The Wild Wild West (1965–1969): Season 3, Episode 19 - The Night of the Underground Terror - full transcript

During Mardi Gras in New Orleans, agents West and Gordon look for the cruelest former commander of a Civil War prison who has been a fugitive from justice for the abuse of prisoners. They meet a young girl who leads them to Hazard, her legless father and victim of the prison commander. Hazard and his men are after the commander as well, but their real goal is to find a shipment of one million dollars that disappeared after arriving at the prison.

The things we do in
the fair name of duty.

Oh, relax, James. It
can't be all that bad.

Your instructions were

to meet a very
attractive, young lady.

With your luck, probably
turn out to be Cleopatra

or Helen of Troy.

Yeah, I'm sure.

Well, we better
start circulating.

Have a nice time, Artie.

I'll meet you back at the train.

Thank you, James.

Don Juan? Is that you?

Really you?

How can I know for sure?

Let a red rose speak
of my love for you.

Oh, how lovely.

Don Juan, why don't we...

Don Juan.

Don Juan, speak to me.

Let a red rose speak
of my love for you.

And a white rose
answer for mine.

I thought I'd never
find you. What now?

Follow me.

Good, my lord,
drink and find peace

at the bottom of the goblet.

Angels and ministers
of grace defend us!

I think we're being followed.

Take me in your arms

and kiss me as
though you mean it.

Not that I'm complaining,

but what's the reason
for all the secrecy?

Now, what were you saying?

Funny, I don't remember.

In any event, let's not linger.

Get in, quickly.

After you. Get in!

You hit?


This way.

Perhaps you'll explain
what you're doing here.

Certainly, but
first, this man...

Corporal Hayden.

He's wounded.

Wounded, you say?

He's dead.

Sound the drum.

Alas, Yorick, now I
know how Caesar felt

when he was delayed
on the way to the forum.

Tell me, sir, are you
Brutus or Caesar?

When beggars die,
no comets are seen.

Ah, he's Cassius, the assassin.

But the heavens themselves

blaze forth the
death of princes.

Good night, sweet Prince!

As long as you're mixing
Hamlet and Caesar,

would not a better
quote have been:

"Let us carve him
as a dish for the gods,

Not hew him as a
carcass fit for hounds:"?

Now, then, sir, who are you?

My name is James west.

I'm with the United
States Secret Service.


And who invited you here?

I did, Father.

Did you, now?

What a touching thing for
a blushing maiden to do,

asking her young man
to visit the family circle.

If I'd have known
you were coming,

I'd have seen to it that
the parlor was tidied,

with fresh antimacassars
put on the furniture.

Your daughter wrote to us

that you know the whereabouts

of Colonel Tacitus Mosely.

You told him where?

No. Only that you knew.

I see.

And since I know where
our quarry's finally run to,

it follows naturally
that I will dutifully

inform my
government, is that it?


Mr. West, you've wasted
your time coming here.

Tacitus Mosely...

a reptile who masqueraded
as a Confederate officer

during the war.

Who's conduct at the Susquehanna

prisoner of war detention camp

when he was a commandant

was too overpowering
to describe.

A man who privately boasted
that the prisoners he ruled

were just so much prime beef
herded into a slaughter pen.

And treated them worse
than if they had been.

And who disappeared from sight

with the ease of a coin
dropped into mid-ocean

as soon as the
Confederate high command

found out what was going on.

Do you have anything
more to add, sir?

Postscript and a question.

Despite a continuing
search for Mosely,

he's completely
dropped out of sight.

Excellent postscript.
The question, sir?

And since you know where he is,

why won't you help
us bring him to justice?

It occurs to me

that we've never been
properly introduced.

China, my impetuous
daughter, you already met.

Lieutenant Maberly...

Sergeant Cope...

Private Steinlen...

Private Carter...

Lieutenant Quist.

I'm Major Hazard.

My daughter excepted,
you're looking at

the surviving members
of the Brotherhood of Hell.

The alumni of Susquehanna.

Honor graduates, if you please.

And we can prove it
by the unique awards

that were given by Mosely:

The legs I no longer have,

the stylish, empty sleeves
of Maberly and Cope,

Steinlen's empty sockets,

where some people
keep their eyes.

And let's not forget
Carter and Quist.

For them, every
day is Mardi gras.

