The Untouchables (1959–1963): Season 2, Episode 25 - Mr. Moon - full transcript

Now, then, I'd like you to look

at this money, gentlemen.

I defy you to tell me

after the closest
possible examination

whether it's real
or counterfeit.

Feel the paper.

Feels as good as the real stuff.

Looks as good, too.

It ought to.

It's the same paper they use
at the Bureau of Engraving.

Indeed it is.



Tonight's episode...

Starring Robert
Stack as Eliot Ness.

Co-starring Victor
Buono, Bruce Gordon,

and Karl Swenson.

And narrated by Walter Winchell.

On a dark night
in the fall of 1934,

an armored truck,
carrying the special paper

used in the printing of
United States currency,

was speeding toward
Milwaukee, Wisconsin.

Its ultimate destination

was the Bureau of
Engraving in Washington, D.C.

Waiting at a crossroads a
mile ahead was a group of men

about to make
the first overt move

in the greatest
counterfeiting swindle



in the history of the world.

The execution of
this ingenious plan

had been in preparation
for over two years.

♪ ♪

In less than two minutes,
the first step in a plan

to defraud the people
of the United States

of $100 million was completed,
and three men lay dead.

Within 48 hours, Eliot Ness

and five other top crime experts

of the federal government
had been flown to Washington

and were in conference
with the men whose job it was

to protect the nation

against the economic
cancer of counterfeiting.

Switch on the lights.

The notes you have
just seen, gentlemen,

are relatively
crude counterfeits.

Now, any competent engraver
can make a passable copy of a $10,

$20, $50, even a $100 bill,

but the one thing

no counterfeiter has
ever been able to duplicate

is the unique texture of the
paper used in legal currency.

Now, up to the theft,

this paper has been our
most formidable weapon

against counterfeiters,

and that, gentlemen,
is why we must locate

that lost shipment.

Aren't your men
much more competent

in this field than we are, sir?

Well, in a sense, yes.

But that brings us back
to the element of time.

Our procedure in the
past has always been

to pick up the phony
money when it appears

and then backtrack
it to its source.

However, in this case,

with the counterfeits
issued on our own paper,

it may take weeks, even months

before we can lay
our hands on one note.

By that time, it
might be too late.

How can we help?

This job had to be
carefully planned

and above all
very well financed.

Top engravers don't come cheap,

and it's going to take
a big organization

to get this money
into circulation.

An established mob
with plenty of connections.

Precisely.

Now, each of you is familiar
with the criminal organization

in your respective territory.

We hope that one
of you can discover

who's behind this.

Do we stay in our own
territory if we get anything?

No. No, if any of you get a
lead, you have full authority

to pursue it anywhere
in the country.

We hope you'll
all give each other

the fullest possible
cooperation.

That's all, gentlemen.

Within three days of
his return to Chicago,

Eliot Ness and the
Untouchables had compiled a list

of engravers sufficiently
skilled to be entrusted

with a job of the magnitude
the paper theft suggested.

48 hours later, that list had
been reduced to five names.

You can scratch Gibson.

Dead?

No, he had a stroke last year.

Gibson had a stroke,
Morrison is dead,

LeClerc and Vogler are deported.

That leaves us
with Hans Dreiser.

According to our information,
he's the best of the lot.

A man with perfect paper,

and a man who can
make perfect plates.

Object: perfect money.

If it ever gets
into circulation,

we can stop looking.

Well, I found Dreiser.

Where?

He's doing 20 years
to life in Leavenworth.

At the precise moment

that Eliot Ness and his
men were concluding

that Hans Dreiser
could be ruled out

as a suspect in
the counterfeit plan

because he was safely
behind bars in Leavenworth,

two men in a black sedan
were parked at the base

of a high-voltage
transformer tower

less than 300 yards from
the walls of the prison.

The Treasury
Department in Washington

was immediately notified of
the escape of Hans Dreiser,

and the news was relayed

to the two closest
federal officers

investigating the
counterfeit plan.

