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: Oh, just one thing... Emma Peel
: Good luck? John Steed
: Something like that.
: After all, according to your file, you're a psychopathic personality with schizophrenic delusions, suffering from recurring amnesia based on traumatic repression leading to outbursts of antisocial and violent behavior. Knight to king seven. Check. Emma Peel
: Is that really what you think of me? John Steed
: Well... just my type, Mrs. Peel.
: Hello, Mrs. Peel, welcome back to The Ministry. Now we're going to have a talk. Emma Peel
: About the weather, how topical! Father
: It'll help pass the time. Emma Peel
: Time would pass anyway if you think about it logically! But then so few do think logically, or even anti-logically. Clockwise or anti-clockwise, tick-toc, toc-tick, see-saw, Margery Daw. It amounts to the same thing! After all how do you know I'm the real Mrs Peel? Father
: How real do you feel, Mrs. Peel? Emma Peel
: I'll repeat the question, bypassing the weather, which, no doubt, being British, we'll return to in a moment. Do I walk like Mrs Peel, talk like Mrs Peel? Am I witty, wise, wonderful to know? Or, do I go around shooting Ministry agents, attempting to rule the world on my days off? Father
: Now you're just playing games!
: How now, brown cow.
: I suppose Mother warned you about women like me? John Steed
: Until now, I didn't know there were women like you.
] John Steed
, Emma Peel
: [raising champagne glass
] A toast; to a job well done. Emma Peel
: To a narrow escape. Mother
: Macaroon? Emma Peel
: [shaking her head to Mother,
] Thank you, Steed. John Steed
: No, no. Thank you, Mrs. Peel.
[All drink champagne as camera zooms off roof top
: [confronted with wiring panel
] Was it red or black? Here goes, eeny, meeny, miney...
: Mrs. Peel, what kept you? Emma Peel
: The weather.
: It's as though we've reached a dead end. Correction: three dead ends.
: [bent over dead body
] The position of the head. He's been hit from the front and yet there isn't a trace of bruising on the face. John Steed
: Conclusion, honorable lady? Emma Peel
: In-ku. John Steed
: Ink who? Emma Peel
: It's a karate blow. Delivered by an expert, it breaks the neck easier than a hangman's noose. John Steed
: Many in this country, experts? Emma Peel
: Very few. Barely a handful in the whole of Europe.
: Please state your business, Mrs. Peel. Emma Peel
: I am interested in Karate. Sensai
: Interest is for the onlooker. From students we require dedication, nightly attendance for practice and demonstration. We never tolerate absentees. Emma Peel
: I appreciate that. Sensai
: Then appreciate too, Mrs. Peel, that Karate, unlike Judo, is not a sport. It is a science, an art, a discipline. The word Karate... Emma Peel
] Means empy hand. Sensai
: But the hands, though empty, can become more deadly than any weapon. It is the combination of force and a development of courage.
: As Tusamo might have said, we have a proverb: he who talks too much, forgets his listener. Emma Peel
: Son of Confucius? John Steed
: I must say, I can't wait to meet Oyama, 'the Tall Mountain'. John Steed
: What's he got that I haven't got? Emma Peel
: A hobby. John Steed
: Archeology, philately, knitting? Emma Peel
: Splitting doors.
: If I'm not back by eleven-thirty, I'll stay for breakfast. Emma Peel
: You don't eat breakfast.
: [Emma is under attack from a Cybernaut
] Mrs. Peel, throw me the pen, the pen thrown it me.
[she obliges, the Cybernaut turns to follow the pen
] John Steed
: It's a short wave device, works like a guided missile. Emma Peel
: Well get rid of it then! John Steed
: Don't worry, I will.
[turns corner to find Armstrong and another Cybernaut coming at him
] Dr. Clement Armstrong
: That won't help you, Steed, this one has a brain of it's own.
: [solving crossword puzzle
] It moves in the dark, it leaves no mark, it's as hard as steel. Nine down. Now what would that be, Mrs Peel? Emma Peel
: [refusing Emma into the gym
] ... It is difficult for a woman to compete in such company. Emma Peel
] It's that the idea of competition appeals to me. Sensai
: Then I'd suggest perhaps... fencing would be more suitable to your purpose. Emma Peel
: I think not, Mister... Sensai
: Here I'm known as Sensai - the Knowledgeable One.
[Claps hands once; a tall blonde in karate outfit appears by the gym's entrance
: Oyuka! Ms. Peel is leaving now. Emma Peel
: [after glncing at the blonde, turns round to face Sensei again
] What makes Oyuka the exception? Sensai
: Oyuka, the Immovable One, she's a third dan of judo, a first dan of karate. There are few men who could pass her, if she would not want them to. Emma Peel
: And if I could? Sensai
: I shouldn't try it, Baka, the Foolish One. But if you can, you'll be most welcome. Sensai
: [Watches as Emma places her handbag and gloves on the floor, and bows to him with Oyuka; the women exchange holds; Oyuka is in an arm-lock and tries to scratch Emma's right leg; he shouts
[Emma projects Oyuka to the floor
: You attacked her as a woman, but she has the skill of a man... A bad mistake, Oyuka.
