[Snare drums playing]
Man: Escort for the colours...
Halt!
[Bass drum beating]
[March playing]
[Bagpipes playing Scotland the Brave]
Man: Among the peacetime duties
of her Majesty's Brigade of Guards
is one known as the bank picket.
Every afternoon since the 8th of June, 1780,
the picket has marched across London
from Wellington Barracks to the Bank of England
to keep its nightly watch on the nation's gold.
One summer's day early in this century,
when Ireland was still struggling
against the might of England for independence,
a certain Irish-American presented himself
at the cashier's desk of the bank.
It was the beginning of a strange and daring venture.
Mr. Norgate.
Yes?
This draft is for the sum of $5,000 in your favour.
How would you like it paid, Sir?
In pounds sterling?
I'd like to open an account.
To open an account to the Bank of England,
a sponsor is required, Sir.
Some person known to the bank.
Is that so?
There are other banking houses, of course.
They're said to be adequate.
I'll find a sponsor.
As you wish.
We'll hold a draft until we have your further instructions.
Thank you. Good-bye.
Good-bye, Sir.
Man: Yes, Sir?
Nice building.
American gentleman, Sir?
Yes. How can you tell?
Who's that?
Well, that, Sir? That's Sir John Soane...
architect of the bank.
Did a very nice job.
Yes, Sir.
Is it all right if I take a look around?
Well, the bank closes at 4:00, Sir.
I'll see it some other time.
Good afternoon, Sir.
[Clock chimes]
Man: And from The Mint,
along Leadenhall Street,
down Cornhill past The Exchange,
to the Old Lady of Threadneedle Street herself.
He returns into the side entrance
and drives straight into the bullion yard.
Now, there's the escort... armed.
There's the watchman at The Mint,
the porters at the bank...
all armed.
There's not a chance, Mr. O'Shea.
If it's the bank itself you were thinking of,
we'd never get near it.
Oh, sure. It's fine for the boys in Dublin to say
do this and do that.
Why does it have to be a bank?
That's where the money is, Mr. Walsh.
But why the Bank of England?
Because there's more of it there than anywhere else.
Then it'll have to be the bullion van.
What's the capacity of the van, Dr. Hagen?
There are 4 bars to a box,
each 400 ounces Troy weight.
Just the value, Dr. Hagen.
£160,000.
That's a lot of anybody's money.
Yes... but not enough of England's.
What does the movement expect?
A million, maybe?
£160,000 is a matter for the police.
A million is a political offensive.
It also lasts longer.
There are other places to find money.
Robbing grocers' tills
and blowing up public lavatories
will not make a nation out of Ireland, Mr. Walsh.
[Man coughs]
It disposes of a few Englishmen.
Ha! They breed like rabbits.
Where are the vaults?
I'm sure there are arrows all over the place
pointing the way.
I'm telling you, it's a dream, Mr. O'Shea.
The Bank of England hasn't been robbed in all its history...
207 years.
Yeah? Finality, Mr. Walsh,
is not the language of politics.
[Hoofbeats]
[Doorbell rings]
Mrs. Muldoon, please?
Come in, Sir.
He was engaged in New York
on the advice of our friends there.
They have contributed towards his expenses.
Ehh, what does he care about Ireland?
His mother was Irish.
So was mine.
What else qualifies him for this job?
He's a professional, Mr. Walsh.
Ha. We need more than a set
of burglars' tools.
He has more.
He was a mining engineer,
but he found it easier to extract gold from banks
than from frozen streams.
You have a letter?
I understand you've taken a room at the Strand Hotel.
Isn't that conspicuous?
So I'm told.
Mr. O'Shea is waiting for you.
O'Shea: Ah, come in, Mr. Norgate.
This is Dr. Hagen,
Mr. Cohoun, Mr. Walsh,
and Mrs. Muldoon.
Mrs. Muldoon runs our little
intelligence service, as you know.
Yes. We've met.
Please sit down.
O'Shea: Well, Mr. Norgate,
did you have an interesting afternoon?
If you're thinking of the bullion van,
you're wasting your time and mine.
My own opinion exactly,
though for other reasons.
And the bank itself...
what is your impression?
I think it's as safe as it's said to be.
Walsh: Mr. Norgate,
what does home rule mean to you?
We may grow up in America, Mr. Walsh,
but some of us still have our roots in Ireland.
O'Shea: You're a man after my own heart, Mr. Norgate.
Have the funds arrived at the bank?
Mm-hmm.
