Original subtitles

Now, then, I'd like you to look

at this money, gentlemen.

I defy you to tell me

after the closest possible examination

whether it's real or counterfeit.

Feel the paper.

Feels as good as the real stuff.

Looks as good, too.

It ought to.

It's the same paper they use at the Bureau of Engraving.

Indeed it is.

Tonight's episode...

Starring Robert Stack as Eliot Ness.

Co-starring Victor Buono, Bruce Gordon,

and Karl Swenson.

And narrated by Walter Winchell.

On a dark night in the fall of 1934,

an armored truck, carrying the special paper

used in the printing of United States currency,

was speeding toward Milwaukee, Wisconsin.

Its ultimate destination

was the Bureau of Engraving in Washington, D.C.

Waiting at a crossroads a mile ahead was a group of men

about to make the first overt move

in the greatest counterfeiting swindle

in the history of the world.

The execution of this ingenious plan

had been in preparation for over two years.

♪ ♪

In less than two minutes, the first step in a plan

to defraud the people of the United States

of $100 million was completed, and three men lay dead.

Within 48 hours, Eliot Ness

and five other top crime experts

of the federal government had been flown to Washington

and were in conference with the men whose job it was

to protect the nation

against the economic cancer of counterfeiting.

Switch on the lights.

The notes you have just seen, gentlemen,

are relatively crude counterfeits.

Now, any competent engraver can make a passable copy of a $10,

$20, $50, even a $100 bill,

but the one thing

no counterfeiter has ever been able to duplicate

is the unique texture of the paper used in legal currency.

Now, up to the theft,

this paper has been our most formidable weapon

against counterfeiters,

and that, gentlemen, is why we must locate

that lost shipment.

Aren't your men much more competent

in this field than we are, sir?

Well, in a sense, yes.

But that brings us back to the element of time.

Our procedure in the past has always been

to pick up the phony money when it appears

and then backtrack it to its source.

However, in this case,

with the counterfeits issued on our own paper,

it may take weeks, even months

before we can lay our hands on one note.

By that time, it might be too late.

How can we help?

This job had to be carefully planned

and above all very well financed.

Top engravers don't come cheap,

and it's going to take a big organization

to get this money into circulation.

An established mob with plenty of connections.

Precisely.

Now, each of you is familiar with the criminal organization

in your respective territory.

We hope that one of you can discover

who's behind this.

Do we stay in our own territory if we get anything?

No. No, if any of you get a lead, you have full authority

to pursue it anywhere in the country.

We hope you'll all give each other

the fullest possible cooperation.

That's all, gentlemen.

Within three days of his return to Chicago,

Eliot Ness and the Untouchables had compiled a list

of engravers sufficiently skilled to be entrusted

with a job of the magnitude the paper theft suggested.

48 hours later, that list had been reduced to five names.

You can scratch Gibson.

Dead?

No, he had a stroke last year.

Gibson had a stroke, Morrison is dead,

LeClerc and Vogler are deported.

That leaves us with Hans Dreiser.

According to our information, he's the best of the lot.

A man with perfect paper,

and a man who can make perfect plates.

Object: perfect money.

If it ever gets into circulation,

we can stop looking.

Well, I found Dreiser.

Where?

He's doing 20 years to life in Leavenworth.

At the precise moment

that Eliot Ness and his men were concluding

that Hans Dreiser could be ruled out

as a suspect in the counterfeit plan

because he was safely behind bars in Leavenworth,

two men in a black sedan were parked at the base

of a high-voltage transformer tower

less than 300 yards from the walls of the prison.

The Treasury Department in Washington

was immediately notified of the escape of Hans Dreiser,

and the news was relayed

to the two closest federal officers

investigating the counterfeit plan.

Eliot Ness and Agent Harold Brookson

arrived at Leavenworth within minutes of one another.

Their investigations during the next 48 hours led them

to the offices of the Leavenworth Power Company.

Arizona, Joliet, Folsom, Sing Sing.

This is quite a record, Mr. Joplin.

All right, so I done time, but I'm on the level now.

Been working for the power company

for seven and a half months.

Ask Mr. Pearson.

It's true, Mr. Ness.

He came to us highly recommended

by an electrical contracting firm in San Francisco.

Of course, we knew nothing about his prison background.

Eh, it's the same old story.

A guy gets out of stir and wants to go straight.

But will the cops let him? No.

