Original subtitles

Williams was found in here, Mrs. Peel.

Sir David Harper's butler, I gather.

Butler, valet, general factotum. His services were terminated just there.

All the family's silver's intact, it's a motiveless murder.

Not a single clue, just a few shreds of evidence.

Whatever did that, Mrs. Peel, was wild.

Inhuman, bestial. - I wouldn't argue on that point, Sir David.

Yet it appeared without warning. - And disappeared without a trace.

Which I believe carries it clearly into your territory.

Oh, I'm not concerned with my own personal safety,

but you know what I'm running down here.

Some kind of experimental farm, isn't it?

Dairy products, among other things.

I'm in charge of research.

And you fear an attack on the farm?

We have valuable livestock out there, Mrs. Peel.

And whatever killed Williams is still on the loose.

We've got to find it, and quickly.

We'll check around the grounds.

The same way.

No footprints, nothing.

Looks as though it could have been a cat of some kind.

We plead "not guilty".

No, Mrs. Peel, I think it was something a little larger than that.

There's the devil.

He's whiffed our scent.

Watch him!

Watch him close.

Well, I hope my party piece hasn't bored you, Mr. Steed.

On the contrary Major Nesbitt, it brought back the full flavour of the hunt.

Giant of a beast, eh?

Weighed a quarter of a ton, if he weighed a pound.

I had a job carting him back.

You brought him back?

Yes. - Here?

Yes. There he is.

That's him.

Reckon I know as much about the big cats as any man living.

That's why I'm here, Major.

Ruthless, and natural born killers.

Even in captivity you'll never subdue it.

Nothing walks the earth more cunning, barbarous and savage.

Killed an entire village, this chap.

This is interesting.

I used to keep a small cub once.

Got too big.

In a London zoo now. Couldn't risk him getting out.

A tiger on the loose would create havoc.

One already has. Two of your neighbours were mauled to death not a mile from here.

Hmm? Sir David Harper and his butler, Williams.

Harper? - You knew him?

Yes, served on several committees.

Mauled, you say? - Yes.

Impossible, Steed.

This isn't just an ordinary nose, this is a built in cat detector.

If there was one on the loose, I'd know it.

Well, assuming there was one, where would you start to look for it?

Can't remain hidden for long.

A beast that size needs meat.

And plenty of it.

So this is where Sir David carried out most of his research?

That's right. New breeding techniques, fertilizers, livestock breeding.

He tackled them all.

Very important work.

Definitely. - But hardly what I'd call hush, hush.

Hardly.

And through here?

That's the specimen store.

Morning Peters. - Morning Mr. Erskine.

This is Mrs. Peel. - Morning.

Our perishable specimens are stored in here.

Milk, meat, all the facets of our experiments.

Interesting. - Well, I think so.

But then again, nothing sinister about it.

You're looking for a motive for Sir David's murder.

I'm just looking, Mr. Erskine.

Mr. Erskine. Mr. Erskine!

Mr. Erskine, sir.

It's the bull, sir, the prize bull.

What about it? - It's been attacked, sir.

It's dead.

Dead?

What could do that to a full grown bull?

What indeed!

Your security here seems pretty strict.

How strict? - Stricter that you think.

The farm's ringed with traps - look.

We put them down to safeguard the poultry against the odd fox or dog.

Nothing could pass this barrier without our knowing it.

On foot in the wrong place, and...

Reminds me of the old days in Bengal, what.

Ah, is there anything more exiting than hunting the big cats?

The shank!

That's just what we aim for: the shank!

But not my shanks!

I don't fancy my profile up there.

Remember, old man, I bag the head. Make a nice companion set.

Let's bag the big cat first.

Let's organize a safari, just like the old times, eh?

Like old times.

Unusual, old man. Woman on a big game hunt.

Unusual woman. All set, Mrs. Peel?

Nor-nor-east. Best to stay upwind of the cattle.

Well, let's split up.

I'll make for the high ground.

Anything on the prowl lower down, you should spot it from here.

I'll cover the farm area.

On your own down there, won't you be lonely?

I shan't be on my own, Erskine's working late tonight.

It came from over there.

It's illogical, Mrs. Peel.

Three men mauled to death, and not a single report of an escaped lion or tiger.

Or anything.

If you want my view, someone's heading for disaster.

Disaster?

