All language subtitles for The.Avengers.1966.S04E15.Room.Without.a.View.DVDRip.XviD-PP

Shall I lead the way?

If you would, Emma.

This way.

Through here.

Grace, will you sit here?
- Thank you.

And George, here.

And Olivia, will you sit there, please?

Hm, it looks delicious.

I hope you're going to enjoy it.

Oh, how charming.

Yes, we had them at our home in Singapore.
They'll catch any little breeze.

They're supposed to make you feel cooler.

Well, at this rate, we'll all be refrigerated.

There must be a window open.

Excuse me.

John!

Who is he?

John.

My husband.

John Watkin, one of the country's top physicists,
he disappeared a couple of years ago.

Oh yes, I remember.

He went up to London
for a routine meeting,

booked into a hotel,
booked out a few hours later,

and after that, nothing,

until last night, when he suddenly
popped up in the middle of the chop suey.

No explanation?

Not as yet. We're hoping
he may be able to tell us something.

He might be able to
give us a lead on the others.

Others?

Physicists.
Seven of them.

All disappeared
over the past year or so.

Seven?

Now we see what
Watkin has to say for himself.

Oh, and Varnels will be there too.
Treat him gently, won't you?

What do you mean?

He's secunded from the Ministry.
Eager beaver. Everything in triplicate.

Wonder what he'll think of you.

The Ministry had told
me to expect you, Steed,

but they gave me no
instructions about you, Mrs. Peel.

Perhaps they wanted
to put your initiative to the test.

Not to worry,
I'll be responsible for Mata Hari.

Just the same, I think
I should ring the Minister at once.

It won't do you any good, old boy,
he'll be on the golf course by now.

Well, the junior minister, then.

Out for his early morning ride.

Well, the senior secretary.

Oh, you'll get him, all right.
But we must take this situation seriously.

Now, where is Watkin?

The first rule of security
is to double check everyone.

I'll sign for her later.

Have you seen him?
Have you spoken to him?

Yes.
- Is he in bad shape?

Very.
Is he answering questions?

Well, is he?

Hardly. He now has
the intellect of a... cabbage.

Oh, It's quite horrifying, really.

A man of his stature, brilliant physicist,
potential Nobel prize winner, and now...

What was his particular field?

Cryogenics,
if you know what that means.

The science of cooling things.

Well, we better go in and see him.

This way, please.

Oh, perhaps I should warn you,
it's not a pretty sight.

Oh, well, if it worries you,
you stay outside.

After you, Mrs. Peel.

eight, seven...
three... three, four...

I made a preliminary investigation.

His psychological state is
consistent with intensified reorientation

and auto suggestion techniques
carried out over the long period.

You mean he's been brainwashed.

I have also made
a reaction comparison.

In accordance with the procedure
laid down in the official charts, you know.

Evaluated the psychological
techniques used against him,

and I think I would say that
beyond any possible shadow of a doubt,

that he has until recently
been held in a prison camp in Manchuria.

Manchuria?

Yes, furthermore I think it extremely likely
that the camp was Ni San camp, in the north.

All that from the official charts?

Well they are very
scientifically prepared you know, Steed.

Almost infallible, I'd say.

Oh, good.

Since they are an official publication, I'm rather
surprised you haven't familiarized yourself with them.

Yes. Ni San camp.
I'd swear to it.

Psychologically he measures up
with other prisoners we've received from there.

And then there's his physical condition:
low blood count, malnutrition.

It's consistent with a
prolonged, low calorie diet.

Rice husks, gruel,
shavings of bad pork, and water.

Brackish water.
Tasting of dust.

Not a friendly
sort of place, Ni San.

Nothing to do all day but lie in
a cell listening to the world go by.

Marching feet,
foghorns on the ships going up river.

And the chiming of the clock.

And there's no sense of time, because whatever
the hour in Ni San, the clock always strikes three.

Clock always strikes three.

Three o'clock.

Three... three o'clock.

Three o'clock!

He disappeared in London.

And you're suggesting he was
shipped to Manchuria for two years.

Proved conclusively
by what we've just seen.

And then of course there's the
question of his attitude to Mrs. Watkin.

My husband can't
stand the sight of me.

He can't bear to have
me anywhere around him.