Eliot Ness and Agent
Harold Brookson

arrived at Leavenworth
within minutes of one another.

Their investigations during
the next 48 hours led them

to the offices of the
Leavenworth Power Company.

Arizona, Joliet,
Folsom, Sing Sing.

This is quite a
record, Mr. Joplin.

All right, so I done time,
but I'm on the level now.

Been working for
the power company

for seven and a half months.

Ask Mr. Pearson.

It's true, Mr. Ness.

He came to us highly recommended

by an electrical contracting
firm in San Francisco.

Of course, we knew nothing
about his prison background.

Eh, it's the same old story.

A guy gets out of stir
and wants to go straight.

But will the cops let him? No.

The fact remains that
when the transformer blew up

the entire prison
electrical system went out.

You had access
to that transformer.

Look, I made a routine check.

The insulation on that
transformer was worn out,

and I made a report on it.

How does it happen the
transformer wasn't repaired

when Joplin's report was made?

Our men cover a very
large area, Mr. Brookson.

Unless there is an
emergency or a power failure,

it normally takes
three or four days

for a routine report
to be processed.

Look, I'm a three-time loser.

If they pin another rap on
me, they'll send me up for life.

Would I do
something that foolish?

All right, Joplin, you can go.

Thanks.

Mr. Ness,

I'd stake my life on the
fact that worn insulation

couldn't have made
that transformer blow up.

We know that, Mr. Pearson.

The transformer was
destroyed by a bomb.

Here's a fragment of
the timing mechanism.

You think Joplin did it?

We're sure of it.

Then why didn't you arrest him?

What are we going to use
for evidence, Mr. Pearson?

Joplin checked the
transformer in the line of duty.

He made a report
that it was defective.

But the bomb.

Anybody could have
planted the bomb.

No jury in the world
would convict Joplin.

He's covered
himself too carefully.

Well, I'll tell you one thing.

He's through with this company.

I know how you
feel, Mr. Pearson,

but I'd appreciate it
if you'd keep him on.

After what's happened?

If you fire him, he'll
know we think he's guilty.

I'd like him to believe
he got away with it.

He's the only lead we've got

to the man who
planned Dreiser's escape.

Arriving September
12 in San Francisco,

Hans Dreiser was taken straight
to Chow Lee's antique store.

Here, the man who could
make the perfect plates

was to meet the man
who had the perfect paper.

Ah, Mr. Dreiser, welcome.

Come in.

Sit down, Mr. Dreiser, sit down.

Take some tea.

You'll find it unique.

It's blended especially for
me in a little shop in Kashmir.

Ming Dynasty.

We shall get along
famously, Mr. Dreiser,

famously.

I shall be happy to show you
some of my other pretty things

while you are with us.

Now, then...
everything went well?

Just like you said
it would. Mm-hmm.

Excellent.

I can always rely on
Paddy, Mr. Dreiser.

I've had him with me for years.

He, uh, has a peculiar weakness.

He has no moral judgment.

He goes entirely
by what I tell him.

If I were to tell
him to kill you

or one of those lovely
creatures who just left us,

he would do so without
regret and without conscience.

You just tell me, Mr. Moon.

Oh, gently, Paddy, gently.

Mr. Dreiser is our friend.

We must always remember that.

No harm is to come to
him while he is with us.

You understand?

Yeah.

Now, then...

Here is the paper.

I know how you
must feel, Mr. Dreiser.

Like Raphael standing
before a pristine canvas,

ready to apply the first
delicate stroke of the brush.

Oh, the plates will
be as... as good

as those in the
Bureau of Engraving.

They will be
better, Mr. Dreiser,

for in you we have
the finest craftsman

in the nation.

It was well worth the effort

securing your release.

Indeed it was.

Come, I'll show you your studio.

You'll find it a trifle
primitive, perhaps.

