All language subtitles for 609. Legacy of Death

(theme music plays)

Yes. Hmm.

Okay.

Are you sure?

Can you afford to pay my fee
and question my diagnosis?

- (knock on door)
- Come in.

- Letter for you, Mr. Camrose.
- Thank you.

(man speaks indistinctly)

Camrose: See that you make
good use of your new voice.

(sneezing)

Dr. Camrose.

There really is nothing
like a ride in the country.

(chuckles)
Blow away the cobwebs.

Breaks routine.

Commune with nature.

Hair streaming
in the wind.

That's not the only thing
that's in the wind.

- What else?
- Trouble.

Steed, I knew you were
holding back on me.

I told you this
was a mystery tour.

We've got
to solve the mystery.

Where?

We've been summoned
to the presence.

- Whose?
- Mother's.

What do you think
of that, Steed?

Came in from New York
this morning.

- What an upset.
- What?

Gold's down
two and a half points.

Not the stock market prices.
Halfway down.

Oh...

"Third ear and nose
and throat specialist dies

of unknown causes, growing
concern at top US clinic."

Well, surely that's not
our territory, Mother.

It is now.

Worldwide epidemic?

A disease that
chooses its victims

too carefully for my liking.

Find the antidote
before it spreads.

First of all,
find the disease.

Precisely.

And you won't find it
in any medical dictionary.

How can you be sure?

My nose is twitching.

- It's never let us down yet.
- What hasn't?

Mother's nose.

Doesn't seem to have
picked up much of a scent.

That's our department.

I'm gonna see what I can pick up
in Camrose's consulting rooms.

And what about the female
of the species?

She is to visit
an old friend of mine.

Old?

It takes time to become an ear,
nose and throat specialist.

You might ask him what
the connecting link is

- between the dead men.
- Okay. What's his name?

Padley.

When did this arrive?

Just before
Mr. Camrose's death.

Curious.

No postmark.

Where's the wastepaper basket?

Here.

Thank you.

Do you happen to know
who delivered this?

Man: Come in.

(man sneezing)

It's a match.

Not quite.

You could have fooled me.

They're different
typewriters.

How can you tell?

That one
has a misaligned "L."

You are a great
disappointment, Steed.

- I thought we had a clue.
- We have.

- What?
- These envelopes.

They're identical.

Now don't tell me,
they're made of antique laid

décollaged vellum
produced from

(sniffs)
Manitoban rag pulp.

- Naturally.
- (door buzzer buzzes)

But I think we ought to
get it confirmed by an expert,

don't you?

Do come in,
Mr. Maidwell.

Thank you, sir.

I'm sorry, Mr. Maidwell.
Put them on the desk.

Yes, sir.

Oh, what do you
want me to do, Steed?

You stick close
to Seaton and Herrick.

We don't want to lose
any more of those ear,

nose and throat men.

- Mother would be very angry.
- I see.

I go and protect
the whole medical profession

while you stay at home
and have a cozy paper chase.

- Bye.
- Now, Mr. Maidwell,

you were gonna show me
your twin ply.

Yes, indeed, sir.

A very popular line
with the aristocracy.

I can imagine,
but I'm a gentleman

- as yet without a title.
- I quite understand, sir.

Might I suggest,
as an interim letter,

a discreet monogram
embossed on our unique

tissue-lined parchment.

You may indeed.

I thought I detected
a man of discernment.

How much may I put you
down for, sir?

A quire?
Two quires? A ream?

At the very least.

Um, tell me...

is this by any chance
one of yours?

I'm afraid to say it is, sir.
It's our cream wove bond.

Well, cream wove or not,
a firm of your reputation...

I'm well aware of that,
sir.

I was saying to Mr. Pue
only the other day

that we ought
to discontinue it.

Mr. Pue disapproved?

It's our big moneymaker,
you see, sir.

Low cost to make bulk buying
a more attractive proposition.

Oh, then it's fairly common.

In every sense
of the word, sir.

As a matter of fact,
something pretty uncommon

happened
about two months ago.

Oh? What was that?

Somebody bought 10,000
of those cream wove envelopes.