I don't know what they did to him,
but now he's terrified of me.

Would you like some tea?

Thank you.

Do you mind?
Perhaps he'd take it from you.

Oh yes, of course.

It's because I'm Chinese...

... that my husband's frightened of me.

It's like that bad joke.
Now we all look alike to him.

It's most refreshing.
Formosan tea. Excellent.

Mr. Steed, inscrutability
is supposed to be my ploy.

Do wish to ask me some questions?

The day your husband disappeared.

I drove him to the station.
He caught the afternoon train.

I didn't see him again until last night.

Did he phone you from the hotel?

Yes, later.
He said he'd arrived safely.

The room was comfortable.
And then I learned he'd left a few minutes later.

That's all?

Yes.
- Where did you first meet your husband, Mrs. Watkin?

In Singapore. When he was
teaching at the university there.

Was Singapore your home?

No. I was born in Peking.

And your parents,
they still live there?

I forgot to give you some rice cakes.
I'll go fetch them. Excuse me please.

Well?

I trust her.

Is that what
you want me to say?

You feel sorry for her.

Of course.
Doesn't necessarily colour my judgement.

Naturally.

Still, Peking though,
and she ducked the question about her family.

May have had
unhappy associations for her.

I wish I had your trusting nature.

I must leave you now, Mrs. Peel.

Please give my
apologies to Mrs. Watkin.

Are you off, Steed?

Yes, I am, but Mrs. Peel
is staying on for a while.

I've searched her
for deadly weapons.

An old colleague of Watkin's
is coming here very soon.

I'd like them to meet.
It might produce a spark.

Leave you to it.

Steed?

It would help if you
told me the colleague's name.

I'm terribly sorry, my dear.
Um, Cullen. Dr. Cullen.

Mr. Varnels, come and sit down.
You haven't had any tea.

John.
You must remember.

Try again, Dr. Cullen.
Oh, it's hopeless. You can see it's hopeless.

Please try again
from the beginning.

Look, John.
This is Cullen.

George Cullen.

Dr. George Cullen.

Don't you remember
all the work we did together?

The breakthrough.
The day everything began to make sense.

It's no good.
It's like talking to a fish in a tank.

Try it just once more.

But I'm not getting through.

I don't know what happened
to him or where he was held, but I sus...

Six.

Six.

Six, two...

Six, two...

Six, two, one!
- That's very good.

Six, two... two, one.
- That's right, six, two, one.

Six hundred and twenty-one.

Six, two, one.

Does that have any
special meaning, Mr. Watkin?

Six, two, one?

Mr. Watkin?

No. No!

You're not getting anywhere, either.

It'll need patience,
and a great deal of time.

I'm sorry, but that's
something I have very little of.

You've made that patently
obvious. This man needs help.

But not from me.
Not the sort that I can give.

He doesn't even know me.

I'm very sorry.

I believe he once helped you.
Pushed you into a research fellowship.

Yes, that's true.

It's also true
that he's a traitor.

I think we had better
finish this elsewhere.

So you're convinced he's a traitor.

Well, he cracked, didn't he?

We don't know what
pressures he was subjected to.

Whatever they were,
he didn't resist very long.

Three weeks after his disappearance,
all our research became common knowledge.

Because of him.

Good day, Mrs. Peel.

I thought you
might like some coffee.

That's very kind of you.

Who are those men?
What are they doing?

Stay here.

Oh!

Just a minute, you...

Oh, dear.

I'm most frightfully sorry.

Nothing.

Oh, not even a footprint.

Oh yes, several.
Size nine, heavy brogue type.

Well, then.

Oh, yes.

I'll take another look around in there.

Must have been some party.

Have all the guests gone,
or is Cullen still here?

What do you want?

Cullen, Dr. George.
I was told he was here.

Well, he isn't.

Look, I was told.
I've called his laboratory, and they said...

Dr. Cullen left half an hour ago.

Say where he was going?

Pasold. Leonard Martin.

Well, I have no idea
where Dr. Cullen went.

Well, next time you see him,
tell him to call me.

Tell him, Mr. Pasold?

Ask.
But say it's urgent.

Very urgent.

A matter of...
life and death.

Pasold?
I've never heard of him. Why?

Well, he walked into the study
as though he owned the place.

