The Wild Wild West (1965–1969): Season 3, Episode 4 - The Night Dr. Loveless Died - full transcript

Special agents West and Gordon are sent to the mortuary to identify the body of their arch enemy, Dr. Miguelito Loveless. A mourner at the morgue takes a key from the wrist of the corpse and West traces it back to a safe deposit box containing instructions to contact an attorney. When West makes contact, he also meets Dr. Leibknicht, the look-alike relative of Loveless.

(piano playing in distance)

( ominous theme playing)

Is Sheriff Quail around here?

That's me. Y-You
West and Gordon?


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.

QUAIL: 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.

GORDON: No breath at all.

QUAIL: He's dead
all right, young feller.

He's as dead as a
sliced, barbecued catfish.

(door opens)

WOMAN: 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.


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...



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.

( dramatic theme playing)

( upbeat western theme playing)

( upbeat theme playing)


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.

(bell rings)

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?

( upbeat theme playing)


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. (chuckles)

Well, sing out when
you're ready, gentlemen.

I'll, uh, commute your sentence.

(all laughing)

Here it is, Artie.

(box hissing)

Hit the ground!

(box whistling)


"229." You want to
go through that...?

No. No thanks, Artie.
You can have the honor.

(box hissing)

(box whistling)


GORDON: A typical
Loveless prank.

"No more loud noises, Mr. West.

"Just the name of a gentleman

it will pay to look
up: 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.

(crowd chattering)

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.

( suspenseful theme playing)


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?


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?

( dramatic theme playing)

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.


( suspenseful theme playing)

(knocking on door)

(knocking on door)


Anybody home?


(bird squawks)

BIRD: What's your pleasure?
What's your pleasure?

What's your pleasure?
What's your pleasure?



BIRD: What's your pleasure?
What's your pleasure?

What's your pleasure?
What's your pleasure?

(imitating Loveless)


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.


( dramatic theme playing)

(imitating Loveless) 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?


(Swiss accent)
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, 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?

(gunshots) DEUCE: 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.


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?

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.



( dramatic theme playing)

Oh, we're on fire!

It is gas.

One of the chloride
group, I believe.


That's poison gas.

( dramatic theme playing)

That horse and buggy
of yours. Where is it?

(coughing) 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.

BIRD: Executioner, Mr. West...

I'd better get
your late nephew's

last will and testament
out in the fresh air.

BIRD: of my estate.


(glass shatters)

( dramatic theme playing)

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... (bird squawking)

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?

( dramatic theme playing)

(bird squawking)

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.


(bird squawking)

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.

(bird squawking)

Dr. Liebknicht's Sanitorium

for the Treatment
of Nervous Diseases.

WEST: 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...

(men shouting indistinctly)

( dramatic theme playing)

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.


They're blocked off now.

So much for Deuce and his men.

(playing chord)

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.

(regular voice) 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.


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?

(gas hissing)


( dramatic theme playing)

(knock on door)


Dr. Langely, Dr. Crow.

Take the gentlemen
down the corridor.

Follow me, gentlemen.

(knock on door)

GORDON: Package.



Your name, doctor?

(English accent) 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. (clears throat)

Just a moment.


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.

(clears throat)

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.


Oh, you always work.

Dr. Ramone De LaPeletier.

(inmates howling, laughing)

( dramatic theme playing)

MAN: Hoist the
mainsail! Face the jib!

We'll have a quiet
night and a calm sea.

(inmates cackling)

(inmates chattering)

( ominous theme playing)

Delighted to see you
up again, Mr. West.

Thank you. What's
the program, doctor?

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.

GORDON: Non! (cane banging)

(speaking in French)

Doctor, if you please.

(French accent) 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!

( dramatic theme playing)

That door isn't gonna
hold much longer, Jim.



(inmates cackling)

That should muck it.

Artie, let's create
a little diversion.

Release the inmates.

Good idea.


(man laughing on recording)

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.

WEST: 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.

( dramatic theme playing)

This whole place is rigged
for spontaneous combustion.

Let's get to the elevator!

If you want to keep

that peaches-and-cream

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!"


Here you are, James.

"James West and Artemus Gordon."

I guess somebody sent us a gift.

Yeah, no return
address. Probably a bomb.






Uh, no name of a sender?

( dramatic theme playing)

( upbeat western theme playing)