All language subtitles for The.Prisoner.S01E06.Many.Happy.Returns

Where am I?

In the village.

What do you want?

Information.

Whose side are you on?

That would be telling.

We want information...

Information...

Information.

You won't get it.

By hook or by crook...
...we will.

Who are you?

The new Number Two.

Who is Number One?

You are Number Six.

I am not a number.
I am a free man!

Where is this?

- Where is this place?
- Eh?

A road. Where is there a road?

Going down
Water Lane now...

Hold it!

Yes?

- Who owns this house?
- I beg your pardon?!

I'm sorry, I meant
I'd like to see your master.

- My mistress is not at home.
- Could I wait...?

What's the number of that car?

- Terribly interesting.
- KAR 1 20 C.

- What's the engine number?
- Do tell me.

- 461 034 TZ.
- Marvellous.

I know every nut and bolt.
I built it myself!

Then you're just the man I need.
It keeps overheating in traffic.

Perhaps you'd care to advise me.

Come in.

This way.

Make yourself at home.

I'll organise tea.

- You would like tea?
- Very much.

I'm Mrs Butterworth.
And you are?

- An exile.
- A nameless exile?

Er, Smith.

Peter Smith.

Enchanting. I'll only be a moment.

Then you can enlighten me
on the intricacies of KAR 1 20 C.

Refreshments on the way.
Now, tell me more.

- What's the date?
- Saturday, March the 1 8th.

- Tomorrow's my birthday.
- You're an odd fellow.

- Sorry. You must think I'm crazy.
- Who isn't these days?

You know, this, er,
this was my house.

Really? In better days?

- Before I went away.
- You must miss it.

The lease had six months to run.

Well, I have it
for ten years, furnished.

- Is the inventory in order?
- I'll bet. Except for a missing body.

Except for a missing body.

Have you been prying
into my private affairs?

Forgive me. I'm very sorry.

- Can you do me a favour?
- Are you growing a beard?

- No.
- Pity.

I do like bearded men.
I couldn't get Arthur to grow one.

- Arthur?
- My late husband.

A navy man.
Unhappily, now deceased.

- Come in.

Oh, thank you, Martha.

Is this the, erm, gentlemen
you said called earlier?

It is, madam.

The description was not flattering.

Delve deeper, Martha. Who knows
what treasures lie there?

- All right.
- Thank you, madam.

Sit down, Mr Smith.

- Sandwich?
- Thank you very much.

- You're very kind.
- It's a pleasure.

I've never tasted better fruitcake.

I'm a very good cook.
It's a hobby of mine.

Mrs Butterworth, I asked
if you'd do me a very great favour.

Certainly.

Behind this desk was an area of rot,
it was made good some 1 2 months ago.

The bathroom door slides open to
the left. The sink is on the right.

The hot and cold taps
are the wrong way round.

I had them changed.

You needn't prove anything.
I believe you.

I'm sorry. I'm not used to that.

- How can I help?
- Could I see the lease of the house

and the logbook of the car?

How mysterious.

Thank you.

This is a new one.

Yours is, er, the first name on it.

No previous owner is shown.

The estate agents arranged it all.
The car was a reasonable price.

I've always had a taste for speed.

Yes.

The, erm, estate agents were
Stumbell and Croydon?

Most reputable. Mr Croydon
was charming. Did you meet him?

No. That wasn't the firm
I did business with.

How odd!

Yes, indeed.

Mrs Butterworth, you've been
most kind, allowing me to intrude.

I have to make two calls -
one in the country, one in town.

So I'll say goodbye.

Mr Smith, you mustn't go like that!

Some of Arthur's things, you're
very welcome. I've kept them all.

It's stupid, but even if
there isn't a man about the place,

I like to feel there is.
Do you understand?

Yes, I...

I know you're in trouble.
Have you any money?

- No.
- How will you get about?

- I can manage. Thank you...
- Don't be so silly and proud.

Come on, I'll hunt some clothes out.

As long as you stop
the overheating.

- It's a deal.
- Bon voyage.

- Mrs Butterworth, you've been...
- No speeches. Off you go.

