Original subtitles

May I help you, sir?

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

Mr. Massey.

Our Mr. Massey will escort you.

Head-wear, Mr. Massey. - Yes, sir.

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

Yes, sir. I'm sorry, sir.

This way, sir.

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, sir.

What do you mean, "pleasant surprise"? There I was deep into thermodynamics...

I think a curly brim would look good.

You'll be wearing a curly brim for a collar unless you tell me exactly...

One of our best agents was murdered yesterday, his name was Moran.

He was shot 6 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?

If he was dumped in an alley, what are we doing here?

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

It's a receipt from Pinters.

Just an ordinary store receipt. - Have a look at the date.

And yesterday was Sunday. - Store was closed.

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

Certainly, sir.

Oh, I've got to collect something for a friend of mine. What department was it, um...

Nineteen.

Through the next department on the right. - Thank you.

May help us to find out what Moran was buying.

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 a very happy time for both of you. - Oh, it's not exactly that...

I wonder if you're buying a cot, if I could 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 license endorsed. - For reckless pushing?

That's funny. - What?

It isn't Old Bates at all, it's Royal Crichton. - That's quite an easy mistake.

Not to anyone with half an idea about china.

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

Someone in this store doesn't know his job. - Perhaps.

Perhaps they need an assistant.

Mrs. Peel? - Yes?

Jarvis. House dick.

Detective.

Settling in okay?

Yes, thank-you. - That's the ticket.

Ever work in a store before?

No.

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 and 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, um...

Don't worry about not knowing the ropes. None of them 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 5th floor, sir.

Our Mrs. Peel. "Our"!

Only been working here half a day and already enfolded to the communal bosom.

Find anything? - Yes.

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

Whatever they are, they're certainly not salesmen.

Fact? - Instinct.

Interesting.

What have you been doing?

Pinters were taken over a year or so ago,

lock, stock, and barrel, the whole chain of stores by Horatio Kane.

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

So that's what they meant.

I heard some of the staff talking about the ''king upstairs.''

He's here?

Living at the top of the building, a disused apartment's been converted for him.

Really, where is it? - The Department of Discontinued Lines.

You should fit in rather well.

That's a matter of opinion.

So, the top of the building, sir.

Up the stairs and beyond the executive staff rest room.

Extremely civil of you, madame, thank-you.

Mr. Wentworth? It's Farthingale here, sir.

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

Yes, sir, I understand.

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 some business.

We're efficiency experts.

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

Know what you want, go out and get it.

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

You think my business is failing?

Well, frankly sir I wasn't very impressed with what I saw downstairs.

Oh, weren't you now, weren't you?

Your staff seem to be a little 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 uh...

The Department of Discontinued Lines. That's what they call this place.

Discontinued Lines.

Relics of a by-gone age, Steed.

Yes, sir.

A glorious age. Gracious, leisurely, ordered.

A time for many things.

A machine was a thing of joy then,

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,

trying to recapture them. Well, that's partly true,

but that's only half of it.

A man can possess a Michelangelo can't he, Steed, and still appreciate a Picasso.

I can't compete anymore, 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, huh?

Uh, yes, sir, but you were just about to...

You're talking to the wrong man.

I'm just a sick old man.

A foolish, sick old man.

Robert Wentworth governs the policy of this store.

You'll have to impress him with your ideas.

That's correct.

I'm sorry about this disturbance, sir.

This man had no right to come up here.

He said his name's Steed.

He thinks he can improve our business. Well, perhaps he can.

After all, he did get up here to see me.

This way, please.

I enjoyed our little chat. Very enjoyable.

You should've 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 dubious characters try to talk him into putting up money for even more 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.

But once in a while,

someone finds a chink in our armour.

I imagine you used the emergency stairs.

Yes, we'll post a man there in future.

Well, good bye, Mr. Steed.

Good night, Mrs. Peel. - Good night, see you tomorrow.

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

What's up now?

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

Really, I told Mr. Wentworth.

Another one tonight, eh? - The third this week.

Same as before, senior staff only? - A selected few.

After all, I am chief window dresser here, and one might think...

Never mind, everything's changing around 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 really 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.

Now 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.

Look, I'm with you.

There is something odd going on around here.

l could help you.

Nothing much escapes old Jarvis. Besides,

I've got a pass key.

Ministry of Labour.

We're not satisfied with the way things are being run around here,

but we 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.

I know just how you feel, but 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.

Oh... - Well...

Whatever happened to you?

Department of Discontinued Lines. Wentworth threw me out.

I've got just what you need.

I thinking of lodging a complaint against the management.

Proves one thing, though. They must have something to hide.

Jarvis thinks so, too.

House detective. He's agreed to help.

Cheers. - I expected a larger glass.

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

Tiny!

What on earth's that?

It's an exploded molecular construction.

So that's what hit me.

I feel as though I'm sprouting two heads.

Have you room for expansion?

You're supposed to be an administering angel. Here am I 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? - Do you think you can trust him?

I don't know.

Ah, the corpuscles are beginning to function normally.

Good, then perhaps you could 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.

Very colourful. - Red-blooded.

