All language subtitles for 606. Whoever Shot Poor George Oblique Stroke

(theme music playing)

- (knock on door)
- Come in.

Everything's set for tomorrow's
board meeting, Sir Jeremy.

Good.

If there's nothing else,
I would like to get away early.

- Oh, certainly.
- Thank you.

Important date,
Miss Charles?

Just want to leave early.
That's all.

Good night, Sir Jeremy.

(horn honks)

(horn honks)

(gunshot)

(pantomime jingle plays)

I suppose the area
has been thoroughly searched?

Thoroughly.

The results are waiting for us
in Sir Jeremy's office.

Right.

Haven't you forgotten something?

It's 230 shopping days
to Christmas?

- It's your birthday?
- Why have we been called in?

Why have we been called in?

This company... the Capitol Land
and Development Corporation

have just landed the contract.

I see.
Which contract?

- CUPID.
- CUPID?

- CUPID.
- Who is he?

What is it?

In the event of a war,
where would the government go?

The moon?

Underground, CUPID...

Cabinet Underground Premises
in Depth,

to be built by this company.

So, naturally, when one of their
directors gets popped off...

We are very concerned.

Let's have a look
at the evidence.

And what is exhibit one?

A footprint
found on the grounds.

I hope they took a plaster cast.

Whoops.

What does that say?

Well, apparently,
despite the size of the shoe,

the depth of impression
suggests the person

was of normal weight.

Not a giant?

Unless it was a very thin giant.

- Hmm.
- What, may I ask, is that?

I don't know.

It looks rather like a...

A bunch of flowers.

- It could be a clue,
of course.
- Could be.

If it is, immortality is ours.

Well, it's bound to go
in the archives

of the criminal museum.

With a little card discovered
and donated by Steed and King.

One bunch of...

Bananas.

It was a walking stick
when you found it.

- It was.
- Metamorphosis.

- Tadpole into frog.
- Could be awkward.

Swaggering down Bond Street
with a bunch of bananas.

Imagine yourself hailing
a cab?

Bound to happen right outside
my club.

I can see it now.

Taxi.

- Air-conditioning.
- I already have it.

Extra air-conditioning.

I think you'd better
put that down.

Well, I should have eaten
the bananas when I had them.

But the trick is...

very theatrical.

Man: (laughs)

Man #2: Excellent,
excellent, excellent.

You're doing excellent.

Man: Are you sure
no one saw you?

Quite sure.
There was no one about.

It was like first house
on a Monday.

(honks)

A wet Monday.

Man: Sir Jeremy was only
one of the board.

Our revenge
will not be complete

until all the directors
are gone.

Look at this man, gentlemen...
Another director

of the Capitol Land
and Development Corporation...

The honorable
Thomas Randolph Cleghorn...

Your next victim.

Strike and strike now!

He must be killed!
Killed!

Killed!
Killed, killed...

(whistle quacking)

(pantomime jingle plays)

- Out.
- Ooh.

- 15-8.
- What do you think it is?

Well, a red Ping-Pong ball
with a hole in it.

Of course, it needn't
necessarily have anything to do

with Cleghorn's murder.

It was found at the scene
of the crime.

I know, but the honorable
T. R. Cleghorn was drowned.

And bopped, severely on the top
of his aristocratic head.

Bopped with the traditional
bopper.

A blunt instrument.

Ah!

Just doesn't make sense.

Gigantic footprints,
magical bunches of flowers,

red Ping-Pong balls,

♪ Do-do-do-do-do-do dee day
and dum pam pam pam ♪

- Now why didn't
I think of that?
- Think of what?

Noses.

Red noses.

What does that conjure up?

Inebriates.

Now there's a long word
for you.

I know lots, actually.

Antidisestablishmentarianism.

You've been doing
the crossword again.

I try.

- What does it mean?
- Hmm?

Antidisest...
Or whatever you said?

- Clowns.
- Eh?

You're not gonna tell me
that antidis...

- or whatever means...
- No, no,
the vermilion proboscis.

