All language subtitles for The.Avengers.1965.S04E04.Death.at.Bargain.Prices.DVDRip.XviD-PP1

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.

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