[Emma bows to the sensei again, collects her things, and exits
: [during a friendly bout of fencing
] We ought to get away... Down to the coast for a while. Emma Peel
[she turns round and Steeds slaps her on the behind with his sword
] John Steed
: [they resume their swordfight
] Why not? We can build sandcastles together. Emma Peel
: I refuse to carry your bucket and spade.
: Ah, good evening, good evening. Sorry to have kept you waiting and welcome to the jolly old Gremlin. Well what'll it be, a jar or two of the jolly old splosh, what?
] John Steed
: I'll have a large brandy, please. And how about you, Mrs... eh? Emma Peel
: Peel. No thank you, I don't think I ought to. John Steed
: Oh, come on, traveling companions and all that, we'll have one for the lady as well. And how about you, Mr. eh... Smallwood
: Smallwood. I'll have the same, thank you very much.
] 'Piggy' Warren
: Right. Three tots of Napoleon's ruin coming up.
: As for the sea breezes, well, I shall have to take a couple of reefs in my bedclothes tonight. John Steed
: We must be prepared to make concessions, my dear. Back to nature! Emma Peel
: Well, you might have warned me. I'd have packed my pot of woad.
: [opens door to hotel room
] What happened to pussy-footed pussy? John Steed
: [comes into the room
] Isn't it time you were in bed? You have to be up early for school tomorrow.
: Would the winner come to the unsaddling enclosure? John Steed
: [Steed finds Peel tied up with riding gear
] All this is supposed to go on a horse, you know.
: [Steed is untying Emma
] Ow! Tight girth! John Steed
: We'll have to cut down on the oats.
: Don't touch that, we may be in orbit. Emma Peel
: You of course quite a constellation.
: There's a whole army down here. And up top, they're still searching for us. Emma Peel
: I feel like the filling in a club sandwich.
: [Mrs. Peel is helping Steed open his Christmas cards
] "Best wishes for the future - Cathy" John Steed
: Mrs. Gale! Ah, how nice of her to remember me. What can she be doing in Fort Knox?
: [Emma is admiring an antique bed
] You know, I've always rather fancied myself in one of these. John Steed
: So have I... Emma Peel
: Hmm? John Steed
: I mean, I have too.
: I warn you, I'm here collecting for Christmas charity and I intend to separate you from at least fifty guineas. John Steed
: Double it if you'll make the voce a little more sotto.
] John Steed
: just an octave or two...
: [shouting to be heard over his electric razor
] It wasn't a party, just a quiet dinner with an old friend. Emma Peel
: Blonde, brunette or redhead? John Steed
: Shiny pink. Rear Admiral Keavers. Bald as a baby's elbow.
: Secrets have been getting into the wrong hands. Emma Peel
: And you think he may be responsible? John Steed
: I'm certain he's responsible, because the secrets that have been leaking out have only been entrusted to two people, him and me. I know it isn't me.
: Give me a hand, will you? Emma Peel
: Hm, I love opening other people's cards.
: It was Teasle's idea. Emma Peel
: Teasle? John Steed
: Security Intelligence Psychiatric Devision. Where is he now, by the way?
] John Steed
: Grean grow the rushes! Emma Peel
: I knocked him out. John Steed
: Oh, the War Office won't like that.
: [Peel is steering a gondola, Steed is relaxing in it under a woman's umbrella
] Tired? Emma Peel
: [she places the rowing ore firmly in the ground
] Exhausted. John Steed
: No stamina. Emma Peel
: [sits down next to him
] No comment. John Steed
: I know just how you feel. Emma Peel
: How? How would you know?
: Are you looking for anything in particular? Quince
: Martlets. Peter Omrod
: Oh? What's special about them? Emma Peel
: There aren't any.
: [looking through Quince's glasses
] Cut off in mid-warble? Emma Peel
: I haven't heard from him since.
: By the way, how's your connection with industrial science? Emma Peel
: Well oiled.
: [about to lift off in a hot air balloon
] Are you sure you know how to control one of these things, Steed? John Steed
: Absolutely, my dear, nothing to worry about. Just a question of throwing ballast overboard. Emma Peel
: And what happens when we run out of ballast?
: [referring to Steed's watch
] That's new. John Steed
: Legacy from my uncle. Emma Peel
: Pitty it's dented. John Steed
: Battle of the Somme, 1916. Emma Peel
: German bullet? John Steed
: Canadian mule.
: Eh, Mrs. Peel is another client of us, from... Barbados. John Steed
: Recently? Emma Peel
: I arrived last week. John Steed
: You surprise me. Emma Peel
: Why is that? Emma Peel
: So little tan. John Steed
: Ah... The rainy season. Emma Peel
: Of course.
: Do you like wine, Mrs. Peel? Emma Peel
: In moderation. John Harvey
: [small laugh
] I was referring to your interest, not your capacity. Emma Peel
: So was I.
