NORTON: (sigh) Folgate, Room 13, What's your inquiry? (pause) Yes, you may, of course, speak to my boss. For you, Liz, another dead Nazi.
LIZBETH: Hayhoe here, apparently you've a dead Nazi for me? (pause) No, bits of him is fine. In the Ganges, really? Pleased to hear that endeavors bit the dust. (pause) No, no, thanks, thanks for letting me know, but really next time Folgate's good enough, toodle pip.
NORTON: Good enough?
LIZBETH: Well, you are. So, chunks of an Obergruppenführer washed up downstream from a dark monastery. One of yours?
NORTON: One of mine. Grapevine said he was heading there looking to steal their-
LIZBETH: Crystal skull?
NORTON: Crystal skull.
LIZBETH: Occultists really are the accountants of Nazis. So you tipped off the chief Rabbi-
NORTON: Actually, they call him the Kokusai Fukyoshi.
LIZBETH: Huh, now there is.
NORTON: Look it up!
LIZBETH: So, you tipped off the chief Rabbi and they saw to the rest? Good souls. (sigh) I'll cross another off the list.
LIZBETH: You've got to stop treating Project Hermod like a box of chocs, at this rate there'll be no Nazis left by Whitsun.
NORTON: (groan) I'm bored, Lizbeth.
LIZBETH: Of course you are! Only failures are bored.
NORTON: I am not a failure. Am I?
LIZBETH: After your last little scrape you expected to be running Torchwood, instead they stuck you in Room 13, with me!
NORTON: The department of discontinued lines.
LIZBETH: Unkind.
NORTON: Apart from Project Hermod there's nothing fun to do! I'm answering the phone for you, that's all.
LIZBETH: (sigh) They used to send me keen ex-Wrens. Then they got wise to that. No more jolly girls for Hayhoe. This is as much a punishment for you as for me.
NORTON: But we could be doing something!
LIZBETH: Such as?
NORTON: The Stagnant Pond taking over the streets, or the way that people are dying in the smog.
LIZBETH: None of this is Room 13's pigeon.
NORTON: Come on! There's something living in the fog, you know there is. We could just have a peep at it.
LIZBETH: No.
NORTON: Tiny peek?
LIZBETH: No-ho. I've had my fingers burned once too often. No ones interested in the smog, not after that business in '52, and I'm not getting dragged into one of your schemes. It has been made quite clear to me that Lizbeth Hayhoe is not wanted on deck. So, I'm biding my time and steerage until I get a pension, a cottage in Hebden Bridge, and a bitter old bulldog I call Marjorie to bicker out my twilight with.
NORTON: You've one of the finest minds here. In one of the ugliest bodies-
LIZBETH: Ha!
NORTON: But surely you want more!
LIZBETH: No. We sit, waiting for the phone to ring.
NORTON: But, the fog, we could at least send a clerk to get samples-
LIZBETH: No, and that's final. Tell you what, we should celebrate your Nazi. Lets toast some crumpets.
GIDEON: Excuse me, miss! Miss! (sigh) Could I see the menu?
NORTON: The only thing you're going to get shown here is your place. Mind if I sit?
GIDEON: You're sat already.
NORTON: So I am. Waitress!
WAITRESS: Sir...
NORTON: Thank you! We'll have two teas, and two scrambled eggs, and I would like my friends to contain the same amount of nasal hair as my own, thank you.
WAITRESS: Sir.
GIDEON: Thanks. I, uh, don't like scrambled eggs.
NORTON: Oh, then you'll hate them here. It's that powdered stuff, but you'd have stood no chance getting fed otherwise.
GIDEON: Sure...
NORTON: Our teas, thank you! Seriously, did you really think you'd get served in this teahouse?
GIDEON: Why wouldn't I?
NORTON: You know why. Don't you people have your own places?
GIDEON: My people?
NORTON: Just- uh- No I mean- Wouldn't it make things easier, to get tea?
GIDEON: (sigh)
NORTON: Okay, but then surely you then make your tearooms better than the other ones, which wouldn't be hard, and then everyone would want to come to yours and there wouldn't be a problem anymore.
GIDEON: Oh my God, you've just solved racism.
NORTON: Excuse me?
GIDEON: I don't know who you are-
NORTON: Norton Folgate.
GIDEON: And I don't know what you do for a living-
NORTON: Librarian.
