All language subtitles for The Man From Uncle - 3x30 - The Cap and Gown Affair-eng

Williams to Solo.
Do you read me?

Loud and clear. Go ahead.

38th Street clear as
far as Eighth Avenue.

Repeat. No sign of possible Thrush
activity as far as Eighth Avenue.

Roger. Over and out. Illya?

Williams reports
38th Street clear.

- Not a Thrushie in sight.
- I wouldn't bet on it.

How soon before we
reach the rendezvous point?

In about six minutes,
we should, uh...

Wait a second. Hang on, Illya.

- Solo here.
- I'm at Checkpoint David.

- All clear as far as Madison.
- Roger.

Helicopter 490 has made a thorough
check of Zone G, as in "George."

No foreseeable problems.

Did you hear that, Illya?

I heard, but I'm still dubious.

Yes, I've already
paid my compliments...

to the people in Section Five.

That dummy they made
is astonishingly like me.

So much so that I'm rather glad
now Thrush didn't manage to destroy it.

It might be a good idea to cancel
all public appearances for a while, sir.

Well, perhaps so, Mr. Solo.

But there's one that
I can't possibly avoid.

Nor do I wish to do so.

Blair University.

My alma mater.

And certainly, Thrush isn't gonna prevent
me from getting that honorary degree.

I'm quite certain that
Thrush will do their best...

to make sure the
award is posthumous.

I was rather hoping that
you and Mr. Kuryakin...

would do your best
to see that it isn't.

Illya's already there, uh, scouting
the terrain. I'll join him tomorrow.

Good.

Oh, and Mr. Solo...

Mr. Solo, Blair is a
coeducation institution...

so try to curb your
predatory instincts, will you?

Yes, sir.

Attention all students.

There will be a mammoth
protest meeting...

in front of Felton
Hall today at 4 p.m.

All students are invited.

I repeat, all
students are invited.

Volunteers, please report
to protest headquarters.

Attention all students.

And I mean all students.

Come to the mammoth protest
meeting in front of Felton Hall...

Uh, excuse me. How does
one go about joining the group?

- You wanna protest?
- Very much.

What are we protesting?

That.

Oh, I'm with you.

I haven't seen you before.

I'm Minerva Dwight.

Uh, Illya Kuryakin.

You new left or old left?

Well, I favor the moderately
conservative left...

slightly to the
right of Rasputin.

Who decided on
the demonstration?

- That was Gregory's idea.
- Gregory?

Gregory Haymish, our off-campus
agitator. Every group has one, you know.

Yes, I know. Uh, is he here?

No, but he'll be at
the demonstration.

I see. Uh, may I?

Thank you.

Don't mention it.

Beautiful. Beautiful.

Greg, Illya's just
joined the group.

Welcome. Welcome to
the way-outs, big daddy.

All right, group, I
wanna hear rebellion!

What's the matter?

I don't want Daddy to see me.

Daddy?

This is Dean Dwight.

May I have your
attention, please?

Quiet, everybody.

This demonstration is in
violation of university rules.

Please disperse immediately.

Unless you disperse
immediately...

I shall order the campus police
to take appropriate measures.

This is your last chance.

Unless you disperse
immediately, you will all be arrested.

Everybody down.

Come on. What
are you waiting for?

All right, officers,
do your duty.

You're not supposed
to cooperate.

- Not even a little?
- Absolutely not.

Police brutality!

Hi. I have an appointment
with Dean Dwight.

You'll have to wait your turn.

I beg your pardon.

No offense...

but I have an appointment
too, and I'm next, heh.

Right behind Mr. Trumbull.

- Who's he?
- He's the head of the board of regents.

And he's in there right now.

The arrests were entirely
unnecessary, Dean Dwight.

Entirely unnecessary.
Think of the publicity.

But the university rules specifically
forbid such demonstrations.

What do I care
about university rules?

Oh, the papers will have
a field day on this one.