- A nose by any other name.
- Ah.

Now this nose is part
of a clown's makeup.

And this is the section
on clowns.

Jesters, mimes, mummers,
and harlequins.

And what does it say?

It says...

section 247,
vaudeville.

And what does that say?

It says turn to appendix G5,
dying arts.

Vermillion Proboscis.
Proboscis Vermillion.

I'm going through a phrase.

Ah, eggs.
(mumbles)

Eggs?

Eggs?
Clowns don't lay eggs.

Bad ones do.

Ah, this is more important.

Each clown's makeup
is copyright

and as individual
as fingerprints.

These makeups are painted
and preserved on eggs...

by one Marcus Rugman.

Eggs?

(knock on door)

Marcus Rugman?
Makeup registration artist?

- Yes.
- I'm Tara King.

I phoned you earlier.

- Well?
- Can I come in?

- Come in?
- Yes.

- It's most unusual.
- You are a public office.

Yes, that's the trouble.

But I have a query,
an important one.

You've read the notice.

I like it.

One section applies to you.

No handbags.

I'll leave it outside.

You must be very,
very careful.

Eggs break, you know.

So I believe.

You will see before you
22 years of patient brushwork.

Every clown's face
in Britain

registered and copyrighted
by being painted on an egg,

large size.

I'm here to trace a clown.

Well, if you know what
he looks like,

we can find him.

Please!

No wandering, please.

Follow me.

Keep to the white line...

then they're out of reach.

- Be careful.
- I promise, I promise.

(groans)

You did promise.

I didn't know you were
going to stop.

Won't happen again.

Well done, Miss King,
well done.

Now what does this clown
of yours look like?

I think it's
a red-nosed comedian.

A red-nosed comedian?

That's the line we're following
up, Lord Dessington.

I give you... myself,

or a troupe of young girls,
high-stepping young fillies.

Look,
where's the sense in it?

Two of our board
have been murdered,

and now you're trying
to tell us

that some fella wearing
a red nose...

Would be excellently
disguised.

You've got a point there.
All clowns look alike.

All right, I'll concede that,
Seagrave,

but I still say where's
the point in it?

Steed here was brought in
because of Project CUPID

and because these murders
might be part of a bigger plot

to wreck the project.

Now we're talking about
comedians, red noses.

Been nothing but trouble
from the start.

- Dessington: Eh?
- Project CUPID.

Oh, come now,
Brigadier Wiltshire.

What do you mean,
trouble?

I understood
it was all going smoothly.

- And so it is.
- What about the fights
we had?

Broadfoot and Cleghorn arguing
about the choice of materials

and you and Dessington arguing
about the choice

of subcontractors.

Perfectly normal procedure in
a project the size of CUPID.

Well, certainly the happy
indifferences of opinion

as to how to tackle the job
and the happy disagreements.

Oh, but on perfectly
amiable terms.

- Oh, perfectly.
- I see.

Well, I won't keep you
gentlemen any longer.

I don't have to warn you
to be on your guard.

Wiltshire:
Against comedians?

What'll he do,
tickle us to death?

Oh, by the way, Mr. Seagrave,
you were wrong.

- Hmm?
- About all clowns
looking alike.

They don't.

Every makeup is copyright
and preserved on eggs.

Eggs?

Marcus: It'll take time,
Miss King, time.

There are so many faces
and you have so few clues.

- How long?
- Hard to say, really.

I might just put my finger
on him in a few minutes,

and then again,
it might take a few days.

- I'll come back.
- No, no, no!

There's, uh,
there's no need for you

to actually come back
here in person.

Um, perhaps
I could phone you.

Okay, I'll give you
my colleague's phone number.

It's in my handbag.

Miss King!

Um...
(clears throat)

- Follow me, Miss King.
- Certainly.

Hey, wait a minute!

Here's Steed's card.

- Now you will ring.
- Yes, yes.

Don't worry, yes,
I will ring.

Bye.

(horn honks)

Man:
Emergency!

We summoned this emergency
meeting

because we do have
an emergency.

