Where is he, Miss Holt? Why has he abandoned us?
What are you doing here?
Use any methods required, cut any corners necessary...
but find Steele... and stop him.
- Scotland Yard is after me. - It sounds like you've been a naughty boy.
- I haven't done anything. - Operator, I'd like the number of Scotland Yard, please.
Nowhere to run now, mate.
But he was here, I tell ya. Well, he's got to be.!
Inspector! Over here!
Who are you? Where did you come from?
"Michael O' Leary, Ireland. "
"Paul Fabrini, Italy. "
"John Murrell, France. "
"Richard Blaine, Australia. "
"Douglas Quintain, England. "
Who are you?
Who are you? Who are you?
Who are you?
Mmm.
- Morning, morning, morning. - Oh, that's just the way he used to greet me.
Kareem sets. Shoots.
- Swish! - You're awfully chipper.
- Slept like a baby. - I slept rotten.
I haven't had a good night's sleep since he left.
Maybe you need a new mattress.
I tried watching television. There was this old movie on.
Let's see what's on the agenda for today.
Invasion of the Body Snatchers.
Kevin McCarthy, Dana Wynter. Allied Artists, 1956.
Oh, how he loved that picture.
- Roger Mittleman at 10:00. - Where is he, Miss Holt?
Why has he abandoned us?
Mildred, get a grip on yourself.
I told you, he's away on a case.
What case? Why didn't he tell me?
It's not like him to take off like that.
I mean, without a word or a note or a collect call.
It's all very hush-hush. I don't even know all the details myself.
How's the progress on those names Mr. Steele asked you to check out?
Oh, those guys really get around, let me tell you.
The only way I could keep track of them was with this visual aid.
Now, Richard Blaine went from Los Angeles to Australia, then dropped out of sight.
But Paul Fabrini left Australia for Italy, where he disappeared.
However, John Murrell left Rome for Paris...
where he got lost somewhere, only to have Michael O'Leary leave Paris for Dublin.
What about Douglas Quintain?
Nothing so far. It's like a tag-team relay.
One guy arrives, another guy leaves.
What do you think they're up to, Miss Holt?
I'm afraid only Mr. Steele knows the answer to that one.
Bingo.!
The last name on Mr. Steele's list just turned up.
Douglas Quintain in London!
Now, how do we get this information to Mr. Steele?
I think Mr. Steele's way ahead of us on this one.
What are we gonna do, Miss Holt?
Ain't lookin' for rooms, are you?
We're looking for a- a Mr. Quintain.
- A Douglas Quintain? - Quintain?
The hotel that he was staying at said he left this address when he checked out.
I can never get these to stay right.
And I like them all to be even.
Makes a prettier picture from the outside, you see?
About Mr. Quintain-
Yes. What do you want with him?
He's my cousin. My Aunt Millie wanted me to look him up when I got to London.
Ain't no Quintain here.
Then why did he leave this as a forwarding address?
Well, maybe he was gonna come...
and somethin' happened.
Thank you for your trouble.
She's lying. And what was that tug-o-war with the shades all about?
Exactly, Mildred.
Hey! That's my purse!
- Oh! - Come back here, you little thief!
You've got my purse.! Come back.!
What are you doing here?
Oh! Uh-
- Sorry. Can't talk right now. - Where are you going?
Lovely to see you again, Laura. Keep in touch.
You creep!
Keep in touch? I came 6,000 miles to see you!
"Laura Holt. " She works for Remington Steele Investigations.
She's already been to Soho asking after Douglas Quintain.
The circle's becoming dangerously wide.
Use any methods required, cut any corners necessary...
but find Steele... and stop him.
Swines, I tell ya.
Down on me hands and knees scrubbing and mopping, and me with a condition.
Arthritis I got. Do I get any sympathy from them?
Oh, no, sir. All they ever do is make more dirt for me to clean up.
Swines. That's what they are.
"Your father always wanted you to have this.
Signed, Patrick O'Rourke. "
"To S.J. from K.L." The inscription on the watch.
One of these must be your father.
Make it a quick one, Billy.
Here! Watch it! I got a condition!
Well, ain't we splendid.
Off to see the royal mum, are we?
What some people won't do for the Yankee dollar.
All dressed up like Oliver Twist...
so they'll toss you a quid or two.
Dear, oh, dear.
Must be going dotty in me old age.
Must be me condition. Yeah.
They'll drive a person into their grave if you let 'em.