One hates to put a
man of your sensibilities

in a basement.

However, I can offer
you one bit of solace.

The bed, Mr. Dreiser,
it was slept in

by the Emperor
Franz Joseph himself.

Come along. Oh!

In the two weeks following
Hans Dreiser's long trip

to San Francisco and
his meeting with Mr. Moon,

Ness's men trailed Benny
Joplin around the clock

without results, but 17
days after Dreiser's escape

from Leavenworth, Benny
Joplin bought a ticket

at a Kansas City bus station.

The man who just
bought the ticket,

where's he going?

Oakland, California... one way.

What time does his bus leave?

15 minutes, sir. Thank you.

Long distance,
this is Benny Joplin.

I want Oakland, California.

Humboldt, 6480... collect.

Hello?

Yeah, it's me.

Perfect, I'll be there Tuesday.

Later.

Bus from Topeka now arriving.

Ness.

Eliot, Lee.

I'm at the bus station.

Joplin just called a number
in Oakland, California.

Is he pulling out?

It looks that way... He
bought a ticket for Oakland.

I think we're in trouble.

Why?

Well, the bus
leaves in ten minutes,

and Joplin just got
a good look at me

as he came out
of the phone booth.

Did you get the phone
number he called?

Yes. Let him go.

We'll see if we can't
meet him in Oakland.

Right.

Westbound bus,
leaving immediately.

All aboard, please.

While Eliot Ness and his men
were en route to San Francisco

in the hopes of
intercepting Benny Joplin,

Hans Dreiser was hard at work

in Mr. Moon's basement
apartment and storeroom

beneath Chow Lee's Antique Shop.

Flip the record, please.

Oh, for crying out
loud, you gotta listen

to that junk all day every day?

Monk...

Do as he says.

Yeah, sure.

Well?

Beethoven... Third
Symphony, first movement.

Oh, very good, very good.

Well, someday I'll fool you.

Of that I have no doubt,
but not with Beethoven,

Mr. Dreiser, he's
far too definitive.

Yeah.

Thank you.

It's exquisite.

Exquisite.

Thank you.

When will you be finished?

Oh, um, one more
week, maybe two.

It does not pay to
hurry with such a thing.

No, indeed it does
not, Mr. Dreiser,

but there are
certain arrangements

I must make, certain contacts,

and then, too, you
will want your money.

One does not raise a
quarter of a million dollars

in a moment's
notice. No, indeed.

Now, I will leave
you to your work.

Uh, there is just
one more thing.

Would you mind accompanying me?

Right this way.

I don't anticipate
any interruptions

from the outside,
but just in case,

there is a means of
egress at your disposal.

I have a button upstairs

which will sound
at your work table

should there be any
unexpected intrusions.

Thank you.

The phone number Lee
Hobson had obtained

in the Kansas City phone booth

led Eliot Ness and
the Untouchables

to a small frame house
in Oakland, California.

Yeah?

I'm a federal
officer, Mrs. Joplin.

My name is Ness.

May I come in?

If you're looking
for my husband,

he's not here.

I came to see you, Mrs. Joplin.

So, you see me.

What's on your mind?

When your husband was
released from San Quentin,

he went to work for a power
company in Kansas City.

That's right.

Do you know who
helped him get that job?

No.

Have you heard from him?

Not for weeks.

Why? Is he in some
kind of trouble?

I'm afraid he is.

The man who got him that
job was using your husband

to help a notorious
counterfeiter

escape from prison.

Don't make me laugh.

It's hardly a laughing
matter, Mrs. Joplin.

The man Benny helped
free is part of a ring

that plans to flood the
country with $100 million

in counterfeit money.

Well, look around you.

Would you say my
husband's in a racket

worth a... $100 million?

I've been married to
Benny Joplin for ten years.

He's been in
prison eight of them.

I'm tired of being
a rock pile widow.

I'd like my husband
around for a change.