: What do you make of the Boardmans? John Steed
: Him: bluff, concervative, die-hard traditional. Emma Peel
: Square. John Steed
: Exactly. Emma Peel
: And her? John Steed
: Attractive, intelligent, expensive. Emma Peel
: Cold as ice. John Steed
: And promiscuous. Emma Peel
: Promiscuous? John Steed
: Beyond that my lips are sealed. A true gentleman doesn't, eh... Emma Peel
: A true gentleman doesn't know of a lady's promiscuity.
: He was a lothario. With amazing capacity. If promotion was won in bed, he'd have been a field marshal. Emma Peel
: Quite an orgy of death, Mr. Fitch.
: And who's his ladyfriend? John Steed
: Auntie Maud. Emma Peel
: Do you know her? John Steed
: 'Maud', M.A.U.D. 'Microfilm And Unencyphered Documents', army issue pouch.
: [Entering Steeds apartment, Emma nearly steps on a dead body
] Steed, whoops! You really must have a word with that cleaning lady of yours.
: [after finding two stacks of used railway tickets
] London to Norborough, First Class return. Heh. Must be about a hundred of 'em. The Fellow must have had an obsession about railways. Emma Peel
: And they're all punched through. See, the 'o' in Norborough is punched through. Admiral Cartney
: Oh yes... and the hole's just about the size of a... Emma Peel
: Self-respecting micro-dot. Makes sense. Salt fills in the 'o' with a micro-dot... Admiral Cartney
: Ticket collector punches it out again... Emma Peel
: And bingo, the message is passed on. Admiral Cartney
: [a beat
] To a ticket collector?
: And what exactly is your problem, dear lady? Emma Peel
: I'd like you to listen to this umbrella.
: [clears throught
] Diddly-dah... diddly-dum. Twiddly-dum. Twiddly, twiddly, twiddly, dah. blinkety-blink, blinkety-blink. Chaddily-dum, chaddily-dah. Boopity-boop.
: You know my wavelength. John Steed
: I do indeed.
: Well, friend Stapley certainly excelled himself, it's a great piece of double talk. "Why Sir Andrew left the converence", or how to say nothing in 500 well chosen words. John Steed
: Stapley can't help telling half truths, he's in constant touch with politicians.
: [to Steed
] Apart from me, you're the best driver I know.
: Coffee or orange juice? Emma Peel
: Both. John Steed
: Should have known...
: Welcome to Nightmare Alley.
[Mrs. Peel is working undercover in a department store
] John Steed
: I asked the chief predator where to find you and he said, "Our Mrs. Peel is in ladies' underwear." I rattled up the stairs three at a time. Emma Peel
: Merry quips department on the fifth floor, sir.
: Would you like a drink? John Steed
: Mrs. Peel? Emma Peel
: Yes? Jarvis
: Jarvis. House Dick.
[she gives him a quizzical look
: So that's what they meant. I heard some of the staff talking about the King upstairs. John Steed
: He's here? Emma Peel
: Hm-hm, living at the top of the building. A disued department's been converted for him. John Steed
: Really? Where is it? Emma Peel
: The Department of Discontinued Lines.
[hits Steed on the nose with a pencil
] Emma Peel
: You should fit in rather well. John Steed
: That's a matter of opinion.
: What on earth's that? Emma Peel
: Hm. Oh, it's an exploded molecular construction. John Steed
: So that's what hit me.
: What was all that about? You didn't trip, we don't have a dinner engagement, and to plumb the depths of utter banality with 'I don't usually fall for strangers'. Emma Peel
: It was a corny situation calling for corny measures.
: I'm Cynthia Wentworth-Howe, Top Hush Secretary to the Minister. John Steed
: How do you do? Emma Peel
: Top Hush? Cynthia Wentworth-Howe
: We assistants come in four grades: 'Confidential', 'Secret', 'Most Secret' and 'Top Hush'. John Steed
: Eh, you've reached the top of your profession, then? Cynthia Wentworth-Howe
: Not quite. My ultimate ambition is to achieve the special category of 'Button Lip', the pinnacle of secrecy. Not a single syllable passed on before being vetted, examined, coded and cleared.
: You don't happen to be carrying around a large brandy, do you? Emma Peel
: No, I'm traveling light.
: My pectorals may leave much to be desired, Mrs. Peel, but I'm the most dynamic man you are ever likely to meet. Hear that? Power. Broadcast power. A life force flowing into me, fed by radio waves, making me the most powerful man on earth, a king, omnipotent! Emma Peel
: Careful you don't blow a fuse.
: It's late, I'm tired, and I want to go to bed. Strange Young Man
: In that case, how would you like me to tuck you up? Emma Peel
: In that case, how would you like me to break your arm.
: [about Sir Cavalier Rousticana
] He read my article recently. John Steed
: So did I! All bids, no trumps and mathematics. It was very confusing.
: He was called away to a, a meeting. In London. The I.B.P.C. The International... something. Emma Peel
: Bridge Players Convention...
: I don't see a car. Strange Young Man
: Well, you wouldn't would you? Not in this fog. But it's there.
