Original subtitles

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Good evening, amigos.

I fear the day of the illiterate swordsman

has passed.

They seem to be spending so much time writing

that they are neglecting the really important work:

skewering opponents.

It's a very unhealthy state of affairs.

Take this gentleman, for example.

Listen.

(sword banging on wall)

He couldn't possibly win a duel,

yet he can write 60 words a minute.

Now, here is someone who can neither duel nor write,

but can speak volumes,

and insists on doing so.

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Back early today, Mr. Fleming?

Yeah, I took about a hundred yard walk into the woods

with my young friend here,

shot the lid off a can

and decided I needed a drink.

Smartest decision I've made this year.

Otto, I'd like a bourbon sour,

one of those triple-action specials you do so well.

What about you?

The same, please.

Oh, boy.

What, what time did I stop drinking last night?

I'm not sure.

You left here at 2:00 in the morning,

but you were carrying a full bottle by the neck.

Did I, did I talk a lot?

Let's just say that you talked.

Well, I don't see why I should be bending your ear

with my troubles.

Say, I only met you yesterday.

It was about her, wasn't it?

My wife?

Yes, you talked about her quite a bit,

but that wasn't topic "A."

You kept saying that you wanted to kill a man.

I mean, you went to some length about it.

Did I?

I told you about my wife, how she cheats on me.

She makes up to every man she meets except her own husband.

Well, you were fairly graphic about it, Bill.

I--I can't say that you skipped many details.

You know, thinking about it academically...

Academically in a moose's eye!

I must have had a hole in my head

the size of an apple the day I married her.

A cute, little freewheelin' 22-year-old cupcake,

and me, just past 50, Saturday before.

Sure, I could kill Baxter,

if you really, really want to know...

Thank you, Otto.

Thank you.

Look, it's none of my business,

but, why this exclusive grievance against Baxter?

From what you've told me, he's not exactly the only one.

Well, let's say he's the reigning favorite

and the only one in the pack

that I used to consider a friend.

That makes a difference, you know.

A man my age and the two of them carrying on like monkeys.

'Course I could kill him,

the only trouble is he won't fight.

That would never do at all.

I mean, your fists would be considered

lethal weapons in a court of law.

You were a professional fighter once.

How did you know that?

I read an article about you just a few weeks ago

in Hunting and Sportsman's Annual.

Oh, that.

Why try to shrug it off, Bill?

Look, I was as impressed as the editors.

Let me give you the simple rundown

as they had it in the magazine.

"Bill Fleming, ex-lumberjack, professional prizefighter,

prospector, war hero, lumber tycoon...and millionaire."

Not necessarily in that order.

Well, look, here's to you.

I won't pretend I wasn't impressed.

Go ahead, enjoy yourself.

Otto, how about a refill?

I was ahead of you this time, Mr. Fleming.

That's the way to do it, thanks.

(sword swishing)

Now just what is that supposed to be?

It's for plucking olives from martinis, Bill.

No self-respecting saloon would be without one.

No, I was thinking of that same article I read.

It said that you've managed to put together

the finest private collection of dueling weapons

in California.

Oh, yes.

That's just icing on the cake,

you know, a wig for a bald personality,

if you get what I mean.

I was collecting the stuff because I was trying to keep

that popular sportsman legend still alive, you know.

The house is hung with them like cooked spaghetti.

They dangle everywhere.

Believe me, right now I wouldn't trade you

a good fish knife for the whole lot of 'em.

I was trying to be somebody or something

that I never am going to be.

But that Baxter...

Cocky rooster never worked a day in his life,

never fought his way out of a paper towel.

He didn't need a phony prop like that.

And there he is with Laura now, in my house,

the two of them, as cozy as lice in a locket.

Bill?

Hmm?

Did you ever think of... do you ever think of

challenging Baxter to...

to a duel?

What?

I know this sounds...

As I said before, I'm only, you know,

I'm only speaking academically.

Academically I've learned, you know,

since I've been talking to you smart, young fellows,

it means you're wrapping a bomb in a package

that'll look like two pounds of fudge.

All right, let's just say then that the whole thing,

you know, it fascinates me.

Why?

You talked last night and again today

how you'd like to kill this Baxter

and, in a technical sense, not murder him.

Am I close to the truth?

Close to it, you're sitting right on top of it.

As much as I hate Baxter,

I like the gas chamber even less.

All I want to do

is belt him in the mouth about three times,

wring his neck, and then throw him

through a tightly locked window.

Bill, you're a throw-back to the days of the old wild west,

but for an ex-professional fighter,

I'm afraid that wouldn't be the most strategic approach.

As I told you before,

I'll be taking my bar examination in the spring,

so I'm more fascinated

by the legal and the personal aspects of your situation.

But what's dueling got to do with it?

I'm getting to that.