Your chances of that are
pretty slim, Mrs. Joplin,

unless you can persuade Benny

to tell us who hired him.

How can I do that if I
don't know where he is?

Wherever he is,
I can tell you this.

He has been poorly paid

for his part in
springing Hans Dreiser.

Benny probably did the job

for a few thousand dollars.

The counterfeit ring stands
to net nearly $50 million.

If you hear from your husband,
you can help him and us

by having him call
me at that number.

Thanks for your
help, Mrs. Joplin.

You heard?

Yeah, I heard.

How did they ever find me?

I waited almost three
weeks before I made a move.

Benny, I told you
it was too risky.

I told you... Shut up, shut up.

They ain't ever
gonna let me go now.

I'm a three-time
loser... I gotta get away.

We gotta get away!

Yeah, yeah, we.

It's gotta be far away:
South America, Europe,

someplace where they...

they can't get
their hands on us.

We don't have
that kind of money.

Then we gotta get it.

What are you gonna do?

I got to see Mr. Moon.

Knowing that Mrs. Joplin
had lied when she insisted

she had not talked to
her husband for weeks,

Ness ordered a 24-hour
stakeout on the Joplin home,

but he had not
expected it to pay off

within minutes of his departure.

Hello. Ness.

Hello, Eliot. Rico.

Joplin just went
into an oriental shop

on Grant Avenue, a
place called Chow Lee's.

We'll be there in 20 minutes.

Benny's on the move. Let's go.

I gotta get out, Mr. Moon.

I gotta get clean
out of the country.

And for that, you'll need money.

Listen, Mr. Moon,
I... I ain't trying

to squeeze you,
you gotta believe that.

You paid me good for
that Leavenworth job,

and I may have to be on the lam

for a long time,
and I got a wife.

Ten grand?

Send me a postcard from Baghdad.

Thanks, Mr. Moon.

Thanks a million.

Anything for a friend, Benny.

Yeah, well, I guess
I'd better be going.

Lisa will show you out
the back way... Lisa.

Thanks again, Mr. Moon.

Kill him.

Bring back the money.

Yeah.

Is he still in there?

As far as I know.

Only one person has come out.

A real fat man... I got
his license number.

Good.

Maybe we've been had.

It's the oldest
dodge in the world

for losing a tail:

in the front door
and out the back.

If he knew he was being tailed,

but I don't think he did.

So how do we play it?

Let's start by finding out

who that license
number belongs to.

And now, back to...

On the night of October
4, the body of Benny Joplin

was dragged from the
waters of San Francisco Bay

and taken to the county morgue.

It contained three bullet holes.

Eliot, I just missed
you at the office.

We found out who those
license plates belongs to:

a man named Melanthos Moon.

He owns the antique
shop that Joplin went into.

It's a good thing we didn't wait

for Joplin to come out.

Why?

There he is.

Oh.

Anything on Moon?

We're running a make on him now.

So far all we know is
that he's got a finger

in almost every
pie in Chinatown.

What about the shop?

Well, it seems legitimate.

He's owned it for ten years.

Just the same, I think
I'm going to be on hand

when it opens tomorrow morning.

It ought to be interesting
to hear Moon's explanation

of why people who
disappear in his shop end up

in San Francisco Bay.

Benny Joplin?

I'm afraid the name is not
a familiar one, Mr. Ness.

He was seen coming into
your shop night before last.

Well, I can't deny that.

A great many people
come into my shop.

This one didn't come out.

Ah. Then he is still here.

He's in the morgue.

Then logic would dictate

that he must have come out,

wouldn't it, Mr. Ness?

He could have been carried
out, Mr. Moon, by the back door?

Oh, dear, dear, dear!

Am I being accused of murder?

The thought has crossed my mind.

How fascinating!

You know it is said

that if you live in
Chinatown long enough,

eventually, everything
will happen to you.

Apparently, there's
some truth in the saying.

Let's stop the polite
conversation, shall we?