The fact remains that when the transformer blew up

the entire prison electrical system went out.

You had access to that transformer.

Look, I made a routine check.

The insulation on that transformer was worn out,

and I made a report on it.

How does it happen the transformer wasn't repaired

when Joplin's report was made?

Our men cover a very large area, Mr. Brookson.

Unless there is an emergency or a power failure,

it normally takes three or four days

for a routine report to be processed.

Look, I'm a three-time loser.

If they pin another rap on me, they'll send me up for life.

Would I do something that foolish?

All right, Joplin, you can go.

Thanks.

Mr. Ness,

I'd stake my life on the fact that worn insulation

couldn't have made that transformer blow up.

We know that, Mr. Pearson.

The transformer was destroyed by a bomb.

Here's a fragment of the timing mechanism.

You think Joplin did it?

We're sure of it.

Then why didn't you arrest him?

What are we going to use for evidence, Mr. Pearson?

Joplin checked the transformer in the line of duty.

He made a report that it was defective.

But the bomb.

Anybody could have planted the bomb.

No jury in the world would convict Joplin.

He's covered himself too carefully.

Well, I'll tell you one thing.

He's through with this company.

I know how you feel, Mr. Pearson,

but I'd appreciate it if you'd keep him on.

After what's happened?

If you fire him, he'll know we think he's guilty.

I'd like him to believe he got away with it.

He's the only lead we've got

to the man who planned Dreiser's escape.

Arriving September 12 in San Francisco,

Hans Dreiser was taken straight to Chow Lee's antique store.

Here, the man who could make the perfect plates

was to meet the man who had the perfect paper.

Ah, Mr. Dreiser, welcome.

Come in.

Sit down, Mr. Dreiser, sit down.

Take some tea.

You'll find it unique.

It's blended especially for me in a little shop in Kashmir.

Ming Dynasty.

We shall get along famously, Mr. Dreiser,

famously.

I shall be happy to show you some of my other pretty things

while you are with us.

Now, then... everything went well?

Just like you said it would. Mm-hmm.

Excellent.

I can always rely on Paddy, Mr. Dreiser.

I've had him with me for years.

He, uh, has a peculiar weakness.

He has no moral judgment.

He goes entirely by what I tell him.

If I were to tell him to kill you

or one of those lovely creatures who just left us,

he would do so without regret and without conscience.

You just tell me, Mr. Moon.

Oh, gently, Paddy, gently.

Mr. Dreiser is our friend.

We must always remember that.

No harm is to come to him while he is with us.

You understand?

Yeah.

Now, then...

Here is the paper.

I know how you must feel, Mr. Dreiser.

Like Raphael standing before a pristine canvas,

ready to apply the first delicate stroke of the brush.

Oh, the plates will be as... as good

as those in the Bureau of Engraving.

They will be better, Mr. Dreiser,

for in you we have the finest craftsman

in the nation.

It was well worth the effort

securing your release.

Indeed it was.

Come, I'll show you your studio.

You'll find it a trifle primitive, perhaps.

One hates to put a man of your sensibilities

in a basement.

However, I can offer you one bit of solace.

The bed, Mr. Dreiser, it was slept in

by the Emperor Franz Joseph himself.

Come along. Oh!

In the two weeks following Hans Dreiser's long trip

to San Francisco and his meeting with Mr. Moon,

Ness's men trailed Benny Joplin around the clock

without results, but 17 days after Dreiser's escape

from Leavenworth, Benny Joplin bought a ticket

at a Kansas City bus station.

The man who just bought the ticket,

where's he going?

Oakland, California... one way.

What time does his bus leave?

15 minutes, sir. Thank you.

Long distance, this is Benny Joplin.

I want Oakland, California.

Humboldt, 6480... collect.

Hello?

Yeah, it's me.

Perfect, I'll be there Tuesday.

Later.

Bus from Topeka now arriving.

Ness.

Eliot, Lee.

I'm at the bus station.

Joplin just called a number in Oakland, California.

Is he pulling out?

It looks that way... He bought a ticket for Oakland.

I think we're in trouble.

Why?

Well, the bus leaves in ten minutes,

and Joplin just got a good look at me

as he came out of the phone booth.

Did you get the phone number he called?

Yes. Let him go.

We'll see if we can't meet him in Oakland.

Right.

Westbound bus, leaving immediately.

All aboard, please.