I'll open an account as soon as I find a sponsor.
And then?
The security arrangements.
I understand the army's responsible.
The brigade of guards.
There's a nightly watch called the bank picket...
an officer, a sergeant, and 16 guardsmen.
Ehh, toy soldiers.
Then that's where we'll start
and see if they melt.
Good.
You will keep me informed, Mrs. Muldoon.
It won't be easy.
These walls are considered impregnable.
They have withstood wars, riots,
the dreams of thieves, and time,
but remember this, my talented children,
the brains that built them were human
and as fallible as yours and mine.
Somewhere, the old lady has a weakness.
[Knock on door]
Come in.
Mrs. Muldoon, Sir.
Good morning, Mr. Norgate.
I have the information you wanted.
Please sit down, Mrs. Muldoon.
No. Thanks. I'm rather busy.
You wanted to know where to find
guards' offices off-duty.
They go to a chophouse in the city called The Bombardier.
Is that all you came to tell me?
No, it isn't.
I want you to forget what happened in New York.
Who said I remembered?
So you just came to New York
to hire a man to rob a bank.
You understand perfectly.
Why did you pick me?
You were the best man for the job.
You know why I came here?
You were hired by the movement
for the movement at 10%.
20.
I never agreed to that.
O'Shea did.
So much the better.
There can be no personal claims.
And, incidentally,
no one knows it was I who came to New York except O'Shea,
and nobody needs to know.
So our account is settled then.
I think so.
We have a job to do.
There's nothing else between us.
What did you say the name of that chophouse was?
The Bombardier.
Good day, Mr. Norgate.
Good day, Mrs. Muldoon.
Waiter: Smoked salmon, Mr. Charles.
Charles: Very good, Sir.
Smoked salmon for Mr. Getty, Sir.
Glass of your best ale, please.
Yes, Sir.
I wonder if you could tell me, uh...
I'm an American, you see, and...
yes, Sir. I thought you were.
Enjoying your stay?
Very much.
I thought I might see the picket
marching to the bank this afternoon.
Any idea what time it happens?
Bank picket.
That gentleman over there will be able
to tell you all about that, Sir.
Lieutenant in the guards.
[Men laughing]
And there I was, as usual,
fishing in the stream.
The colonel gave me the devil of a blasting.
Uh, Charles, more drink.
Charles: Coming, Sir. Jenkins, give us a hand.
Man: There's more, you see.
Different man: I got her at dusk with a mayfly,
rising like mad things all over the place.
Uh, tight lines.
Oh, barman.
Are these edible?
What do you think they are, Sir?
Goldfish?
What about that one?
That's a pike, Sir.
Caught in the Thames a long time ago.
You don't get them these days.
All those steamboats.
Now, wait a minute.
What about the little guy?
Is he used for bait?
No, Sir. Another gentleman caught that.
Presented it to the house.
Well, I had intended doing a little fishing here myself,
but, uh, if that's the best you have to offer, why...
good morning, Sir.
Excuse me, Sir.
Yes.
It appears you're interested in angling, Sir.
Yes. I am a little.
Really?
I didn't know they knew about fishing in America.
What do you use?
A rod. A line.
Lure, my dear Sir.
What do you lure them with?
Worms.
But, of course, if you're fishing a dry fly
on a cloudy afternoon,
I would favour Mr. Hardy's butcher,
depending, naturally, on the mood of the fish.
Would you now?
Well, will you join us for a drink?
Certainly.
Charles, some claret for Mr., uh...
Norgate. Monty Fitch.
How do you do?
Lieutenants James and Pierce.
One misguided grayling.
Brace of trout. My dear fellow, congratulations.
Well, there have been many times
when I've had to catch fish in order to eat,
but not this way.
Not worms.
No. I'll show you.
Ha ha ha ha!
Marvellous.
You're unique, old boy.
How do you do it?
Just tickle a little and then up!
Oh, yes. Dear creatures.
Flossie! Maud!
Fitch: Walters.
Sir?
What happened to the girls?
They're picking blackberries, Sir.
Look. We'll have a drink now, huh?
And then tell them lunch is ready.
Sir.
Oh, what it is to get away
from that harrowing round of duties.
I thought you liked the guards.
Nothing wrong with the guards, old boy.
It's the guarding. Have a sandwich.
Me, I'm grateful.
You not only sponsor my account,
you then guard it with your life.
We try to accommodate our friends.
No mustard, Walters?
Yes, Sir.