Only for them, there will
never be an unmasking,

no faces underneath their masks.

So now maybe you know why

I will not help you lay
your hands on Mosely.

You want the
pleasure for yourself.


And when you do?

We've had years to
think, plan, and refine

a most suitable punishment.

And look what it's cost you.

First, years of
hopeless searching,

following up every
vague lead and idle rumor.

A small price to pay.

And then, when we
tracked the beast to his lair,

and he knew that
we'd found him out,

then the beast turned on us.

We accepted that, China.

And suddenly, all
our days and nights

became a thing
of running, hiding,

living like a pack
of rats in a sewer

because that's the only
way we could survive.

We accepted that too.

Getting Colonel Tacitus Mosely

will make it all
worthwhile, you'll see.

Only you'll never get him.

I will! Never!

Look at you.

You're a collection
of broken toys

pitting yourselves
against a master killer

and his private army of killers.

That's why I've
called in Mr. West.

And for that, I'll
never forgive you.

I don't care.

I don't care about anything

except keeping
you and the others

from throwing your lives away.

We were a much larger
organization once, Mr. West.

Here's our casualty roster.

You can see how the brotherhood

is chipped away by Mosely's men.

Slater, Bronson, Caraway...

Vandenhoff, Galt, McGovern.

May I respectfully suggest

that you bring
this roster to date

and add the name
of Corporal Hayden?


Mr. West, the idea of
dying never frightened us.

With all due respect, major,

maybe you've forgotten the
first rule of good soldiering.

A good soldier tries
not to die for his country,

but to see to it that
the enemy dies for his.

Spare me your
half-baked homily, sir.

All right, but hasn't your
brotherhood suffered enough?

Major, tell me where
I can find Mosely.

Give me two days,
and I promise you,

I'll have him answer
before a court of his peers

for every crime he's committed.

Get the box, China.

Two days. Remember.

The reptile that
walks like a man

has become a respectable squire

with the passing of the years.

His name is now Douglas Craig,

master of a fine, old
sugar cane plantation,

Shadows of Sucre,
in the bayou country.

Take one reptile, have his old,

easily recognizable
face obliterated,

have a new face fashioned
with artistry and craft,

and this is what
Colonel Tacitus Mosely

looks like today.

Well, good, old Cassius.


That character I
ran into last night

with the Roman legion types.

So it's Colonel Mosely himself

who was trying to have
me filleted by his boys, huh?

Tried to knock me off too.

He had a busy night.

Colonel, I think it's
time we picked him up

at the plantation. No.

I beg your pardon?

Cassius, Craig, Mosely,

whatever he calls himself,

we can't go barging
into his plantation

and make an arrest until
we're sure of his identity.

You mean files from Washington,

witnesses, et cetera?

Whatever it takes to be certain.

Colonel, that could take weeks.


We don't have weeks.
We've got two days.

If we don't pick
up Mosely by then,

a small band of maimed,
half-crazy, old relics

will kill themselves trying to.

I can't help that, Jim.

Now listen, gentlemen,

ever since the world
took a shocked look

at the Susquehanna
prisoner of war detention camp

and got sick to its
collective stomach,

there's been an extraordinary
court martial board

convened in Washington,
staffed, ready, waiting.

Waiting for that long overdue
moment when Colonel Mosely

is finally brought before
the bar of judgment.

Now here it is from both
barrels, gentlemen, officially.

Until then, both
of you sit tight.

Officially, that is.

He said it.

Artie, where were we

before the colonel interrupted?

You were charting
a course, as I recall.


Up this road:

And to Squire
Mosely's plantation.

Raise up your hands, monsieur.

It's all right. Mr. Craig
is expecting me.

He did not tell me.

Get out, quickly...

before Emile here
loses his temper

and do horrible things.

Emile's a little
hot-tempered, huh?

You would not believe.

He do things like:

And this.

Take him.

Allons garde.

I couldn't agree with you more.

Uh, Mr. Craig, so to speak.

What are you doing here anyway?

Well, I was in the neighborhood,

so I thought I'd just
stop by for a chat,

if you don't mind.

Indeed. What about?

Shoes, ships, ceiling
wax, Susquehanna.

Come in, won't you, Mr. West?

Well, just for a
moment, Colonel Mosely.

Before we go any further,

I want you to know
that you're under arrest.