Sorry! - My hat!

Humour in milk. Milk and its derivatives.

Do you mean to say you've waded all the way through all these?

I think the word is skimmed.

What about Sir David's notes?

Nothing in them to suggest a motive.

Oh.

Back on safari.

I'm prepared.

Here, take this.

It'll pick up the slightest sounds of what the eyes can't see...

the ear may very well hear.

What?

You're not switched on.

Oh.

You play it your way, we'll let the major play it his way.

And what has the major in mind?

A secret recipe.

What's his recipe?

What did you say?

What does it do?

Attracts the big cats, Steed.

Like honey to bees.

They can't resist it.

Never been known to fail.

Carries for miles.

It looks delicious.

It is.

I'm sure, but will it work?

I'd stake my life on it.

Is there enough room in there for a big cat?

That's not for the cat, old man, that's for me.

Be safer inside. Now, if you'd oblige.

Now make yourself scarce, Steed.

And uh, watch the waterhole.

Thank you Major.

Steed, are you there?

Are you receiving me?

Remarkably loud and clear, Mrs. Peel.

Where are you nestling?

I'm high up on a hill, between the farm and Nesbitt's place.

It's a perfect bird's eye view.

Well, the miniature mikes are scattered, all ready to switch on.

Hold on a second, Mrs. Peel.

Cheers, Steed.

Cheers, Mrs. Peel.

I thought everybody'd left.

I had a few things to clear up.

Are you still on safari?

Yes, do you want to come along? - No, thank you.

I haven't forgotten that bull, or Erskine.

Who was that?

That was Peters. Not the most chivalrous of gentlemen.

We're few and far between.

May we now establish radio silence?

Mrs Peel?

You hear it?

Yes.

What is it?

I don't know.

It's heading your way.

It's getting quite near.

Can you see anything?

Not yet.

Mrs. Peel!

Mrs. Peel, are you all right?

Yes, I'm fine.

What was it?

I fell over the empties.

I thought I heard a...

Sh!

Whatever it was, it was here.

And now, it's turning north.

I've got it.

And now it's moving west.

Due west.

Towards Nesbitt's place.

I'm on my way.

P.U.R.R.R.?

Come on! Ain't got all day.

Were you a friend of the deceased?

Not exactly.

He will be sadly missed.

He was always such good company.

Cheshire, Edwin Cheshire.

John Steed.

Yes, he was indeed a true companion.

You may proceed, gentlemen.

Hardly ever spent a night out on the town.

Very commendable.

He had his funny little ways, of course.

Don't we all?

Yes.

He used to love to take a snooze in the back of this harmonium.

I cured him of it though, sleeping in the harmonium.

Poked him out with my umbrella.

And I smeared his nose with butter.

It's a sure cure.

Rather drastic, I should have thought.

Here he comes now.

Prince Courtenay of Chipperland, champion of champions.

Is there a cat lover anywhere that will not mourn his passing?

Farewell.

Farewell, faithful, fair and fulsome feline friend.

But life must go on. You've come to join P.U.R.R.R., no doubt.

Indeed.

The Philanthropic Union for Rescue, Relief and Recuperation.

Of cats?

But of course of cats.

Those leggy, lovable, lithesome creatures.

We care for them. We care for them all.

Oh, it's a lot of work. A great deal of work.

Why, in London alone, our membership stands at...

One million, one hundred and ten thousand, and forty three.

Ah, Angora, application form for Mr. Steed, please.

Thank you.

Now, Mr. Steed, the name of your beloved pussy.

Oh, Emma.

Emma.

Pedigree?

Family tree that long.

Colouring?

Reddish brown.

Oh, a cuddly bronze tabby, and what a joy for you it must be when she's...

curled up in your lap.

Well, I never thought of it that way.

Sign, please. - Thank you.

Now, may I offer you a drink?

Well, I wouldn't say no. - Good.

Let's see, we have homogenized, pasteurized, full cream, diary special or...

or perhaps you'd prefer the short.

Well, I uh...

I've got some condensed here somewhere.

No, it is a little soon before lunch.

Ah, but it's the food of the gods, and gods these creatures are.

Worshipped by earlier civilizations.

Such grace, beauty, intelligence.

It was said that one day, cats would inherit the earth.

And one day, Mr. Steed, they shall.

One day, they shall.

