Original subtitles

It's going to be difficult, father.

All business is difficult.

A decision like this takes strength.

And strength is power, remember that.

Yes, father.

He expects us to confirm his appointment to the board.

Instead of which, we're going to dismiss him.

After a blow like this, he's going to be against us, you can depend on it.

The only answer is to dispense with his services forthwith.

Well, how are you going to tell him?

The truth, my son.

The plain unvarnished facts, that's what you're going to tell him.

Me.

Sit down.

Now keep it short, sharp and to the point.

Don't give him a chance to argue or talk back to you.

These things are best done quickly so hit him, and hit him hard.

Come in.

Oh, thank you, sir.

My son is speaking for us both on this occasion.

Oh, I see, youth at the helm all that sort of thing, eh?

Don't sit down. - What?

You won't be staying here long.

I intend being short, sharp and to the point.

It has been decided that we will not appoint you to the board.

Not?

Under the circumstances we feel that it would be unfair for us.

Unfair for you to remain with the company hereafter.

Goodbye.

And good luck.

Just like that, eh? You mean you...

I really don't think there's any point discussing it further.

I'm proud of you, Peter.

Admirably handled. - I still have a lot to learn, Father.

You will, my boy, you will.

Now you run along and enjoy yourself.

All right, Father.

Yeah.

We're needed.

A sheer drop.

Absolutely.

And no way down from above.

None.

Well, whatever it was, it must have flown in.

Could be.

The door was locked, securely locked.

I opened it and found him.

His clothes were torn to pieces.

And the marks on him...

He'd been clawed to death.

As though by some bird.

Some huge, obscene bird.

An albatross.

It's got a twelve foot wingspan.

It's big, but not vicious.

It's supposed to be a sailor's friend.

It's got to be a bird of prey.

Bird of prey.

Cormorants, no, darters, boobies and gannets.

Herons and their allies, old world vultures, hawks, eagles, kites...

Harriers, look at: the golden eagle.

It's been known to attack man, but only in isolated cases.

Yes, but this isn't an isolated case.

Simon Roberts wasn't the first?

There have been four deaths lately, in high places.

It's very strange you know, the way successful businessmen always live at the top of buildings.

And they're all businessmen.

And all, apparently, killed by a bird.

A high flying eagle?

Well, if it's on the wing now, we can expect it any day.

Dear sirs, with regard to your outstanding account.

You asked for three weeks grace in order to find the money.

Under no circumstances can we allow this...

Correction:

Under no circumstances can I allow this.

And we will proceed with legal action against you immediately.

There seems to be some controversy about our owning all rights to the book in question.

I can state quite categorically that even if we have to go to court,

we shall fight to retain our rights.

We will fight the author, Sir Lexius Cray, and...

The door was securely locked, the burglar alarm was working,

Exactly the same pattern as before.

Straight through the window.

Opening it this time.

If it was a bird, it showed a lot of discretion.

Maybe it was well trained.

"We shall fight to retain our rights."

"We will fight the author, Sir Lexius Cray, and..."

Well, if the killer didn't fly through the window, maybe he climbed up the wall.

Sir Lexius Cray...

The mountaineer.

Take in the slack.

Now, give me your hand.

Comfy?

Yes, thank you.

Is this the sort of thing you want?

The experience, yes.

There's nothing like authenticity.

That's the way my readers see it.

The third ledge of Binaiya.

Always gave me trouble.

Fancy a cup of tea, Mrs. Peel?

Lovely.

Thank you.

Not at all.

Get us a cup of tea, will you, Tay Ling?

Grand chap, that.

Better than all your dogs.

The only snag is: that if the worse comes to worst, you can always eat a dog.

Wouldn't feel right, tucking into old Tay Ling.

Tea on the terrace then, dear lady?

Fine.

See you downstairs, then.

Cheerio!

The main thing is confidence.

Confidence in your partner.

As in all things.

Quite so, young lady, quite so.

My magazine has had rather a setback.

The owner and his son died suddenly, in quick succession.

I believe you know them: Simon Roberts and Son.

Roberts and son, both?

Both. You did know them?

Oh, I knew them all right, a couple of blackguards.

Shouldn't speak ill of the dead and all that,

but if you want my reaction, it's good riddance.

Neither of them had a heart.

Then there was that business over my book.

What business?