I'll be frank with
you, Mr. West.

You're everything I
find unlikable in a man.

I hope you don't
mind my saying so.

Please sit down, make
yourself comfortable.

Thank you. No, no, go on.

But I must say that you've
carved out a small reputation

for yourself in that department.

But please, please, do go on.

Well, for instance,
you're young,

and I no longer am.

Well, I apologize for that.

A certain type of
impressionable female

probably still
finds you attractive,

and never was this
the case with me.

I apologize for that too.

And I suspect
you're not entirely

without your
share of brains too.

All of which is
leading up to what?

Drafty in this blasted barn.

All of which is
leading up to this:

you're bumptious, cocksure,

unbearably at
peace with yourself.

For instance, again,
you called me "Mosely,"

and tossed in the
word "Susquehanna,"

implying, of course, that
I'm the Colonel Mosely

who presided over
the administration

of the Susquehanna
Prisoner Detention Camp

during the war, of course.

And you're not?

Can you prove that I am?

Why don't you come
to Washington with me

and prove that you're not?

Ha! Just like that, eh?

It's that clear in your
mind that I'd get a fair trial,

with all the built-in
pressure to find a scapegoat.

You know perfectly well...

Oh, no, no, no, Mr. West.

It's much too late for that.

You should have
overturned your drink

before you sampled it.

It's such a futile thing
for you to do, Mr. West.

You see, both drinks
were heavily laced

with belladonna, only
I've managed to work up

a very respectable
tolerance for that drug

through the years.

Oh, Mr. West,

glad to have you with us again.

Figured out the
little device yet?

It seems pretty straightforward.

When the minute hand reaches 12,

it'll come in
contact with the line

attached to the
face of the clock.

Now, should that minute hand
have a sharp, cutting edge...

By the sheerest
coincidence, it does, yes.

Then it will release the line

and the weight will
come crashing down,

smashing the bottle.

Now you're going to tell me

what the bottle
contains, aren't you?

Why not? It's naphtha,
with a vial of nitroglycerin

suspended within the large jar.

It has always created
an instant inferno

when I've tried it before.

But I must go, West.

Where one secret agent
has been, others will follow.

I'm shrewd enough to know that.

But, um, it will be a distinct
source of comfort for me

to know that you'll
be sitting here waiting

and watching for
that ecstatic moment

when the line has been severed

and you'll be engulfed in
your own personal little inferno.

It sounds very exciting,

but how is eliminating me
going to solve your problem?

Oh, please understand, Mr. West,

it is not you who will
shortly be incinerated.

Officially, it will
be my remains

that will be found there.

I see. So you assume that
by disappearing once again,

the search for you will
finally come to an end.

Oh, you'll excuse me

if I don't linger, Mr. West.

I have some packing
to take care of.

Sorry I'm a
little bit late, Jim,

but there was a partition back
there in that secret passageway

which didn't show
up in the blueprint.

Believe me, Artie,
I wasn't bored.

You're right about that.

There we are.

Who the devil are you?

Who the devil are you?

You see, Jim?

It is just a question

of roughing up
the voice a little bit,

and making my speech pattern

a tiny bit more terse.

I'm sure that if I do that,

I can duplicate
his speech exactly.

Now all we need is a
container to transport him in.


Bon, bon. C'est bon.

Why don't you deliver
the merchandise, Jim?

I'll get both horses and follow.




Just put it right down
there, please, men.

Thank you.

Here you are.


You're sure he's
not dead in that box?

No, he's not dead.

He'll be his old, repulsive self

long before we reach Washington.

Oh, well, about
Washington, uh...

You better tell him, China.

I'm afraid the
trip to Washington

is going to have to be
delayed until after the trial.

What trial are we talking about?

The trial that's been
delayed for 10 years now.

The trial that's gonna be
held in the court martial hall

of the Susquehanna
prisoner of war camp.

The trial of Colonel
Tacitus Mosely

before a jury of his peers.

I see. You're going
to take my prisoner

away from me, is that it?

I do, unless you
kill us all first.

Gentlemen, we've won.

Mr. West has decided
not to shoot it out with us.

You're gonna shoot
me with my own gun?

Mr. West, it's a matter
of great regret to me,

believe me, but you're dedicated

to preventing the one thing
that's important to us, so...

No, Father!