GIDEON: But you've clearly led a sheltered, innocent life.
NORTON: I'll have you know- (sigh) No, you're right, I'm sorry. But I did buy you tea.
NORTON: (gasps) And scrambled eggs! Scrummo! Ugh, Brenda! Brenda! These are gray!
NORTON: I've got to get back to work. Which way is work?
GIDEON: My auntie has a biscuit tin of London, Tower Bridge, Big Ben-
NORTON: A guardsman.
GIDEON: You know the tin?
NORTON: Everyone's aunt has that biscuit tin.
GIDEON: London looks nothing like that tin. For one thing, there was no smog. Curb!
NORTON: Thanks. They say it's Battersea Power Station, but others say it's a completely natural occurrence. To which I say: turn the power station off for a week, see what happens.
GIDEON: And, oh my God, now you've solved the smog!
NORTON: I'm just saying!
GIDEON: One day without the BBC and electric light and there'd be rioting in the streets.
NORTON: Ha! If they could find the streets.
GIDEON: True. If I'm right, the Strand is... that way.
NORTON: Oh, is that where you work? Haberdashers?
GIDEON: No, Fleet Street. I'm a reporter.
NORTON: Oh!
GIDEON: What's that mean? Surprised?
NORTON: Oh, just, I'll have to be careful around you.
GIDEON: Librarians have a lot of secrets?
NORTON: Cross us and you'll never get your hands on Lady Chatterley.
GIDEON: I consider myself warned.
NORTON: Look out!
GIDEON: Thank you! What is it with those cabs? Even when the fog is this thick and there's nothing else on the road, they just keep going, amazing!
NORTON: They're like giant beetles. How can they see where they're going? Anyway, this is me.
GIDEON: There's a library on this street?
NORTON: Librarians have a lot of secrets.
NORTON: Another power cut? I was just saying they should turn Battersea off.
LIZBETH: I'm using fag ends of candles.
LIZBETH: Someone was supposed to get more!
NORTON: Sorry...
LIZBETH: Someone is also late!
NORTON: Someone met someone.
LIZBETH: Is this going to be one of your wearisome pansy stories? (mocking his voice) "And then the lights came on-"
NORTON: But it was only Princess Margaret looking for ice! "Carry on boys, carry on!" Have I told you that one?
LIZBETH: Many times. There's actual work to be done. See that pile of folders on your desk?
NORTON: I'd rather not.
LIZBETH: Came up from the clerks for you.
NORTON: I sent revenge.
LIZBETH: Stop treating them like skivvies. So, somethings being shipped into the UK through the Suez Canal. Curious markings on the crates, murky ports of origin, clumsy forgeries on the custom forms. So we know it's headed into gangland.
NORTON: And you think it's extraterrestrial? It's going to be stockings.
LIZBETH: That happened once!
NORTON: And they're never letting you forget it.
LIZBETH: I maintain it was a real supply route! And so's this one! And you and I are going to prove it and close it down!
NORTON: Meanwhile, everyone else gets on with the real work of Torchwood.
LIZBETH: Saving the empire from aliens? That was never your kind of thing.
NORTON: Well, sending people to poke into crates of nylons certainly isn't.
LIZBETH: Have a look at it for Lizbeth, or go out and get some candles!
NORTON: (groan)
LIZBETH: (sigh)
NORTON: Ramsgate, three crates. Portsmouth, four crates. Margate, seven crates... Huh. Dreamland.
LIZBETH: Giving up already?
NORTON: Solved it already! I'm bricked up alive in here with you while people are vanishing in the smog and gangs are taking over. I could be doing something about it, but no, black market stuff. If Norton promises to close this, can Norton kill another Nazi, please?
LIZBETH: I'll consider it. Any in particular?
NORTON: Same as ever, another member of Project Hermod, hiding in Panama this time.
LIZBETH: Panama?
NORTON: The other canal. Oh, it'll be dead cheap. You could use a local stringer, given the value of the Balboa, go crazy, hire two flick knives!
LIZBETH: Fine. Let me ask the clerks. The way you treat them will come back to haunt you one day.
NORTON: Will it? I slipped the files under your typewriter, see you later.
LIZBETH: Wait, where are you going?
NORTON: I'm going to Dreamland.
BELLE: (grumbling)
NORTON: Not your lucky day, is it, Belle?