Well, we were all set to move
against Brigadier Wiltshire.

Wiltshire will have to wait.

You carelessly left part
of your makeup

at the scene
of the crime.

Oh, no, I didn't.

Oh, yes, you did.

Oh, no, I didn't.

Oh, yes, you did.

Oh, no, I didn't!

Man:
A red Ping-Pong ball,

It was a vital clue
to your identity.

But we work better
in full makeup.

But your makeup
is distinctive to you.

That's right.

And if I found anybody
pinching my act, I...

Marcus.

- (phone rings)
- Hello.

Oh, hello, Miss King.
Marcus here.

I think I've found
what you were looking for.

(cracks)

(bangs)

What's that?

Sounded like eggs breaking.

(pantomime jingle plays)

"All the king's horses..."

"And all the king's men."

He must have been trying
to tell us something.

- But what?
- What indeed?

And who killed him?

Look.

Merry Maxie Martin.

(honks)

(explosion)

(pantomime jingle plays)

Man:
Congratulations!

Superbly, if you'll forgive
the pun, executed.

(honks)

And Marcus the egg man?

Oh, they don't call me
the man with a million cracks

for nothing.

(honking)

I don't think Marcus
saw the joke.

What's next, or rather, who?

Another director.

But first,
think carefully.

Is there anyone else
like the egg man?

Someone from your past
who might expose you?

He's dead.

Right,
off you go, then.

Your target will be
working late tonight.

- It should be as easy as...
- Pie?

(pantomime jingle plays)

All right,
that ends our session.

Man:
Just a minute.

Merry Maxie Martin didn't write
all his own material, did he?

(sings) You know,
I think you're right.

I am right.

Merry Maxie always used
the same gag writer.

Someone who could lead to us?

Possibly.

Who is it?
Who is it?

Bradley something.

(sings)
Bradley, do, re, me.

Right, get on to him.

Find out where Bradley
Do, re, me is.

No, no, no,
you misunderstand.

His name is Marler.

(sings) Do, re, me, fa,
so, la, tee, do,

Bradley Marler!

No, I don't want
to hire a comedian.

I'm enquiring about one...
Merry Maxie Martin, Martin.

You are the vaudeville artists
information bureau?

I think I've got the man who
killed vaudeville personally.

Take a card.

No, I don't want
Hilarious Harry Horsefly.

I want Merry Maxie Martin.

(whispers)
Look at it.

Retired?

Semiretired?

Resting.

- He's out of work.
- Put it back.

Yes, well, that's the chap.
Now where can I find him?

Through his gag writer.

Well, who...

Marler... Bradley Marler,
thank you.

Well, what's the card?

Three of clubs
in your handbag.

(giggling)

That's a great one, that.

- (knock on door)
- Come in.

- Bradley Marler?
- Well, if I'm not
Bradley Marler?

I'm having a great time
with his wife.

I'm having a great time
with his wife.

No, that was a joke.
I'm not even married.

A great time with...

Bradley Marler,
the comedy writer?

Here, look, look...

This girl was gonna marry
this millionaire, see,

and one of her friends says,

"Look, do you know what
you are doing? He's 87."

And the girl said,

"Look, if somebody gives you
a check like that,

you don't look
at the date."

(laughs)

You liked that one.

It has a certain humorous shade.

Well, don't go away
because it's...

It's here somewhere.

Let's see now.

I'm hoping that
you can help me.

Oh, well,
what is it you're doing?

A stag party, a club,
bar mitzvah?

- I'm not in
the entertainment business.
- Oh, television.

Here, look, I've got a hilarious
brain surgeon routine.

- It's only been used once.
- I want some information.

Oh, I see.
Look, doe rabbit...

A doe rabbit comes out
of the prairie bush.

She looks back and she says,

"I wouldn't do that
again for 50 bucks."

Forget it.

I understand you used to write
for Merry Maxie Martin.

Maxie Martin?
Oh, dear old Maxie Martin.

What ever happened to him?

I was hoping you might be able
to tell me.