Filthy swines!
Hold up, Chalky.
I've been sitting in that pub waiting for you, Chalky, for two nights, mate.
Yeah, well, I've been busy, Harry, and that's the truth of it.
I can't go back to my flat because there's a bloody army back there waiting for me.
I haven't changed clothes in over a week, mate.
You are a little ripe, Harry.
- But it's nothin' a tub and a shave won't cure. - Shut up. Shut up!
Who are they, and why are they after me?
I don't know, Harry. I promise you, I don't have an inkling.
Only it ain't healthy to get too close to you these days.
Why? What have I done? I don't understand.
I ran into Felicia. She's got a flat in Kensington.
I thought maybe you and her might have had a bit of a grab in mind.
- A painting here, a bauble there. Like the old days. - No. I don't know what you're-
Not like the old days. I didn't even know she was in London, Chalky!
No. No business.
This is personal. Do you understand me?
This is personal. And you owe me a name.
Yeah, and I am working on it, Harry.
Honestly, I'm working my fingers to the bone for you.
If I broke your neck ever, ever so slowly...
I wonder if the name that I wanted would catch in your throat.
- Hmm? Hmm? - Jenny!
- Say again? - Jenny Buchanan.
- Where can I find her? - Paddington Station.
Come in, Miss Holt.
I'm Chief Inspector Lombard.
The officer on the phone said my purse had been recovered.
- Ah. - The money's gone, I'm afraid.
But everything else seems to be intact.
What were you doing in Soho, may I ask?
Looking for a friend.
- Did you find him? - Not yet.
I see from your identification...
that you work for a private investigation firm in America.
Yes. Remington Steele Investigations.
Is he here on a case?
What makes you think Mr. Steele's in London?
Oh, well, I just naturally assumed, what with you being here and-
- I'm on vacation. - Ah.
And this friend you were hoping to find...
perhaps I can help you to locate him.
That's awfully kind of you, Inspector...
but really, it's- it's not that important.
In that case, I suggest you give places like Soho a wide berth.
It would be a pity if something were to happen to you.
And I can almost guarantee it will...
unless you keep to the more traditional tourist attractions.
I'm curious about something.
Is it customary for a chief inspector of Scotland Yard...
to involve himself in purse snatchings?
If you should speak to Mr. Steele...
kindly tell him I'm most anxious to meet him.
Here I am, sir. Johnny-on-the-spot.
- I came as soon as I found him. - Where is he?
- He give me the slip. - Then what good are you?
I know where he'll be.
Mister?
Nice time, mister?
Want a nice time, mister?
Prat!
- Jenny Buchanan? - Oh, bugger off!
Jenny, wait. Jenny, Jenny. I just want a few minutes with you. That's all.
You've got nerve, thinking I'd be available for the likes of you. I got me standards.
Yes, and I'm sure they're incredibly high. Look, I just wanna talk with you.
I'll even pay for the privilege. Here's a tenner.
If you ask me, you could put this to better use gettin' yourself a nice bath.
Spruce yourself up a bit. Bit of eau de cologne.
Look, a while ago, a man named Patrick O'Rourke sent me this watch.
It has to do with my past. Only before I could find out exactly what, O'Rourke died.
- I don't know no Patrick O'Rourke. - Just hear me out, will you?
I traced him back here to London. He used to work in a pub in Whitechapel...
behind the bar as a barman.
Also, there was this fellow, about four or five years ago...
who used to hang around the pub where he worked.
O'Rourke used to look out for him- keep him away from the coppers, that sort of thing.
Because this fellow had a very nasty habit of getting drunk and beating up-
Well, beating up girls like you.
- Time's up, mister. - Jenny, please. Look, look.
You know who I'm talkin' about, don't you? You know who I'm talkin' about.
I know it's painful, but it's very important to me.
It took some doin', but I've dug up a name- Kevin Landers.
K.L. -The same initials here on this watch.
No, I swear. I never knew who he really was.
- Kevin. That was all he ever called himself. - Where can I find him, love?
Where can I find him?
You haven't been looking very hard.
He's all over the place these days.
There he is. There's your Kevin Landers.
Him?
Thanks very much, Jenny. Listen, take care of yourself.
Okay? Thank you, sir. Okay.
Oh.
Hey, Geronimo.
You wanna make some wampum? Huh?
Oh! Now, you see, I just rented this little tepee, only I lost my key.
Now, do you think you can open that door...
for, um, five buffalo-head nickels?
