Is Sheriff Quail around here?
That's me. Y-You West and Gordon?
Mm-hm.
Right down that there aisle there.
Know him?
We've been known to meet from time to time.
Dr. Miguelito Quixote Loveless, R.I.P.
Well, him and- And three other fellas
busted the stockman's bank.
The other varmints got away,
but this one I perforated.
Uh, considering the size of the target,
that was pretty fancy perforation.
No breath at all.
He's dead all right, young feller.
He's as dead as a sliced, barbecued catfish.
Oh! Oh, no!
That is what I call a miraculous recovery from grief, Artie.
Imagine that little key she just snitched
might have something to do with the peace of mind?
Shut up, you two.
And if anyone is stupid enough
to make any sudden move, I'll-
His bottle probably wasn't even loaded.
Where you're going, sugar,
you're not gonna be using that key.
Why don't you just give it to papa?
Thank you.
Deuce!
Triste, why don't you inform these gentlemen
I can solve all the arguments,
and I'll take the key.
It's true, boys.
Some hero saved us the trouble
of liquidating the little man.
Uh, the key, mister.
And, uh, the lady's special.
It's empty. I know-
Aargh!
All right, gentlemen, let's go!
Where did the girl go?
She went out the front door.
What about the sheriff? Let's get him.
Morning.
Triste and Deuce.
I beg your pardon?
Hm? Oh, morning, Jim. I'm sorry.
I was just trying to add up a couple things from last night.
Look, here we have a key
taken from the wrist of Dr. Loveless, deceased.
Anything on that key from the data bureau?
Not a syllable yet. Now, please, pay attention.
As I was saying, here's a key with a built-in puzzle.
What attraction does this have for sweet Triste
and smiling, loveable Deuce?
Your guess is as good as mine.
What was that key you palmed off on Deuce?
The one from the men's room of the Sacramento hotel
we were at last month.
Hey, Arabella! There you are, dear.
Did you have a nice flight, huh?
Everything go well?
Ah, it must be word from the bureau
you were asking for.
There you are.
Everything well with you, girl?
Don't talk to hawks, huh?
Here it is, Artie.
The serial number of the key checks out
to the safety-deposit box
located at the Pioneer Bank in Mendoza
taken out under the name Gideon Blodgett.
James, my boy, haven't you always felt
that the thing we needed to round out our travels
is a trip to Mendoza?
Howdy.
How do you do?
Thank you. Thank you.
I never saw such a hoop-dee-doo
about that poor Mr. Blodgett's safety-deposit box.
You wouldn't believe how firm I've had to be
with two people who insisted
on being allowed access to it.
One of them a very attractive young lady?
Yes, that's right.
And the other one a not-so-attractive,
powerful man who smiled a lot?
The key didn't fit the lock, right?
How did you know?
Oh, it's just a wild guess.
Oh, that'll be fine, Mr. Wells.
We'll manage from here.
Well, sing out when you're ready, gentlemen.
I'll, uh, commute your sentence.
Here it is, Artie.
Hit the ground!
"Open."
"229." You want to go through that-?
No. No thanks, Artie. You can have the honor.
A typical Loveless prank.
"No more loud noises, Mr. West.
"Just the name of a gentleman
Mr. Arthur Tickle."
You know, what gets me is he's dead,
and we're still jumping.
How did he know that we weren't gonna be
blown up by that first explosion?
He couldn't possibly.
That's just Loveless' still warped sense of humor.
Good heavens, what happened?
We might all have been killed!
Excuse me, Mr. Wells.
Do you know a man named Arthur Tickle?
What? Tickle? Never heard of him.
About the explosion, though - Excuse us.
I beg your pardon. Let us through.
Listen, while you're tracking down this Tickle fellow,
why don't I get back to the car
and make preparations for my date with Triste?
I didn't know you had one.
I'm not sure I do, but I have a hunch
if I get back there, I will.
See you. See you later.
Excuse me, uh, I couldn't help overhearing.