They published my memoirs recently, and then tried to do me down.

Tried to do me out of the profits, me!

Must have been very galling.

There were times when I could have taken them both by...

But then that's over now. They're dead and that's the end of it.

Well, you've been most helpful, Sir Lexius, and thank you for my delicious tea.

My pleasure, dear lady.

Let me have a sight of your scribble, will you?

I will. Goodbye. - Goodbye.

A charming young lady, Tay Ling.

Most charming, sir.

A little inquisitive, but nothing we can't handle.

As you say. sir.

Good evening, my name is Tay Ling.

No, you do not know me.

But I know you.

I have been reading about your notorious exploits.

Exploits.

Also, I know how you have done such strange things.

I know, because of a letter sent to my employer.

By a man named Poole.

I see I have captured your attention.

Oh yes, I have the letter here.

Beneath my hand.

Shall I then commence to talk business?

Naturally we can meet.

Shall we say, around midnight?

The scientific approach.

The Roberts building.

The ground below, height, wind velocity, temperature.

I have all the facts at my fingertips.

Good, and what do you intend doing with them?

Assessing them, and evaluating them.

Someone, or something, got from here to there without being detected.

Now, there must be an explanation, and I intend finding it.

With a shoebox?

They laughed at Edison.

Only when he was serious.

Well, while you pursue theory, I'll try a more practical approach.

A midnight visit to Sir Lexius Cray.

Stay right where you are.

Tay Ling.

But what? - That's what I came to find out.

It looks as though he's been attacked by a bird.

A bird of prey.

Surely you don't think that...

We climbed to the top of the world together.

An experience like that creates a bond that's hard to break.

Even in death.

You came through that door right on cue, Sir Lexius.

I heard a sound, the sound of a bird.

So I got Freddy here, and we started searching the grounds.

Then I heard the scream.

Well, whatever was in here made a mess of your desk.

Is anything missing?

Nothing as far as I can see.

What about this?

What was in here?

Oh, letters, just letters.

From a person named Poole.

Yes, Professor Poole. - Concerning?

Well, he was an inventor chap who wanted me to endorse one of his ideas.

What kind of idea?

Boots.

Boots?

Oh, no ordinary boots by all accounts.

According to the professor, when you put them on, you could walk up the side of a house.

Boots?

Boots.

For climbing up walls.

Boots.

Does it ruin your theory?

I have two possible alternatives.

The murderer inflates a small balloon, he rises up the nearest building,

he fires a rocket line across to the penthouse, he drops a trampoline,

he bounces on it, in through the window, possibility number one.

And possibility number two?

He bribes the doorman.

Boots, boots...

Special boots, just the thing for climbing mountains.

You don't have to be roped together.

Ah, that takes all the romance out of it.

Well, think of the Matterhorn during the tourist season.

The upper slopes of that mountain packed with sightseers, all out for a vertical stroll.

Vertical souvenir stores?

Vertical salesmen. - Selling vertical souvenirs.

The last bastions of peace and solitude are threatened.

And that's not the only threat.

If these boots do what's claimed.

We know how he gets to the window, but...

but we've got to find out who goes through the window.

What's Professor Poole's address?

Professor Poole, my name is Steed, this is Mrs. Peel.

Professor.

Peel. Hm...

Pee-hool...

Peea-pool... the Indonesian marsh rambler!

Peea-pool!

You know the Indonesian marsh rambler?

Not over well.

Delightful creature, delightful creature.

What do you want?

We're very interested in your work.

We wanted to ask you a few questions.

Questions? Me? No time, no time.

Professor?

Good morning.

Good morning.

It's a very nice morning. Splendid flying weather.

I thought you were gone.

Ah now, Professor if you remember, you promised to show us your latest invention.

Nonsense. Consider the ostrich.

What have we done with the ostrich?

True.

But could you possibly...

To watch a man walking is to see a clumsy machine.

To watch a bird fly is to witness a vision.

Ah, but even a bird has to come down to earth sometime.

A mere detail.

My work is to free man from his shackles.

And if not on the wing, why not in boots?

Precisely.

Boots? I've work to do.

Mrs. Peel spoke to Sir Lexius Cray.

He told me about the boots you'd offered him.

Put them on, and you can walk up the side of a house.

I know nothing at all about this.

Oh, come now, professor, you...