And no paper?

I must confess,
Miss King, that...

although this is my line
of country,

I've never come across
anything like it before.

No sign of gas or drugs?

None.

It's funny, Mr. Seaton.

Mr. Padley seemed to be
struggling for breath

- just before he died.
- That's what amazes me.

According to what you tell me,

he had all the symptoms
of acute asphyxiation.

But as his partner,
you'd certainly know

if he had anything wrong
with his lungs.

We were not only partners.

We were close friends,
Miss King.

I've known Henry for 30 years.
We were students together.

We worked
on allergy research together.

If there'd been anything
medically the matter with him,

- he most certainly
would have consulted me.
- (knock on door)

- Your letters, Mr. Seaton.
- Thank you.

Healthy man apparently
chokes to death

in a large-area room,
well, it's unbelievable.

- Perhaps the old...
- Mr. Seaton!

I beg your pardon?

It seems there's nothing
deadlier than the mail.

Just a theory.
Carry on.

You people
are so melodramatic.

Tell me, Mr. Seaton,
I thought I heard sneezing

from Mr. Padley's room,
violent sneezing.

- Now what do you make of that?
- I really don't see how

it could have any relevance
to Henry's death.

It seems to me he must
have suffered some sort of

gigantic muscular spasm that
cut off the air to his lungs.

- Collar too tight?
- All his shirts were handmade.

He never wore anything
that didn't fit perfectly.

- (knock on door)
- Come in.

I'm sorry to interrupt you,
Mr. Seaton,

but you asked to see
Lord Nightingale's X-rays

- as soon as they came up.
- Oh. Yes, thank you, Georgina.

If you'll forgive me
for a minute.

Mm, certainly.

(Seaton sneezing)

No!

Ah, here we are, sir.

10,000 cream wove envelopes
delivered on April the 13th

to the Anastasia...
Nursing Academy.

The what?

Anastasia Nursing Academy.

I thought it was
a bit odd at the time.

What would a nursing academy
want with 10,000 envelopes?

That's a good question.

We have an uninvited guest.

Let's find out
the name on the card.

Make sure
she doesn't see us.

Make sure
you don't lose her either.

I want to find out
who she is.

- And then deal with her?
- Uh-huh.

Matron will see you now,
Mr. Steed.

Aren't you going to
introduce us?

His name's McTavish.

What's he doing
out of his cupboard?

Oh, he lives here
during the exams.

So you can bone up
on your facts, eh?

Thank you.

Oh, Matron,
good of you to see...

- Good to see you.
- Thank you.

I hope I can be
of service, Mister...

Steed. You've heard of
my foundation, of course.

- I'm afraid not.
- No?

What a cloistered life
you ministry angels lead.

No, my foundation is dedicated
to the service of the sick.

I see.
Buying your way to heaven?

With the meek
inheriting the Earth,

it's the only place left.

We're thinking of endowing
an establishment of this nature.

This establishment
is unique, Mr. Steed.

We pride ourselves in setting
the highest possible standards.

I appreciate that.

We can only hope to follow
lamely in your footsteps.

- What is it you want to know?
- The secret of your success.

That's simple.

We only accept
what we consider

will be the cream
of the nursing profession.

Much paperwork?

I'm hopeless
at administration.

I wouldn't like to think
that I was biting off

more than I could chew.

The amount of correspondence
we deal with here

is nothing
out of the ordinary.

Letters of acceptance
or rejection,

mostly rejection.

We receive roughly
200 applications a month.

Out of those,
only one or two are successful.

I'm delighted to see
that you're so selective.

Would you say about
50 letters a week?

Something like that.

(typewriter clacking)

Oh, well, I'm sure
that would present no problems.

I really am most grateful
to you, Matron.

Always glad to meet
a genuine philanthropist.

I only wish there
were more of them.

Oh. If one's born with
a silver spoon in one's mouth,

one must see that it feeds
as many people as possible.

Goodbye.

Goodbye, Mr. Steed.

(door closes)

So our little bird
comes home to roost.

Shall we pay her nest
a little visit?

- But of course.
- With this?

