality, Mr. West.

The sizes and
shapes of the hearts

shows your likes and dislikes.

I feed your record
into the machine...

and it raises
tiny metal fingers,

which react to the message
you have written on the paper.

Soon a card like yours

will be on file for every
person in the United States,

and only people can marry
whose card corresponds.

Ah. Ha-ha-ha.

Dear me, Mr. West.

This poses quite a problem.

On the basis of your answers,

it would seem
that your ideal mate

is a combination of
Aphrodite, Helen of Troy

and Lola Montez.

Oh, Mr. West,

I'm afraid it can't be done.

Oh, frankly, I like to do
my own shopping anyway.

And you adore shopping,
don't you, Mr. West?

Because all those
fluffy-headed little girls

thrill to the touch of you.

Is that about right?

As if only
fluffy-headed little girls

know what it is to be
drawn towards a man.

You understand,
don't you, Mr. West?

Ah, Mr. West.

If I have a choice,
may we go back

to questions and answers?

Whose turn was
it, Miss Valentine?

You wanted to see the veils.

Naturally. Naturally.

Michele, meet James West.

You'll have to excuse
me for not getting up.

Tell me, Michele,

when did you join the
murderous matchmaker here?

Just remember, mercy
is not my strong point.

Don't make me lose
sight of it completely.

As for this little ball of fluff

you're probably drawn to,

who seems to reduce
even the most astute men

to blithering idiots,

this little ball of fluff
is a common thief

whom I transformed into a lady.

You did quite a job.

Thank you.

Oh, it seems Mr. Lambert
has just arrived.

You will excuse me, won't you?

Michele,

Miss Valentine
says you're a thief.

Is that true?

I stole once. I had to.

Don't ask me why.

Do you think that
makes you a thief?

That doesn't matter.

Miss Valentine took me
from a prison in France.

She could put me back there.

Does Miss Valentine
control all her women

through, uh...
Through blackmail?

Michele, you're not like
Miss Valentine and Elaine.

You get out, before you're
an accomplice to murder.

It's too late.

Let me out of this love seat,

and I'll show you it's
earlier than you think.

Uh-huh. Huh. Ha.

I told you. I told you, huh?

Look, you see?

The left sleeve is a quarter
inch longer than the right.

Well, so is my left arm.

That I can't help you.
I'm a tailor, not a doctor.

Oh!

Oh, you look marvelous,
P.J. Thank you, ma'am.

Are you ready for
the proceedings?

Excuse me, lady. Yeah
he looks, not marvelous.

Not with a sleeve
that is long enough

to put in a whole family.

Would you be so kind, please?
You're standing in my light.

Well, really!

All right, this has
gone far enough now.

You're holding up my wedding.

Wedding?

You mean you wanna get
married in a... In a sleeve

that's long enough
for a gorilla?

Shame on you, shame on you.

That will do.

Aah! Don't move!

Oh!

What a beautiful
piece yard goods.

And the dress!

Look at the satin lining.

Oh, that's beautiful.

A regular living doll.

But then, with a
figure like yours,

what wouldn't look beautiful?

Oh, this old thing?

Ain't you ashamed
for yourself, huh?

A nice lovely
young girl like that

and you wanna get
married to her in a suit

that's a disgrace to
the neighborhood?

That's terrible. I'm
not gonna marry her.

I'm not gonna let
you, not in that sleeve.

Now take it off.

For the last time, that will do.

I think the
sleeve is first-rate.

First-rate? It's not.

It's not first-rate.
It's not second-rate.

It's not third-rate.
Take it off.

I wouldn't let a
gorilla get married in it.

I'm happy with it! It's perfect!

It's paid for.

Now leave me be.

You a tailor? No.

Then who knows
better, you or me?

I like the suit! I
tell you, I like it!

And I tell you it don't fit,

and before I
would let you go out

and make a monkey
for yourself in that suit,

I would sooner tear
it right off your back.

Oh. I would...

Now I did it. Now
you gotta fix it.

There, there, P.J.

Now you run along
and slip into another coat

while I talk to this
impetuous tailor.

I'll put a pleat in and
I'll pick up the rest.

A full quarter of an
inch, you hear me?

He thinks he's got...

Gordon is the name,

isn't it?

All right, hold it.

In the name of the
United States government,

you are all under arrest.