Besides, students have been
staging demonstrations all year...

and you haven't had
them arrested. Why now?

I've been patient with them until
now, but patience has its limits.

Indeed it does.

And my patience with you
is fast reaching those limits.

He actually wanted
me to cut open a frog.

Ugh! Can you imagine?

Unbelievable.

Well, I walked out on the
course and never came back.

And then there
was French history.

All those kings, and
every one of them a Louis.

Heh, you'd have to be a census
taker to keep them straight.

So I flunked out
on that course too.

I was never very good at
history myself, Miss, uh...?

- Darling.
- What?

Uh, Patricia Darling.

Mm.

How many courses
are you flunking?

Fl...? Uh, well, I...

I can't tell yet.

Just remember.

I hold you personally responsible for any
bad publicity attached to this incident.

How do you do?
I'm Napoleon Solo.

I have an appointment
with Dean Dwight.

Oh, I'm Dwight.

This is, uh, Mr. Jonathan Trumbull,
chairman of our board of regents.

- How are you?
- We just did that.

Well, uh, heh...

Dean Dwight?

Oh, not again, Patricia.

I'm sorry, Dean Dwight.

- What is it this time, frogs or Louis?
- Both.

I'll talk to you later.

Alex Waverly called to tell me
you would be arriving, Mr. Solo.

I trust you have
everything well in hand.

Far from it,
Mr. Solo. Far from it.

I realized a demonstration at the ceremony
would make security more difficult...

so I decided to put a
stop to all demonstrations.

I had the main group
of picketers arrested.

Now Trumbull threatens to have me
removed unless I drop the charges.

I think we can handle
the demonstrators, sir.

A matter of principle,
Mr. Solo. A matter of principle.

I will not back down.

Excuse me.

Illya?

Are we allowed to put bail
on our expense accounts?

I gather you're in durance vile.

I am indeed.

You seem to have an
affinity for those places.

It was in the line of duty. Would you
please come down and get me out of here?

Me too. Me too.

Me too.

That's Minerva.
What's she doing there?

I beg your pardon.

Minerva Dwight.
That's my daughter.

She's there, isn't she?

I'm afraid so, sir.

We'll get you out shortly, Illya.
Meanwhile, just relax and enjoy the music.

It's too much.

First this assassination business,
and now my own daughter arrested.

Well, I'm sorry about
that, Mr. Dwight.

It's not your fault, Mr. Solo. It's just
that the year's been so bad already.

The free-speech
riots last fall...

the basketball scandal
this spring, and now this.

It's too much for
one man. It's...

just too much.

I'm sure he's an
U.N.C.L.E. agent.

Then there are probably more.

U.N.C.L.E. agents
tend to hunt in packs.

I say kill him.

Well, I wasn't suggesting
we give him a party, Trumbull.

Merely that we wait until he
contacts some of his associates.

Learn to kill
efficiently, Trumbull.

You'll save yourself a great
deal of time and trouble.

I can't stand waiting.
It makes me nervous.

Everything makes
you nervous, Trumbull.

It's all right, you're free to go.
The charges have been dismissed.

Everybody down.

Illya.

What are you doing?

We can't knuckle under
to the establishment now.

We must stand our ground.

Here we are and here we stay.

We shall not be moved.

Jackson! Barnes!

Cossacks!

We have called the
dean's bluff and won!

Now he wouldn't dare try to stop us
from putting on our demonstration...

at the graduation.

When Waverly begins his
speech, we all grab our signs...

and march right
down to the podium!

Uh, do we have to march
down to the podium?

Couldn't we just, uh,
hold them up at the back?

Oh, that would be the nice,
middle-class way of doing it.

- Are we middle-class?
- No!

Then we march right
down to the podium!

Yeah!

Turned up anything, hmm?

I'm not sure.

This is our big chance...

to hit the establishment
where it hurts.

So let's make the most of it.

I'll get it.