Why do you persist in bothering me? Why can't you leave me alone?

Wasn't the dodo warning enough?

Dodo?

Wouldn't leave that alone. Now, it's extinct.

Gone.

As so am I.

Poole was lying.

To be strictly accurate, he was hanging.

Upside down.

Well, he merits another visit.

Later, after dark.

Meanwhile, back at the apartment?

There's one aspect of these murders we've overlooked.

The victims.

They were all businessmen.

All ruthless businessmen.

The kind that treat their staff badly, grind their competitors under heel.

Sort of "Dumayn" types.

Eh?

Edward J. Dumayn.

He's the current cause celebre of the business world,

in all the newspapers today.

"Dumayn automates his factories. Thousands will be made redundant.

That is just the sort.

Now, there's a potential victim if ever I saw one.

Fothers!

Fothers!

Yes, sir, Mr. Dumayn, sir?

A pigeon, Fothers. That was a darn pigeon!

Yes, sir.

I pay you to stock this land with game.

Pheasant, partridge, real game.

Yes, sir.

Then produce some, man. Get beating and produce some.

Yes, sir.

Right away, sir.

Flush me out something worth shooting at this time.

Flush me out something big!

The pattern as before.

And the bird has flown.

What's that?

Items found at the scene of the crime.

Your items don't look very interesting.

It's a load of rubbish.

You know, I'm beginning to have doubts about this bird theory.

The killer's too... - Selective?

Well, he seems to know, yes.

He seems to know where, and who to strike.

A sort of judge, jury and executioner all rolled into one.

A sort of winged avenger. - Eh?

The Winged Avenger strikes again.

He fights a lone fight against evil.

Have a look.

Hold it!

Julian. - Yes, Arnie.

Julian, you're swooping in on this beautiful girl,

carrying her off to your nest, and what do you say?

Oh, I say, "Ahhhh."

You say "ah". Well, for heaven's sake, feel it!

Ahh... oh, I can't somehow.

Stanton, he can't say your lines.

Try that.

Eee-urp?

Eee-urp!

Oh, that's much better, Mr. Stanton, much better.

You see, no trouble.

Pity you didn't write it that way in the first place.

It didn't seem to fit with your drawing.

What's the matter with my drawing?

It doesn't measure up to my writing.

Measure up? I should say it was the other way around.

You'd say!

My stories are the key to this cartoon strip.

Your stories are dull.

Dull? - Dull.

My visions bring some fire into them.

And where would you be without plot, eh?

Where would you be without me?

I breathe life into The Winged Avenger.

I make him a reality.

Steed, John Steed.

What do you want?

Back numbers of The Winged Avenger.

I have a young nephew, I said I'd drop in.

Oh, Gerda, would you look after Mr. Steed, and show him the files?

My pleasure. - And mine, too.

I must apologise for my partner's bad manners, Mr. Steed.

He's been overworking, losing his grip.

Losing my grip?

I'm sick of your insinuations!

And I'm sick of you.

Eee-urp!

Eee-urp!

There he stood, large as life, flapping his wings,and making noises.

Noises? - Eee-urp! Eee-urp!

Probably the bird equivalent of "goodbye, nice to have met you".

Well, I'm off to make a return visit to Professor Poole's.

Eee-urp? - Eee-urp?

My dear Professor, what are you up to?

Apart from the ceiling?

You have no right, coming in here.

May we talk?

Go away. - I wouldn't dream of it.

Now, shall I come up there, or will you come down here?

All right, all right.

You've been practising with your boots.

Of course.

But the last time we were here, you denied having any.

I don't want everybody to know.

What about the blood rushing to the head?

Practise, on the parallel bars.

Ahh.

So, the secret's in the little black box.

Magnetic fields, you know.

If you didn't want anyone to know, why write to Sir Lexius Cray?

That was before I got a better offer.

Do I assume then, that before long everybody will be walking on ceilings?

It'll ruin the carpet trade.

No, no, no, I sold the exclusive rights to the only other pair in existence.

So somebody else has a pair.

Our agreement was the boots be kept secret, until they have been protected.

As a matter of fact... - Yes?

He doesn't even know I have a pair myself.

Naughty. - You won't say anything, will you?

Not a syllable.

That is, if you'll tell me who has the other pair of boots.

I don't know the man.

The business was conducted through a third party.

