All language subtitles for The Avengers - S05E13 - A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Station (15 April 1967)

We're needed.

Well?

To drag a girl away from her fireside,
it must be important.

I agree.
And a fellow from his electric blanket.

And you have no idea
why he wanted you to meet his train?

No, but dear fat, pompous
Lucas isn't given to exaggerating.

Good for Lucas.

Norborough next stop.

Next stop Norborough.

I do beg your pardon. I'm so sorry.

Well, he's missed it.

Lucas, he might
have dropped off - asleep.

I'll take this end.
- Uh, what does he look like?

Rather corpulent,
not much hair, moustache.

Hey! It's me you're supposed
to be paying the attention to.

Let's not get overenthusiastic.
My husband's a very jealous man.

Can I help you, madam?
- No thank you, I'm waiting for someone.

I can't understand it.
He said he'd be here ten minutes ago.

Perhaps you've seen him.
He's bald, fat with a little moustache.

No, madam.
I've seen no one like that at all.

What's the trouble?
- This lady's lost her friend.

On the train?

Can't have got very far.
What does your friend look like?

Bald, fat with a little moustache.

Oh, he said he was
in some kind of trouble.

Did he say what the trouble was?

Well, he just said he was broke,
so I lent him 5 pounds.

I know. He probably
slipped off the train at Norborough.

That's it. He must have
given you the slip at Norborough.

I found this.
- At least it proves he is on the train.

Was. He's in trouble.

Standard procedure.

When an agent's on the run or in trouble,
he leaves something behind, something identifiable.

Where did Lucas run to?

We know he didn't get off at Norborough
and the train doesn't stop anywhere else.

I don't know.
- King's Cross.

Maybe we'll find
the answer in here.

King's Cross. King's Cross.

Excuse me, madam. A gentleman
asked me to give you your 5 pound note.

He said to apologise
for the inconvenience he caused you.

I must try that more often.
- What was all that about?

That briefcase.
It belonged to Lucas. We need it.

Four, seven, six, seven.
And who's his lady friend?

Auntie Maud.
- Do you know her?

Maud. M-A-U-D.
Microfilm and Uncyphered Documents.

Army issue pouch.

Ah, agents - for the use of.
What else?

4767?
Fourth of July, 1967. Independence Day.

Could be. Now these are Lucas's notes.
It's going to take me some time to decipher these.

Steed, this man, Salt -
personal secretary to Admiral Cartney.

Hmm.
- He was on the train.

Admiral Cartney?
He certainly wasn't.

Salt was. I saw him.

Oh, good. Ah, he's working
for Admiral Cartney. Worth a visit.

Hasn't he just been posted
to the Admiralty?

That's hush, hush.

- Shh.
- Shh.

Well, thank you,
Admiral, for your personal tour.

Public relations. You write
a nice piece for us, helps recruiting.

We get a better choice of man.
Good job all round, hm?

True.

After all, your women readers
want the same thing as the Admiralty, hm?

They do?
- More able-bodied men.

Uh, more questions.
- Fire away.

"How do you like your new job?"

I wish you hadn't asked that. It makes me
sound like some sort of travel agent.

Me, who fought five major sea battles
in the last war.

Still, to put it another way,
it is important work.

What exactly do you do?

I make all the travel
arrangements for... VIPs.

I see.

So if someone important
is travelling from A to B,

you make sure they're comfortable.

Oh, I do more than that.
I make sure they're secure.

Can't have people popping off
half the government. No.

I have to make sure
that all is well and shipshape,

check every security arrangement...

Oh, Salt, would you pop that file
back to Top-Secret Registry?

Steed... whoops!

You really must have a word
with that cleaning lady of yours.

He tried to kill me.
- Antisocial.

According to my deciphering,

Lucas believed
he was onto a plot to kill a VIP.

Killjoy?
- What?

You just ruined a honeymoon.

This man was on the train
accompanied by a blushing bride.

Oh, so that's why he was carrying
a ticket - Chase Halt Station.

Where's that?

That's about three stops
down the line from Norborough.

But nothing stops there.

Chase Halt hasn't
been used for years.

Flatterer. Did Lucas say
who was going to do the popping off?

Some splinter group, fanatics.

He intercepted some radio messages,
but couldn't get a fix.

Every time he beamed in on
their transmission, they moved away.

Oh, perhaps Lucas will fill
in the gaps when we find him.

Lucas.

Trespassing!

Trespassing! Yes!

Do you know that
this is my station?

Your station?

I bought it. I.. well,
I'm... I'm negotiating to buy it.

Humble beginnings,
but one day...

One day a... a mainline station.
King's Cross, Waterloo - a terminus!