- Don't forget to come back.
- I won't.

- I'll bake you a birthday cake.
- I'll hold you to it.

Anyone at home?

Pretty spot. Mixed architecture.
Italianate. Difficult.

Mediterranean?
What do you think, Thorpe?

I'd like a fortnight's leave there.
A life prison? Not like Sing Sing.

Sorry to stop your golf,
Colonel, but this is no joke.

My dear fellow,
you mustn't blame Thorpe.

After all, you yourself
were often... sceptical.

That's why you were a good man.
Why we were sorry to lose you.

The evidence is there.

A set of photographs
of a holiday resort.

And a rough navigational log
on a newspaper.

It was the best I could do - The
Village store did not stock sextants.

Indeed, indeed.
If the place was as you say.

- "The Tally Ho".
- A daily issue.

- Morning or evening?
- Daily, at noon.

The Facts Behind Town Hall.
Town Hall?

- That's right.
- Town Council?

Correct.

- Were you a member?
- I could have been. It's democratic.

- Democratic?
- So they claim.

And they're all numbers.
No names.

- No names at all.
- Just numbers.

I see.

A complete unit of our own society,

a place to put people
who know too much or too little.

A place with ways to break a man.

Intriguing.

It has its own cinema, newspaper,

its own TV station
and credit cards.

And if you spill your secrets you are
retired into the old people's home.

- But no escape?
- They have an impressive graveyard.

- Which you avoided?
- The Village was deserted.

Perhaps they were on
the democratic annual outing.

The Town Hall.
Number Two's residence. My house...

Now don't get excited.

You must forgive us,
but we have a problem.

Tell him, Thorpe.

You resign... You disappear...

You return...

...with a yarn that Hans Christian
Andersen would call a fairy tale.

And we must be sure.
People defect.

An unhappy thought, but a fact.

They defect from one side
to the other.

I also have a problem. I'm not sure
which side runs this village.

A mutual problem.

Which I will solve.

Quite.

If not here, then elsewhere.

- Thorpe!
- Sir?

- Check.
- Yes, sir.

Check every detail
in our ex-colleague's report.

Of course I helped him.

I'd help anyone in trouble.

Wouldn't you?

Keep checking.
Report when you find anything.

- All corroborated except the boat.
- The beach?

- Gypsies.
- Romanies.

- The roadblock?
- Not for you. An escaped convict.

Was there no name on the boat?

Would you advertise gunrunning?

No, I most certainly would not.
Would you, Thorpe?

No.

You satisfied?

Let us say the dice
are loaded in your favour.

All right. Let's get to work.
Commander, how's it going?

On the basis of your log, allowing
for your primitive device

and your laggard craft,

I estimate average speed
at three and a half knots.

- You had fair winds?
- Mostly.

There is no allowance for tides.

No. I had no charts
nor any means to assess them.

Precisely.
You slept for how long?

Four hours out of each twenty-four.

Remarkable. So,
in your 25 days at sea

you averaged three and a half
knots for 20 hours out of 24,

on a northeasterly course,
putting us at...

20 hours under fair sail, maximum
travel on true course... 1 ,750 miles.

Where was the lighthouse?

Here.

250 miles to the inch.

That is my maximum possible travel.
What about minimum?

At least 400 miles differential.

Say 500, with drift and tide.

Yes, on a north-easterly course
in an equable climate,

somewhere about here.

Coast of Morocco,
southwest of Portugal and Spain.

An island?

You've got 500 by 1 ,500 to sweep.
750,000 square miles.

Quite an area.

We just heard
we can refuel in Gibraltar.

Good. We'll sweep as far as we can
today, and again tomorrow.

And tomorrow and tomorrow...
Very stubborn, Number Six.

James, call me that again
and there'll be trouble.

Won't be a minute.

Good luck.

Thanks.

Interesting fellow.

He's an old, old friend,
who never gives up.

Turn. Sweep back.
1 5 degrees southwest.

Sweep nine degrees southwest.

That could be it. Go closer.

There it is.

We've found it. That's it.

Be seeing you!

Many happy returns!