Oh, gentlemen.

Oh, this must seem
unnecessarily complicated,

but I assure you, my
plan is quite simple.

And you're going
to tell us all about it,

aren't you, Miss Valentine?

Knowing your
thirst for knowledge,

of course, Mr. Gordon.

You are fastened

to the top of my
stained-glass chapel roof.

You do know that, don't you?

And this overgrown
spiderweb. What is this?

The musician
who built this house

called this the echo tower.

It's really a sort of
resonating chamber.

The wires that
actuate the hammers

run all the way down
to the piano keyboard

in the chapel.

Which I shall play during
the wedding ceremony.

When the proper
final chord is struck,

it re...

Oh. Why don't we
demonstrate it, Elaine?

Do keep your eyes on the
glass goblet, gentlemen,

while Elaine strikes the chord.

You may go now, Elaine.

You do begin to see,
don't you, gentlemen?

The particular chord

that will shatter the
stained glass under you

is only sounded once,

at the end of the
bridal recessional.

Quite a finale for a wedding.

And for poor P.J.

When that one chord is struck,

like a great amen,
the glass breaks.

And as the glass goes,
so goes the framing.

Precisely,

allowing you to fall a
great distance down,

and poor, dear Paul Lambert

is struck by your
hurtling bodies.

Well, that should kill

the three of us
pretty thoroughly.

And all the kings horses
and all the kings men...

Will be unable to put
any of you together again.

There is even the possibility

that you may be blamed
for Paul J. Lambert's death.

And you, in turn, will gain
economic control of your empire.

Queen Emma I.

It has a pleasant
ring, hasn't it?

Ah, excuse me, gentlemen,

and thank you so very
much for your help.

You know, I don't
usually cry at weddings,

but I may make an
exception in this case.

Dearly beloved, we
are gathered here today

to join this man and this woman

in the bonds of holy matrimony,

which is an honorable estate.

Do you, Michele, take Paul

to be your lawful
wedded husband,

and keeping thee only unto him

so long as you both shall live?

I do.

The ring, please.

Thank you.

Join hands, please.
Repeat after me.

I, Paul, take thee, Michele...

I, Paul, take thee, Michele...

To be my lawful wedded wife.

To be my lawful wedded wife.

And with all my worldly goods...

Artie.

Yeah?

What do you do with one
foot free in a situation like this?

I don't know. Play hopscotch?

For as much as Paul and Michele

have consented
together in holy wedlock

and have witnessed
the same before God...

And thereto have given...

Hold it steady, Jim.

By the power vested in me,

I now pronounce
you man and wife.

I think I got it.

Yeah.

Okay.

I'm in good shape.

What about you, Jim?

I'll tell you in
a minute, Artie.

Wait a minute. Wait a minute.

We're going to take photographs
of the happy bride and groom.

Will you get your
equipment, please?

Yes. Now I think we should
take individual photos first.

Michele, will you come
down here with me?

Yes. Uh, P.J.?

P.J., we'll take yours first.

Now, I think... Oh, yes.

Will you please
put it over there?

Will you back up
there just a little bit

and turn to your right?

Yes. You have to look
at the camera, you know.

Heh-heh. There you are.

Now, that's perfect, P.J.

Well, James, my boy,

get set for a big letdown.

Michele, are you all right?

Mr. West.

Goodbye, Mr. West.

Where'd Miss Valentine go?

Gone. I-I don't know where.

You all right, Michele?

You won't have any trouble
having the wedding annulled.

What?

After all the trouble
I've had marrying you,

why should I have it annulled?

You... You can't marry a girl

who's been a part of
this terrible conspiracy.

Can you?

Roses are red Violets are blue

Crime does pay

I'll show you

Will you remind
me never to go out

with you again
after a working day?

I'm bushed.

Jim, look at that.

That couldn't be from
Miss Valentine, could it?

She's in jail.

Well, it was several hours
before she was apprehended.

She could have had time
to cook up a little something.

Last time I saw a box like this,

it was chocolate-covered
cherries.

Jim.

That's a bomb.

There's only one
way to find out, Artie.

I gotta know what that was.

Um...

Care for some sloshed
chocolate cherries?

Who sent it?

Uh...

Oh.

Roses are red Violets are blue

I do love Paul J We're
getting married at 2

Michele.