I think this, uh, demonstration
is a little too convenient.

I smell Thrush, maybe, huh?

So do I, but I don't know who.

Uh, just a minute.

Greg, it's for you.

What about him, baby?

Hello?

He's just a misguided extremist.

Hmm. A Thrush
extremist, maybe, huh?

Maybe.

Yes, he's here now...

and he's talking to the blond-headed
kid that joined the group this morning.

Yeah. Well, I figured he
was an U.N.C.L.E. agent.

Beautiful. All right.

You have the men there...

and I'll give our two little
U.N.C.L.E. mice a whiff of cheese...

that will have them
scurrying right into the trap.

That's all for tonight. See
you tomorrow morning.

Good night. See you later.

Illya, will I see you tomorrow?

I have a lot of work
to do tomorrow.

Dear Illya, you're so
hopelessly middle-class.

But I like you anyway.

Well, I'm glad.

You know, I'm a biology major.

I'm taking a course in eugenics.

- Well, that's nice.
- Well, don't you think...

that the improvement of the human
race by selective breeding is important?

- Oh, I do, I do.
- Good.

- Because I have a hunch that you and I...
- You and I what?

Just think of the offspring
we could produce.

Why, in three or four generations,
it could be a race of supermen.

Almost.

Well, it's a
thought-provoking idea...

but, uh, don't you think you
should finish the course first?

What?

Oh. Well, um...

We'll talk about it tomorrow.

How is it that the
clouds still hang on you?

Hmm? Oh.

You asked me this morning...

if I remembered any members
of the group acting strangely.

Mm-hm. And have you?

Yeah, well, I seem to recall
a guy named Tony Wills...

talking to a couple
of very strange cats.

How strange?

The double-breasted
types with bulges right here.

If you wanted to find Tony...

if you cut straight
across the quad...

right in front of the girls' dorm,
you'll find the student union.

- He'll be there.
- Yeah.

Thank you.

Don't mention it.

- In there.
- That's the girls' dorm.

Is that bad?

J.D.'s from one of
those fraternities again.

That's the third time this week.

They're such ju...

Oh, sorry.

When I was in college,
they used to scream.

Come on.

Juveniles.

Where's the fire door?
- Over there.

Get the kids.

Pillow fight!

Pillow fight!

Get him!

And I thought you
were middle-class.

Well, appearances
can be deceptive.

But you must take better care of yourself,
for the sake of our future children.

- Our supermen?
- Mm-hm.

Would you rather have
super-boys or super-girls?

Hey, you know, that's the first time
I've gotten any use out of these books.

Well, I don't know about your professors,
but I'd be delighted to give you an A.

In what subject?

Well, uh...

Why don't you try
ancient history, Mr. Solo?

It's what you're
about to become.

Excellent timing,
gentlemen. Thank you.

Don't celebrate yet, Solo.

There's plenty more
where I came from.

I told you.

We should've
killed him right away.

Now our whole plan is
knocked into a cocked hat.

I don't see that.

With Haymish in jail, we
can't assassinate Waverly.

"Can't" is a big
word, my good friend.

Of course, we could
just shoot him down.

But the idea behind
the whole plan...

was to blame the killing on
the student demonstrators.

There are other
ways to kill Waverly...

and other people
to put the blame on...

so I arranged an
alternate method.

Dwight will kill Waverly.

- Who?
- Dean Timothy Dwight.

You must admit, it's a
rather provocative idea.

We haven't been able to find out who's
behind it, but we did get the hatchet men.

Mr. Solo, Thrush has enough hatchet
men to take on the United States Marines.

At least they can't
follow their original plan...

which was to use a student
demonstration as a smoke screen.

One of their men was to have led the
demonstration and presumably kill you.

They have as many plans
as they have hatchet men.

They're undoubtedly hatching
out a new one right now.

Alexander, this
has gone too far.

The press is having a field day.
Have you seen the headlines?