Yes, that's what
I've set my heart on.

Are you always here?

I live in the signal box.

Do the trains ever stop here?

Alas no, not for the past nine years.
- Were you here last night?

Last night? Don't talk to me
about last night. It was a nightmare!

Listen, young man. I had a phone call
from a dealer with an 1892 water cistern.

Jubilee celebration issue.
Mint condition!

When I got there,
it was a practical joke.

Final insult, I missed the
last train, and had to take a bus.

A bus!

I found these
in the ladies' waiting room.

Really?
- Yes.

I suppose it was the practical joker.
- Yes, I suppose it was.

Is this station
identical to Norborough?

Yes, in almost every detail.
Sir Scott Simon designed it.

There must be a couple of dozen
of them up and down the country.

Very interesting.
4767, does that mean anything to you?

Sorry, I-I-I can't
help you there, no.

Two Norboroughs
for the price of one.

Exit poor Lucas.
Maybe this was their headquarters.

Hm, or they moved
from one derelict station to another.

Do you think we ought
to move poor old Lucas discreetly?

And feed friend Salt of the Admiralty
some home-made information.

And see where he takes it.

Admiral Cartney RM.

Oh, hello, Rodney. Huh?

Oh, yes, yes, I've got your
coded signal right in front of me.

Periscope pictures?
Oh, yes, yes, I like that very much, hm.

Oh, do you think the Pyrocanthus
is fitted for the job?

Oh, I see. Yes, splendid.
Uh, Rodney...

Okay, I was just
clearing it with you.

What?

Oh, yes, yes, of course,
I'll burn it at once.

Yes, can't have that falling into other
people's hands; might be very embarrassing.

Yes. Right. Goodbye.

Action at last!
Did you hear that, Salt?

Action, sir?
- Yes, top-security manoeuvres.

The whole of the general staff

are going to tour
the enemy's off-shore installation.

Sorry to disturb you.
Which platform for the 08:10 to Liverpool?

Number seven.
- Thank you.

Excuse me?
- Yes, sir.

Where's the nearest telephone?

Over there,
under the clock.

Under the clock.
Thank you.

'Mrs. Peel?'
- Yes, Steed?

'I think he's taken the hook.'
- Good.

'I'm at the station now.
He's just boarded the train.'

'I'm following him.'

Does it stop at Norborough?

'That's the one.'

I'll meet you there.
- 'Right.'

Tickets, please.

Tickets, please, gentlemen.

When one wants it,
one can never find it.

Oh. Excuse me, sir.

20 years on the railways
and it still plays me up.

Oh, I'm sorry to hear it.
- Thank you, sir.

Thank you.

Here you go.
- Thank you.

Thank you, sir.

Norborough next stop, gentlemen.

First call for dinner.
Thank you, sir.

Do you travel this line often?
- Quite often.

First call for dinner.

Second call for dinner.
Second call for dinner, please.

Second call for dinner.

Second call for dinner.

Second call for dinner.

Oh, which way is
the restaurant car, please?

It seems about five miles that way.
- Thank you.

That man...
- What man?

The one who just went past.
It's the same one.

The same what?

The same man who found
Lucas's briefcase, the one Bart went after.

Are you sure?
- Positive.

Bart didn't
report back, did he?

I haven't let Salt out of my sight.

So far no one's tried to contact him,
and he hasn't tried to contact anybody.

I-I-I say, do you mind if we change seats?
I-I-I must sit with my back to the engine.

Not at all.

I was just
coming to look for you.

The man in Salt's compartment,
I think he's dangerous.

In that case you'd better tell Salt.
Do something about it.

I think it best
you... you don't move.

All taken care of,
dearly beloved.

All taken care of.

Ah, Norborough.

'The train now
arriving at platform 4 is the...'

Salt's just leaving.
- Good.

Bad. His latest information
was false from beginning to end.

Not a word of truth in it.
- Oh, dear.

He'll be going back to
his office sometime tonight.

Steed?

Steed?

'I haven't let
Salt out of my sight.'

'I haven't let
Salt out of my sight.'

'No one's tried to contact him yet
and he hasn't contacted anybody else.'

'I think it best
you don't move.'

Admiral Cartney?
Mrs Peel.

Yes, I know it's
long after eight bells.

There's something
you ought to know about Salt.

The signal you
gave us was a fake.

HMS Pyrocanthus is in mothballs.
Has been for years.

So the general staff won't be
visiting enemy installations, will they?

I got it from the Admiral.
Now, look, you've got to believe me.

You may be telling the truth.
You may be right.

Well, in that case surely you...
- In that case you're under suspicion.

Sorry.
Too close to the big day.