No.
We want her alive.

We must find out what she knows
and who she's working for.

Hello?
Institute of Allergic Diseases?

Could I please speak
to Dr. Fawcett?

You'll be able to come over
this afternoon, then?

Okay, lovely.
I'll be waiting for you.

Thank you, Dr. Fawcett.
Bye-bye.

(buzzer buzzes)

Good afternoon.
Market research.

We're canvassing for opinions
of a new perfume

that's due to come
in the shops next spring.

We call it Oblivion.
I think you'll fall for it.

Hold her!
Hold her!

Constable?

No.

You ought to be
ashamed of yourself.

I frequently am.

Using curtains like those?

Well, I rather like them.

Highly dangerous.

22.3% of all hay fever sufferers
are allergic to velvet.

But that's common knowledge,
surely.

And look at this dust,

breeding ground
for all kinds of bacteria.

Where's Miss King?

Well, I haven't
the faintest idea, Mister...

Fawcett.
Dr. Fawcett.

Institute
of Allergic Diseases.

Am I to understand
that Miss King asked you

- to meet her here?
- You do.

Four hours and 31
and a half minutes ago.

In connection with
the death of Dr. Padley?

In connection with Dr. Padley
and Dr. Seaton's death.

What?

Dr. Seaton died this morning

soon after the death
of his partner.

From the same symptoms?

So I gather, yes.

Then Tara
was onto something.

Now when did you...

- That's odd.
- Very.

What do you deduce
from this, Doctor?

That Miss King was here
before I arrived.

Right. Smell that.

- Steady.
- Well?

- This is chloroform.
- I don't like it.

You're not the only one.

When chloroform
is exposed to light and air,

it oxidizes into...

Now, would you mind if we
postponed our little chat?

What's another four hours
for a busy man?

I have an unpleasant
interview ahead.

Already I can hear
the voice say...

Lost her?
Lost Tara King?

- Disappeared.
- Dirty work?

Trifle unhygienic,
I'm afraid.

Scotch?

I wouldn't worry
too much if I were you.

I'm afraid I don't share your
apparent knack of unconcern.

- Practical.
- Eh?

I'm being practical.

Fill your mind
with anxieties about Tara

and you'll be
thinking below par,

reducing your chances
of finding her.

Well, that's one way
of looking at it.

It's the right way.
And what have we got so far?

A puzzle.

Why should a nurses'
training college

order 10,000 envelopes
and no writing paper?

You want any help?

One-man job.
I'm breaking in tonight.

"Dear Matron,"

glad to know our plans
are going ahead without a hitch.

Keep up the good work.

Victory...
Final victory looms ahead.

"Sincerely, Maurice Timothy,
Colonel, retired."

What do you know
about Colonel M. Timothy?

Timothy?

Indian Army, retired.

Served in two World Wars.
Wealthy.

Endowed various
worthy causes, clean.

You see, I've nothing
else to do but think.

It's my job
to know these things.

What do you, uh...
What do you know about Tara?

Well, you know what they say,
no news is good news.

Lots of good news?

I'm afraid so.

What about Colonel Timothy?

I think he merits a visit.

Mother, if you hear
anything of Tara...

Of course, you'll be
the first to hear.

After me.

Curiosity, sir, was responsible
for the demise of the cat.

(chuckles) Not to worry.
I have eight lives left.

My advice would be, sir,

not to throw them away
too easily.

I rang the bell,
got no reply.

- My card.
- Thank you, sir.

Would you have the goodness
to remove your coat

and roll up your
shirtsleeves, sir?

What, fisticuffs?

No.
Antibiotic injection.

Colonel's orders.

No visitor be permitted
without one.

I should have brought
my health certificate.

Wouldn't have been
any use, sir.

The colonel insists
on his own form of protection.

- Against what?
- Other people's germs, sir.

The colonel has enough
of his own to contend with.

Infection-prone?

Ever since his return
from Malaya, sir.

No resistance
to western bacteria.

You do that
like a connoisseur.

Practice makes perfect,
sir.

Colonel Timothy
won't keep you a moment, sir.

No white coat or mask?