While Eliot Ness and his men were en route to San Francisco

in the hopes of intercepting Benny Joplin,

Hans Dreiser was hard at work

in Mr. Moon's basement apartment and storeroom

beneath Chow Lee's Antique Shop.

Flip the record, please.

Oh, for crying out loud, you gotta listen

to that junk all day every day?

Monk...

Do as he says.

Yeah, sure.

Well?

Beethoven... Third Symphony, first movement.

Oh, very good, very good.

Well, someday I'll fool you.

Of that I have no doubt, but not with Beethoven,

Mr. Dreiser, he's far too definitive.

Yeah.

Thank you.

It's exquisite.

Exquisite.

Thank you.

When will you be finished?

Oh, um, one more week, maybe two.

It does not pay to hurry with such a thing.

No, indeed it does not, Mr. Dreiser,

but there are certain arrangements

I must make, certain contacts,

and then, too, you will want your money.

One does not raise a quarter of a million dollars

in a moment's notice. No, indeed.

Now, I will leave you to your work.

Uh, there is just one more thing.

Would you mind accompanying me?

Right this way.

I don't anticipate any interruptions

from the outside, but just in case,

there is a means of egress at your disposal.

I have a button upstairs

which will sound at your work table

should there be any unexpected intrusions.

Thank you.

The phone number Lee Hobson had obtained

in the Kansas City phone booth

led Eliot Ness and the Untouchables

to a small frame house in Oakland, California.

Yeah?

I'm a federal officer, Mrs. Joplin.

My name is Ness.

May I come in?

If you're looking for my husband,

he's not here.

I came to see you, Mrs. Joplin.

So, you see me.

What's on your mind?

When your husband was released from San Quentin,

he went to work for a power company in Kansas City.

That's right.

Do you know who helped him get that job?

No.

Have you heard from him?

Not for weeks.

Why? Is he in some kind of trouble?

I'm afraid he is.

The man who got him that job was using your husband

to help a notorious counterfeiter

escape from prison.

Don't make me laugh.

It's hardly a laughing matter, Mrs. Joplin.

The man Benny helped free is part of a ring

that plans to flood the country with $100 million

in counterfeit money.

Well, look around you.

Would you say my husband's in a racket

worth a... $100 million?

I've been married to Benny Joplin for ten years.

He's been in prison eight of them.

I'm tired of being a rock pile widow.

I'd like my husband around for a change.

Your chances of that are pretty slim, Mrs. Joplin,

unless you can persuade Benny

to tell us who hired him.

How can I do that if I don't know where he is?

Wherever he is, I can tell you this.

He has been poorly paid

for his part in springing Hans Dreiser.

Benny probably did the job

for a few thousand dollars.

The counterfeit ring stands to net nearly $50 million.

If you hear from your husband, you can help him and us

by having him call me at that number.

Thanks for your help, Mrs. Joplin.

You heard?

Yeah, I heard.

How did they ever find me?

I waited almost three weeks before I made a move.

Benny, I told you it was too risky.

I told you... Shut up, shut up.

They ain't ever gonna let me go now.

I'm a three-time loser... I gotta get away.

We gotta get away!

Yeah, yeah, we.

It's gotta be far away: South America, Europe,

someplace where they...

they can't get their hands on us.

We don't have that kind of money.

Then we gotta get it.

What are you gonna do?

I got to see Mr. Moon.

Knowing that Mrs. Joplin had lied when she insisted

she had not talked to her husband for weeks,

Ness ordered a 24-hour stakeout on the Joplin home,

but he had not expected it to pay off

within minutes of his departure.

Hello. Ness.

Hello, Eliot. Rico.

Joplin just went into an oriental shop

on Grant Avenue, a place called Chow Lee's.

We'll be there in 20 minutes.

Benny's on the move. Let's go.

I gotta get out, Mr. Moon.

I gotta get clean out of the country.

And for that, you'll need money.

Listen, Mr. Moon, I... I ain't trying

to squeeze you, you gotta believe that.

You paid me good for that Leavenworth job,

and I may have to be on the lam

for a long time, and I got a wife.

Ten grand?

Send me a postcard from Baghdad.

Thanks, Mr. Moon.

Thanks a million.

Anything for a friend, Benny.

Yeah, well, I guess I'd better be going.

Lisa will show you out the back way... Lisa.

Thanks again, Mr. Moon.

Kill him.

Bring back the money.