Here's a search warrant.

Well, that was quite
unnecessary, Mr. Ness.

My contacts with
the legal authorities

have been somewhat limited,

but I shall do my humble best

to assist you in
whatever way I can.

May I show you around?

If you don't mind.

Where does this go?

The basement and
the janitor's quarters.

Permit me.

Fireworks?

For the Chinese
holidays, Mr. Ness.

I buy them every year.

A small token of my appreciation

for the courtesy my Chinese
friends have extended me.

Who's this?

One of my employees.

His name is Grover.

Takes care of the place for me.

These are his quarters.

Not elaborate, mind you,

but the fact that his
bed once belonged

to the Emperor Franz
Joseph is partial compensation.

Isn't it, Grover?

Yeah.

Printing another of
your business sidelines?

My business, Mr. Ness.

But hardly your only
business, Mr. Moon.

We checked into your
affairs very carefully.

There's also the fan-tan
parlors and the girls.

What is one to do, Mr. Ness?

When one has expensive tastes,

one must find a
way to cater to them.

A man could satisfy even
the most expensive tastes

with $100 million,
wouldn't you say?

A hundred million?

Ooh, I should say he could.

Announcing the
departure of Flight Two

for Sacramento,
Reno, Salt Lake City,

Chicago, Cleveland and New York.

All aboard, please.

Come, come, my good man.

It's your ticket to Chicago.

Our seats are in
the rear of the plane.

I always prefer
flying in the rear.

It's so much safer, you know.

I do hope you don't
mind... now, come along.

Now then, Mr. Nitti,

I believe you have
a registered letter

which was addressed
to me in your care.

You sent that stuff
through the mail?

Can you think of a safer way?

United States mail... The
safest service in the world.

If I had this money on my
person and for some reason

I were picked up by the police,

no place of concealment
would be adequate.

Now then, I'd like you

to look at this
money, gentlemen.

I defy you to tell me

after the closest
possible examination

whether it's real
or counterfeit.

Feel the paper.

Feels as good as the real stuff.

Looks as good, too.

It ought to.

It's the same paper they use
at the Bureau of Engraving.

So it was you who
hijacked that paper truck.

This is great work.

Who did it?

Never mind.

I can guess.

Somebody sprung
Dreiser from Leavenworth.

I don't suppose you had anything
to do with that, either, huh?

Plates by Dreiser on
paper by Uncle Sam.

That's pretty hard to beat.

It'll take 'em years
to spot this stuff!

Why don't some of you boys
come up with ideas like this?

All right, Mr. Moon,
what's your proposition?

I believe in
simplicity, Mr. Nitti.

I deliver the money,

you and your friends
put it into circulation.

Oh, but the big risks are ours.

The big risks are over.

With this money, you
can pay your taxes,

the tracks, the houses,

the gambling tables.

Who's to know the
money's counterfeit?

Would you yourself
if I hadn't told you?

Okay, what's the split?

I'm prepared to be generous.

One third for you,
two thirds for me.

Oh, that's bad arithmetic.

It's usually the other
way around, huh, boys?

Mm. Mm-hmm. Yeah.

Dear, dear, dear, dear, dear.

You disappoint me, Mr. Nitti.

Prohibition is over.

The days of the
big money are over.

Indeed they are.

Can you afford to
throw away $33 million?

Nobody ever got a
bigger cut than we did.

Now you're being more
reasonable, Mr. Nitti.

Shall we stop bargaining
and say 50-50?

How does that
suit you, Mr. Nitti?

$50 million for you,
and $50 million for me.

Nice round figures,
both of them.

How does that strike you?

Okay, it's a deal.

Uh, there is just one point.

I had, of course, intended
to take care of this myself,

but since you have forced me

to give up an extra 16
and two-thirds percent,

I feel less hesitation
in putting it to you.

What is it?

Front money.

How much?

Half a million.

Half a million?!

In cash and today.