Unless you brought
your own with you, sir.

They're not yet
household amenities.

Do you know the only creatures
that get colds

are human beings
and chimpanzees?

Fascinating.

There's a lesson
to be learned from that.

Safer to walk
on all fours?

No, the more civilized you are,
the more susceptible.

- A disease
of the sophisticated.
- Got it in one.

- Ever thought of
going to Malaya?
- Well, I...

Don't. Dreadful place.
Take a look at that.

Early Etruscan?

No, not the flask.
Inside.

Common cold virus preserved
in 76 degrees in dry ice.

I see.
That's stupid of me.

Now then...

what was it you wanted
to see me about?

Steed Foundation.
Never heard of it.

That's nothing
to be ashamed of.

I assume you've never had
a serious illness in Mozambique.

You must be clairvoyant.

We've endowed
three hospitals there.

And we're founding a nurses'
training establishment

to staff it.

Now, you've had experience in
endowing the Anastasia Academy.

- Do you want my advice?
- Please.

Don't. More trouble
than they're worth.

Anastasia Academy,
I never go near the place.

Boring.

Dreadfully boring.

Now, if you want
to see something

really interesting,
here.

Got a tiny bit
of a headache, have we?

Oh, no, I'm...

I just feel
the tiniest bit homesick.

If you wanna play games,
little lady,

we must get you
a copy of the rules.

Come in.

Cold-cure clinic,
my pet project.

Decided if
the medical profession

couldn't cure my cold,
I'd do it myself.

- Like to have a look around?
- Nothing I'd like better.

Not much achieved yet,
you understand.

These things take time.

Softly, softly,
catchee monkey.

That's the ticket.
Hey, Glover.

This is Dr. Glover,
my chief of research.

Frank, I'd like you
to meet Mr. Steed

- of the Steed Foundation.
- Sounds impressive.

Only if one
comes from Mozambique.

Mr. Steed's branching out,
thought we might put him

in the picture, show him
the shop window, as it were.

- Prospective buy-in?
- Prospective competitor.

Good!

This is a field in which
competitors are always welcome.

This way, Mr. Steed.

What goes on in here?

Deep-freeze rooms.

That one's empty
at the moment.

Deep-freeze?

To give our guinea pigs
artificially induced colds.

Perhaps you'd like
to see one in operation.

I'd be fascinated.

Follow me.

How do you do?
They're guinea pigs.

- That's right.
- They do this for fun?

- For science.
- They get free board
and expenses.

That's nothing
to sneeze at.

This room is kept
just below freezing point.

Prolonged exposure
at such a temperature

usually induces a cold
within 48 hours.

This case is getting
out of control.

No panic, we'll see
what medical science

- can get out of her.
- Shall I make a phone call?

Not yet.
It's delivery time.

When we get back, we'll bring
professional help.

- What if that
proves ineffective?
- Then it's up to the boss.

Then it's his pigeon
and his problem.

Come along and see
our allergy room.

How's the weather in there?
(shivers)

Ah, you employ
Anastasia nurses.

All part of the organization.
Glover here insists on it.

The best.
Only the very best.

- I can see that.
- This way, Mr. Steed.

75% of the population have
at least one cold a year.

25% have four or more.

The loss of working hours
is staggering.

The mind boggles.

So this is
where we experiment

on antidotes
for allergic diseases.

And we're after
complete victory.

No use chasing the enemy
into the foothills

where they can regroup.

Search and destroy
while they're out

on a raiding party,
that's the ticket.

Fight them in the veins
and the arteries!

- In the cells
and in the membranes!
- In the handkerchiefs.

The biggest mistake
they made was to invade me.

That's me.

I intend to fight back with
every weapon at my disposal.

(sneezes)

I hope you'll join us,
Mr. Steed.

The more, the merrier.

That's very good of you,
Dr. Glover, goodbye.

Carry on the good work.

Remember our aim...
Unconditional surrender.

Yes, it's gonna be
a long campaign,

long campaign.

And you're running
short of allies.

Eh?

Camrose and Padley,

they're both experts
in their field and both dead.

Oh, did you know them?