BELLE: It swallows my money.
NORTON: Oh, one armed bandits do that. I only play games where you can see everyone one of your opponents moves.
BELLE: Tell me how to win?
NORTON: Oh, Belle. What's in that for me?
BELLE: But it just keeps taking and taking! (groan) What are you doing in Margate?
NORTON: Same question back at you. Is the Stagnant Pond expanding?
BELLE: You proposing an alliance?
NORTON: Dear God, no. I just want to know what you're doing here. First you take over Soho, now the seaside?
BELLE: I'll answer you if you tell me how to play this damn thing. Ain't like baccara, what do I do?
NORTON: Hold the fruit and nudge.
BELLE: Will I win?
NORTON: No, but I've always wanted to say that. It's good to see you.
BELLE: We ain't seen you in the Stagnant Pond for awhile.
NORTON: No, you haven't. Like you, I don't like games I can't win.
BELLE: Word is, you're a busted flush.
NORTON: I'm still playing. Here on a special project. And, no, Belle, these things don't take guineas.
BELLE: Damn new money! (groan) I thought if I played big I'd win big.
NORTON: Which is why you're in Margate, isn't it?
BELLE: Margate, Margate, Margate. Can't a girl have a day trip?
NORTON: I know what happens to you if you're away from home for too long. It's all the risks for you today, so why?
BELLE: You know the Stagnant Pond, we don't like being left out of the game, s'all. (extended groan)
NORTON: This "game"-
BELLE: (sigh)
NORTON: This "game" wouldn't be certain packages getting delivered to your rivals and you, you're curious.
BELLE: Got a tip-off, did some digging.
NORTON: Of course you did. It's easier for you than for me, prettiest teddy girl in London. I imagine the locals were bowled over.
BELLE: Maybe they took to my manners.
NORTON: Haha! There you are. I'd have got nowhere. So, your plan is to... swoop in and steal the loot?
BELLE: And your plan is to swoop in and steal the loot off me?
NORTON: The very idea! I'm shocked, shocked! I just want a look-see. I want to know what's coming in, because I think it's come a very long way.
BELLE: You ain't gonna stop me getting my hands on it?
NORTON: Not unless it's dangerous.
BELLE: And who decides that?
NORTON: I decide that.
BELLE: Nah. I'd had enough of losing today.
NORTON: Oh, fair enough. Excuse me while I blow this whistle.
BELLE: You what?
NORTON: Well, I know what happens to you if you miss your last train home. Fancy a night in the cells? They've, uh... three plainclothes detectives in here, watching you like hawks would a bunny. And I'm a very good un-pickpocket.
BELLE: Ay?
NORTON: Where is my watch? Oh, no, it wouldn't happen to be in your bustle, would it? Now should I whistle, or cry for help? What's it to be?
BELLE: Wait-
NORTON: Help, oh help, oh thief-
BELLE: Alright, alright, alright, calm yourself. Sake.
NORTON: Where's the pickup happening?
NORTON: Margate Pier, who'd have thoughts whelks would stink so much.
BELLE: This place has come down since my time. They did nice jellied eels. Loved 'em when I was a girl. I'd been hoping for some.
NORTON: Tough. We're cutting it fine if you're going to make your train.
BELLE: What's to stop me running now?
NORTON: You wouldn't be planning it if you brought it up. You're as curious as me.
BELLE: (sharply inhales) It's cold. What time is it?
NORTON: Check my watch.
BELLE: Uh, oh, the deliveries late.
NORTON: How do you know?
BELLE: The package was thrown off the side of a trawler into a fishing boat which is half a mile out. Konstantin hired a motorized boat an hour ago, so he should be back by now.
NORTON: You are thorough, Belle.
BELLE: People like me. You should try being nice.
NORTON: No.
BELLE: I'm wondering how things are going for you.
NORTON: Very well, thank you. Is that the boat?
BELLE: Word was, after you blew up half Leicester Square-
NORTON: And saved the other half.
BELLE: Word was, you were in the running for the top spot at Torchwood. But here you are, standing on Margate docks, chasing after a package, and furtive as mince!
NORTON: How exactly is mince furtive?
BELLE: You know what I mean. If you need a favor or somewhere to hide, remember the Stagnant Pond.
NORTON: No. Thank you. I'd rather not be in debt to you. And again, can you hear a motorboat?