: Your cousin has hired my company as consultants. Ian De'ath
: What company would that be? Emma Peel
: Aborcashaata. Ian De'ath
: Aborca what? Emma Peel
: It's the Advisory Bureau on Refurbishing Castles and Stately Homes as a Tourist Attraction.
: You damned fool, Angus, you could have killed somebody! Angus De'ath
: Aye, but I didn't, did I? Emma Peel
: So what's your next trick, splitting an apple on this gentleman's head? Angus De'ath
: Hm. You must be Mrs. Peel. Welcom to Castle De'ath. Emma Peel
: Thank you. I've already tripped over the matt.
: Was there a rack down there?
[Mrs. Peel nods
] John Steed
: In good racking order? Emma Peel
: I didn't have time to find out. Shouldn't be at all surprised.
: [about Black Jamie, who was walled up the East tower of Castle De'ath
] Well, he can't do much harm, I mean not walled up. John Steed
: Mrs. Peel, the first thing a ghost learns is to walk through walls. That's a fundimental part of any self-respecting spirit's basic training.
: Richard Meadows. Found at Wembley Stadium in his pajamas. Emma Peel
: Maybe he sleepwalks? John Steed
: Some walk. He resides in Birmingham, now that's a hundred and, eh... Emma Peel
: Thirteen miles away. So he went to bed in Birmingham... John Steed
: And woke up in Wembley.
: You found out nothing? Emma Peel
: Hm-hm, nothing in the files of Fox, White and Crawley, not even the courtesy of a reply.
: Steed, what are you doing? Emma Peel
: What am I doing? Practising my 'high-powered tycoon' look.
: We're in the travel business. I provide luxurious igloos in Iceland. Emma Peel
: Complete with a deepfreeze. John Steed
: Bearskin rugs... Emma Peel
: And hot and cold running eskimo's. John Steed
: Why not? That's quite an idea.
: [on Steed's sword
] That looks a bit droopy. John Steed
: Wait 'til it's challenged.
: [referring to the death of Broom
] Distressing business. Emma Peel
: Very. Richard Carlyon
: Yes, it quite spoiled my appetite when I heard. Emma Peel
: Ruined James Broom's. Richard Carlyon
: What? Oh, yes, yes, I see what you mean.
: What on earth are you doing here anyway, Steed? John Steed
: Advanced research into the co-relationship of the lesser-crested newt and Mrs. Sybil Peabody. Emma Peel
: Mrs. Sybil Peabody? John Steed
: An aunt of mine. Drinks like a fish.
: Steed. So you've finally decided on your costume. The Sheriff of, eh... Bashful Ben? John Steed
: Nottingham. Emma Peel
: Well, I hate to mention, in all the books I've read, the Sheriff is a baddy. John Steed
: Beneath this doublet beats a generous heart.
: You see, I smell a great deal. Emma Peel
: You do? Eh, I mean you do.
: [after removing his nose protector
] There you see the splendid beast. Naked before you. Emma Peel
: Hm. It very a... handy. J.J. Hooter
: But what until you see him in action, Mrs. Peel. Wait until you see him twitch and flare.
: It's all this secretarial business. I got cramp in my glutils and my dorsals were definitely dormant.
: [Steed has hit Emma's bumper with his Bentley
] I'm most terribly sorry, Miss.
] John Steed
: I just wanted a word with you. Emma Peel
] Are you blind?
] Emma Peel
: Couldn't you have phoned? John Steed
] And risk a wire tap?
] John Steed
: My foot missed the brake.
] John Steed
: Henrietta's been dead for years, just seen the gravestone, it's all extremely odd.
] John Steed
: Well, no harm done. Emma Peel
: [louder still
] No harm? There ought to be a law against these things. John Steed
] How are you getting on? Emma Peel
: Not to well, progressing.
] Emma Peel
: Watch your driving in future!
] John Steed
] And you watch your step.
: You diabolical mastermind, you!
: Stolen? Emma Peel
, Eli Barker
: Aye, he thought he was unobserved, but I saw him, sneaking into Grannie Gregson's. Emma Peel
: Grannie Gregson's? Eli Barker
: Grannie Gregson's Glorious Grogs Incorporated, just a bit over the ledge. A factory engaged in the fermentation of intoxicating liquors. Emma Peel
: And you actually saw him going in there? Eli Barker
: Late at night. Creeping in, to steal liquors. to gorge on glorious grogs.
: Mrs. Peel, it's you again. You should be preparing: the flood cometh! Emma Peel
: Yes, well I've put a down payment on a canoe.
: [Mrs. Peel is trapped in a wine press. Steed and Jonah arrive through a secret entrance in the floor
] Gentlemen should knock before entering. John Steed
: [quickly walks up to Emma
] What are you, a sparkle in a seaweed soda? Emma Peel
: No, I'm the kick in the nettle noggin. John Steed
: Never mind, I'll have you out of here in two shakes of a swizzle stick.