I'm sorry, Timothy.

I don't mean to cause you
embarrassment. What are the headlines?

Something about a
brawl in a girls' dormitory.

Oh.

Well, with Mr. Solo
involved, I might've known.

Try and be a bit more
discreet in future, Mr. Solo.

Yes, sir.

And please, gentlemen,
leave my daughter out of this.

Since you've arrived, Minerva's
been in jail, she's been in a brawl.

Jonathan Trumbull has
threatened to have me fired.

The students are
getting out of hand.

And I think I am on the
nerve of a vergous breakdown.

Must you keep that vaporizer on?

You can smell the fumes
all through the building.

It's my sinuses, Trumbull.

Perhaps this makeup
aggravates the condition.

I'm going down to check on
preparations for the graduation ceremony.

I wouldn't wander
around if I were you.

THRUSH AGENT:
Don't worry about me.

A remarkable job.

Truly remarkable.

You've been in the
sticks too long, Trumbull.

You've forgotten how
we do things in the big city.

Dwight was not exactly
brimming over with goodwill.

Would you be?

He might be a little more
cooperative, if he's on the level.

- You think he isn't?
- Consider the facts now.

Thrush knew we'd be here, and Dwight
was the only one who was told about it.

Ah, Mr. Solo.

What do you think
of our little campus?

Well, it's, uh, not exactly
a bucolic atmosphere.

Jonathan?

Jonathan?

Jonathan?

Timothy, what's wrong?

It's happened. I've cracked up.

You have? You
look all right to me.

I just saw myself, Jonathan.

I just looked into my own
face. It was incredible.

What's wrong with it?

You have a perfectly
acceptable face.

Some people might even
consider it handsome.

Yes, but it was
on somebody else.

- Your face?
- Yes.

I opened that door and
there it was, my own face.

Through a cloud
of swirling mist.

- Swirling mist?
- Yes.

I just saw myself in that
room not 30 seconds ago.

- Inside this room?
- It's empty.

Naturally.

But what's that medicinal smell?

Smell?

What smell?

First I see things,
now I smell things.

Jonathan, I've finally
gone over the edge.

I wouldn't worry
about it, Timothy.

It's been a difficult year,
and you're a little upset.

A good night's sleep,
and you'll feel fine.

Sleep. I wouldn't
dare close my eyes.

I'd see that thing
again, that face, my face.

Now, don't panic. That's
the worst thing you could do.

I am not panicking.

I'm resigning.

Oh, you can't resign. Not until
after the graduation anyway.

Oh, yes, I'll resign before the
graduation, otherwise, I'd crack up.

Why? It's just an
ordinary graduation.

It isn't ordinary, Jonathan.

Believe me. There are
certain things I can't tell you...

but the strain
would be terrible.

And obviously, I'm in no condition to
undergo even a small strain at this point.

Do me one little favor, Timothy.

Before you resign...

talk to your old friend in
the Psychology Department.

What's his name?

Dr. Neary?

Dr. Neary.

All right.

But I warn you...

I fully intend to resign
before the day is out.

Get me Dr. Neary.

If he resigns publicly before the
graduation, our plan is useless.

Don't worry.

He'll be out of
circulation very soon.

You'll just have to take his place a
little earlier than we planned, that's all.

Dr. Neary, Jonathan
Trumbull here.

Dean Dwight is on his
way over to see you.

He is? Good.

I haven't seen him
since this morning.

He's a sick man, Neary.

I want you to keep him at your
place until you hear from me again.

Sick? Timothy?

Why, he was fine when
I saw him this morning.

If I say he's sick,
Neary, he is sick.

Of course, he is sick.

Shall I call a doctor?

Oh, no. Just make sure
he doesn't get away.

But, uh, if he is sick,
Mr. Trumbull, and of course he is...

shouldn't he be treated?

The regents elect the new chairman
of the Psychology Department...

next month, Neary.

I had intended to
recommend you for the job.