I'm trying to tell you that under California law,

they still grant special consideration

to anyone who damages or, for that matter,

kills another person in a duel.

You see, there are all sorts of odd provisions

remaining on the statutes from the days of Spanish rule.

Did you know that?

I don't know my left ear

from Yosemite National Park,

but that doesn't mean I'm not willing to learn.

Actually, what I'm talking about is pretty well covered

in Section 33478 of the civil code.

You see, it still remains in the minds of most of us

that a duel represents an affair of honor,

so that the conditions in your own case,

they couldn't be better.

I mean, you've said before that your...

You've said before that your wife's affair with Baxter

is on what you might somewhat call a semi-public scale,

haven't you?

If you mean they've done everything

but sell tickets, yeah.

And that, plus the fact that Baxter was for a brief time

one of your closest friends?

Listen, I can tell you this right now.

The average jury would vote you three cheers

and a--and a bottle of your favorite brandy

if you killed Baxter in a duel.

If I were able to represent you

I could guarantee an acquittal.

Eh, not that we're talking seriously, of course.

We're only speculating.

No, no, no, hold on a minute, will you?

I'm gonna think.

No, it's ridiculous.

It'll never work.

A man who won't fight with his hands

hasn't much belly for any other things.

I know Baxter.

I'd go down there and he'd just stand and smile at me.

He'd say, "Hello, Bill, help yourself."

Make me feel like an assassin or an idiot.

A man can be made to fight with swords.

Not Baxter.

You don't know Baxter.

Any man, Bill, if you goad him enough,

stick him enough.

Just keep it up is what I mean, until...

Well, if he has a weapon at hand,

he's going to defend himself.

Any kind of a creature

will fight under certain circumstances,

a saint, a worm or...

or your Mr. Baxter.

How academic are you being now?

Well, how academic would you like me to be?

You live in California, don't you?

Sure, just across the border about 300 miles from here.

And it's country like this, isn't it?

Yeah, big.

Stick a pig, nobody would ever hear him holler.

You want a drink?

Huh?

You want another drink?

No, no, I don't think so.

I can't afford to get drunk today.

(crickets chirping)

*

Oh, hello.

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Why back so soon?

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Isn't the hunting any good up there?

*

The hunting was lousy up there.

But I think it's gonna get better from now on.

*

Get up on your feet.

Come on, now.

Let's not spoil the pleasant evening, old boy.

Are you drunk, dear?

Drunk as usual?

Not as usual.

This time, a little differently.

Something new has been added.

*

Drunk or sober, dear,

no man can impersonate The Three Musketeers by himself.

This is not going to be a solo performance.

*

I repeat my invitation.

Get up on your feet!

*

What's this supposed to be?

A parlor game to end all parlor games.

I'm going to kill you.

Oh, sure, Bill, yes, Bill.

Do you mind if I finish my martini first?

(glass clanking)

This is pretty strong for kid stuff, isn't it?

Get up, Baxter, get up.

Honestly, Bill.

Laura, I think maybe you better fix our boy

a nice soothing drink

or else help him get his head under the shower.

Now look, Bill, all jokes aside now, fun is fun.

Yeah, so they tell me,

especially when the husband's away.

If you had the guts of a mouse,

you'd pick up that saber

and not make me stick you like a side of beef.

You know something?

He could be just foolish enough to believe this.

I don't want to spoil anybody's party,

but maybe you better just call the cops.

Stop it!

-Are you out of your mind? -Maybe I am.

Maybe I am just enough to get this job done right.

Stop it!

Bill, listen!

Laura, Laura, talk to him!

I don't think he's fooling.

I don't think he's fooling at all.

They're only skin wounds.

You're just as healthy as I am

and you know as much about swords as I do.

Anybody does!

Now, pick it up and fight!

Can't we talk about it, Bill?

Talk about what?

You're better off fighting than you are bleeding to death.

I'm gonna stick you again!

(ceramic crashing)

Oh, no, you don't!

Stand up and fight!

(footsteps pounding)

(swords clanging)

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Hi, Dan.

I kind of figured you'd be here.

What happened to you?

Oh, nothing much happened to me.

I killed a man, that's all.

I figured you boys would be entitled to know.

You killed a man?

I don't believe that.

You're not drunk, are you, Bill?

I'm not drunk at all.

I just killed a man in a duel.

In a duel?

Now I know you're drunk.

Look, this happens to be nineteen hundred and...

Nineteen hundred and doomsday, especially for Phil Baxter.

I ran a saber through his belly about 20 minutes ago.

Baxter?

You mean you came back here early from...

Go ahead and say it, Dan.

Don't worry about my feelings.

I came back early and I found him with Laura.

It's not a surprise to you, is it?

I mean, it wasn't any secret, was it?

No, Bill, I guess not.