Yeah.

Is he still in there?

As far as I know.

Only one person has come out.

A real fat man... I got his license number.

Good.

Maybe we've been had.

It's the oldest dodge in the world

for losing a tail:

in the front door and out the back.

If he knew he was being tailed,

but I don't think he did.

So how do we play it?

Let's start by finding out

who that license number belongs to.

And now, back to...

On the night of October 4, the body of Benny Joplin

was dragged from the waters of San Francisco Bay

and taken to the county morgue.

It contained three bullet holes.

Eliot, I just missed you at the office.

We found out who those license plates belongs to:

a man named Melanthos Moon.

He owns the antique shop that Joplin went into.

It's a good thing we didn't wait

for Joplin to come out.

Why?

There he is.

Oh.

Anything on Moon?

We're running a make on him now.

So far all we know is that he's got a finger

in almost every pie in Chinatown.

What about the shop?

Well, it seems legitimate.

He's owned it for ten years.

Just the same, I think I'm going to be on hand

when it opens tomorrow morning.

It ought to be interesting to hear Moon's explanation

of why people who disappear in his shop end up

in San Francisco Bay.

Benny Joplin?

I'm afraid the name is not a familiar one, Mr. Ness.

He was seen coming into your shop night before last.

Well, I can't deny that.

A great many people come into my shop.

This one didn't come out.

Ah. Then he is still here.

He's in the morgue.

Then logic would dictate

that he must have come out,

wouldn't it, Mr. Ness?

He could have been carried out, Mr. Moon, by the back door?

Oh, dear, dear, dear!

Am I being accused of murder?

The thought has crossed my mind.

How fascinating!

You know it is said

that if you live in Chinatown long enough,

eventually, everything will happen to you.

Apparently, there's some truth in the saying.

Let's stop the polite conversation, shall we?

Here's a search warrant.

Well, that was quite unnecessary, Mr. Ness.

My contacts with the legal authorities

have been somewhat limited,

but I shall do my humble best

to assist you in whatever way I can.

May I show you around?

If you don't mind.

Where does this go?

The basement and the janitor's quarters.

Permit me.

Fireworks?

For the Chinese holidays, Mr. Ness.

I buy them every year.

A small token of my appreciation

for the courtesy my Chinese friends have extended me.

Who's this?

One of my employees.

His name is Grover.

Takes care of the place for me.

These are his quarters.

Not elaborate, mind you,

but the fact that his bed once belonged

to the Emperor Franz Joseph is partial compensation.

Isn't it, Grover?

Yeah.

Printing another of your business sidelines?

My business, Mr. Ness.

But hardly your only business, Mr. Moon.

We checked into your affairs very carefully.

There's also the fan-tan parlors and the girls.

What is one to do, Mr. Ness?

When one has expensive tastes,

one must find a way to cater to them.

A man could satisfy even the most expensive tastes

with $100 million, wouldn't you say?

A hundred million?

Ooh, I should say he could.

Announcing the departure of Flight Two

for Sacramento, Reno, Salt Lake City,

Chicago, Cleveland and New York.

All aboard, please.

Come, come, my good man.

It's your ticket to Chicago.

Our seats are in the rear of the plane.

I always prefer flying in the rear.

It's so much safer, you know.

I do hope you don't mind... now, come along.

Now then, Mr. Nitti,

I believe you have a registered letter

which was addressed to me in your care.

You sent that stuff through the mail?

Can you think of a safer way?

United States mail... The safest service in the world.

If I had this money on my person and for some reason

I were picked up by the police,

no place of concealment would be adequate.

Now then, I'd like you

to look at this money, gentlemen.

I defy you to tell me

after the closest possible examination

whether it's real or counterfeit.

Feel the paper.

Feels as good as the real stuff.

Looks as good, too.

It ought to.

It's the same paper they use at the Bureau of Engraving.

So it was you who hijacked that paper truck.

This is great work.

Who did it?

Never mind.

I can guess.

Somebody sprung Dreiser from Leavenworth.

I don't suppose you had anything to do with that, either, huh?

Plates by Dreiser on paper by Uncle Sam.

That's pretty hard to beat.

It'll take 'em years to spot this stuff!

Why don't some of you boys come up with ideas like this?

All right, Mr. Moon, what's your proposition?

I believe in simplicity, Mr. Nitti.

I deliver the money,

you and your friends put it into circulation.