One gets awfully tired, though,
pounding the same old beats year after year.
Beats to you, but it's pageantry to me.
Ha. There's not much pageantry
in a gloomy old vault two floors down.
Believe me.
Man: Morning, Mr. Fitch.
Oh, good morning.
Fishing the colonel's stream again, Sir?
Yes. Yes.
Blast the colonel's gatekeeper.
I must remember to double his tip.
Now, where were we?
Two floors down.
Oh, yes.
Odd how everybody's so interested in the place.
I never could understand it.
Well, I'm a sucker for architecture.
I even studied it once.
I'll tell you what.
There's a museum somewhere.
Fellow who rebuilt the bank.
Still got the old boy's designs there, I believe.
Might interest you.
It might at that.
Is that what you're over here for?
I mean, what are you actually in?
Metal.
[Women giggling]
Oh, here they are. Come on, girls!
We got lost.
Oh, Monty, you pig. You started before us.
Woman: Yes, indeed.
Sir John Soane was a great collector as well.
Notice this Venetian cup.
Very fine piece.
A poem, we may say.
Yes. A poem.
We now pass to the sepulchral chamber.
Man: It's always a pleasure to have a...
to have a real architect here... Thank you.
Because they do say that the bank
is built on the site of a Roman temple.
Oh, a myth.
Oh, really?
Yeah. I am... I'm afraid so.
Oh, my wife and I spend many an evening
browsing over these drawings.
I live above here, you know?
It's very convenient.
I can keep an eye on the place all the time.
Yes. Well, what have we here?
Ah, yes. This is the bank's stock office.
Very clever.
Could you please tell me about this urn?
Oh, yes. Of course.
Um, will you excuse me? I'll be back in a moment.
Now...
This is, uh...
It's a Roman urn but with Greek influences.
It may have been a Greek craftsman.
Of course, the Romans did absorb a very great deal
of Greek culture and art.
It is charming, isn't it?
Muldoon: Charming.
You see, as an architect yourself,
you'd realize Sir John's problems.
Those foundations were laid in 1724.
Well, that's quite a time ago, you know?
I'd like to see how he coped with them.
Yes. Indeed. Well, that would include the vaults.
The... the vaults.
Oh, dear. Yes, I'm sorry. You must forgive me.
You see, those plans are not available for visitors.
No. The directors of the bank
insist that we keep them under lock and key.
Hmm. The most unenlightened body, I'm afraid.
However, most of the plans are here.
Now, look. Now, there's a design for the rotunda.
Very interesting. Here.
You see? Note the use of the Doric orders
derived from the temple of Theseus.
Yeah, and see how simply it's decorated.
It's very beautiful. A shallow flue, mind you.
All so effective and all in conjunction
with the arch construction.
You see, under light,
the light comes from 8 lunettes above...
can you tell me who painted this picture, please?
Oh, yes, indeed, dear lady.
Uh, would you forgive me for another moment?
Yes. Thank you.
This is an Italian picture.
Uh, probably the school of Tintoretto.
One of Sir John's purchases while he was in Rome.
Muldoon: Thank you.
Not at all. Well...
Such a pleasure to have so many interested visitors.
So unusual, too.
[Vase hits table]
6-a.
The vaults.
There is no scale.
Are you sure?
There are some notes here.
Copy them.
[Dog barks]
[Hoofbeats]
[Dog barks]
Norgate: Down these stairs into this corridor,
make a right,
past the wine cellar.
Wine cellar?
And into this corridor,
and these steps lead up to the...
to the yard.
And along the corridor, at the other end,
the bullion vaults.
These are the doors. What's this, Hagen?
An iron grill across the corridor.
Can't we get in through the walls?
The other side of the wall is just solid earth.
And what's above them?
The kitchens.
They cook for the picket all night.
So then it must be the doors.
Walsh: And what do we know about them?
Or the size of the vaults?
Or the length of the corridors?
Two hours, it took you,
and you didn't even get a scale.
3 or 4 feet to an inch.
Oh, what's the use of guesswork?
One true measurement of any part
will give the scale.
Oh, sure. If they let us in one morning
to run over it with a yardstick.
"Reinforce and raise brickwork
of existing floor."
Soane thickened up the floor.
"Add 3/4-inch Bessemer."
Plate steel.
Is the whole place steel-lined?
No. Just the floor.
These doors are built by specialists.
Give me half a dozen sticks of dynamite, and I'll blow...
listen!
You don't get into these vaults with dynamite.
You think your way in.
Imagine that.