: Do you know they brought over the whole Eastern rocket program in the eye of a needle? Emma Peel
: Ingenious! John Steed
: Hm. Except for the fact that the courier laid down and rested in a haystack. Emma Peel
: You mean they... John Steed
: They're still looking for it.
: Frank Elrick. He was engaged on counter-counter counterespionage. Emma Peel
: Well, somebody countered his counter. Where was this, eh, found? John Steed
: In a contractor's yard and just in time. In another hour or so... he would have been the cornerstone of a new supermarket. Poor, old Frank. He was a pretty solid sort of type. Emma Peel
: He still is.
: [about Captain Crusoe
] Whomever teaches him a phrase, he gets the tone and inflection of that person's voice exactly. A parot paragon. Emma Peel
: And now he's a Polly gone.
, Emma Peel
: The parot's taking the information out!
: I am sorry, Mrs. Peel, there's nothing more I can do. I have diagnosed the sickness, I do not hold a cure. He sleeps the sleep of the living dead. There's no awakening him, not by any means I have at my command. Emma Peel
: But surely there must be something? Professor Swain
: I am sorry, Mrs. Peel. Emma Peel
: Professor Swain, we're not living in a primitive jungle, this is Hertfortshire, England.
: Had a spot of bother with the natives. A full blown savage with a very unfriendly disposition. Emma Peel
: Oh come now, Steed. John Steed
: It's the truth, he was wearing war paint. Sacrificial knife, the lot. He practically ruined my bowler hat.
[hands hat to Emma
] John Steed
: Didn't do this must good either.
[indicating a folder of papers
] Emma Peel
: What's missing? John Steed
: Colonel Rawling's file. Fortunately he overlooked my cucumber sandwiches. Emma Peel
: Oh, good. Emma Peel
: [takes a sandwich from Steed and then a bite
] Hmm. John Steed
: [has a nibble as well
: [on phone
] Steed, where are you? John Steed
: Deep in wildest Kalaya.
: [picking up a metal carrying case
] What's in this, anyway? the crown jewels? John Steed
: Creepy, crawly germ laden flies. Let's get back to the old country.
: [referring to 'A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man
] A man doesn't have to be handsome to be attractive. There's a sort of ugliness for it's own sake. And if you look closely, you'll find a sense of humour. And the eyes are kind. John Steed
: It hasn't got any eyes.
: Sorry to break up your evening. Paul Beresford
: There'll be another one. John Steed
: Good night, Paul. Paul Beresford
: Good night, Steed and good luck. John Steed
: Thank you. Emma Peel
: Good night, Paul. Paul Beresford
: Surely Steed can handle this alone? Emma Peel
: He could, but I mustn't him find out.
: Are you coming up? John Steed
: Now is not the time for a glass of claret, not even a '29. No, I think I'll stay here.
: How the head? John Steed
: What head? I'm numb from ear to ear. Emma Peel
: Never tangle with a Cybernaut. John Steed
: Tangle? I was almost decapitated.
[winces in pain
] Emma Peel
: Well, this ice should... John Steed
: Should be in a glass with a large whiskey wrapped around it. Emma Peel
: All right... John Steed
: [moans as he gets up
] Ah well, it's part of the great tradition: unless one's head is in two separate halves... hah, the show must go on.
: Known you all this time, never knew that you could sew. Emma Peel
: Well, our relationship hasn't been exactly domestic, has it?
: Does Elizabethan appeal to you? Emma Peel
: Not at all. The men were so... tiny.
: [holding up a photograph
] Now there's an evil face if ever I saw one. John Steed
: That's Tubby Vincent, he's on our side!
: These strange clothes you wear. The devil's work! Designed to daze and to bewitch a man's senses. To inflame him to lust. Emma Peel
: You should see me 400 years from now.
: [Steed is carefully inspecting Emma's box of chocolates as if it were a bomb
] Whatever you do, don't touch the wrapped ones. Emma Peel
: Why not? John Steed
: 'Cause I like them.
[he unwraps one and eats it
: What have we got, so far? John Steed
: Two black roses, three corpses... Emma Peel
: [shouting from off screen
] Four white feathers... John Steed
: And a partridge in a pear tree.
: I'm Mrs. Emma Peel, from Willis and Ferguson's. Auctioneers, valuers, specialists in probate. Major Robertson
: Oh yes, do come in. I was told to expect you.
[they shake hands
] Major Robertson
: Eh, forgive me, frankly, I was expecting a dusty old man leaning heavily on a gnarled stick. Emma Peel
: I hope you're not disappointed? Major Robertson
: On the contrary.
: A bunch of schizoid, paranoid, psychopaths. John Steed
: And incidentally dangerous.
: Now someone, or something got from here to there without being detected. Now there must be an explanation and I intend finding it! Emma Peel
: With a shoebox? John Steed
: They laughed at Edison. Emma Peel
: Only when he was serious...
: What's that? Emma Peel
: Items found at the scene of the crime. John Steed
: Your items are not very interesting. Emma Peel
: It's a loud of rubbish.