Mrs. Peel, you still
haven't explained to me why...

If we can just search his desk...
- Hold on a minute.

A strong smell
of grapeshot in the air.

Oh, my dear girl, I do owe you an apology.
There is something going on.

There was,
but someone got there before us.

Till death us do part.

Please don't use those words!

I've spent my entire life
trying to avoid the final splicing.

I've ever dropped
anchor long enough at any one...

Admiral, is there any VIP
about to travel at the moment?

Always travelling. Why?

Well, Lucas was obviously on to something,
which is why he was killed.

Ah, yes, Lucas, poor fellow.
Ex-Navy, you know.

Fancy getting it
on a railway station.

Perhaps he discovered that a VIP
was about to be popped off.

Hm? Over my dead body.

Could be.

Oh.

"London to Norborough.
First-class return."

There must be
about 100 of them.

The fellow must have had
an obsession about railways.

And they're all punched through.
See, the "O" in "Norborough" is punched through.

Oh, yes, and the hole's
just about the size of a...

Self-respecting microdot.
Makes sense.

Salt fills in the "O" with a microdot.
- Ticket collector punches it out again...

And, bingo, the message is passed on.

To a ticket collector?!

How did the ceremony go?

Mr. Salt, late-VIP now RIP.

A little keepsake.
A memento.

I'll take that. Come on,
I want to see how things are going.

What a beautiful sight!

Which?
Me or the bomb?

Oh, you, of course, my dear.

Reassure me. How do we know the
vibrations from the train won't set the bomb off?

We'll have to
take her word for it.

I've got very good credits,

but I must admit I don't think I've
ever had to deal with anybody quite so...

What triggers the bomb off this time?
- A radio signal.

From this train.

It sounds dangerous.

Not at all.

There ought to be a mile
between us at least.

There will be.

Yes, we don't want
to be blown up as well, do we?

We won't be!

No, the moment that goes up, we'll be
speeding away in the opposite direction.

So just relax.

Relax? How are we going to get this
carriage off this train and on to his train?

Easy.
- There's your answer.

"This carriage to be commandeered
and prepared for VIP train."

VIP.

Very Important Person.
- Very!

They'll be transferring this carriage
tomorrow. I'll deal with it personally.

I'll be rather sorry to see it go.

Never mind. You may be losing a carriage,
but he'll be gaining a bomb.

Roll on tomorrow.

Mr. Crewe?
- Yes?

Do you live here?
- Well, not exactly.

I've got a little semi-detached
signal box further along the line. Why?

So you live alone?

Well, yes.
Why all these questions? Who are you?

Mrs Peel!
- I don't know you.

George Warren. I'm a friend of Steed's.
- Where does he buy his trilbies?

He wears bowlers and he gets them
from St. James. That's my identification.

What are you doing here?

Could ask you the same question. Special
security watch along this railway line.

You mean, someone important
is travelling along this line?

I said Special Security.
Can't divulge details to anybody.

And I mean anybody. Now what about you?
What are you doing here?

I came to ask Mr Crewe's
advice on a railway matter.

Why don't we retire
to my signal box? Come!

And what exactly
is your problem, dear lady?

I'd like you to listen to this umbrella.
- You'd like me to listen to...

Salt's camera
had a film in it.

A very practical place
to keep a film I'd say.

I've just had it developed.

Details of security on this line.

They're sending a Special Branch
man to every station on the route.

Well?
- They'll go to Chase Halt.

Then they'll find Lucas's body.
- Exactly.

Unless I get
to the Special Branch man first.

- When do we reach Chase Halt?
- Coming up in about ten minutes.

Splendid.

An unscheduled
stop is indicated.

Well?

Is this a trick, madam?
- Not at all. Why?

Play it again, louder.

Now two sets of
diddly dums. Impossible!

Train can't be going fast and slow
at the same time.

He's right.
- 'Course I'm right! Hear it?

There's a diddly dum
in the foreground,

And then behind it,
it keeps varying.

Diddly dum, diddly dee,
diddly dum, diddly dah...

This isn't a train at all!

Play it again.

Funny.
A train's stopped at the station.

Quick as you can.

Are you sure he was dead?

Then they found him.

Give me the gun.
I'll find them.

Try the signal box.

Just a minute!

Diddly dah, diddly dum ... DU ...

It's the Mark V tapping code!
- Is that good?

The tapping code?
It's a sort of shorthand in Morse.

It was devised so that men
could communicate with each other

in the prisoner of war camps!

Can I help?
- Some paper and a pencil.

Now, give it to
me from the top.

Diddly dah, diddly dum.

Twiddly dum.
Twiddly, twiddly, twiddly dah.

Blinkety blink, blinkety blink.