Are you looking for Arthur Tickle?
Yes. Do you know where I can find him?
It's beginning to get dark.
And I just so happen to be going past his house.
I'll be glad to show you the way.
Thank you.
Ooh! That smarts!
Welcome to my humble abode, dear Triste.
I adore promptness in a lady.
Won't you join me?
Oh, my. For me?
And another little gift.
Triste, Triste, you're always thinking of me.
It's one of your nicer traits.
But then, I've been thinking of you too.
You were expecting me?
Naturally.
Isn't it obvious?
Where else would you expect to find a bottle
of properly chilled Chateau Maranie?
Or a stroganoff done to so exquisite a brandy turn?
Or such fascinating conversation
about a key to a certain safe-deposit box?
Won't you join me?
You'll never see it from the road
in a million years.
The Tickle house is just beyond
that stand of cottonwoods.
Well, thank you very much.
Giddyap!
Hello?
Anybody home?
Hello.
What's your pleasure? What's your pleasure?
Congratulations!
You outlasted me, West.
I only wish it had been the other way around. Awk!
The other way- Awk!
The other way around.
Once or twice, you must admit,
it looked like it might actually work out that way.
In life, Mr. West, I bent every effort
to be your- Awk! -executioner.
In death, I ask you to be my executor- Awk!
of my estate.
Only in this way,
can I feel assured
that the interests of my next of kin
will be adequately protected.
My lawyer will fill in the details,
but in return for the small favor I ask,
I offer you something your department may find useful.
Counselor Tickle, I presume.
Yes. Uh, would you, uh...?
If you don't mind.
I'll be frank, Mr. West.
As Dr. Loveless' attorney,
I had to go along with a great many, uh,
exotic maneuvers that I didn't quite approve of.
That was the story of my association too.
The business about getting you here
without revealing my identity,
getting the bird to, uh,
memorize the doctor's own reading of his will,
all that was highly irregular, of course,
but now that that's all over,
do you accept my client's proposition?
Before I answer that,
what's at the other end of this combination?
The files. Heh.
When I asked about that, Dr. Loveless just laughed.
He said had no doubt you'd manage to find out where it was.
That sounds like the Loveless I knew.
Loveless' kin that he was so concerned about,
was that man, woman, or child?
Please, Herr West.
I've been told that the family resemblance
is truly remarkable,
but my nephew, Miguelito, is dead.
Of course.
This is the late Dr. Loveless' next of kin and sole heir.
Dr. Werner Otto Liebknicht, of the University of Zurich.
Mr. James West of the United States Secret Service.
Dr. Liebknicht is the celebrated Swiss neurologist,
as you undoubtedly know.
He and the late Dr. Loveless had completed plans
to join in the operation of a new sanitorium
when, uh, the unfortunate accident occurred.
Please.
Please, I'm sure Herr West
is not interested in that at all.
In fact, what I think he should be interested in
is the sacred plan that I have in mind.
And that is?
You know, you don't look like a wicked person, Herr West.
Well, thank you, doctor.
The fact remains that it has been demonstrated to me
that you are a wicked person,
and for that you must die.
What is it about me that's so wicked?
Do you think I do not know?
Do you think my nephew, Miguelito, has not told me
how you have continually hounded him?
You persecuted him.
You allowed him not a moment's peace. You-
Hit the ground!
What is it? Who's shooting?
Deuce and his merry men.
Deuce? Who's that? What does he want?
James West!
I'm gonna give you just one minute
to come out with that key!
Otherwise I'll really open up!
Deuce is a former associate of your late nephew.
I think he wants a key.
To be precise, he wants the combination
to the lock that holds the files.
Give it to him!
No. For two reasons.
One is, according to that will,
it's property of the United States government.
Reason number two?
Reason number two is I'm sure he wants our blood.
Ohh, Triste, Triste, Triste.
I've served you a superb stroganoff,
I've plied you with vintage champagne,
provided you with soft, romantic candlelight,
and still you persist in refusing
to open your girlish heart to me.