That's out of the question!

You sure?

I'm sure.

In that case,

if you gentlemen will excuse me,

I have an
appointment in Detroit.

Wait a minute!

What do you want that money for?

Half of it goes to my engraver,

the other half, I will
need for petty cash.

Call Guzik.

Tell him I want 500 Gs in cash.

I want it now. All right.

When do we get the stuff?

As soon as I can print it.

Unfortunately, due to the
nature of the merchandise,

I'm constrained to
use a small handpress.

Laborious, but safe.

Don't take too long, huh?

When I lay out that
much dough up front,

I worry.

While Mr. Moon was flying back

from Chicago to arrange delivery

of the counterfeit
money to Frank Nitti,

Eliot Ness and his men
were desperately trying

to arrive at some method
of preventing the fat man

from getting the counterfeit

they were sure he
possessed into circulation.

I think we've got to gamble
that Mr. Moon is not going

to waste government
paper and Dreiser's plates

on bills of small denominations.

Twenties, you think?

More likely fifties
and hundreds.

Mr. Moon has expensive tastes.

Plus the fact he knows

nobody can recognize
the counterfeit.

We have two things going for us.

We know the bills will all have
to be the same denominations.

We know they'll all
have the same year,

date and serial numbers.

Dreiser hasn't had time to make
any more than one set of plates.

Well, if we can
find one of the bills,

all the others
will be identical.

That's it.

Trying to find that first one

is like looking for a
needle in a haystack.

So, how do we start?

The hard way.

We'll have to make arrangements

to contact every place
of business that's liable

to get 50 or 100 dollar bills.

Race tracks, night
clubs, theatres.

Hello?

Yeah, just a minute.

Chicago.

Hello. Ness.

Eliot, Bill. How
are things going?

Not good. What have you got?

Plenty. Moon arrived here
yesterday at about 6:00 p.m.

He went straight
to Nitti's place,

and he stayed there
until after midnight.

Where is he now?

He's on his way
back to San Francisco.

He left this morning
on Flight 17.

Thanks, Bill.

Mr. Moon's on his way back.

He went to see Frank Nitti.

Distribution?

Looks like it.

If Moon's going to fence
the stuff through Nitti,

he'd be a fool to put it
in circulation around here

when he knows we suspect him.

That's true, but let's
not take any chances.

The money's in San Francisco.

Until we're sure it's gone,
let's cover everything.

Impatiently awaiting
Mr. Moon's return, Hans Dreiser,

who could no longer be kept
on the premises of Chow Lee's,

was closeted in a
small midtown apartment

above one of Mr. Moon's
fan-tan parlors.

He had been a virtual
prisoner for more than a week.

Stop! Stop!

What you are doing that for?

Because I've had it!
I've had it right up to here!

That same... Mr. Moon
says I can do this!

When you're working, that's why!

But you're not working now,

and I don't have
to put up with this!

Stop! You leave me... Why you...

I don't... I'm not here
because I want to be here.

I'm here because
Mr. Moon doesn't want

you should be lonesome,
but I've had all of you

I can take, do you understand?

Yes, and why don't say
when he's coming back?

You'll see him
when he gets back!

I am sick and tired...
Will you shut up?!!

Can't you get it through
that thick skull of yours?

You're hot! Huh? Hot!

We're keeping you
under wraps here

because your puss is plastered

in every post office
across this whole country!

Here! Here, read the paper!

Go on, read it!

Maybe that'll take your
mind off that-that lousy music!

Where you are going?

I'm going down to get a drink.

Believe me, I've earned it.

♪ ♪

By 8:25 p.m... Eliot Ness

and the Untouchables
were already engaged

in the laborious process of
checking the $50 and $100 notes

which had been picked
up by messengers

from various businesses
in the San Francisco area.

Please, I've got
to see this opera.

This is my favorite.

You must have something way
back in the balcony, anywhere.

I told you before, we have
only one seat left... a box.