I... I wrote to them.
Neither of them have answered.

Perhaps they thought
themselves too grand,

too good,
too brilliant

to interest themselves
in the common cold.

Thank you very much, Colonel.
I simply must go now.

I'll see you again soon.

- But look here...
- Goodbye.

(telephone ringing)

(car engine starts)

(sneezes)

(sneezes)

Special delivery.
Get back as quick as you can.

We've got our little pet
next door to deal with.

Who is it this time?

Somebody who's likely
to become a nuisance.

Mother:
Urgent?

Well, of course,
we appreciate it's urgent.

Of course,
we're working on it.

Yes, Grandma.

Yes, Grandma.
Yes, Grandma.

Grandma.

Time's running short,
Steed.

Four more ear,
nose and throat men dead

in the last eight hours,
one in Brazil,

one in Australia,
and two in Russia.

An absolute mayhem
in the medical profession.

Now what have we got so far?

Three envelopes.

Well, that's an improvement.
Last time there were 10,000.

Narrowing it down?

And what have you got
so far on Tara?

The word's out.
The word's out.

She was onto something
before she disappeared.

She contacted a Dr. Fawcett.
Allergic Diseases.

- Does that tie in?
- Perhaps.

Now the Anastasia Academy,
they have over...

Well, about 200
applications a month.

Bully for them.

Now I'm gonna expect
those applications to be vetted

to produce a young woman
of the highest caliber

and moral stature.

Now supposing
that system was inverted?

Reject all the honest ones?

Retain all
the dishonest ones.

You know,
that'd be the nucleus

for a nice
nasty organization.

- Possible.
- Probable.

You know, I think I'll talk
to Dr. Fawcett again.

- May I use your phone?
- Help yourself.

Not that one, unless you
happen to speak fluent Swahili.

The word is out, eh?
Tara?

Control those anxieties
or you'll be...

Both:
Thinking below par.

All the same, I hope
she's keeping a cool head.

So you still refuse to talk.

(grunts)

Who are you working for?

I think
she needs cooling off.

(door closes)

Potassium chlorate
explodes under impact,

is... is inflammable.

Something's got to give.

Was there anything
left in there?

Enough.

I'll have to have it
analyzed, of course.

But my guess is it's
a common cold virus powder

manufactured to
a fantastic concentration.

Virus powder?

(chuckles) Yes.

Sounds innocuous enough,
but there's enough strength

in there
to kill an elephant.

So the victim
could sneeze to death.

If he didn't choke
himself to death first.

How do you isolate
a common cold virus?

By a freeze-drying process,
but how you concentrate it

to this extent
is absolutely beyond me.

Death by post.
Simple.

And effective.

Any unsuspecting victim
wouldn't really have a chance.

But why ear, nose
and throat specialists?

Camrose, Padley,
Seaton, Herrick.

What have they got
in common?

Ah, well,
the tragedy of that

was that if they had
known what was in that envelope,

each would have known
how to deal with it.

Why?

Because they were working
in the same field.

What field?

Anti-allergy research.

Common cold allergies.

- That's right.
- What I can't understand

is why you haven't received
one of these envelopes.

Possibly because I'm concerned
with virus analysis.

- Whereas the dead men...
- Were all concerned
with antidotes.

Aha.

One of them might have
discovered one already,

- for all I know.
- And if they'd lived,

they would've been
a constant threat.

- To whom?
- To someone
who has the facilities

to produce this powder,
excuse me.

Matron: Steed should
be out of the way by now.

Yeah, there were
no delivery complications.

- He'd have found the envelope,
sniffed it...
- And snuffed it.

- What's next?
- A final allergy test,

then we can start eliminating
the rest of the opposition.

- What kind of a test?
- A very final one.

- We need a special guinea pig.
- What's the survival risk?

- Nil.
- Then how about...

(sneezes)

Exactly who I had in mind.

- Our guinea pig.
- Just what the doctor ordered.

Take her to the allergy room.

The chief can deal with her.

An Englishman's home
is his castle, Mr. Steed.

Won't be long now.

Nope.