Oh, there's so much about you I want to know.
You know all the answers, hawkshaw.
You and your partner found the safety-deposit boxes,
didn't you?
Yes, but there's so much more about you
I want to know than that.
For instance, who you're working for,
or how your friend, Deuce, fits into the picture,
or what miraculous pot of gold there is
at the end of the rainbow that all of you
are so willing to kill so many people for?
Don't hang by your thumbs waiting for me to tell you.
You're very beautiful.
So they tell me.
I'm...
...just sitting here wondering,
a little sadly, actually,
how long that beauty will last
once you're behind bars.
You're also being terribly obvious, aren't you?
I don't think so.
I just think you don't know.
Have you ever worked in a jute mill, Triste?
Because that's what you'll be doing
once you're in prison.
There's something about daily contact
with jute fibers that turns
even a peaches-and-cream complexion like yours,
over the long years, into what looks like
mottled, badly tanned leather.
Maybe after those long centuries pass,
you really won't mind too much
because you will have been deprived
of the company of anyone male.
Nothing but embittered, hateful females,
all of them drying out like yourself,
waiting for death.
And by then, you'll be a gargoyle,
something distorted
that in no way resembles
the beautiful, young girl you are now.
Look, I, uh...
can tell you something you should know.
If you'll promise-
No promises, no deals.
You just talk.
After that, I'll see what kind of a break
I can get you.
All right.
There's a man named Tickle,
and Deuce would give anything to find him.
He's probably tailing your partner right now,
figuring that- That he'll find Tickle.
Do you know where I can find this Tickle character?
Well, I could take you to him.
But just remember that you promised
to give me a break.
All right. Come on.
Hey, heroes!
You, with that overworked artillery in there!
What's on your mind, Deuce?
I'm gonna give you a last chance.
Come on out, throw down your guns,
and we'll talk it over.
You hear that? I think the man's sincere.
I vote we do as he says.
Do you? What do you vote, doctor?
I shall cast my lot with you, Herr West.
Deuce!
Oh, we're on fire!
It is gas.
One of the chloride group, I believe.
Phosgene.
That's poison gas.
That horse and buggy of yours. Where is it?
In the barn.
I think it's time for a buggy ride.
I can't stand it! I'm giving myself up!
Come back here! Don't!
Don't shoot!
I accept your-
We gotta find another way out of here.
Are you game, doctor?
Mr. West, I know I'm not so tall as you,
but if you question my courage because of-
It never entered my mind.
Executioner, Mr. West...
I'd better get your late nephew's
last will and testament out in the fresh air.
...of my estate.
If you've ever held on before, doctor, hold on now!
Wunderbar! Masterful maneuver, Herr West.
Oh, not really. As one fox to another,
that just bought us a few extra moments.
The hounds will soon be back on our trail.
That sanitorium you and Dr. Loveless organized,
where is it?
Banner Point on the coast. Why?
Banner Point? That's a good eight miles.
That's as good as any place
to start looking for those files.
I take it, in life,
that was Mr. Tickle.
Well, things are certainly nice and quiet in here.
Let's take a look out-
Sea gulls.
Now, what would a lone myna bird
be out talking to itself on a night like this for?
Do you have any idea, Triste?
Hyah, hyah!
You all right, Mr. Gordon?
I never felt better in my life. Thank you.
Boys pick up the lady's trail?
Yes, sir. Good.
Everything's going according to your plan.
Fine.
You know, Layden,
just as an educated guess,
I'd say this bird lived somewhere near the seashore,
kept some very strange company.
In any case, it will be interesting to see
where the fox leads us, huh?
Come on, Layden.
Dr. Liebknicht's Sanitorium
for the Treatment of Nervous Diseases.
Nothing like having a castle with a view of the sea.
The important thing is we have finally arrived.
There must be some stairs around here.
Stairs? My dear Herr West,
Miguelito would have laughed at such things.