Oh, but the big risks are ours.

The big risks are over.

With this money, you can pay your taxes,

the tracks, the houses,

the gambling tables.

Who's to know the money's counterfeit?

Would you yourself if I hadn't told you?

Okay, what's the split?

I'm prepared to be generous.

One third for you, two thirds for me.

Oh, that's bad arithmetic.

It's usually the other way around, huh, boys?

Mm. Mm-hmm. Yeah.

Dear, dear, dear, dear, dear.

You disappoint me, Mr. Nitti.

Prohibition is over.

The days of the big money are over.

Indeed they are.

Can you afford to throw away $33 million?

Nobody ever got a bigger cut than we did.

Now you're being more reasonable, Mr. Nitti.

Shall we stop bargaining and say 50-50?

How does that suit you, Mr. Nitti?

$50 million for you, and $50 million for me.

Nice round figures, both of them.

How does that strike you?

Okay, it's a deal.

Uh, there is just one point.

I had, of course, intended to take care of this myself,

but since you have forced me

to give up an extra 16 and two-thirds percent,

I feel less hesitation in putting it to you.

What is it?

Front money.

How much?

Half a million.

Half a million?!

In cash and today.

That's out of the question!

You sure?

I'm sure.

In that case,

if you gentlemen will excuse me,

I have an appointment in Detroit.

Wait a minute!

What do you want that money for?

Half of it goes to my engraver,

the other half, I will need for petty cash.

Call Guzik.

Tell him I want 500 Gs in cash.

I want it now. All right.

When do we get the stuff?

As soon as I can print it.

Unfortunately, due to the nature of the merchandise,

I'm constrained to use a small handpress.

Laborious, but safe.

Don't take too long, huh?

When I lay out that much dough up front,

I worry.

While Mr. Moon was flying back

from Chicago to arrange delivery

of the counterfeit money to Frank Nitti,

Eliot Ness and his men were desperately trying

to arrive at some method of preventing the fat man

from getting the counterfeit

they were sure he possessed into circulation.

I think we've got to gamble that Mr. Moon is not going

to waste government paper and Dreiser's plates

on bills of small denominations.

Twenties, you think?

More likely fifties and hundreds.

Mr. Moon has expensive tastes.

Plus the fact he knows

nobody can recognize the counterfeit.

We have two things going for us.

We know the bills will all have to be the same denominations.

We know they'll all have the same year,

date and serial numbers.

Dreiser hasn't had time to make any more than one set of plates.

Well, if we can find one of the bills,

all the others will be identical.

That's it.

Trying to find that first one

is like looking for a needle in a haystack.

So, how do we start?

The hard way.

We'll have to make arrangements

to contact every place of business that's liable

to get 50 or 100 dollar bills.

Race tracks, night clubs, theatres.

Hello?

Yeah, just a minute.

Chicago.

Hello. Ness.

Eliot, Bill. How are things going?

Not good. What have you got?

Plenty. Moon arrived here yesterday at about 6:00 p.m.

He went straight to Nitti's place,

and he stayed there until after midnight.

Where is he now?

He's on his way back to San Francisco.

He left this morning on Flight 17.

Thanks, Bill.

Mr. Moon's on his way back.

He went to see Frank Nitti.

Distribution?

Looks like it.

If Moon's going to fence the stuff through Nitti,

he'd be a fool to put it in circulation around here

when he knows we suspect him.

That's true, but let's not take any chances.

The money's in San Francisco.

Until we're sure it's gone, let's cover everything.

Impatiently awaiting Mr. Moon's return, Hans Dreiser,

who could no longer be kept on the premises of Chow Lee's,

was closeted in a small midtown apartment

above one of Mr. Moon's fan-tan parlors.

He had been a virtual prisoner for more than a week.

Stop! Stop!

What you are doing that for?

Because I've had it! I've had it right up to here!

That same... Mr. Moon says I can do this!

When you're working, that's why!

But you're not working now,

and I don't have to put up with this!

Stop! You leave me... Why you...

I don't... I'm not here because I want to be here.

I'm here because Mr. Moon doesn't want

you should be lonesome, but I've had all of you

I can take, do you understand?

Yes, and why don't say when he's coming back?

You'll see him when he gets back!

I am sick and tired... Will you shut up?!!

Can't you get it through that thick skull of yours?

You're hot! Huh? Hot!