No, no.
I haven't seen him for years.

Maxie Martin.
He's a great comedian, he was.

- Red nose, big feet?
- Yeah, that was Maxie.

He's a quick-change artist,
you know,

fastest in the business.

Do you know, he could make
about six changes of costume

just walking
across the stage.

But you don't know
where he is now.

No.
I mean, where did they go?

Theaters and musical halls
closed,

vaudeville,
variety dies, you know.

Actually,
that was the old style.

You see, he couldn't adapt
himself to the new.

Oh, here you are.

A fella comes out of his house,
throws himself in the road,

wallop!

Old lady passed him by, she
says, "Here, are you all right?"

He says, "Yes, but I could have
sworn I had a car."

No. Forget it.

Tell me some more
about Maxie.

I mean,
what is there to tell?

He ruled the Gladchester
Palladium,

worked there
for years, he did.

- They loved him.
- Gladchester Palladium?

Yeah, well, it's closed now,
isn't it, you know.

Been standing empty
for I don't know how long.

Fallen to pieces,
I shouldn't wonder,

like all the other
old theaters.

- Times change.
- Yes, I know,

but it's a bit sad to think

you're not gonna see
those big feet of his again.

(honks)

(pantomime jingle plays)

Oh, Dessington.

Call Steed.

Tell... tell him someone's
tried to kill me.

Mmm, lemon-flavored.

- Glue?
- Yes, and extremely
fast-setting.

- If I hadn't managed to...
- At least it proves one thing.

Our killer is quite capable
of making a mistake.

- You're still alive.
- Just.

No thanks to you, Steed,
three of us dead already

and now another
murderous attack.

What are you doing about it?

Chasing eggs or
is it red noses this time?

One red nose attached to one
Merry Maxie Martin,

clown comic,
quick-change artist,

star of
the Gladchester Palladium.

This company owns
the Gladchester Palladium.

- What?
- Oh, yes.

- Get the file on it, would you?
- I'm afraid it isn't available.

It's gone into our archives.

Well, take my word for it.

The Gladchester Palladium
is ours.

We bought it with a whole
chain of vaudeville theaters,

30 or 40 of them,
all due for demolition.

As you know,
vaudeville is dead.

It looks as though vaudeville

may have just decided
to fight back.

- We're sorry, Mr. Punch.
- Sorry?

- It was a failure.
- A failure.

Failure.

Oh, what a pity.
What a pity.

We can do it properly
second performance.

Lord Dessington
should now be dead.

He will be.
We'll leave right away.

Wait!

There is another matter
even more urgent.

I asked you earlier if there
was anyone who knew you,

who could be a danger.

There's nobody.

- We think differently.
- Who?

Your old gag writer,
Bradley Marler.

I don't get it.

(honks)

Maxie!

(laughs)

Hey, Maxie!
How are you, boy?

Looking great.
You're all right.

Here, here, here.

Come in.
Have a chair.

Have a chair.

Hey, there was a fella
here looking for you.

Well, I mean, that's no way
to find work, is it?

Where have you been hiding?

Vauda Villa?

You can't fool me, Maxie.
I know why you're here.

I know why you're here.

Material, that's what you want,
isn't it, material?

I've got some lovely
material here.

I was doing one this morning
which is a beauty.

Just right...

Do you remember that?

Do you remember that lovely
knife-throwing routine?

Wasn't that sensational?
A sensational routine.

And what about the girl
you had in there?

What a beauty standing there
and the roll of the drums

and... straight past
and you had to be drunk.

That was it.

You was drunk all the time,
tottering about.

Great stuff it was.

And then when you threw that
knife, oh!

(pantomime jingle plays)

(door slams)

Now, you're quite sure
you know what to do?

Three things.

- One, stay close to Dessington.
- Very close.

- Two, never let him out
of my sight.
- Not for a second.

Three, be prepared for another
attempted murder.

At any time.
Good.

I'll get right on duty.

Anything else?

Yes, why'd you hold up
four fingers?