Uh, but detaining Dean
Dwight without his consent...

it would be unethical.

And I had not intended to mention
that little indiscretion of yours...

with that blond
graduate student.

Um, I suppose I could
keep him here for a while.

Considering it's
for his own good.

His and yours, doctor. Good day.

Take care of him later.

Meanwhile, to all intents
and purposes, I am Dwight.

I don't like replacing
him this soon.

I'll have to face
that daughter of his.

Either you replace
him or he resigns.

All right.

You keep Dwight under
wraps. I'll take care of the brat.

What about the
U.N.C.L.E. agents?

We'll find something
interesting for them too.

I still don't think you should come here,
sir. You could give any number of excuses.

Absolutely not,
Mr. Solo. I'll be there.

And it's your job to see
that I leave there alive.

Yes, sir.

And as far as Dean
Dwight is concerned...

- I can assure you, he's beyond suspicion.
- But it is possible...

that he might've told someone
about our being here, inadvertently.

Yes, it's possible.
Why don't you ask him?

Yes, sir. That's exactly
what we're planning to do.

My own face. It was terrible.

- I can well imagine.
- And I smell things too.

These are not good signs,
Timothy. Not good at all.

Silas, do you think I've
gone over the edge?

I wouldn't say that.

But I think we should have
a talk about your problems.

A long talk, and right now...

before your condition worsens.

Right now, I'm going to
announce my resignation.

- I think we should talk, Timothy.
- What's there to talk about?

I will resign and I'll have
myself committed voluntarily.

Your symptoms
are not that serious.

A frank discussion might
relieve the anxieties...

that are causing those symptoms.

Otherwise, you may
end up like Nelson.

He started out just like you.

He is now in the incurable
ward at the state hospital.

They call him "the vegetable."

Let's talk. Wait.

I better call my daughter first.

Tell her I'll be
late for dinner.

- Hello?
- Who is this?

This is Timothy Dwight.
Who am I speaking to, please?

What's wrong?

It's getting worse.

I just talked to myself
on the telephone.

Um, sit down, Timothy.

Can I get you an aspirin?

I don't like it, Trumbull.
I don't like it at all.

Just for one night.

We can't very well get rid of
everyone who knows Dwight.

No, I suppose not.
Though it is a nice idea.

Come in.

Ah, Mr. Kuryakin and Mr. Solo.

How nice to see you.

- I hope you gentlemen stay for dinner.
- No, thank you.

We have to get back to the campus
to make preparations for tomorrow.

We wanted to ask you if you might have
mentioned our presence here to anyone.

You asked me to keep
it to myself, didn't you?

Well, of course, but you might've
mentioned something without realizing it.

You're speaking to the dean
of this university, Mr. Solo...

not to one of its
crackbrained coeds.

Forgive us.

Illya.

THRUSH AGENT: Oh, hello, dear.

Hello, Daddy.

How were classes?

Daddy, I didn't have
any classes today.

Now, you know that.

Oh, ha, of course.

Sometimes I feel more like a dean
than a daddy. It's an occupational hazard.

Don't worry about that, because you are
doing just fine in the daddy department.

Thank you, dear.

You know Mr. Solo?
My daughter, Minerva.

- Minerva, how are you?
- Hello, Mr. Solo.

Illya, what are you doing here?

Oh. Oh, I know.

It has something to do with that
business in the dorm, doesn't it?

Something like that.

Uh, I'm sure
everything will work out.

I hope so. Good day.

- Good day.
- I'll walk you to the car.

I'm worried about Daddy.

Why?

Uh, nothing specific.

Well, it's just that he's
been acting peculiar.

How peculiar?

Very.

Is there anyone else on campus
that knows your father well?

His oldest friend
is Silas Neary.

He's a psychology professor.

Bye, Illya.

Bye.

She's suspicious. So are they.

If we give them enough time...

Their time's already run out.

My dear.