It's really open
house here today, isn't it?

You can't blame me for that.

I'm not blaming anyone.

It's a pity we lost Watkin, though,
before he was able to tell us anything.

There was one thing, the number 621.
It seemed to mean something special to him.

621?
A project he was working on?

Or the number of his cell at Ni San.

Perhaps.

This chap, Pasold.
What did he have to say, then?

Well, he was looking for Dr. Cullen.

Cullen?
- Mm, hm.

This will give you a chance to
re-establish yourself with the Minister.

Hm?

There's another physicist
travelling to London today.

One night away from home
for a routine conference.

But I think we ought
to keep an eye on him.

Dr. Cullen. He's checking
into the Chessman Hotel at eight.

Dr. Cullen?
- Yes.

It's my pleasure to welcome
you to Chessman Hotels, sir.

Fine room. Facing south.

Good.

Room 621, sir.

It is our sincere wish that
your stay with us will be a happy one.

Yes, I'm sure it will be.

Now if you will excuse me.
I'm am feeling rather tired.

Oh yes.
Yes, of course, sir.

This way, if you please.

For your amusement, sir.

Wherever you are in the Chessman Hotel,
you may pit your wits... ah!

... against the chess grand masters.
The games are changed each day.

Very interesting.
- Excuse me.

Your room, sir.
Very fortunate.

The sixth floor has the finest
view of London you could hope for.

I shan't be spending much
time looking through the window.

Here...
- If you don't mind, sir.

Mr. Chessman prefers not.

Gratuities do suggest
a service beyond the norm.

In a Chessman Hotel,
all service is superlative.

Good night, sir.
- Thank you.

Dr. Cullen?

I've waited a long time for this.

Sir.

May I have some more butter, please.

Certainly, sir.
Salted or unsalted?

Unsalted.

Hope I'm not depriving the late risers.

No sir. Dr. Cullen had breakfast
in his room, about an hour ago.

Lucky man.
Thank you.

Room 621, please.

Porter.
- Thank you.

Bags are for Dr. Cullen, please.

Hope we have the pleasure
of seeing you again, Dr. Cullen.

11-4, knight's out.

7:45 - he opened his curtains.

Have you...

Excuse me.

8:25 - Came down to the foyer,

He bought his paper,
went back upstairs to his room, and...

... disappeared into thin air.

But he didn't, Steed.
He couldn't have got past me.

I didn't leave my post all night.

You searched his room.

Oh sorry, yes of course,
that is standard procedure.

Clean as a whistle.

The reception
didn't notice the change.

Hm?
- New girl.

Night staff, day staff.
- Oh, yes.

Um...

Who's going to tell the minister?

I will.
Probably have to hand in my umbrella.

It isn't our fault.
Oh, by the way...

I came across a rather interesting
coincidence in one of the files.

Watkin.
- What about him?

The day he disappeared,
he was staying at the Chessman Hotel, too.

I absolutely refuse to do it.

I refuse to do it.

It'll grow on you.

I dislike the idea of working in a hotel.

Then it'll be a new, fascinating experience.

I've had my fill of new,
fascinating experiences.

Now, it wasn't easy,
but it's already fixed.

I got you the job.
You start on...

That's him.
That man I told you about.

Pasold.

I'll see you soon.

What do you mean he's checked out?

I had an appointment
with Dr. Cullen for lunchtime.

I'm sorry, sir,
but he has checked out.

See for yourself.

I don't want to see the files.
I want to see Cullen.

Good morning, Mr. Pasold.
Now, what is the trouble?

I had a lunch
appointment with Dr. Cullen.

Oh, yes.
- He's late.

I asked the girl to phone his room
and she tells me he checked out after breakfast.

Well, that is correct.

But he was staying
here all day. He told me.

True, but he changed his mind.

What are you trying to tell me?

Mr. Pasold, I trust
you're a man of the world.

Try me.

Young lady.
In his room. Small scene.

Well, of course we hushed it up.
Naturally we had to ask him to leave.

No doubt he'll contact you.

But, now, if you will excuse me,
I should be in the dining room.

Coffee and brandy, sir?

Thank-you.

And a game of chess.

May I join you, Mr. Pasold?

Give me one good reason.
- Cullen.

Excuse me, sir.