- Ugh! - Oh.!
You're my kind of savage.
Oh, here you go, Chief. Now, don't you spend that all on firewater.
Flowers for the lady. Tuppence a bunch.
Michael!
I thought you were safely tucked away in Los Angeles...
playing that paragon of virtue, Remington Steele.
Uh, yes, well, I'm sorry to barge in on you like this, Felicia...
but I had nowhere else to turn to.
- You look like hell, darling. - Uh, thank you, darling.
I feel like hell. I've been reduced to sleeping in doorways...
like when I first hit London.
Also, all my old mates practically run the other way whenever they see me...
on top of which Scotland Yard is after me.
Well, it sounds like you've been a naughty boy.
Yes, well, that's the frightening thing. I haven't done anything.
Oh, by the way...
Chalky thinks we might have something brewing.
All we have together are memories.
Well, uh, will they buy me a place to stay for a while?
- I don't think that would be wise. - Why not?
I mean, you're not up to anything, Felicia...
that might attract undue attention, are you?
Darling, I'm simply here to see a few shows...
buy a few gowns, break a few hearts.
Simply recreational.
Mmm. Mmm. Mmm.
Well, uh-Well-
Let's hope he's not the jealous type. That's all I can say.
- Well, you know how it is. - Uh-huh.
I can't spend the rest of my life pining for you.
Besides, unrequited lust can be so tedious...
and very lonely.
I'm glad I found you again.
Your timing always was superb.
Operator, I'd like the number of Scotland Yard, please.
- Where is he? - The bedroom.
Get him in here.
Darling, are you awake?
I've made some food for you.
Everything you like- bacon and eggs...
that special jam from Harrod's.
Come and get it before it goes cold.
Nowhere to run now, mate.
Mildred, where have you been?
I've been stuck in this room all afternoon waiting for you.
When you didn't show up from Scotland Yard, I got antsy.
I picked up a new friend. I spent the morning trying to lose him.
He's still here. Have a look.
- Miss Holt? - Yes?
This, um, Quintain guy and some of these other guys-
Have their names come up before this case?
Not that I remember. Why?
Well, according to my background check...
some of them are pretty shady characters.
Well, it's quite possible that Mr. Steele...
may have come across them at some point in his career.
I never asked you this before, I guess because I never thought it was important...
but how much do you know about the boss?
I mean, before you two hooked up?
Why this sudden interest in Mr. Steele's past? Exactly where have you been?
- Quintain's flat. - And?
- And- - Mildred, what exactly did you learn about Douglas Quintain?
We can probably find him in this joint.
Good night, Lindsay, Jan.
Going down?
Am I glad that shift's over.
You're lucky, Doctor. You get them when they're unconscious.
Can't complain. If it's not the food or a draft...
it's what's on the telly.
Well, this is where I leave you.
"To S.J. from K.L." The inscription on the watch.
- One of those must be your father. - Mm-hmm. Perhaps.
Perhaps? You can't have forgotten your own father.
I have a feeling that I never knew who my father really was...
that I've never even seen my birth certificate.
Is that why you wouldn't tell me your real name?
Because you don't know it?
Don't know it? Don't know it? Don't know it?
Hey, you.! Stop.! Police.!
You set the coppers on me, Chalky. Didn't you, mate?
Harry, please! That's a terrible thing to say.
If I didn't love ya like me own, I'd be cut to the quick.
Do you hear that?
It ain't safe on the streets for you, mate.
But you just stay put, and I'll nip back...
with some bandages and a bit of hot food, eh?
Old Chalky'll fix you up right proper, he will.
- Out of my way. - I thought I heard something.
Mildred? Are you all right?
Oh, Miss Holt, I'm sorry.
I couldn't let you come down here alone.
Take her to the hospital. Get her attended to.
No doubt you'll want to accompany her, Miss Holt...
since your disregard of my warning resulted in this attack.
Come on, Mildred.
A pity you won't be able to get any fingerprints from that.
Unless you tell me what's going on, Inspector...
I shall be forced to inform your superiors about that piece of evidence...
you're obviously trying to conceal.
"The family crest of the earl of Claridge. "
"Tenth in line to the throne of England. "
And possible mass murderer.
There's no proof the earl is responsible for these killings.
Isn't there?
Those are gifts he bestows on a great many people...
any one of whom could have dropped it.
I'd say that was your problem, Inspector.