: You did receive a letter from our London office? Arnie Packer
: Not a word. Emma Peel
: Ah... now that was very remiss of them. I understood they would write. Stanton
: And what did you understand they would say?
: [on phone
] It is imperative I see you tonight. Now. At once, eh, right away. Emma Peel
: [on other line
] You mean immediately? All right, I'll come right now.
: Frankly, when I read your card, I didn't expect, eh... Bert Smith
: Ah, it was the name that fooled you. It always does. Bert Smith. Actually, it's Bertram Fortescue Winthrop Smythe, to be absolutely accurate. Had to change it of course. Emma Peel
: Of course... Bert Smith
: Firstly, it was too long to go on the card, and such a name is a terrible disadvantage in this business. After all, whoever heard of anyone having they're chimney swept by a Fortescue Winthrop Smythe? Haha. Emma Peel
] Who indeed?
: I'm a fully fledged member of the BVS. I volunteered for watching duty. Emma Peel
: I thought it was part of your policy never to volunteer for anything? John Steed
: Yes, but since you volunteered to return the recording to Venus Brown, I thought I'd volunteer.
: Does anyone really know what's up there? On Venus, or Mars, or even the moon? Discoveries always begin as a guessing game. We may be right, we may be wrong. If you don't explore, you don't find out. And we shall, some day. Our funds are growing fast. Emma Peel
: While your membership dwindles.
Dr. Henry Primble
: And does Steed know you're here? Emma Peel
: I consider that a highly personal question.
: Hey Ho.
: Now, take me to your leader. Or, lead me to your taker.
: You detect that heady aroma? Emma Peel
: [snifs the air
] Roses? John Steed
: Money. The sweet, sickly smell of money. The air's heavy with it. Emma Peel
: The ground is littered with millionares. John Steed
: And awash with them. Do you suppose there's a collective noun for millionaires? Emma Peel
: A multi of millionaires? John Steed
: [calling Steed on the phone
] John darling? It's Emma. John Steed
: Hm? Oh, eh, Mrs, eh... Emma Peel
: Don't be silly darling. Your wife. How is my litte Johnsy-Wonsy? John Steed
: Johnsy-Wonsy's fine, but you sound as though you've been soaking up just a tiny bit too much grapejuice. Emma Peel
: You haven't been out all day? You really should, darling. Drive out. Take the children with you. John Steed
: Children? You're in trouble aren't you? Emma Peel
: That's right. John Steed
: Is there somebody listening? Emma Peel
: Yes, and I've had an absolutely tortuous day.
: I gather you've known each other for a long time? Emma Peel
: Since I was seven. Major Paul Croft
: Six. She was a leggy little horror with pigtails. John Steed
: I can't believe it. Major Paul Croft
: Oh, it's true. We lived next door to each other. I often used to climb over the wall... John Steed
: No, no, I mean the champagne. I specifically asked my vendor for a '26. He sent me a '27! Emma Peel
: What's a digit between friends?
Dr. J. F. Haymes
: This is ridiculous. I've known the people of this village more than half my life. Emma Peel
: Since you were six years old? That's how long I've known Paul Croft.
: I've just come from an Embassy Junket. John Steed
: The rattle of ambassadorial decorations, the drone of speeches... Emma Peel
: Hmm. All proceeding at the pace of an infirm, gravely debilitated, very old snail.
: Why the midnight vigil? John Steed
: I'm expecting Bobby Danvers. Emma Peel
: Courier? What's he couriering? John Steed
: Top Secret papers from you know where. Emma Peel
: Hot stuff? John Steed
: I've laid out my asbestos gloves.
: I say, you're awfully good at it! Emma Peel
: Switch it off! Penelope Blaine
: I warn you, I'm simply hopeless at mechanical things!
: I made a preliminary investigation. The psychological state is consistent with intensified reorientation and auto suggestion techniques carried out over a long period. Emma Peel
: You mean he's been brainwashed.
: [Steed, dressed as a waiter, finds Mrs. Peel locked in a cell
] You rang, madam? Emma Peel
: [appears in small window in the door
] Yes. I want to change my room, there's a honeymoon couple next door.
: [after a fight
] Hard labour? John Steed
: You should see the other fellow.
: How I envy you working cheek by jowl with Ivan. Emma Peel
: I can assure you my cheek's going to be nowhere near his jowl.
: Do you think they're having a purge? John Steed
: Well if they are, I wish they'd, eh... Emma Peel
: Do it in their own country? You said that. John Steed
: It's unethical, just not cricket. Emma Peel
: You said that too. John Steed
: We need a drink. Emma Peel
: That, you haven't said.
: I've handed in my notice. John Steed
: Oh? Emma Peel
: The other side was cheating. Nutski had no intention of seriously honouring the truce. John Steed
: Well, I'm not surpsided, I never thought he would.
: I suppose you have some authority for being here? Emma Peel
: None at all, I was kidnapped. Policeman
: Oh, kidnapped.
[takes out his notebook
: Would that be one p or two, madam? Emma Peel
: You're a film extra. Policeman
: Film artiste, please. Backbone of the industry. Where would your Roman orgy's be without your film artiste, hm?