On the bottle again, Cheshire?

Ah, Dr. Manx.

May I present Mr. Steed.

How do you do, Dr. Manx? - Hello.

Dr. Manx is our medical advisor,

sees everything in very cold and clinical terms, I'm afraid,

no feeling, no rapport with our feline friends at all.

I look after them well, though. - Ah, there we see eye to eye.

You're joining P.U.R.R.R., Mr Steed?

Just my cat. - Very wise move.

Mr. Cheshire here will look after your cat's welfare,

and I shall look after its health.

Splendid. Do you deal with all cats?

Naturally. - All cats are welcome here.

Even the big ones?

Don't forget your brochure, Mr. Steed.

He went that-a-way.

"A" to "D"?

"E" to "K".

Ah!

Philanthropic Union for Rescue, Relief and Recuperation of cats.

A feline paradise run by a man called Cheshire.

So that's our Mr. P.U.R.R.R..

You read on, that'll make you bristle,

you beautiful bronze tabby. - Purrr...

Sir David, Major Nesbitt, Erskine, the three men...

Four, Bellamy was mauled to death about an hour ago.

A penchant for committee members. Now, who's for desert?

Mr. Samuel Jones, unless we can get to him first.

Ah, Jones.

Jones!

About this Mr. Cheshire.

Loves cats. Prefers them to humans.

Well, they're much more cuddly.

Well, the little ones.

I'd like to know where he keeps those big ones.

Let's put a pigeon among the pussies.

Right.

While you're on the wing, Mrs. Pigeon,

I'll forage through these Jones'.

Mr. Samuel Jones, Jones, Jones, Jones, Jones, Jones!

Have no fear, Mrs. Peel, we'll find your Little John for you.

I do hope so, Mr. Cheshire. - Oh, yes.

If we can't locate him direct, our vast membership will certainly cooperate.

Come with me.

Now, I've noted your description, and I've built up a composite picture.

As you can see. Tell me, is that like him?

No. Little John's nose is much more aristocratic.

Of course, of course.

How about that?

The eyes are a little too small.

Is that better?

Yes, that's him.

You see, our ident-a-cat system never fails.

I just knew your society could help.

Mrs. Peel, P.U.R.R.R. is not a society.

It is a union, a union of souls.

We rescue and relieve the lost, neglected and homeless.

And where do they recuperate?

Through there.

But first, tell me, has your Little John any other peculiarities?

Well, he's very bad tempered first thing in the morning,

until he's had his first glass of champagne.

Yes.

Hello?

Do I have the right number for Mr. Samuel Jones?

Samantha?

What a charming name.

Yes.

But I must find Samuel.

Ah, what a joyous sound. Almost time for tea.

Come in, dear lady.

Through these portals have passed a hundred thousand strays.

Our membership includes over ninety percent of the entire feline population.

But I will not rest until every cat wears our medallion.

Um, ah, ha ha, look at them. I must have a look at my tabbies.

Just a minute.

Oh, hello my pets. Ready for your tea?

Now then.

Ahh, hello Elfida, Worthington!

Shan't be long, my pretties.

Oh, they're so sweet.

Now these, I...

Oh, I'm sorry.

The new arrivals are at the far end.

Yes.

You're the heavyweight champion of where?

Oh, there.

Extremely sorry to have troubled you.

Take a peek, Mrs. Peel.

Well? Is your cat amongst them?

Ah, have courage, my dear. He'll return, I know it.

And here? - That is our treatment room.

And who is that getting the treatment?

Ah, Dr. Manx, Mrs. Peel.

Mrs. Peel has just lost her dearest companion.

Not among the new arrivals? - Alas, no.

What a beautiful cat.

Oh that one, yes. Complete mental wreck on arrival.

Persecution mania. Thought she was being pursued by a poodle.

But after a few sessions of psy-cat therapy, look at her now.

Psy-cat therapy?

A new form of treatment devised by Dr, Manx.

I can hardly take all the credit.

Mr. Cheshire is our guiding light.

He supplied the finance.

Oh, that reminds me, I had a note from the committee.

Have we a description of your cat, Mrs. Peel?

Yes, yes. - Follow me, please.

He's away? For how long?

Eighteen months with remission?

I am sorry, madam.

Well that's all, Mrs. Peel.

We'll circulate his photograph and description in our members bulletin.