BELLE: Oh, alright, this time you ain't lying.
NORTON: I never lie!
BELLE: But you'd make a lawyer blench.
NORTON: Here comes Konstantin.
BELLE: Do we off him before or after we steal the package?
NORTON: We're not offing anyone. (pause) After.
BELLE: And I get to keep what's inside.
NORTON: If I decide it's safe.
BELLE: I wasn't asking permission. Uh, he ain't slowing down.
NORTON: Greeks are terrible drivers.
BELLE: He should be slowing down by now.
The boat gets closer, the sound getting louder
NORTON: Hold on, is the man driving the boat Konstantin?
BELLE: Doesn't look like him.
NORTON: Doesn't look like a man.
BELLE: What do you mean?
NORTON: Ah, it's coming right for us!
BELLE: Get away!
NORTON: Look out!
BELLE: Oh my God! It's still moving in the flame! What is it?
NORTON: It's climbing up the steps, you can ask it.
BELLE: Flamin' Nora! What is that thing?
NORTON: Uh, fast!
BELLE: We should run!
NORTON: No, even on fire it's faster than us.
BELLE: Ah, it reeks!
BELLE: You shot it! It didn't do much.
NORTON: No, but useful!
BELLE: Useful?
NORTON: I shot it roughly in the head, the heart, and the major organs, and it's not stopping it. How dolly!
BELLE: Now what?! We die?!
NORTON: No, I've been saving... this!
NORTON: For a special occasion! Ugh, ah well.
BELLE: (gasps)
NORTON: Disintegrator gun. Last shot. Shame, always feels like finishing off a bottle of duty-free créme de menthe. Ah, memories.
NORTON: So, shall we catch our train?
BELLE: But, uh, where's my package?
NORTON: Our package. Looks like someone got there first and left that thing in its stead. Shame it's obliterated, I'd have loved to examine it. Wonder what it was.
NORTON: Funny how bystanders only turn up when the fun's over. Come on, let's get out of here.
NORTON: Ah! There you are, Lizbeth. I got in early, there's a bacon roll waiting for you! Proper bacon, no bits!
LIZBETH: Let me hang up my hat and coat before I deliver your bollock.
NORTON: If you're going to be cross with Norton, he's not going to give you your bacon roll, and that'd be a shame. It's got more sauce in it than Danny La Rue.
LIZBETH: Oh, shut up and give me that!
NORTON: Oi! Not fair!
LIZBETH: Shut up! I can reduce you to tears and eat breakfast.
NORTON: (sniffles) Oh, dispatch says another Nazi is dead. Goodbye Project Hermod! That's good news, isn't it? Isn't it? (sigh) Come on, then.
LIZBETH: Norton, when you were assigned to Room 13- (with her mouth full) Oh God this is good.
NORTON: Yes, the devil has the best fried piggy-wiggies.
LIZBETH: What is Room 13?
NORTON: Room 13 is where Torchwood's intellectual elite-
LIZBETH: The awkward squad.
NORTON: Supervise operations, manipulate events, orchestrate cover-ups, bully clerks.
LIZBETH: (her mouth still full) And most of all, keep out of harm's way. We do not (swallow) get our hands dirty.
LIZBETH: Do you know what this memo says?
NORTON: What memo?
LIZBETH: The memo that I'm currently cleaning my chops with, it's from Rigsby.
NORTON: Of course it is.
LIZBETH: "Forgive me if I seem a little put out, chaps, but news reached me-"
LIZBETH & NORTON TOGETHER: "over dinner at Chequers,"
LIZBETH: "And composing this means I'm missing out on the lord chancellor's recitation of Gilbert and Sullivan,"
NORTON: (groan)
LIZBETH: God, does Rigsby even hear himself?
NORTON: Clearly not.
LIZBETH: "So, you will understand if I forcefully express my displeasure once again finding myself surrounded by underlings who are incompetent fools!" And etcetera.
NORTON: Someone learned his management style from Emperor Ming.
LIZBETH: He goes on.
NORTON: Of course he does. God, his poor fag at Eton must've been begging for the cane every time he burnt the toast. Give that here.
NORTON: Oh! Got it on the fire in one. Do I say goal?
LIZBETH: You do not.
NORTON: So, what's it to be? Lecture or ruler across the knuckles?