You give me one good reason.

Well, we have a long way to go.

Perhaps he'll be useful
to us in getting there.

You never know.

What do you say to that?

Makes sense to me.

Besides, who's going to
defend Colonel Mosely?

Oh, I wouldn't worry about that.

There's no doubt that the court
will find the defendant guilty.

even if he is guilty,

he needs good counsel.

Can you suggest
a defense counsel?

Yes, myself.

gentlemen of the jury?

Then gentlemen,

I give you Colonel
Mosely's defense counsel,

the devil's own advocate,
Mr. James West.

Open that door behind you.

Fantastic. Absolutely,
unbelievably fantastic!

Jim wouldn't just take off

without leaving some
kind of a message.

First of all, you and
Jim disobey my orders,

take it upon
yourselves to break in

and smuggle Colonel Mosely
out of his own stronghold,

right under the noses
of his own guards.

Thank you, sir.

I have to give you points

for doing a first-rate job.

But then... Then
you let the man go

and slip right
through your fingers.

He was here. I am positive
that he was here, sir.

Oh, was he? Well,
where is he now?

I don't know, but
he wouldn't go off

without leaving some word.

For that matter,
where's Colonel Mosely?

I don't know that either, sir.

And I was indiscreet enough

to let certain quarters
in Washington

get the idea that maybe,
maybe after all this time,

we'd finally be bringing
Colonel Mosely in.

Now that we've got them
all worked up about it...


What is it, Artemus?

Oh, it's, uh, just a
message from Jim, that's all.



Yep. Morse code:
dots and dashes.

Small holes, dots,
large holes, dashes.

Probably had to poke it
out right under the nose

of whoever was
here with him too.

Very neat job.

What does it say?

"Artie, gone to... SUS."

Of course!

Of course, what?
And what is SUS?

It has to be.

prisoner-of-war detention camp,

or whatever is
left standing of it.

Why would everybody suddenly
be going back to Susquehanna?

You're sure he's all right?

Oh, yeah, he's all right.
It was just a sedative.

For your sake, he'd better be.

We've waited a long
time for this accounting.

If we find that you've
cheated us out if it...

All right, let's go in, men.


Your honor?

Yes, counselor?

If it pleases the court,

I move for a directed
verdict of "not guilty."

On what grounds, sir?

On the grounds of fraud.

I'm afraid you'll
have to explain.

Mosely, sit down.

My client has been accused

of unspeakable crimes
against humanity.

I can prove at this time,
beyond a shadow of a doubt,

that the accusing
witnesses are guilty of...


No, no. Don't shoot.

Why... Quist and Carter,
I'm astonished. Tsk.

Go on, counselor,

proceed with your
plea to the bench.

You're not gonna try to tell
me that Steinlen too... huh?

Midnight, Steinlen,
the witching hour.

Take off your glasses and let
me see those big, blue eyes.


And you two.

You can come up with
an extra pair of arms.


Huh. And now me?

Now you.

But I'm not clever
like the others.

What can I do?

You can stand up with
your legs tucked away

in that trick platform.


You mean, um...

like this?


I think we all agree

that you deserve a
great round of applause

for seeing through our
harmless little charade.

Uh, when did you
first begin to suspect?

When I first noticed the gallery

in front of the gallows
with eight seats.

Unh-unh. I don't see.

And eight seats in front
of the whipping post,

and eight seats in the
court martial chamber.

Eight seats. I couldn't
help but wonder why?

Why eight?

Fascinating. Go on.

Until I remembered
reading the file

on the Susquehanna
prisoner of war camp,

particularly the part
about the commandant

and his seven
handpicked assistants,

without whose help

he could not have
operated so efficiently.

Seven handpicked assistants
who disappeared with him.

But what about my other men,

the ones on the casualty list?

There never were
any other men, right?

Quite right. But
I still don't see.

Eight seats everywhere,
so a sadistic commandant

and his equally
sadistic assistants

could sit and
enjoy the sufferings

of prisoners of war in style.

Counting the departed
Corporal Hayden,

I have a strong hunch

that you and your men
are those assistants.

You don't believe me?

Put that question to the bench.

All right, the masquerade's
been diverting.

Court's adjourned!

Let's get down to business.

Come on.

By the way, Mr. West,

we never thanked
you sufficiently

for the obliging way you
delivered Colonel Mosely to us.