Long before he even built this sanitorium, he planned-
You have displayed remarkable ingenuity, Herr West,
but now, as it must to all men-
Hold this.
What is it?
An explosive. Hold this.
Don't put them together until I tell you to.
Now!
They're blocked off now.
So much for Deuce and his men.
We're ascending, I take it.
See for yourself.
May I offer you a drink?
Another one of Dr. Loveless' toys.
Somehow, you make that sound contemptible, Herr West.
I don't mean to.
Your nephew was quite remarkable.
I guess it was just he was too far ahead of his time.
Is that why you have spent your young life
persecuting him?
Doctor, your nephew and I-
Herr West, please.
We should let the dead rest in peace.
Dr. Loveless' office.
His playthings, the world.
Who else would have been so obsessed with toying with it,
shaking it from time to time,
to make a different, more improved world?
You have a point to make, Herr West?
Yes, doctor.
I made an agreement with your late nephew
to guarantee your safety.
I think you have done this admirably.
And he, in turn, said that my department
would inherit his files.
I'm here for those files, doctor.
Since this seems to have been Miguelito's wish...
Have you considered the possibility
that this combination you inherited could be a fraud?
Not a chance, doctor.
Or that the contents, once you open it,
could be just, uh, blank newspapers,
uh, blank paper?
I knew Loveless
and his "dark of the moon" kind of code.
He was a strangely honorable man.
This is the combination that will open the safe.
And the contents. Will they be worth
all the trouble you've been put through?
No wonder Deuce wanted these files so badly.
Loveless figured out a foolproof assault
on the United States mint.
Are you not afraid that I might
take this opportunity to kill you, Herr West?
No, doctor, I don't think you could kill anything.
What about Dr. Loveless, Mr. West?
You know, Loveless, it's always a mistake
jumping to the conclusion that you're dead.
But I can be pardoned for being fooled
after the test Artie ran on your corpse.
He did not take into consideration the art of yoga.
The seventh stage, turiya.
An experienced practitioner, such as myself,
can enter the stage of samadhi,
where breathing, even heartbeats, can be suspended.
But why, doctor?
Why all the hanky-panky with that pathetic sheriff,
having him pretend you were dead?
Oh, Mr. West, what does a little man,
born into a world of giants,
do when one of the giants sets out to kill him?
He pits a giant like me
against the other giant to dispose of him.
Precisely.
Deuce was becoming troublesome.
He had to be eliminated, and you obliged.
Is something the matter, Mr. West?
Could it possibly be that jet of anesthetic that's been
playing over you ever since you opened the safe?
Loveless-
Gentlemen.
Dr. Langely, Dr. Crow.
Take the gentlemen down the corridor.
Follow me, gentlemen.
Package.
Your name, doctor?
That's perfectly all right, young man.
I just gave it to the gentleman at the door.
Well then, you give it to me too.
Uh, give it to you too? Yes.
I wish I could.
Would you believe that I was Dr. Lippenstott?
Oh-ho, I think if you told me that,
you'd have a lot of explaining to do.
I suppose you're going to tell me
you're Dr. Ramone De LaPeletier from the Sorbonne.
He seems to be the only one still missing.
I have discovered,
in the midst of some very serious research,
I happen to be he.
Just to be on the safe side,
I think I'll check my lists over here.
Yes, of course.
Just a moment.
Yes?
Say that again. Would you mind?
I said, "just to be on the safe side, I think-"
Safe side?
"Safe side, I think-"
That alters it...
How long have you had ambivalenatis perditis?
Ambivi-? Am-?
Oh. There I go.
No, I should really stick to my research,
and not mix in things that concern only you
and your own self.
No, no, please. You-
You go ahead and check your list, won't you?
Tsk, tsk, tsk.
Doctor, this, uh, ambivalinicus- Am-
Ambivalenatis perditis. Yes.
Yes, uh...
Is-? Is that, uh, serious?
Of course, none of us can live forever, young man.