LIZBETH: (sigh) When you work for Room 13, you stay in Room 13, you coordinate operations remotely. You do not go out into the field, you do not go hunting black marketeers with gangsters, you do not incinerate suspected aliens. What have we got after your excursion? No package, no suspect, no witnesses, a trawler full of dead fisherman.
NORTON: They're dead? How dead?
LIZBETH: Very.
NORTON: I meant how did they die?
LIZBETH: Shot.
NORTON: And no sign of Konstantin the greek?
LIZBETH: None.
NORTON: Because for a middle man, he was an awfully good shot.
LIZBETH: Are you suggesting the suspected extraterrestrial you eliminated was working with him?
NORTON: Maybe you're not the only one interested in these packages.
LIZBETH: Go on.
NORTON: And doesn't a lot of dead bodies suggest you're on the right lines?
LIZBETH: Do go on.
NORTON: Twist the broom up Rigsby's ass to get more resources to investigate by pinning the blame for the snafu entirely on the person whose promotion he stole.
LIZBETH: (chuckle) You're devious, Folgate.
NORTON: Practical.
LIZBETH: Get on to the clerks, find the source of these packages. Because I think a lot more people are going to die.
GIDEON: Oh, you came!
NORTON: Do you just sit here waiting for me to turn up and order for you?
GIDEON: (snort) Tell yourself that.
NORTON: How long have you been sat here?
GIDEON: 10 minutes.
NORTON: Call it 15. I notice you have no tea in front of you, so... Waitress! Two teas and two ham sandwiches! No bogie in the pickle. There.
GIDEON: Everyone should have someone of a different skin following them around fetching and carrying.
NORTON: Ooh, politics, is that the kind of journalism you do?
GIDEON: No.
NORTON: Lost dogs?
GIDEON: Lost causes.
NORTON: Ah, find any?
GIDEON: One or two.
NORTON: Thank you, looks delicious. Check for bogies anyway.
GIDEON: How's the library?
NORTON: How's changing the subject?
GIDEON: I'm interested!
NORTON: Well, well, since you ask. I was recently overlooked for a promotion, the new boss of the... "library" well, he's a published idiot. Ex-head boy you know the type.
GIDEON: I know, my island was run by one.
NORTON: Of course it was.
GIDEON: Wore a three piece suit in a heatwave. His guards propped him up when he fainted.
NORTON: Kind of them.
GIDEON: He was halfway through his speech, though, so there was one long awkward pause.
NORTON: Then you all politely applauded?
GIDEON: Like you were there.
NORTON: You're not the only person to find the colonies deeply embarrassing.
GIDEON: Probably for different reasons.
NORTON: Fair, fair. So, my work, well there's an exciting project which I- Ha. Ah, no.
GIDEON: Ah, no, what?
NORTON: Gee, it's good to be able to have as much sugs in tea as you want again, makes me realise how little I like it.
GIDEON: Which is why you're having three lumps.
NORTON: Just showing you're not the only person who changes the subject as a weapon.
GIDEON: Ah, ho.
NORTON: Yes, you're trying to draw me out.
GIDEON: What's the harm in that? You sound like a lost cause, and as I said, I'm interested.
NORTON: Are you now? Well, I'm very boring. As I said, just a sad little librarian, overlooked for a promotion, nothing to see here.
GIDEON: And yet I'm looking at you.
NORTON: Aren't you. Dull old me.
GIDEON: Who is that? What is that?
BELLE: Norton? Norton!
NORTON: Oh, lox.
GIDEON: Friend of yours?
NORTON: Customer of mine.
GIDEON: In the library?
NORTON: Yep! Got to go, got plans tomorrow night?
GIDEON: What?
NORTON: Quickly!
GIDEON: 14 Lancaster Gardens, room 3.
NORTON: I'm sorry?
GIDEON: It's where I live, 8 o' clock.
NORTON: Right! Excuse me.
BELLE: I was not brought up to be lectured by slatterns!
WAITRESS: Who are you calling a-
NORTON: Ladies! Ladies! A moment's hush, please.
BELLE: One wasn't brought up to be treated like this!
NORTON: You were brought up, Belle? That's new to me.
WAITRESS: I'm not having this sort in here! You start letting in one teddy boy-
BELLE: I'm a lady!
NORTON: Hmm...
WAITRESS: They all starts coming in! Then you gets a reputation as a gang cafe! Out!