You will receive your medallion in due course.

Thank you.

Don't forget your coat, Mrs. Peel.

I'll see you out.

Thank you.

I brought the van.

All equipped? - As per instructions.

Good. Zero hour's fixed for twenty-three hundred.

Tonight? I thought the...

You were never employed to think, Peters.

Saturation point has been reached.

The experimental stage entirely satisfactory.

There is no point in delaying the operation.

There's still Samuel Jones.

Don't panic, the matter's well in hand.

Where on earth is that woman going?

Mrs. Peel. - You know her?

She was the one at the farm with a man called Steed.

Steed?

You're certain it's her?

Well, if you need confirmation.

Leave this to me.

No.

But they're on to us, they must be.

How?

Suspicious perhaps. So were Harper and Nesbitt.

But remember, Peters, there's more than one way to skin a cat.

Hello?

Yes, this is Samuel Jones.

Yes, indeed, I'm on the governing committee.

Look, Mr. Jones, I can't explain now,

but you are in extreme danger.

Yes, I have your address.

Now, bolt all your doors and windows, and I'll be right over.

But really, Mr. Steed, I'm quite safe here.

I live in a penthouse flat.

Please do as I say.

Oh, very well.

I'll be expecting you.

You can stop worrying about Mr. Samuel Jones.

He's been dealt with.

Now for Mrs. Peel.

Put that away.

We'll dispose of Mrs. Peel as we disposed of the others.

Here.

Take her to Cheshire.

Peters?

Aren't you forgetting something?

Oh, Steed. Did you trace Jones?

Yes, I traced him, but too late.

How'd you get on with the cats?

Well, there's an odd laboratory there.

And a van equipped like a small apartment.

Really?

Mrs. Peel, I'll call you back.

The cat's out of the bag.

Mr. Cheshire!

Your sorrows are at an end, dear lady.

The lonely gap in your heart will soon be filled.

No, don't thank me. The look in your eyes is gratitude enough.

But supposing Little John were to come home.

Then your heart will be doubly filled.

But Mr. Cheshire...

I'm so glad that we've found someone to take care of you.

Hmm, there's this additional circuit which is intriguing.

It's a recent development called an electro-phone.

Transmits brain waves.

What effect do they have?

On humans only minimal. We've too many barriers.

On animals, it'll release the primitive instincts.

Would they have an effect on a cat?

Ideal subjects.

Beam these waves into the brain of a cat,

you'd find yourself with a tiger in your lap.

Shhh, now be as quiet as a mouse.

How very obliging of you, Mr. Steed.

You've saved us the trouble.

Us?

Welcome back, Mr. Steed.

Now, as you doubtless heard, curiosity killed the cat.

But in this case, the cats are going to kill the curious.

That equipment, it transmits brainwaves into those receivers in the medallions?

Inside every cat, there's a hidden tiger.

Well, I can release it.

Shortly, I shall blanket the entire country.

Every cat wearing a medallion will revert to it's savage ancestry.

Our membership runs into millions.

Few will survive, but for those who do,

there'll be wealth, unlimited wealth.

In banks, safe deposits, diamond vaults.

And all by the mere flick of a switch.

Easy, isn't it?

I think that was grounds for divorce.

Yes, it was a pity about my governing committee, but they became curious...

about my expenditure.

Still, they were very useful guinea pigs in the experimental stage.

Now, let them out, and meet me in the van.

I regret my departure, Mr. Steed.

But you won't be alone for long.

It's set to transmit in exactly one minute from now.

Goodbye Mr. Steed.

You did say you were fond of cats.

Mrs. Peel!

Pussies galore!

Get that thing switched off.

Is there a master switch?

Try the lot.

Should I put the cat out?

Do.

Angora?

Peters?

At this moment... Angora?

No! No, get away!

We just made it.

Angora!

A man's doodles reveal his psychic character.

Really?

Well, what do you think of that?

Definitely a repressed personality.

With extrovert undertones.

It certainly took full marks for originality, Dr. Manx's scheme.

Fiendishly feline.

Release the savage beast within.

Tear down the barrier of inhibition.

Let the primeval instincts run riot.

Well,

one thing's for certain,

by acting as we did,

we narrowly averted a terrible...

cat-tastrophe.

subtitles by rick@peoplesguidetothecosmos.com