Chaddley dum, chaddley dah.
Boopety boop.

Durbridge!
- That's on this line.

And from all this twiddly twiddly you've
learned that someone important is travelling?

The Prime Minister?

Somebody's train must be late.

You were right.

Right about what?

The Prime Minister.

He'll be on this line.
- When?

Tonight.

My word,
you have been busy.

Now you know he
likes the corner seat.

Yes, sir.
We did know that, sir.

And he must face
the engine, otherwise...

You'll find that this journey
will go like clockwork, sir.

A little faster I trust.

Hm, a trifle hard on the springing.
However, this will do splendidly.

Thank you, sir.

He may want to thank you personally.
You'll both be on the train, of course.

I fear not, sir.
We'll be on the 8:10, our regular run.

Oh. Oh, well, then
we shall pass one another.

So we will, at 8:57 pm.

Now, you're quite sure
you want to come along?

Oh, if I can just lay my hands
on the vandal who shot at my signal box,

destroying all my
beautiful, original, grimy glass,

stained with the steam
and smoke of past glories!

I'll stay here.
You find the ticket collector.

Ticket collector.
Then what?

Well, see what he does.
- See what he does.

He punches
holes in the tickets.

Just follow him.

It's getting close to zero hour.
Keep this door locked from now on.

Don't let anyone through
unless they give our knock.

Ah, Mr Steed.
- Ah, ticket inspector.

I had you brought here
to witness the final phase.

Very decent of you.

It's for me, really.
Verging on megalomania you might say.

But a coup is not a coup
without someone to see.

Well, I'm afraid
I shan't be able to applaud.

The look in your
eyes will be enough.

We ... I am going to blow up
your prime minister.

Oh?

How do you know
which way I voted?

Interesting.
The Prime Minister's travelling tonight.

On this line.

If we're lucky,
we should see him pass.

He should pass at about...

8:57.

At that time we will be
running through Durbridge Junction.

Durbridge, population 2,413.

Principal industry, the manufacture
of glass eyes for teddy bears.

Fame, non-existent.

But after tonight there won't be anybody
in the civilised world

who hasn't heard of it.

After tonight.

After, I have
pressed this button.

Another five miles,
Mr. Steed, and then...

Pop goes the diesel.

Very droll.

Sir? Could be trouble, sir.
- What do you mean? We're nearly there.

That woman who
lost the 5 pounds, sir.

She's on the
train, sir, in 4767.

My piece de resistance,
Mr. Steed.

An ingenious device by which I can
contact my agents without approaching them.

Indeed, they do not even have
to leave their seats.

Kill the woman.

Mrs Peel.
- Mm-hm?

Oh, my goodness!

A slight difference of opinion.

Bom, diddly, bom, bom, bom, bom!

Catchy, but I don't
think much of the lyrics.

No, no.
The door to the restaurant car is locked.

There is a special knock to get in.
- Ah! Bom, diddly, bom, bom...

Bom, bom.

Hello.

Hello!
- Turn around.

Must have been
a shotgun wedding.

Vandal!
- He's better with a machine gun.

You mean, he's the one who...
my signal box?

You beast, you...
- Get in there!

Open the door.

Jump.
- Jump?

Jump!

Jump.

Dear Mrs. Peel!

It's terribly dangerous, you know,
to lean out of a train while it's in motion.

Round two.

Excuse me, sir,
have you the right time?

Coming up to 8:54.

Thank you.
- Pleasure.

Running right on time.

Splendid.

Ladies first.
- After you.

Goodness.

Goodness!

What are you
hanging about for?

Kill her,
Georgie, kill her!

There's no need to get steamed up.

Over there, Georgie!

Is that you, Mr Steed?

Kill them!
Before the Prime Minister's train goes by.

Do you mind?
That's my... sorry.

The button!

What now?
- Let's stop the train!

Why not?

Thank you. It's something
I've wanted to do all my life.

Are you sure it's him?

It's got to be.
They said "arriving any minute".

And someone called?
- Mm.

Said something about the nation
owing us a great debt of gratitude.

I should think so.
We saved him from being blown sky-high.

No wonder he's grateful.

Ah! Here he comes.

Does he really need all those motorcycles?

Yes, of course he does.

A very impressive procession.

That must be him - the top hat.

No, he's the one in the raincoat.

Really? He doesn't look as
small as he does on television.

Really?
I think he looks smaller.

I must have a bigger set.

Ah, well,
it'll be an OBE for me.

Sir John Steed.

Dame Emma.

Hm, 'course you
know what this means.

Hm, he's going to make a speech.
- A long speech.

Did you vote for him?

Did you?

Let's...
- Pretend we're out?

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