NORTON: Well! That's my social life ruined, and I'm probably banned from that teahouse before I die from botulism. Amazing the number of things just breeding in food just waiting for the right environment to thrive and that place really was the right environment!
BELLE: What are you gibbering about?
NORTON: Ugh! You've made my life more complicated. (sigh) Why did you come and find me?
BELLE: I found out something I thought you'd like to know, about Konstantin. No one's seen him, he's done a runner.
NORTON: If he's got the package it could be anywhere.
GIDEON: Konstantin?
NORTON: Oh, hello! Overdue book fine. Nothing to worry about. Thank you, Belle. And, as for you, ha, mustache.
GIDEON: Tomorrow?
NORTON: I've not forgotten! Sorry, urgent library business!
NORTON: Lizbeth! I've got it.
LIZBETH: Looks like it.
NORTON: Stop pecking out the lord's prayer and listen to me, Joan Littlewood!
LIZBETH: There are rumors of another package on the way.
NORTON: Forget about that! I've got a lead on the old one.
LIZBETH: You got a lead in your lunch hour? You weren't meeting a source, were you? Trouble...
NORTON: Of course not! One came looking for me.
LIZBETH: Who?
NORTON: Belle, from the Stagnant Pond.
LIZBETH: Ugh, that gang of outdated no-hopers, striding around the west end in edwardian clobber. It'll never catch on. What'd she tell you about? The invention of the wireless?
NORTON: No, the Stagnant Pond are more important than you think. They want in on these packages, which proves you're onto something.
LIZBETH: Well why didn't you tell me?
NORTON: Because you were too busy being in a pet with your Norton!
LIZBETH: Spiteful wretch! Wait, was she with you on your jaunt to Margate?
NORTON: Might've been.
LIZBETH: And you kept that out of your reports?
NORTON: I'm not sure Rigsby would believe me if I said one of London's leading criminal enterprises was led by someone several hundred years old, and a woman.
LIZBETH: Ha! True. What'd Belle tell you?
NORTON: That no trace has been found of Konstantin.
LIZBETH: Check with Miss Clarke in the clerk's office.
NORTON: Is that Clarke? (pause) Wh- No then get her, pronto! Did Rigsby employ her as a clerk because she was called Clarke?
LIZBETH: Probably.
NORTON: Hm. Ah, finally! I need a 1420 urgently, name of Konstantin K, O, N- No, honestly I don't care if it's a 1420 or a 1421, I just need the information sending up on Konstantin Gregor. Lives are at stake and good day to you!
LIZBETH: Try being nicer to the wretched woman.
NORTON: Attention to detail is not the same as getting stuff done.
LIZBETH: No, so on with the Konstantin.
NORTON: Belle reckons he's still at large, with the package.
LIZBETH: So all of London will be looking for him.
NORTON: And if I- Uh- If Torchwood can find him first then I'll get out of this miserable dump.
LIZBETH: No one gets out of Room 13.
NORTON: I will. Honestly, I've tried with other stuff. I've single handedly hunted down Project Hermod, I've tried telling them that there's something wrong on the streets of London, but no dice!
LIZBETH: None, no bites. Too racy for them.
NORTON: So now I'm just stealing your ideas.
LIZBETH: Course you are!
NORTON: Sorry Lizbeth, but no womans ever had an idea a man hasn't improved by repeating it louder. If I can just find Konstantin then I'm leapfrogging to the end of the board!
NORTON: That's it! A delivery. If Clarke's managed to coax a location out of the Metatraxis then I'll kiss her bunions.
LIZBETH: You'll be lucky.
NORTON: Come in, Konstantin, every second counts. Come on, come on! Oh.
LIZBETH: That's a bad "oh."
NORTON: Instead of issuing a 1421 Clarke has just sent us the forms to fill in again, as, and I quote, "We seem confused."
LIZBETH: She what?
NORTON: She attached a note, and she says she's going home for the night, and that perhaps if we spent some time- some time? Filling this in properly she'd be able to action it tomorrow.
LIZBETH: He and Gods!
NORTON: She's let him get away!
LIZBETH: I did tell you to be nicer.
NORTON: Shut up, shut up. (groan) Konstantin's out there, with the package! All of London are looking for him!
LIZBETH: Well we've got to find him before all hell breaks loose!
NORTON: And, worse, I'll never get out of Room 13.
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