We wouldn't have that if it
weren't for a cancellation.

But how much cost such a thing?

Six dollars.

Do you want the
ticket or don't you, sir?

I, uh, I'm sorry.

Yeah, I take it.

Is this the smallest
bill you have?

I got only three ones.

Please, please.

I'm missing the overture.

If I get my hands
on Monk, I'll kill him.

I told him not to leave
Dreiser alone for a second.

Monk is the least of
our worries at this point.

But why would Dreiser take off?

Why?! Why indeed?

A most provocative question.

♪ ♪

This way, Mr. Dreiser,

and don't make a
fuss or I'll hit you.

Gently, Paddy, gently.

That's no way to
handle an artist.

Did you enjoy the
performance, Mr. Dreiser?

It was wonderful.

I'm delighted, but it was very
reckless of you, Mr. Dreiser,

very reckless indeed.

Why did you do it?

That Monk, he broke
my phonograph.

I noticed.

It was unpardonable of him
and he shall be punished for it.

Good.

Come, come, Paddy, let's
take our wandering friend home.

Hello.

The manager? Just
a minute, please.

It's for you.

This is Mr. Lovell speaking.

Yes, sir.

Yes, sir, we're just going
over our receipts now.

We'll let you know.

That's quite all right.

Federal agents... they're
looking for counterfeit bills.

Did we get any new
50s or 100s tonight?

Well, yes.

The last sale.

Funny little man.

He wanted a cheap seat.

Mm-hmm.

How did you escape from Monk?

Well, after he broke
my phonograph,

he went downstairs for a drink.

I see, and you took the
opportunity to slip away.

It's really clever
of you, Mr. Dreiser,

but as I said terribly risky.

You might have been apprehended.

Yeah, but I wasn't.

Quite fortunate for
all of us, yes, indeed.

I'm surprised you
were able to get a ticket

on such short notice.

They were all sold out,
but there was a cancellation

and I got a box seat,
the best in the house.

I'll show you.

I-I got the stub right here.

You had no money.

You had no money.

Where did you get this?

Answer me.

Answer me!

This is the change
from a $100 bill!

But I-I-I took one, only one!

I want for souvenir!

He's dead, Mr. Moon.

Get him out of here.

Here?

Get him out!

Yeah, sure.

What do we do now, Mr. Moon?

Back to the opera house.

Hurry. Yes, sir.

I hope I'm not intruding.

I am looking for a $100 bill

which I believe was tendered
to you tonight by mistake.

I'm sorry.

I know this is a trifle unusual.

I'm a collector.

The bill was a special issue.

My wife used it to
cash a friend's check.

I'm most interested
in having it back.

It's not here.

I'm not sure I understand.

It's been picked up.

Chow Lee's, hurry.

Did you get the bill?

No, it's been picked up.

Ness probably has it by now.

We've got to get out
while there's still time.

Hurry!

Hello. Ness.

This is Mr. Lovell
at the opera house.

A man was just here
asking for a new $100 bill

that we took in this evening.

However, it was not the
same man who gave it to us.

This man was very
fat, wore a beard,

and, oh, yes, he carried a cane.

Is he still there?

No, he left just a minute ago.

Thanks.

Grab your hat.

Somebody passed a bill, and
Mr. Moon tried to get it back.

He may be on the run.

Jack, watch the store.

The feds... they just
pulled up outside.

Quick, out the back way.

Go around back.

I'll give you half a minute.

Right.

Run, Paddy, run.

I don't want to
leave you, Mr. Moon.

You must. Don't
worry about me, Paddy.

Save yourself.

Now run.

Run.

Halt!

Halt!

♪ ♪

Eliot!

I'm all right!

Come on, let's get out of here

before the whole place goes up.

Mr. Moon, who had lived
such an extraordinary life,

died proving the truth
of his own observation

that if you live long
enough in Chinatown,

almost everything will
happen to you sooner or later.