Mine is trying to understand why you've had my purse snatched...
why you've had me followed and why you're watching Douglas Quintain's flat.
Come now, Miss Holt. I'm prepared to be candid with you.
Won't you extend me the same courtesy?
- We both know who Douglas Quintain really is. - Exactly what do you mean?
Shortly after the first murder...
this Quintain started making inquiries about Kevin Landers.
I did some checking and soon discovered, much to my horror...
that Douglas Quintain was actually Remington Steele.
Why is your chief pursuing this case so relentlessly?
Believe me, Inspector...
I'm coming at this from a standing start.
Help me with why the connection between the earl and this Kevin Landers is so disturbing.
Kevin Landers was the name used by the earl on his forays into Whitechapel five years ago.
He was given to drunken rampages in which...
he gleefully beat up prostitutes.
It was all dealt with very discreetly, and the earl was shipped off to Canada...
where his family has extensive holdings.
Sort of a royal remittance man.
Practically on the heels of his return to England, these killings began.
And the first victim was a Whitechapel tart.
And the others?
Emily Brent, solicitor's secretary.
Hilda Lake, charwoman.
Vera Claythorne, nurse at Great Ormand Street Hospital.
Then your killer isn't confining himself to prostitutes?
Another reason why Steele must be stopped.
If he makes this public, he could ruin a potentially innocent man...
and reduce me to station sergeant.
Lombard.
No. Don't do anything till I arrive.
It seems that one of our chickens has come home to roost.
Now that I done my bit for queen and country, you will whisper a word...
in the magistrate's ear for me, won't you, guv?
But he was here, I tell ya.!
Well, he's gotta be.! Well, he's hurt too bad to run far.
Inspector.! Over here.!
I think I saw something move right in there.
What's that noise?
Ten quid a night in advance. Loo's down the hall.
No baths after 10:00. No flushing after 11:00.
Thank you, and good night.
Good night.
- Oh. - Thank you very much.
Good night.
If you weren't such a pitiful wreck, I'd clobber you.
Walking out on me like that...
without a note, a word, a collect call.
Take off your shirt.
What kind of relationship did we have, or ever hope to have...
if every time I turned around, bingo, you were gone?
Lift your shirt.
Laura, you're the one who said we needed time apart.
So you decided to spend it a continent away?
I needed to find something.
What?
Me.
You were in Los Angeles last time I looked.
What's the major stumbling block between us?
- Hmm? - Your aversion to legwork?
My name.
My real name.
I knew how you'd feel if I wouldn't give you that...
and I couldn't be honest about...
other things.
I don't care what your name is.
- Make one up. It'll be all right with me. - Perhaps.
But when it seemed our time together had come to an end...
I realized...
Remington Steele was just another name I'd borrowed.
And if I was gonna give it back...
I should have to replace it with something that was truly mine.
And did you?
I've come up with a name...
for one of the initials on the watch- Kevin Landers.
Only that isn't the man's real name.
Are you ready for this? He's the earl of Claridge.
Wouldn't that be a corker if it turned out I was related to royalty...
after spending half my life in dumps like this place?
I've always been afraid of looking too deeply into the past.
Of- Never mind anyway.
I'll pay a visit to His Lordship first thing in the morning.
No. You are in no condition to call on anyone.
I'll go. I'll do it for you.
But first, we have to get you a doctor.
They have his passports, you know.
The police. Confiscated all five of'em.
Five different countries, five different names.
But only one picture- his.
I know, Mildred.
Miss Holt, I have a right to an explanation, you know.
- And I promise you you'll get one. - Mmm.
But first, we have to help Mr. Steele.
Or whoever the hell he is.
Now, remember, I'm the reporter. You're my photographer.
And you won't get any award-winning pictures...
- if you don't take off your lens cap. - Gotcha.
Katherine, dear.
This is the American magazine writer I told you about.
Does that mean I can take a breather?
I haven't sat this straight since Miss Percy's School for Young Ladies.
Why don't you get a few shots of Miss Galt...
while I chat with His Lordship?
According to my notes, you've been away from England about five years.
Yes, tending the family interests in Canada.
That's where I met Katherine. But I decided to have the wedding here.
England's really my home, and, I must confess, it's been most rewarding.
As you know, America has its own form of royalty-
rock stars, sports figures.
I was wondering if you suffered the same inconveniences.
How do you mean?
Because of your marriage, your picture is in all the papers, on television.
It must be very difficult for you to go anywhere without being recognized.