We're keeping you under wraps here

because your puss is plastered

in every post office across this whole country!

Here! Here, read the paper!

Go on, read it!

Maybe that'll take your mind off that-that lousy music!

Where you are going?

I'm going down to get a drink.

Believe me, I've earned it.

♪ ♪

By 8:25 p.m... Eliot Ness

and the Untouchables were already engaged

in the laborious process of checking the $50 and $100 notes

which had been picked up by messengers

from various businesses in the San Francisco area.

Please, I've got to see this opera.

This is my favorite.

You must have something way back in the balcony, anywhere.

I told you before, we have only one seat left... a box.

We wouldn't have that if it weren't for a cancellation.

But how much cost such a thing?

Six dollars.

Do you want the ticket or don't you, sir?

I, uh, I'm sorry.

Yeah, I take it.

Is this the smallest bill you have?

I got only three ones.

Please, please.

I'm missing the overture.

If I get my hands on Monk, I'll kill him.

I told him not to leave Dreiser alone for a second.

Monk is the least of our worries at this point.

But why would Dreiser take off?

Why?! Why indeed?

A most provocative question.

♪ ♪

This way, Mr. Dreiser,

and don't make a fuss or I'll hit you.

Gently, Paddy, gently.

That's no way to handle an artist.

Did you enjoy the performance, Mr. Dreiser?

It was wonderful.

I'm delighted, but it was very reckless of you, Mr. Dreiser,

very reckless indeed.

Why did you do it?

That Monk, he broke my phonograph.

I noticed.

It was unpardonable of him and he shall be punished for it.

Good.

Come, come, Paddy, let's take our wandering friend home.

Hello.

The manager? Just a minute, please.

It's for you.

This is Mr. Lovell speaking.

Yes, sir.

Yes, sir, we're just going over our receipts now.

We'll let you know.

That's quite all right.

Federal agents... they're looking for counterfeit bills.

Did we get any new 50s or 100s tonight?

Well, yes.

The last sale.

Funny little man.

He wanted a cheap seat.

Mm-hmm.

How did you escape from Monk?

Well, after he broke my phonograph,

he went downstairs for a drink.

I see, and you took the opportunity to slip away.

It's really clever of you, Mr. Dreiser,

but as I said terribly risky.

You might have been apprehended.

Yeah, but I wasn't.

Quite fortunate for all of us, yes, indeed.

I'm surprised you were able to get a ticket

on such short notice.

They were all sold out, but there was a cancellation

and I got a box seat, the best in the house.

I'll show you.

I-I got the stub right here.

You had no money.

You had no money.

Where did you get this?

Answer me.

Answer me!

This is the change from a $100 bill!

But I-I-I took one, only one!

I want for souvenir!

He's dead, Mr. Moon.

Get him out of here.

Here?

Get him out!

Yeah, sure.

What do we do now, Mr. Moon?

Back to the opera house.

Hurry. Yes, sir.

I hope I'm not intruding.

I am looking for a $100 bill

which I believe was tendered to you tonight by mistake.

I'm sorry.

I know this is a trifle unusual.

I'm a collector.

The bill was a special issue.

My wife used it to cash a friend's check.

I'm most interested in having it back.

It's not here.

I'm not sure I understand.

It's been picked up.

Chow Lee's, hurry.

Did you get the bill?

No, it's been picked up.

Ness probably has it by now.

We've got to get out while there's still time.

Hurry!

Hello. Ness.

This is Mr. Lovell at the opera house.

A man was just here asking for a new $100 bill

that we took in this evening.

However, it was not the same man who gave it to us.

This man was very fat, wore a beard,

and, oh, yes, he carried a cane.

Is he still there?

No, he left just a minute ago.

Thanks.

Grab your hat.

Somebody passed a bill, and Mr. Moon tried to get it back.

He may be on the run.

Jack, watch the store.

The feds... they just pulled up outside.

Quick, out the back way.

Go around back.

I'll give you half a minute.

Right.

Run, Paddy, run.

I don't want to leave you, Mr. Moon.

You must. Don't worry about me, Paddy.

Save yourself.

Now run.

Run.

Halt!

Halt!

♪ ♪

Eliot!

I'm all right!

Come on, let's get out of here

before the whole place goes up.

Mr. Moon, who had lived such an extraordinary life,

died proving the truth of his own observation

that if you live long enough in Chinatown,

almost everything will happen to you sooner or later.