Thank-you.

And for me,
on Mr. Pasold's card.

Sir.

You can afford it, Mr. Pasold.

Or rather,
McBain's Chemicals can afford it.

You've been checking up on me.

Fascinating game, chess.

Pitting of wits.
Strategy. Point, counterpoint.

Not unlike war.
What's your interest in Dr. Cullen?

Thank-you.

You've heard
of the brain drain.

Well, meet one of the drains.

Hence Dr. Cullen.
- As if you didn't know.

Don't let me
hog the conversation.

You say something.

Like... who you are.
Who you represent.

How much you offered him.

Have you seen Cullen?

Seen, signed, and delivered.

Cheers!
You beat me to it by a day.

I had a message form my
New York office late last night: sign Cullen.

But you'd got there first.

Kidnapped.

Right under my nose.

That's how the prune wrinkles.

Order some more brandy, will you?

Keep the home fires
burning, I'll be back.

Everything all right, Mr. Steed?

Thank-you.

I wondered if
you had any complaints.

Should I?

I just happened to notice
you talking with Mr. Pasold.

Just a few minutes
after his little "contretemps".

And also, you do seem, if I may say so,
to spend a lot of time around the hotel.

I must confess
something, Mr. Carter.

I underestimated you.

Really?

You've heard of Monsieur Gourmet?

Qui n'a pas avoir.
Oh yes, of course.

There isn't a garcon over the
world that hasn't heard of him.

You?

C'est moi.

I wanted to keep it a secret.
No special menu, no extra service.

But, well, you forced my hand.

Mr. Steed, I had no idea.

Of course, you were asking
Mr. Pasold if he had any complaints.

Naturellement.

You checked his house.

You're sure?

What about his office?

Plane tickets,
that sort of thing.

Leave it to me.

I won't let this one off the hook.

Sixth floor.

No. No!

I've told you all I know.

I've told you!

Please, don't!

Let me out of here!

Let me out of here!

Let me out...

It's no good.

What?

Hello.
Watkin.

Can you hear me?

John!

No name.
I don't remember. No name.

Where are we?

What is this place?

Somewhere.
Just somewhere.

What year is it?

Year?
Why, it's 1965, of course.

'65?
Are you sure?

Three o'clock.

Too much salt.

Oh, definitely.

Ah, red grouse.
The only hundred percent all British bird.

Carter.

Cooked to within
half a second of perfection, sir.

Meat flakes breaks
to the slightest touch.

Aromatic. Savoury.
A hint of spice.

A rare, haunting bouquet.

And a taste, Carter.

The taste.

Well?

Superbly delicious, sir.

A tang of bacon.
Delicately basted.

The meat firm,
yet tender.

Fixed to the tongue.

The natural juices
mingling with the sauce.

Black pepper.
The faintest hint of black pepper.

As you say, sir.

Magnifique.

Ambrosia.

Now, my lunch.

Am I allowed any
mineral water today?

Yes, sir.

No banana.

Now, Carter.
Report to me on the hotel.

We are fully booked for the next three months, sir.
- Naturally.

Naturally.
And rather a stroke of luck, sir.

We have an exciting guest.
- Oh?

Monsieur Gourmet.

In this hotel?
- Yes, sir.

Why wasn't I told?

I only found out
myself a little while ago, sir.

The vice president of the Epicurean Circle
a guest in my hotel, and I'm not told?

I'm sorry, sir.
- See to it that he dines with me this evening.

I hope you will give us
your award of merit, sir.

You mustn't ask that!

Makes me quite nervous.

Likely to get
quite severe indigestion.

We wouldn't want that, sir.
Nor would Mr. Chessman.

He insists that you dine with him, sir.
The King Suite at eight.

He's very much looking forward
to testing your reputation as a gourmet, sir.

I'd be delighted.

Reception.
- Yes, sir.

Oh, it's you, Mrs. Peel.
And how are we settling in?

Very well, thank you, sir.
- Good.

Here.
- Thank you.

Excellent.

Sir.

Keep smiling.
I'll try.

Cullen was in room 621 when he vanished.
So probably was Watkin.

Or alternatively, sir,
you could always try our mystery tour.

Does that include the grottoes?

Check back and see.
- It's not as easy as that.