: Gloat all you like. But just remember... I'm the star of this picture.
: What happened to the shining armor? John Steed
: It's still at the laundry.
: An old uncle of mine died, some while back, left me his house. I have to go and look at it. John Steed
: Oh, how upsetting. Emma Peel
: Not really, I never knew him. John Steed
: No, that you have to dash. I've got my hands full and I could do with a cup o' coffee.
: [a man dressed like a scout has stopped Mrs. Peel's car on the road
] I might have killed you. Frederick Withers
: The speed you were going?
[shakes his head
] Frederick Withers
: The stopping distance to this car is 147 feet, allowing for average reflexes. I positioned myself 150 feet away. Emma Peel
: Very mathematical of you. Frederick Withers
: I am a very mathematical person. Emma Peel
: You're also very stupid. Supposing I hadn't seen you? Frederick Withers
: In that case, my death would have been entirely your fault.
: Do you believe in ghosts, Steed? John Steed
: Someone does: Kermit, the hermit. Emma Peel
: You didn't answer my question. Do you believe? John Steed
: Let's put it this way: strange happenings need looking into. Now you stay here and browse around, and I'll go and see Kermit the hermit.
: George Spencer, he's from SMOG, Mrs. Peel. Emma Peel
: SMOG? George Spencer
: Scientific Measurement of Ghosts. A society that does not belive in ghosts, Mrs. Peel. There's a scientific explanation to all hauntings and we find that explanation, scientifically. We fight legend with logic, folklore with facts. Cold, clinical facts.
: [kisses Emma on both cheeks
] For that you definitely get a mention in my will. Emma Peel
: Did the whole of your past life flash before your eyes? John Steed
: Yes. Infinitely enjoyable.
Mr. Adrian Lovejoy
: Togetherness will solve all your problems Mrs. Peel. Emma Peel
: I only have one, Mr. Lovejoy. Finding a suitable partner. Mr. Adrian Lovejoy
: We'll do our best. Now what are your requirements: age group, physical aspect? Just let me know what you want. Emma Peel
: Well, he would have to be mature. Mr. Adrian Lovejoy
: Hmm. Emma Peel
: A man of culture, and intelligence. Mr. Adrian Lovejoy
: [writing it down
] Mature, cultured, intelligent. Emma Peel
: With stamina. Mr. Adrian Lovejoy
: [long pause
] Quite so, yes.
: Help yourself to coffee. Emma Peel
: Always the perfect host! John Steed
: [Steed is graphing something on paper
] Heh. Nine, ten... eleven! Emma Peel
: Planning? John Steed
: Plotting. Emma Peel
: For your accountant? A museum of modern art?
[traces a line on end of the graph downward with her finger
] Emma Peel
: Or could it be... your popularity poll?
: All the same, we may find out tomorrow. They should have found me a suitable partner by then... the marriage bureau. Hm! Advanced scientific - they analyze your personality and then find you a compatible companion. Emma Peel
: That must have set them a problem. John Steed
: Eh? Emma Peel
: Finding a match for you. John Steed
: Why, I don't know. Educated, charming, cultured. Emma Peel
: Ruthless, devious, scheming. Hm! Have to be quite a girl. A mixture of Lucrezia Borgia and... Joan of Arc. John Steed
: Sounds like every girl I ever knew. By the way my dear, isn't it high time you thought of marrying again?
[Emma spits up into her champagne glass
: I've driven across this road, ooh, hundred times during the war. Emma Peel
: Well, since you know it so well it's remarkable you couldn't stay on it.
: [arriving at R.A.F. Camp 472 Hamelin
] Ah, there she is. Emma Peel
: Looks a bit bleak... John Steed
: You should see it in the cold light of a hangover.
: Razor still running. Petrol gushing. Unconscious rabbit. One dead milkman. Emma Peel
: Ten thousand bottles of milk... John Steed
: Thirty highly trained, technical men, just up and dance away from, eh... Emma Peel
: [upon seeing Steed's dance partner number on his back
] You're number 9. John Steed
: And you're dancing with garlic sausage!
[referring to the tattoo on her partner's wrist
: But you didn't bring me here just to be a gunbarer? John Steed
: No, I want you to meet someone, Willi Fehr. Used to be a top agent, now relegated to traffic control. Emma Peel
: Traffic control? John Steed
: Yes, for incoming spies. He looks after their accomodation, money, that sort of thing.
: Steed, you did wake me up a few minutes ago? John Steed
: There is a touch of fantasy about it all, isn't there?
: Behind them there must be a brilliant planner at work. Emma Peel
: A genius. John Steed
: A diabolical master mind. Emma Peel
: Sir Clive? John Steed
: He's just a pawn in the game. The man we're after is the king.
: As I've demonstrated, Mrs. Peel, our mysterious intruder must have come in through the front gate. Emma Peel
: Across the entrance hall... John Steed
: Past three checkpoints... Emma Peel
: Came down the security lift... John Steed
: Across the main hall... Emma Peel
: The Typing pool... John Steed
: Passed a dozen clerks... Emma Peel
: Ah, and don't forget the four secretaries, Steed. John Steed
: Hmmm. Indeed not.
