All language subtitles for Alfred.Hitchcock.Presents.S04E35.Touche.1080p.PCOK.WEBRip.AAC.2.0.H.265.-EDGE2020_track3_[eng]

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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.

*

*

*

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.

*

Why back so soon?

*

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.