As a matter of fact,

I don't think anybody will blame you too much.

Now, as a cop, I shouldn't be saying that.

As a friend, well, there isn't much I can do

except call the chief and get him out of bed.

I know, Dan, it's your job.

A saber, Bill?

Well, you can bet it wasn't a Scout knife.

You've seen that stuff I have up at the house.

Baxter, did he have a chance?

He had a saber.

He had the same chance I had, Dan.

Wouldn't you say?

Like I said, I gotta call the chief and the coroner.

They'll want to go out to your house right away.

One another thing, about your wife.

Is she all right?

Depends on what you call all right.

If you mean did I do anything to her,

the answer is no.

Maybe I should have.

Maybe I even wanted to,

but I've never been any good with women.

The chief is never gonna believe this, I'm telling you.

After all the times you, me, and him went fishing together.

(rotary phone dialing)

Oh, another thing, Bill, a friendly tip.

It might be smart to call your lawyer

on that other phone before you do any more talking to me

or anybody else.

I got you.

Chief Brewster, please.

I don't pretend to make any excuse for what happened.

If I told you I had any noble motive

other than satisfying my anger and my humiliation,

I'd be lying.

It's, well...

Uh, just a case of I came home that night

when they didn't expect me

and I found the two of them together,

and what happened after that I've told you time and again.

How long had you known Philip Baxter?

Not too long.

About a year and a half.

I didn't know much about his affairs,

and there was a time there when I considered him

a pretty close friend.

And then I began to hear things.

And I realized that it wasn't any secret to a lot of people

that my wife and Baxter were carrying on together.

All I wanted to do was punch his nose or break his neck.

Did you attempt to punch Philip Baxter

the night he was killed?

-No, sir. -Why not?

Well, nothing would have pleased him more.

See, I was a professional fighter in my younger days.

And, well, I outweighed him 40 pounds.

How do you believe it would have pleased him

if you had hit him?

Well, the same way it would please little guys

that don't weigh more than a pair of wet socks

that used to throw punches at Jack Dempsey,

just in the hopes that the champ would clobber them one

and they could drag him into court.

Baxter knew I had money.

And he wanted that as much as he wanted my wife.

I see.

Now, Mr. Fleming, I must ask you again,

if in this duel you fought with him,

Philip Baxter was equally armed?

Baxter had exactly the same weapon I did.

Thank you.

It's good to have real friends.

-Mr. Fleming? -Yes.

Mr. Fleming, the judge would like to see you inside

with Mr. Faber.

Now?

Now, if you don't mind, sir.

Sit down.

Now, frankly, gentlemen, I feel that this jury,

sentimental as their approach might have been,

was entitled to return a verdict of not guilty.

I think that my instructions to them

reflected my own feelings.

You agree, George?

Oh, completely, sir.

Good, now we'll get on with the matter at hand.

Now, just as Bill was the beneficiary

of the liberal provisions of the civil code

in reference to duels,

I feel that I must in all conscience

give due consideration

to another provision of Section 33478.

And I'll quote,

"If any person slays or permanently disables

another person in a duel in this state,

the person must provide for the widow or wife

of the person slain or permanently disabled,

and for the children in such a manner

and at such a cost, either by aggregate compensation

in damages to each, or by a monthly, quarterly, or annual

allowance to be determined by the court."

Having anticipated this,

I can tell you both that the deceased, Philip Baxter,

was a widower.

But he is survived by a son.

Now bearing in mind the substantial wealth

of the successful duelist,

I have already decided to award the son

an aggregate compensation in the amount of $100,000,

plus a monthly allowance of $1,000 per month for life.

Well, isn't that terribly steep?

For a man's life?

What do you think, Bill?

To be rid of Baxter and a free man myself,

it's cheap at half the price.

*

I'll go in with you, Bill.

No, never mind.

Just gonna throw a few things in the bag.

You can drive me back to that hotel.

*

I'm not sure if I heard someone, darling.

*

Music is so loud.

*

Well, hello, dear, welcome.

I thought I heard you stumbling around outside.

Can I make you a drink?

We have company.

You expect me to be surprised?

Yes, dear.

Naturally, I never mentioned to you before

that I was Philip Baxter Jr.

After all, that would've...

Well, that would've spoiled the fun.

My feeling is that, well,

we should put the past behind us, Bill,

and, well, since I'm going to be your guest

for the next 50 years or so, well,

would you mind if I called you "Dad"?

*

This is not quite the end of our story.

One duel later, Junior was dead

and Fleming was in prison.

I believe I see a very rich and pompous land owner

approaching with another one minute proclamation.

I shall return anon.

I'm quite excited.

I have here the very latest model.

It has tremendous commercial possibilities.

You see, this one writes underwater.

Now, if we can just get the bankers to approve.

Next week we shall be back with another story.

Until then,

good night.