Good night, Steed, you had a strenuous day.

Oh, you're quite right.

I broke into Wentworth's apartment earlier today, found this.

Makes very interesting reading.

Now, 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?

Well, that depends on the professor, of course.

And on your security arrangements, Marco. Are they almost done?

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

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

Now, come, come, now surely...

Surely you're not going to be stubborn again.

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 cooped up here all the time?

You'll have to work faster, professor.

And you won't be cooped up here any longer, will you?

Don't get your wires crossed.

Hello?

Yes, who's speaking?

It's Jarvis.

Jarvis.

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

I found something might interest you.

Ground floor, camping display.

I've left the side door unlocked. Make it snappy.

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 by now.

Mrs. Peel?

Excuse me.

It's quite simple, sir, all you have to do is 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 just through there.

Mr. Glynn? -Yes?

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

And I've been hearing some very disturbing rumours about how the store is being run.

Rumours?

They're not rumours, Mr. Steed, the 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.

Ground floor 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 the 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 either.

Julie will be next.

Julie?

Julie Thompson in the food market. She'll be the next, you'll see if she isn't.

And 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. Ford fed. Its feet firmly manacled.

Firmly man...

You want a very ripe one? - Leaping about.

I'll see if I can catch one for you.

Splendid, I'll take half an ounce.

Will that be all, sir? - Goodness me no, a list as long as my arm.

''1 tomato, 2 egg whites, 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 3lbs of the best steak and leave to marinate.''

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?

l'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?

Seems the only possible explanation.

Any particular kind of food?

Cans of fruit, bread,

some ripe Stilton,

and some bumblebees.

Honey bumblebees, we import them from Japan.

And all this stuff 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.

As a matter of fact we only stock them because a customer placed a special order.

What customer is that?

Mr. Popple. Well, Professor Popple really.

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

More?

Too many late nights.

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

I brought you a bottle of wine to go with your lunch. - Lovely.

Specially imported for Pinters.

Do you know a Professor Popple?

Popple?

Physicist, expert on nuclear fission, atom-splitter.

Did he disappear a few weeks ago?

That's right.

He was addicted to bumblebees.

Honey bumblebees.

Pinters keep a special stock in for him.

8 min 45 seconds. Pinters and Popple, do you suppose there's any connection?

Moran was the catalyst.

He was found dead, with a receipt from Pinters in his pocket.

It was dated on Sunday.

So he must have broken in.

Let's see if it has any special significance.

I shall use it when I get the opportunity.

Oh, eight minutes.

Go on with the jigsaw.

Kane?

Discontinued. Senile.

Perhaps. Wentworth?

Pinters strong-arm salesman.

I shall take great pleasure in closing my account there.

7 minutes 40. Go on.

Jarvis. Glynn. Julie Thompson.

Professor Popple. Bumblebees.

Time's up. Got to go.

Bumblebees.

Now who would want to steal some honey bumblebees?

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 we're feeding him,

so well, I thought...

You thought you could disobey my orders.

Where's Marco? - Marco, sir?

Yes, Marco, he's in charge of the commissary. 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, make sure I have all the details correct?

That's correct.

I noticed one important omission: your telephone number.

I think you have all 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 me?

For you, anything.

Where did you get this? - I found it.

Why, what's wrong?

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.

In the old days I'd have handled the whole business myself, 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 can 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.

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?

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

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 you know sir. We don't stand for that kind of thing here.

No, quite.

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

If there's 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.

That's the winner.

Eeny meeny miney mo.

That's how I like my mummies, well preserved.

Carpetbagger.

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

Steed, there's a fully equipped laboratory upstairs.

That fits in. Professor Popple.

Drugged.

Steed?

Store receipts.

Feed cards for this computer.

High Pressure Accounting?

Let's see, shall we?

Hold onto your hat.

It's a perfect cover.

Concealing these programming cards by making them look like ordinary store receipts.

Moran must have stumbled onto it.

Well, it certainly 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!

Where to start somewhere.

What sizes do bombs come in, anyway?

Why, it could be any size from this to... this! - 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.

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

You search upstairs.

Any luck? - 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. Gentleman'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!

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'll know that.

Suppose they don't believe you, suppose they, uh...

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?

Well, let's see what they think after I turn 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 fifty 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 lately.

Alterations, structural repairs.

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

All working smoothly again now.

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...

and then... boom!

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 requests?

A ride in a Tornado Roadster,

or this!

Get up! Get up!

Get up, you idiots!

Get up! After them! After them!

Massey! After them! After them! Don't let them reach the door!

Go on! After them! After them, you fool! After them!

Better get to the basement. - Better split up.

What's wrong? - They've escaped.

Split up! Cover the exits!

Don't move.

Right. Back up.

Give me the gun. - Back up.

Give me the gun.

Mrs. Peel, you're remarkable.

I've broken my umbrella. - There!

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

Really?

Kane!

Here!

It's no use. It's all over.

Over?

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

Over?

No, Wentworth, not yet.

No. Come back!

No!

Nooo!

The lift.

Try the hardware.

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.

Subtitles by rick@peoplesguidetothecosmos.com