Why do you suggest that I should have to go around London without being recognized?
As beautiful as it is here, you must get the urge to stroll through Hyde Park...
visit a museum, ride in a hansom cab.
Exactly what are you driving at? What sort of an interview is this?
- What's the matter? Lost your lighter again? - It's around somewhere.
Miss Holt, may I introduce Bradford Galt, Katherine's brother.
A pleasure.
Miss Holt is one of those American magazine writers...
no doubt with a deadline.
Would you be kind enough to entertain her before she's forced to leave?
- I suppose I'll have to get used to this. - What?
- Reporters. - Do you have something against publicity?
I've led a very private life in Canada, Miss Holt...
and I find it quite disconcerting...
to have people trying to snap one's picture all the time.
Your accent sounds more English than Canadian.
Both Katherine and I were born in London.
However, Canada seemed to offer more opportunity.
You know, this seems strangely out of place.
The earl's ancestors all rode to their weddings in one of those.
He plans to carry on the tradition.
His Lordship's a stickler for tradition.
He even has Katherine and me sequestered in a Mayfair flat.
No hanky-panky before the vows are exchanged.
- Oh! - What happened?
- She became dizzy. - Oh, I am so sorry.
Perhaps you should take her upstairs for her to lie down for a while.
Nonsense. I'm sure it's nothing serious.
Oh! Oh, I'm s- I'm afraid I've hurt my ankle.
Clara, make up some rooms.
Do stay until Miss Krebs is ready to travel.
- You're so kind. - Thank you.
- Now, lean on me. - All right. Oh, I am so sorry.
Excuse me.
What's going on? Why do we have to make sure we stay the night?
Oh, Miss Holt, come on. You can tell me. I can keep a secret.
You may have to keep more than one if things turn out the way I think they will.
Hold the fort, Mildred.
- Why aren't you where I left you? - Why aren't you?
I've been waiting for you to come back with some word on who I am.
- We didn't get around to that. What are you doing? - This is my past we're chasing.
- All right. Sit tight. - Have you driven one of these things before?
I saw Smokey and the Bandit.
Now that we've seen London by night, would you mind telling me...
why we're following someone who could possibly be a very, very close relative of mine?
Hmm? And why, incidentally, he's bouncing around on top of that carriage?
You've been a little busy...
trying to track down your past and such.
You probably haven't paid much attention to the news, the happenings of the day.
I can always tell when you're about to impart something very unpleasant.
- Your left eyebrow starts twitching. - It does not.
Laura- Laura, what the hell are we doing?
Chasing a murderer.
The earl of Claridge is a murderer?
I didn't want to have to tell you this way.
What were you gonna do, send me a postcard?
- Hey, you all right? - My knee.
Okay, let's get up. Okay. Sit down over here.
Stay here. Stay here, okay?
Laura?
Whoa, whoa, whoa!
Laura?
Bradford Galt.!
Who the hell is he?
One of the most cold-blooded killers I've ever encountered.
We're still trying to sort out the grisly details.
But from what we've been able to piece together so far...
Bradford Galt worked as an odd-job man in a boarding house for women several years ago.
Rumor had it that the old lady who kept the place...
had a considerable sum of money hidden somewhere in the house.
So, being an ambitious young man...
hungry for a proper start, Galt began to search for the treasure.
Unfortunately, for her...
she surprised him, and he killed her and then fled to Canada.
However, he left behind a bloody fingerprint...
on the hammer he used to bludgeon the poor old woman.
And he realized the publicity surrounding his sister's marriage...
would spill over onto him.
There he'd be, escorting her up the aisle...
his picture in all the newspapers, on the television.
Surely one woman in that boarding house would recognize him.
But I still don't understand why the earl runs around in this carriage.
Galt supplied the answer to that.
The earl is a very proper man...
and he didn't want anyone to know he was...
seeing his fiancée before they were married.
Reporters from some of our more sensational tabloids were camped outside the estate.
With the hansom cab, he could cut across the grounds and leave without being seen.
Galt knew he had several uninterrupted hours to use the earl's carriage.
Mr. Steele is going to join us, isn't he?
Uh, he just needed a few moments to make himself presentable.
I'm afraid I can't look the other way on these.
I do hope he has a passport in his real name.
- You're late. - I am?
I didn't think you'd take it this hard.
Nice to see you again.
- It was nice to be seen. - I hope you prepared.
Prepared? For what?
Why, darling, you're going to kill the earl of Claridge.