That's a pity
to keep her waiting

now that she's dressed
for the occasion.

It's preposterous.
Ridiculous.

Murdered by mail,
deadly dust!

- And even if it were true...
- I think you know it's true.

And even if it were true,
that you should suspect me.

I don't know
why you bother to deny it.

You're holding all the cards.

I don't intend to play them
unless I have to.

I'm not in the habit of shooting
people down in cold blood.

Only by killing them
by remote control.

I warn you, Steed,
I'm not gonna put up

with much more
of this nonsense.

Now look here, Colonel,
if you're telling the truth,

you're likely to receive
one of these envelopes

- in the very near future.
- Good gracious!

I found this letter
last thing, sir.

I'm terribly sorry.

Of course,
I would have brought it up

- with your breakfast tray, sir.
- Now do you believe me?

- Do you mean someone
is trying to...
- Exactly.

And we gonna find out
where that someone is.

We'll start with
the standard allergy test.

Find her resistance.

Well?
Open up for me, please.

Better still,
I'll come with you.

Nothing like
a call to the flag

to bring the color
to the cheeks.

And what's
the plan of campaign?

- Frontal assault.
- And what are we looking for?

- A tall, attractive brunette.
- Who isn't?

She's not allergic
to caviar...

champagne...

Oysters, no.
Quail, no.

Ragweed, yes.

- What?
- Perfect.

A rather plebeian allergy,
Miss King,

but perfect for our purpose.

Which is?

A test of my serum.
A test to destruction.

Ah, well, if you're going
to destroy me anyways,

you can at least
tell me why.

Why are you killing off
all these men?

The oldest motive.
The oldest cliché.

They knew too much.

I've discovered an allergy to
which no one is resistant yet.

And presumably
one of your colleagues

would have eventually
discovered an antidote.

Precisely,
now a little whiff of my dust

can destroy
an entire population,

a whole country, and there
will be no defense against it.

A weapon to be sold
to the highest bidder.

A few grains of my powder

will make me a rich man,
Miss King.

A few grains of powder

or a few milligrams
of my liquid.

Only one of them in sight.

- Combined operation.
- Indubitably.

Cold for the time of year.

- All over again.
- Direct attack.

- The pincer movement.
- The subtlety of approach.

- Man: Hands above the head.
- The hands above...

High above the head.

The doctor's busy,
doesn't want to be disturbed.

A few milligrams
of liquid.

- Prisoners of war, it seems.
- Absolutely.

Sorry,
but we don't take prisoners.

- Remember the Battle of...
- Who could forget it?

- Nice strategy.
- Copybook.

- Remember how it began?
- Of course.

- Diversionary attack.
- That's it.

Hands high!

Hold her.

Glad to see you
haven't lost your grip.

Always keep a hold on nurse

for fear of catching
something worse.

Stay where you are!

There's enough in this
to kill the whole clinic.

Now drop that gun,
Colonel.

Drop it!

Drop it!

That's better.

I'm leaving.

Help Miss King.

I hate to see a woman
hanging around aimlessly.

Glover...

I warned you.

I know.

But I never could
follow doctor's orders.

By the way...

you forgot your mail.

(sneezing)

Gesundheit!

(sneezes)

(sneezes)

What's that?

Aunty Ermintrude's
patent cold cure remedy.

Have you all cleared up
in no time.

Aren't you going to have one?

It's a little too... heady
for this time of day.

- (sniffs)
- Go on.

Clears up all the sinuses.

Cheers.

Well?

It's quite nice.

It's awfully kind
of your aunty.

Perhaps I ought
to write to thank her.

That won't be possible,
I'm afraid.

Why not?

Poor Aunty Ermintrude,
she died at an early age.

Oh.

What did she die of?

Steed...

She caught a cold.

Well, it's a lucky thing
I didn't catch it.

Oh.

Well, it just wouldn't do,

you and I both with a cold
at the same time.

- Tsk tsk.
- People might talk.

And talk...

(sneezes)

(laughs)

You'll just have
to face it, Steed.

You're hopelessly
compromised.

- (laughs)
- (sneezes)

Oh, dear!

(theme music plays)