: You are very foolish, Mrs. Peel. You cannot escape from here. Emma Peel
: No? It's been child's play so far. Such stringent precautions. No guards in reception, Brodney with an empty gun... Elena Vazin
: The fool. He will pay for that. Emma Peel
: But you gave it to him. If I'm wrong, do forgive me.
[points the gun at Elena and pulls the trigger several times
: I'd like to send some honey to a friend. You can arrange that? Bumble
: Indeed I can. Bumble's honey encircles the globe. Nectar in Nyasaland, syrup in Sweden, honey in the Himalayas. You just give me the address and I dispatch first haste.
: And if ever you should wish to join the Q.Q.F... a fantasy perhaps? Emma Peel
: No thank you, I haven't yet exhausted reality. Ponsonby-Hopkirk
: Where's the body? John Steed
: There isn't one Emma Peel
: No body? John Steed
: No body. Emma Peel
: There's always a body!
: Steed, MOT-NRU stands for... John Steed
: Ministry of Technology, Neoteric Research Unit. Emma Peel
: That's a good guess.
: [Emma enters Steed's flat
] Don't move, got you in my sight.
[fires toy gun
] John Steed
: Haha, gun that shoots around corners. Emma Peel
: Second childhood? John Steed
: Nephew's birthday.
: Always felt I was cut out to be an engine driver. I was on the point of taking it up as a matter of fact. Emma Peel
: Family objected? John Steed
: Oh no, they were all for it. But I came to my senses just in time, there's no security, always on the move. Emma Peel
: Oh, I don't know. At least it would've kept you to the straight and narrow.
: I've come here to appeal to you, Mr. Cartney. John Cartney
: You certainly do that.
: [about Cartney
] I'm afraid he's busy. He won't have time to see you. Emma Peel
: He's expecting me. John Cartney
: Mrs. Peel, this is a surprise. Emma Peel
: [turns back to Sara
] Half expecting.
: [saying good-bye to Steed
] Always keep your bowler hat on in times of trouble, and beware diabolical masterminds. John Steed
: [as she walks away
] Emma... Thank you.
: Always keep your bowler on in time of stress, and watch out for diabolical masterminds.
: Trying to reach top C? John Steed
: Target practice. I always endulge myself. Emma Peel
: Well, it looks like it went with a bang... John Steed
: Definitely, somebody sent me a surprise package.
: You'd better hurry. John Steed
: Why? John Steed
: Haven't you noticed? As soon as we discover someone who can supply the answer... John Steed
: Someone always... Emma Peel
: Gets to them first. John Steed
: Ha, ha!
: What nasty situation have you got in store for me this time, hm? You have your own built in early warning system, you know. A certain look in the eye, roses...
] Emma Peel
: Roses... John Steed
: Roses? Emma Peel
: Roses. Ah!
[hits him on the nose with a rose
] Emma Peel
: The missing horticulturists. Bullseye.
: [after equiping Mrs. Peel with a deaf aid
] Yeah, well, don't lose it, will you? Emma Peel
: Why not? The plant's only man-eating.
Group Captain 'George' Miles
: I say, do you mean that? Why, You really won't mind if I don't try to seduce you? Emma Peel
: Don't give it a second thought. Group Captain 'George' Miles
: Oh, I'd love a cup of tea. It's this terrible reputation of mine, you see, I don't know how it started, but now I'm stuck with it, the full Casanova bit. It sometimes can be very tiring. Emma Peel
: Hmm, must be.
: [having finally escaped her oversized birdcage
] And no cracks please about birds in gilded cages. John Steed
: As if I would. Georgie Price-Jones
: Are you alright? We've been so worried about you. John Steed
: Oh, Mrs. Emma Peel, meet, eh... Mrs. Emma Peel... Emma Peel
: [not particularly amused
] How do you do?
: I'm head of Intelligence, do you take me for a perfect idiot? Emma Peel
: [in Lola's body
] Noone's perfect.
: Fear not, for ere this day is done, you shall have a hole in one. I am your fairy godmother.
: How do you know? John Steed
: I had a look at the memo pad beside your phone. I'm an insatiable reader.
: Are you sure you can afford the time for all this junketing? John Steed
: Eh? Emma Peel
: There's a small matter of the death athletes. Six within the last week murdered. John Steed
: Seven. Emma Peel
: Ah... A couple of weight lifters and several assorted wrestlers. John Steed
: A trace of boxers, very odd. Emma Peel
: Very unsporting. John Steed
: Thank you very much, Mrs. Peel. Yes, well enough of these mundane matters, a little socializing won't do me any harm.
: It's utterly incredible. Two men and a Rolls to vanish into thin air? Emma Peel
: I presume the area was thoroughly searched? John Steed
: Inch by inch, with the finest of toothcombs.
: Rather difficult to identify him, a man without a face.