Why?

Well, they change
the register every year.

Well, must be about somewhere.

And where will you be?

Dining.
And gormandizing I hope, with Chessman.

Well, don't come to me
for the bicarbonate of soda.

My dear fellow,
I've waited a long time for this.

I was not aware you were a disciple.
- I've read every word you've written.

Often I have pictured you young, old, thin, fat.
I'd have bet you French.

Gaelic only in matters of taste.

I see that
business is flourishing.

Il faut profiters.

Hotels going up everywhere.
Overlooking Acropolis, overlooking Repulse Bay.

You know what they say
about Max Chessman.

He never overlooks anything.

Pity it doesn't apply to your staff.

I prefer his watercolours.

What did you mean about my staff?

Well, surely you must have noticed.

Noticed what?

The Malossol Caviar at lunch?

What was wrong with the caviar?

Oh, there was nothing
wrong with the caviar.

Then what?

The butter on the rye bread.

What was wrong with the butter?

Normandy butter.
- Yes.

It was salted.

I can't believe it.

I do beg your pardon.

I don't mean to question...
I must admit I was surprised.

Un peu de sous.

Say no more.
Leave it to me.

Mr. Chessman, forgive me,
it is a little hot here, don't you think?

Look at me. One of nature's jokes.
A fat man with thin blood.

I have to keep the
temperature at a steady 80 degrees.

Quel dommage!
Would you mind if I...

Of course. Allow me.
Merci beaucoup.

Now, Mr. Steed, you're going
to have to work for your supper.

My doctors won't let me eat,
they won't let me drink,

but they can't
prevent me from watching.

Toast?

Reception?

Yes sir, I'll make a note of it.

Three 4 minute eggs, black coffee,
orange juice, and the Times, at 7:30.

I understand.

Why have you
got this out, hm?

I was checking, sir.
- Checking? What of?

Oh, a letter we have from Senor Jaun
Alverez Hernandez Gonzalez Fuente Egathia.

Yes.
- From Valencia.

Yes, I know the Senor.

Oh, well he wrote
asking for his usual suite.

And I was just checking
up on which one it was.

Second floor.
Bishop Suite.

Thank you, sir.

Why didn't you ask me?

I thought it
my business to find out.

No. No. No.
The service entrance. Around the back.

Mm... Monsieur Fernon's bouillabaisse.
One of the great dishes of the world.

Tried it just the other week.

Tell me, is it as great as it was?

Greater.
- Impossible.

He told me himself!

What did he tell you?

He's changed the recipe.

I don't believe it.

Cut down the
supsa on the conger eel.

Was it a favourite of yours?

I used to drive three or four
hundred miles, just for a bowl of it.

It used to be a favourite of a
friend of mine, too: John Watkin.

Watkin.
I don't think I know him.

You should.
He used to stay here.

Host to the world, Mr. Steed,
that's what the papers say.

But I don't come into
contact with many of my guests.

Unless, of course,
they're of special interest, like yourself.

Well, this chap was of special interest.
He disappeared two years ago.

How intriguing.

He's back again, now.
Remarkable story to tell.

What kind of story?

Cuban.
Sun dried. Hand rolled.

Rolled against the
thigh de jeune fille.

You were saying
about this man, Watkin.

Exactly this distance from the thigh.

From the leaf, I mean.

Mrs. Peel.

I've been looking for you.

I understand that you were
seen entering the laundry room.

Oh, yes sir. A lady in
530 lost an article of clothing,

and she thought it may have
been taken down by the laundry man.

I see.

For a receptionist you
undertake a great many tasks, Mrs. Peel.

As a receptionist,
Mr. Carter, I expect to.

Commendable.

In that case, you won't
mind undertaking another small task.

Now, a special guest
is arriving, very pernickety,

insists that his room
is nice and airy when he arrives.

Of course, I've given instructions,
but if you would double check.

Yes, sir.
- Room 621.

Well, Mrs. Peel?

Right away, if you please.

Rose or carnation,
which do you think?

Oh, really, Steed,
how can you?

Lovely heady
scent at this time of year.

Do you see the man just
inside the bar with snow on his boots?

Name's Pushkin.

Chess grand master.

Well?

Rather of their
Minister of the Interior.