I did, however, make a note of the company he represented.

Uh... Winged Avenger Enterprises.

Okay, fine, that's it.

Packer!

Packer!

How about the way our latest story's going.

As far as I'm concerned, it's going fine.

As far as you're concerned!

The Winged Avenger should be omnipotent.

A law unto himself.

He seeks out evil.

He seeks out men without humanity.

Wicked men who don't deserve to live.

He seeks them out, and he swoops down on them.

And then, and then...

You're taking my creation an entirely different way.

A wrong way!

That's a matter of opinion.

Is it?

Is it!

How do you do?

I'm Mrs. Peel.

Mrs. Emma Peel.

You did receive a letter from our London office.

Not a word.

Ah. Now that was very remiss of them.

I understood they would write.

And what did you understand they would say?

Well... - Goodbye, see you tomorrow.

Uh, Julian. - Eh?

Sorry, I forgot.

Sometimes it seems like a part of me.

What is it you wanted, Mrs. Peel?

I represent a company dealing in novelty items,

and we've come up with a very interesting gadget

that might tie in nicely with your cartoon strip.

Gadget?

Well, it's not a gadget, really: a pair of boots.

With these boots you could walk up the side of a house.

Up the side of a house?

And across the ceiling too, eh?

Struck a nerve when you mentioned the boots, eh?

Well, Packer laughed his head off, and Stanton looked a bit piqued.

Could be one or t'other, or both.

I don't think so. The Winged Avenger definitely works alone.

But that's a cartoon, a fiction.

After the fact.

Don't forget Dumayn. - Hm...

Who else was at the studio?

Well, a number of girls in various stages of exposure.

Ah, yes.

And Mr. Eee-urp. - Julian.

I must say the Winged Avenger outfit fits him very well.

We mustn't overlook Julian.

What do you think?

I think you should take another look around the studio.

Exactly. I've worked out a way for you to get in.

Ohhh, no. It's your turn.

I'm going home to relax and put my feet up.

Eee-urp!

Hello?

Mrs. Peel?

Poole here. Professor Poole.

Yes, Professor, what is it?

It is imperative I see you tonight.

Now, at once, right away.

You mean immediately?

All right, I'll come right now.

Thank you.

Thank you. And please, tell no one.

What the devil do you think you're doing?

Since you ask, disarming you.

Julian! - Yes, Julian.

And the professor.

Professor? What professor?

Poole. - I've never heard of him.

What's this?

Arnie must be working on his own now.

And writing his own stuff, too.

Look at this.

Elma Peem?

I never heard a character of that name.

It's an anagram for Emma Peel.

Let's have a look at these.

What's it all mean?

Professor Poole?

Professor Poole?

Come on.

It all ties in.

For the past six months Arnie's completely taken over.

Everything I do is wrong. Everything has to be his way.

He's mad.

He's power mad!

How are we doing?

Not too good.

The odds are a little more equal now.

It won't do you any good, Mrs. Peel.

I am the eradicator of all evils.

I deal out justice and vengeance to those whom the law cannot touch.

And to those who stand between me and my purpose.

I am the Winged Avenger, Mrs. Peel.

Just a myth.

A cardboard character.

Cardboard, Mrs. Peel?

Cardboard?

Creator and creation fused into one being.

Indivisible, omnipotent, unstoppable.

Nothing, nothing stands in my way.

Least of all you, Mrs. Peel.

Least of all, you!

Packer's really got his wings clipped.

Oh, thank you.

Hey!

I'm coming down.

Eee-urp!

Well, it's nice to be the right way up for a change.

At least you know where you stand.

Ah, champagne.

Now, with that we have a dozen Whitstable oysters.

La tortue clair aux serai.

Turtle soup to you.

I know.

La sermon les cas pel vous, with a 1959 Chablis.

What did you say?

It just went with a wallop.

Marvellous un supreme a volet a la kiev with a Chateau Mouton Rothchild.

Ah, Deuxi�me Cru.

Twenty-eight?

A little younger?

Twenty-nine.

Crepe surprise, peeled walnuts and a tory or crusty port.

It all sounds marvellous.

Where do you get it at this time of night?

I've drawn it for you.

Ah...

Will you serve, or shall I?

I will.

Hey.

The benevolent avenger strikes again.

subtitles by rick@peoplesguidetothecosmos.com