I can't seem to manage three.
They all bend.

Why didn't she do it
with her thumb?

(phone rings)

- Hello.
- Marler: Steed?

- Marler?
- Yeah.

I don't know what you're
gonna make of this,

but it killed me.

Maxie was here,
Merry Maxie Martin.

Did you get his address?
Where is he now?

Hello.

Hello.

I'm still here.

I wrote it down.

It's on the desk.

Marler.

Marler!

- Is that everything,
Mr. Seagrave?
- Yes.

There are a few queries,
but I'll raise those

with the architects myself.

I have a couple of visits
to make now anyway.

You'll be back today?

It depends on when
I get through.

I'll... I'll phone in
for any messages.

Dessington: Come in.

It's the correspondence on
Project CUPID, sir.

- Oh?
- Private and confidential
correspondence.

Oh, yes.
Thank you.

Just go ahead.
Act normal.

Darn it.
I am normal.

- Who is this person?
- King, Tara King.

- Steed sent me.
- Steed sent you?

- Why?
- To look after you.

- Look after me?
- Personal bodyguard.

Really, is this absolutely
necessary?

Oh, extremely.

Well, I suppose
there's no real harm, then.

Not really my place
to say so.

I thought I'd leave
if you have no objection.

Leave? Now?

If you don't mind.

Of course not.
Off you go.

Well, well, bodyguard, eh?

- King, you said?
- Mm, Tara King.

Tara King.

Well, well...

Bodyguard.

Perhaps you'd care
for a drink?

No, thanks.

Perhaps you wouldn't mind
if I had one?

Not at all.

Marler?

Written on the desk.

Bradley Marler has taken
his last curtain call.

Yippee!

(tapping)

Excellent, excellent.

But you must leave at once

and rectify
your previous mistake...

Lord Dessington.

He must be killed,
killed.

Ow, ow, ow, ow, ow, ow, ow.

Well, well, well.

Bodyguard, eh?

And you come to keep
an eye on me, eh?

That's the idea.

I don't suppose you were
ever in the army.

No.

Of course not.
Foolish of me.

I spent most of my time
in the Middle East.

Funny place, hot...

uh, lots of sand.

Lots of sand.

I was in charge of camels.

I don't suppose you...

Of course not.

"There was a young lady
of Gloucester,

she met a young... ".

Are you sure
you won't join me?

No, quite sure.

I was once in North Alaska.

North Alaska?

Have you been there?

No, never.

- Very interesting, I believe.
- I don't remember.

I was only 2 years old
at the time.

Oh.

No camels in North Alaska.

Oh, I believe it's one of
the main features of the place.

- What?
- The absence of camel.

Oh... yes.

Dessington: Lots of sand.
Lots of sand.

Tara:
I beg your pardon.

In the Middle East.

Oh.

Lord Dessington,
please relax.

After all,

we must have something in common
besides camel.

Well, let's try, shall we?

- Cricket?
- Skiing.

- Stock exchange.
- Fashion.

- Golf.
- Motor racing.

Glass walking sticks.

Together: Music!

- Classical or modern?
- Either, like Bach?

Don't mind a spot
of Hindemith either.

- Or Brubeck.
- I went to a concert.

Dessington: A great concert,
a great symphony,

a great conductor.

Oh, joyous, joyous.

I particularly liked
that violin stanza that goes...

(hums tune)

And then the cymbals.

- A flute.
- The brass rises up.

- The piano.
- The piccolo.

Now the strings
come in again.

- The French horn.
- The cello.

A wave of sound buildup.
The drums.

A roll...

Building up to a pitch.

A crescendo.

And now the whole orchestra
joins in,

the grand finale!

Ta-da!

(pantomime jingle plays)

She's still on our tail.

(horn honks)

No, no, no.
Straight on.

I've got an idea.

(tires screeching)

- Oh!
- Could I be after
helping you now, Miss?

Oh, Officer.
Thank goodness you're here.

You see,
there were these two men.

Which two men
would they be now, then?