I think the moment
has arrived...

for you and Daddy to have a
little talk about the facts of life.

How'd he seem to you?

Like an absent-minded dean.

Mr. Waverly says he's all
right, he's probably all right.

Wouldn't do any harm to
talk to his friend Dr. Neary.

All that year, I was
terribly frustrated.

Pressures, anxieties, you know.

And then the next year, when I
entered seventh grade, it was even worse.

My father wanted me
to make good marks...

and my mother wanted me
to go out for the baseball team.

I suppose it was just
a typical problem, but...

Dr. Neary? NEARY: Yes.

We'd like to talk to
you about Dean Dwight.

When did you get here?

Oh, uh, a long time ago.

I've been talking to Dr. Neary
about myself and I, uh...

I'm up to the seventh
grade already.

So we meet at
last, Dean Dwight...

face-to-face.

Please, Mr. Solo, no fireworks.
There are ladies in the audience.

Daddy.

Touching. Very touching.

I take pleasure in
such happy reunions.

Let's skip the flourishes
and get rid of them.

We have a lot of arrangements
to make before tomorrow morning.

Spoken like a true Philistine, Trumbull.
You have no appreciation of the art.

My business killings are
always quick and clean...

but this is a pleasure killing,
so I don't mind dawdling a little.

After all, man has to
have some relaxation.

Interesting, these
communicators.

I think, though, it'd be
inadvisable to let you keep them.

Uh, you'll find the chairs
are bolted to the floor.

Now, class, you're
ready for your final exam...

to be administered by this
electronic teaching machine...

which is reputed to work
wonders with slow learners.

A recorded voice will ask you a question
and give you two possible answers.

If you choose the
correct answer by

pressing the appropriate
button, Mr. Solo...

a bell will ring.

This will be followed
by the next question.

If you choose the
wrong answer...

or fail to answer within
the 15-second time limit...

a buzzer will sound.

This buzzer is connected
to a cylinder of poison gas.

When the buzzer sounds,
the gas is released.

So you see, my friends, your
first mistake will also be your last.

To insure your privacy, we've
sealed off all the ventilators.

And there will be no proctors. We
operate here on the honor system.

Seal it.

Question one. European history.

In what year did
Napoleon Bonaparte die?

Answer A: 1823.

Answer B: 1821.

Come on, Napoleon,
you should know that.

I was named after him.
I wasn't at his funeral.

I flunked history the
same year I flunked Latin.

- Dr. Neary?
- I'm afraid it's not my field, Mr. Solo.

I think it's 1823,
but I'm not sure.

Well, let's not die by default.

Question 309. Natural science.

The horseshoe crab
belongs to which genus?

Answer A: Genus Armonidae.

Answer B: Genus Rhexillia.

- Armonidae.
- Rhexillia.

Alex.

- Ah, Timothy.
- It's been too long.

This is Jonathan Trumbull,
chairman of our board of regents.

- Mr. Trumbull.
- Alex Waverly.

Well, Timothy, you're
looking well, I must say.

I'm looking forward
to the next hour...

- more than I can tell you, Alex.
- Uh, Mr. Solo and Mr. Kuryakin...

aren't they here?

Why, no, I haven't seen
them since last night.

That's curious.

Everything's in
order, my friend.

Indeed, everything's just fine.

Oh, I don't know, gentlemen.

I don't think the younger
generation is completely hopeless.

Difficult perhaps,
but not hopeless.

You could kill him
now just as easily.

No, I want to wait until they're all seated
and he's in the middle of his speech.

I want it to be absolutely clear he's
been killed by Dean Timothy Dwight.

Killed in front of the
entire graduating class.

Consider what'll
happen, Trumbull.

The groves of academe will
be shaken to the very roots.

The scandal will lead to
so many investigations...

U.N.C.L.E. will be finished.

Absolutely finished
as a secret agency.

And Thrush will
move into the vacuum.