If your current treatment
is making you feel more comfortable,
that's as much as one can ask.
Uh...I'm-
Doctor, I'm not taking any treatment.
You're not?
Great Scott, man, don't move!
How could you let this much time go by?
That's incredible.
Here, tell me something.
Sit right where you are.
Do you find when you get up in the morning
that you're feeling a little bit tired and still sleepy?
Yes, sir. I- When you have a heavy meal,
do you find your stomach feels distended
and a little uncomfortable, eh?
Yes, sir. That's what I figured.
Don't try to talk. Here. Just one moment.
There we go.
Ridiculous for you to have waited this long.
Open your mouth. There we are.
Give me your pulse.
Make certain everything is fine here.
No young man should be permitted to go through life
carrying that much in the way of difficulty.
Well...
Oh, you always work.
Dr. Ramone De LaPeletier.
Hoist the mainsail! Face the jib!
We'll have a quiet night and a calm sea.
Delighted to see you up again, Mr. West.
Thank you. What's the program, doctor?
Gentlemen, distinguished colleagues,
I'm honored that you have seen fit
to accept my invitation to this surgical demonstration.
You begin to understand now, West?
As you know from the clinical notes I have distributed,
the patient is young, in excellent physical condition,
but with a history of violence and irrationality
extending over many years.
The patient's hallucinations are a case in point,
as we shall see.
What is your name, young man,
and your occupation?
Patient is in his uncommunicative phase,
but I can assure you he would have said something such as,
oh, uh, "agent of the United States Secret Service,"
or some such.
Heh. At any rate,
the operation you will see
is a simple destruction of the frontal nerves.
This effectively transforms the patient's personality.
Non!
Doctor, if you please.
Allow me.
Monsieur le doctor Ramone De LaPeletier,
of the Sorbonne,
and let me be the first
to assure you, monsieur le doctor,
that I stand second to none among my colleagues
in my grand admiration
for your contribution to le science médical.
Thank you, doctor, but-
But I cannot remain silent!
If this operation is to have any meaning for us,
it is important that it not only be brilliant,
but that we have all the data.
For example,
the blood pressure of the patient, the retin-
Here, permit me, if you would, please.
Follow that, ah?
The retinal status is perfect.
The respiration, uh,
is normal.
And he spleen... perfectly in place.
The pulse- Get him out of here!
No! No! No!
That door isn't gonna hold much longer, Jim.
Gently.
Go!
That should muck it.
Artie, let's create a little diversion.
Release the inmates.
Good idea.
Here.
It's cute, huh?
All that noise and fury
and not one, single, blessed inmate.
Come on, Artie, I'll show you something else that's cute.
Artie, Loveless has some files
I think you'll be interested in seeing.
Keep an eye on him.
A pleasure.
Do you two have any idea
of the trouble you've put me to?
Just getting all these panicky doctors out to safety
is taxing my facilities to the utmost.
Delighted to learn that your colleagues
are so well taken care of, doctor.
Everything has become so messy,
disordered, chaotic, thanks to you two.
I helped you with Deuce and his boys.
Yes, you did, didn't you?
You know, I would have performed a brilliant operation on you,
had not Mr. Gordon interfered.
You know that, don't you?
Of course.
Come on, Loveless, get on your feet.
It's time to go.
Just like that, huh? Off to jail.
Adieu, dear Triste.
I'm sorry to leave you so abruptly,
but I shall return for you later.
This whole place is rigged for spontaneous combustion.
Let's get to the elevator!
If you want to keep
that peaches-and-cream complexion,
you better open that elevator.
What are you crying for?
Miguelito. He's in there.
Is he? You want to bet on that?
At which point, this deputy sheriff gets up
and dusts himself off and says,
"Just for that, you're all under arrest!"
Well!
Here you are, James.
"James West and Artemus Gordon."
I guess somebody sent us a gift.
Yeah, no return address. Probably a bomb.
Ladies...
Hm.
Uh, no name of a sender?