Well, they just went in there
in a taxicab,

you see, and I...

Vauda Villa.

Man:
Who is it? Who is it?

That's the way to do it.

Did anybody see you?

No, she were on her own.

Well, then,
this illusion is simple.

She must be eliminated.

Not me.
I'm not killing a woman.

Why the distinction,
Mr. Martin?

I don't care.
I won't do it.

Let me have her, Mr. Punch.

Who is it?
Who is it?

It's me, Fiery Frederick.

I need a new assistant
to perfect my act.

Yes.
Give her to Fiery Frederick.

- No.
- Yes!

Yes!

There will be a final meeting
this evening at 6:00.

But there's only one
director left.

Six, six, six, six, six.

You'll go down in history

like a... the very first woman

to be burnt in half.

Oh, I know plenty
who have been sawn in two...

but burnt, never.

But it's in its early stages,
you understand.

I think it might work,

but even if it doesn't,
it's stage history, isn't it?

Relax, my girl, relax.

Yes.

Gentleman Jack... a smile,
a song and an umbrella.

Merlin the Magnificent Magician.

I'm the principal here.
Can I help you?

This is Vauda Villa,

the stopping place
for resting artists?

Yes.

Then you can because
I'm a resting artist.

Ooh, I'm afraid we've no room,
no vacancies.

- You can't stay here.
- But surely you can
show me around.

- Uh...
- Good, that's settled, then.

Merlin: We're very
comfortable here.

This, of course, is the lounge,
stage, reading room.

Charming.

I can't wait until a place
becomes available.

Now what goes on in there?

Just a store room,
props and hampers, you know.

Who is that?

Gentleman Jack... a smile,
a song and umbrella.

Oh.

Get rid of him.

- It's nearly time
for our meeting.
- I'm trying.

I'm trying.

Gentleman Jack,
I'm sorry, but that's private.

I really must ask you
to leave now.

- But I haven't seen anything.
- Some other day, perhaps.

I haven't met
any of your guests.

- How do you do?
- Pretty well, thank you.

- Nice fan.
- Gentleman Jack, please.

But I was so looking forward
to meeting them.

But you wouldn't like them,
you know.

They're all eccentric,
all of them.

All of them, except me,
of course.

(clock chimes)

No gag.

And now for the final stage
of our plan.

I have a big surprise
for you.

A big surprise.

What are they planning?

- To wreck CUPID.
- Is that a fact?

A guess.

- And the merry Vauda Villains?
- They've been duped.

They think they're getting
back at the company

that closed their theaters.

So what do we do?
Join the meeting?

In a suitable disguise.

And now the big surprise.

We have decided to call a halt
to operations for a while.

- We can't stop now.
There's one director left.
- That's right.

Get rid of him, then we can get
back to the theaters again.

- We can't stop now.
- No.

(all shouting at once)

This whole operation was ours.

We want action.

Actions you will get.

I'm not having it.

We demand an inquiry.
There's only one director left.

Isn't there only one direct...

(honks)

Young man,
you're sitting on my washing.

(gunshot)

Blagger!

(honking)

What's next?

Find out who really pulls
the strings around here.

(grunts)

Did I ever tell you the one
about the chap

who wanted to clean up
with the foreign power?

No, you never did tell me
the one about a chap

who wanted to clean up
with the foreign power.

- Thought he'd sabotage CUPID.
- Sabotage CUPID?

Persuaded a group
of variety artistes

to do his dirty work
for him.

Steed, you forgot the punch
line.

Man: (grunts)

Tara: The last director.

- Steed: Seagrave.
- Curtain?

Curtain.

(giggles)

(doorbell rings)

Tara, more beautiful than ever,
come in...

and on time too.

- Steed, you promised
to take me to the opera.
- I know I did.

I thought it would be a change
from red-nosed comedians.

But the performance starts
in half an hour.

Oh... oh, I see.

You'll never be ready.

I promise you won't be
disappointed.

- No.
- No?

Well, you can't work
on a case like this

without learning something.

Shall we go?

(theme music plays)