Excuse me. This way,
gentlemen, please.

Open Channel D, please.

Mr. Solo?

Mr. Kuryakin?

Either of you, come in, please.

Question 336. Biochemistry.

We're ready, Mr. Waverly.

Oh, coming, coming.

Alexander Waverly hardly
needs an introduction.

His reputation is
well-known by all of you.

And on this day, when you are about
to leave the cloistered halls of ivy...

no man is more qualified...

to give you a few
words of wise advice...

as you are about to...

The star Alpha 17...

is how many light
years from the sun?

Answer A: 416.

Answer B: 394.

Daddy.

Daddy, wake up.

It's 394.

Four sixteen.

Three ninety-four, I tell you.

- Push the button.
- Which one?

But before you
hear Mr. Waverly...

I would be derelict
in my duty...

if I did not give you a few words
of parting advice of my own.

Geography. Mt. Whitney...

Napoleon, that's
closed-circuit television.

Answer A: 14,495.

Answer B: 14...

I can only say...

we of the older generation...

look to you for new
solutions to our old problems.

Four ninety-five.

How do you know?

I climbed it.

Help! If there's anybody
can see us, help us.

Help!

Help! Help, anybody.

Please! Please!

And finally, I can give you
no better advice than this:

Heed well the words of the man
who is about to speak to you...

Alexander Waverly.

Gentlemen of the faculty...

parents and members
of the graduating class...

Question 340. Mathematics.

What is the
numerical value of pi?

Answer A: 3.14159.

Answer B: 3.14158.

Answer B.

This is a historic occasion.

It's the first time you
both agreed on something.

That's impossible.
It must be answer B.

Agreed. It must be.

The machine is wrong.

Save your breath, professor.
You're gonna need every bit of it.

Hey, kids. Trouble. I
need your help. Come on!

And as I look out over
this sea of young faces...

I cannot believe those
prophets of doom...

who are certain that
civilization is at its last gasp.

Look.

Hold your breath.

Hold your breath.

Untie the ropes.

Don't breathe.

Hold your breath.

The future is in your hands.

After all, we old ones will
not be around much longer.

And then it will be your task
to carry forward the torch.

I must admit, the world you inherit
from us is not exactly unscarred...

but nevertheless...

Dean Dwight. Better
stay right where you are.

Run into any Thrush men,
you're likely to get killed.

Oh, I doubt that.

Trumbull! It's him.

Shoot him, Trumbull.

No, Trumbull. It's him.

No!

- Shoot him!
- Daddy!

No!

Daddy!

Darling, you saved my life.

How could you tell us apart?

Don't you think I even
know my own daddy?

I thought you were building
your superman plans around Illya.

I was.

But he told me that
insanity ran in his family.

Well, I couldn't very well expose
my future children to that kind of risk.

Why, he even told
me that he was a little...

off.

Hmm. Crazy like a fox.

Do they still print these
things on sheepskin, Timothy?

I'm ashamed to say this to you,
Alex, but that's ordinary paper.

Economy has replaced tradition.

Things have changed since
you and I were in college.

Mr. Kuryakin.

- Yes, Miss Darling?
- Please. Patricia.

Uh, can I call you Illya?

Please do.

Heh, you know, Mr. Solo
told me how smart you are.

I mean, getting all those answers
when you were on the teaching machine.

Oh, he's a very bright guy.

Well, the point is, I'm not.

So I thought that maybe you
might tutor me in the evenings.

Mm. He'd do a wonderful job.

You know, there's
insanity in my family.

Oh! Heh.

Well, that makes it even
more interesting, heh.

You will, won't you?

Why not?

Hey.

I beg your pardon, Miss Dwight?

Well, it just dawned on me.

Since we're friends with U.N.C.L.E.,
who do we demonstrate against next?

Oh, now, really,
Minerva, please.

Don't worry, Timothy.

So long as there are
students, there'll be protest.

That's one tradition
that will never change.