Things were getting much
too dangerous for us to try it.

What are friends for?

As for you, commandant,
like old times, eh?

You're wrong about this,
Major Hazard, believe me.

Only this time, he's not
sitting with you in the gallery,

leading the laughter,
as he probably used to.

I don't have it. Honestly.


Why, you don't know
what the word means.

Mr. West, you seem to
be a bright, young man.

Do you have any
idea why we renewed

our old friendship
with the commandant?

For the same reason
thieves and murderers

always fall out:
Money, I'm sure.


What was the exact
date, commandant?


Don't matter.
It's not important.

What is important is this:

That in the closing
days of the war,

a chest arrived here
containing $1 million in gold.

It was to have been
delivered to core headquarters

just a few miles from here,
but you never sent it, did ya?

Hazard, I-I swear...

The pot was beginning to heat up
and the enemy was on the march.

The gallant commandant skipped.

But first, you hid that
money right here in this camp.

Now, you know the rest
of this story, don't you?

Ah... now the colonel's
got a bad memory.

Right again.

But with the aid
of Quist's bullwhip

and other useful
memory aids we have...

I say, dash it all, be quiet!

Hold on there! Who
the devil are you?

So much... Quiet, if you please.

"Fabian Redblogel,
dowsing, divining, and..."

Except for the fancy words,

it just means that you
find water with that gadget.

Yes, and anything else
that be underground.

At the moment,
I'm looking for gold.


Hold on, did you say gold?

Oh, uh, quite.

I know the thought
of finding gold

in a place as unlikely as this

probably seems strange to you,

but I can assure you that
this very efficient version

of the ancient dowsing
stick has never failed me yet.

Leave him be! Leave him be now!

I'm sure he knows
what he's talking about.

You go on, mister. Go on.

Thank you so very mu...

I say, your right foot,

would you mind moving
it over just a smidge?

Oh, yeah. Thank you so much.

Oh, yes.

Very strong astral vibrations

right about here.



Look out, look out now.

Let him be, let him be.

Give him room. Give him room.

Oh, yes. That's it.

I... I've never felt
that much pull before.


There. Yes, sir.

There has to be gold there.

There's no other way.

Has to be gold right there.

I'm certain of it!


A gold nugget! Get that shovel!

I bet it's worth $50.

You say you didn't hide it, huh?

Hold it! There's
some very strong...

I think I'm onto something big!

There's some interference

with the astral vibrations here.

Probably some iron
ore somewhere around it.

Of course. It's
those blasted guns.

They're just messing up
everything and ruining...

I can't possibly find anything
with the iron all around!

Put them in a heap over there.

Right over there, all of
them. Pile them together.

Well, it's the only way

the stick will find
any gold at all.

Come on.

That's much better.
The shovel too.

Get rid of that shovel.

Oh, yes. Oh, indeed.

It's working just fine now.

Ah, yes, indeed.

Oh, it's strong!

I feel strong astral vibrations!

Now, stand back, can't you?

Look out. You're crowding me.

I don't want you messing
up my astral vibrations here.

If you just stay
there, I'll find it.

Oh, indeed. Very strong now.

Yes, indeed.

Oh, my!

Yet it pulls in all directions.

Oh, yes.

Couple of loud
noises coming up, Jim.

I can hardly wait, Artie.


He's dead.

Well, he got the
gold he was after.

Time to go, colonel.

You'll find that Washington's
lovely this time of year.

Finally, with the appropriate
punishment being meted out

to every last one
of the personnel

who made it the
hellhole that it was,

Susquehanna prisoner of
war camp will become the site

for parks, homes,
and playgrounds.

And they shall beat their
swords into plowshares

and their spears
into pruning hooks;

It was a long time overdue,

but it's welcome just the same.

I'm glad about China.

She really was never
part of the brotherhood.

The jury apparently
felt the same way

when they recommended parole.

Artie, how did you know

that the gold was behind
this whole sordid mess?

Oh, one of my usual
flashes of intuition.

That, plus a lot of
research that I did

when I got your
message that you'd left

to go back to the Susquehanna.

I, uh, found that there
was a million dollars in gold

that had been buried
and never recovered.

Well, gentlemen, I suggest
a modest victory toast.

You care to join me?

That's a good idea. You know me.