Perfect cover, don't you think?
Over here to play chess.

When talking of chess,

did you know that Chessman was planning
to build a string of hotels in the Black Sea?

Oh, impossible.

Why, they'd never
give him permission.

Unless...
- they got something pretty big in return.

Carnation, I think.

Mrs. Peel's going up to the sixth.

Got a pen?

Oh, that's funny,
they've changed the shift.

Eh?
- There's a new receptionist. Where's Mrs. Peel got to?

Room 621?
When was this?

Just now,sir.
She was asked to check the preparations.

There's one way, just one.
Bar Chessman, he must know where she is.

But we haven't
tied him in with it yet.

We will.

We can't risk everything just for one girl.
It's against official procedure.

Maybe we won't have to.

You won't mind
taking the service lift.

Right.
Thank you.

Pushkin's on his way up, sir.

You did a good job on Cullen.
Very thorough.

He was easy, sir.
Cracked like an old stick.

Oh, about the girl, sir.
- What girl?

Mrs. Peel, the receptionist.

Well, yes?

I'm afraid I shall
have to dispose of her, sir.

Very well, very well.
Just tell me when it's done.

Now, about the refreshments.

It's all laid on, sir.

Beluga caviar,
stone crabs, and plenty to drink.

An ample sufficiency of vodka, sir.

Slivovitz.
That's his particular poison.

Very good, sir.

The first luxury
hotel on the Black Sea.

Then, across the east.

Napoleon couldn't do it.
I will.

Carter, hotel manager.
Would you come this way?

It took nineteen seconds
for this lift to arrive.

This would not
be tolerated at home.

Noted.

You take the one on the left.

What?

His jacket will fit you better.

Who are you working for?

Who sent you
to the Chessman Hotel?

I asked you a question, Mrs. Peel.

Mr. Carter asked me
to go up to room 621.

And the laundry.
Did he tell you to go there?

I was looking for something.

Oh yes, we know that.

Why were you
checking the register?

Someone asked for the
same suite, and I was checking.

You underestimate me, Mrs. Peel.

We've never had a
woman in this camp before.

Never.

You will tell us everything.

In a little while.

Are you quite sure
you won't take off your jacket?

Quite sure.

You look very hot.

Let us talk terms.

Terms? That suggests
an element of bargaining.

Oh no, my dear fellow,
there can be no suggestion of that.

You do know
what I'm selling?

Not exactly.

A service.
A unique service.

Information.
At leisure. Without risk.

Dr. Cullen, Watkin,
half a dozen more others.

Are here at your disposal.

Right here.

You don't have the problem
of smuggling them out of the country.

They're here, ready for questioning,
under the most ideal conditions.

Without risk, you said.

I heard a rumour.
Watkin...

Watkin was at
liberty for a few hours.

But he knew nothing,
so he could tell nothing.

It was the merest chink in our security.
It shan't happen again.

Now, my dear fellow.
- What are you asking?

Fifty thousand.
Plus permission to build my hotels.

Fifty thousand!
- A modest price.

For such a service.

I will see what I can do.

Not good enough.
I need more than vague promises.

Come in.

Put the drinks over there.

Now, if I'm not at the Black Sea
by next summer my five year plan is ruined.

And my five year plan is to
span the world with Chessman Hotels.

The name of Chessman.

The businessman, different politicians, soldiers,
all try to do it but they fail to embrace the entire globe.

My way is different, subtle as a
sauce marian, as forceful as a haunch of venison.

As insidious as the flavour
of chewed pomegranate sauce.

No need for armies,
no fleets of ships, you see, Pushkin...

You!
What are you doing?

Cooling you off.
- No!

The temperature mustn't drop.

Where is Mrs. Peel?

Must be a steady eighty.
You'll kill me.

Mrs. Peel, where is she?

All right, I can wait.
Take your time.

Please, please.
- Much better in here, still a little close.

So we'll open a few windows.
- No!

Seventh floor, room 621.
Seventh floor?

Chessman Hotels.
All over the world. Chessman empire.

You rang, madam?

Yes, I want to change my room.
There's a honeymoon couple next door.

Hard labour?
- You should see the other fellow.

Steady, Steed,
there's a 30 mph limit.

subtitles: rick@peoplesguidetothecosmos.com