And what do you suppose me and Hagen and Cohoun
have been doing the past 3 months?
Pick your fight with me some other time, Walsh.
The blind leading the blind.
[Door slams]
That man is going to get us 15 years apiece.
We'll give him a few more days.
Iris, listen.
I've had news from home.
Now, they're not going to hold that chestnut stallion
for me forever,
and he's a bargain, I know.
Breeding hunters was my job.
I want to clear out of this.
Come with me.
Iris, I tell you, the thing will never work.
The movement needs him...
And you and me.
Sure. It needed Michael Muldoon, too,
and it got him...
And left you a widow,
but he had you for one whole year first.
You're a horse coper.
You are...
You are a terrible one sometimes.
You can chill a man to the bone,
then you turn, take some little step, maybe, the way you move.
It starts the blood pounding in my throat with nothing...
I'm having a few personal words with Mrs. Muldoon.
Do you mind?
I want everything we've got on the alarm system.
I said I was talking to Mrs. Muldoon.
I heard you.
Hagen's making an overall plan of the vaults.
Go give him a hand.
There are 3 types in common use.
Two are new.
Third is the old spring type.
We don't yet know which kind the bank uses.
They tell me Michael Muldoon
was a leading member of the movement.
A fanatic, they say.
Didn't have time for much else.
He died for it.
Very rewarding.
For you, I mean.
Why don't you just take these and get out?
You're lonely.
You disgust me.
You sure you haven't got it the wrong way around?
Yes. That, too.
I disgust myself.
Come back to me, Iris.
You'll come back.
Why don't you get out and do the job you were hired for?
We're doing all right.
You've done nothing but hang around me and go fishing.
We've got the plans to the vaults.
They're useless without a scale.
I'll get the measurement of some corridor,
and that'll give us a scale.
Yes, and how are you gonna get in there
and get the measurement?
By invitation.
I caught it...
Fishing.
Number 4 post. All is well, Sir.
Number 5 post. All is well, Sir.
Thank you, Sir.
Has Mr. Norgate arrived yet?
He's about due now, Sir.
Guest for Mr. Fitch. Take him up.
Sir.
[Knock on door]
Guest for Mr. Fitch, Sir.
My dear fellow, good of you to come.
Nice to see you again.
Pleasure to have you.
I'm afraid there are no ladies here tonight.
That's highly irregular these days.
Wasn't it always?
Oh, yes.
Used to sneak them in, though, just the same...
do sit down...
until one of those beady-eyed civilians gave the show away.
Must have been the one who just looked me over.
Very likely.
Bank watchmen, they call themselves.
Happy days.
Health.
Many of them around?
Always a few snooping around at night.
The deputy chief cashier actually lives here.
How are things in the city?
About the same.
Forgotten what you said you were in.
Steel at the moment.
Oh, yes.
Paying a call to the foundries, then, eh?
Some of them, local ones.
They're very convenient.
Gives me a chance to pursue my own interests.
Fishing?
Architecture.
Oh, yes.
Let me top you off.
Thank you.
Won't find much to read there,
just a few dusty volumes on the bank.
Very boring.
Here, old boy.
Oh, yes. Thank you.
We'll crack another bottle later on.
Get an extra ration with a guest.
That's why we invite them.
I might have known.
That's very nice.
Oh, yes. Decent cellar downstairs.
Walters, fetch another bottle later on.
Sir.
Mind if I come along?
That will be a pleasure, Sir.
Nothing much to see.
Guess it's all in the eye of the beholder.
Oh. Well, I'll take you down myself.
Might be a little bother with the sentries.
Practically cut off from the outside world
once you're down there.
This is quite a place.
Alarm bell, eh?
Oh, lots of them, all over the place.
Connected to the doors of the vaults, I think.
I better go first.
Nothing much to it,
just a lot of stairs going down.
Good evening.
Good evening, Mr. Fitch.
And one more.
This, thank heaven, is the last.
Halt! Who goes there?
Friend.
Password?
Essex.
Advance and be recognized.
Pass, friend.
Everything all right, Gil?
Yes, Sir.
Beasties worry you?
It's not too bad, Sir.
Get under your feet sometimes.
My father used to get the same complaints when he was picket commander.
Yes, Sir.
Time something was done about them, eh?
I'll put in a report.
Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir.
Good. Carry on.
I shouldn't go wandering around alone, old boy.
The sentries have orders to shoot if they don't know you.
I say. How did you know?
Is this the wine cellar?
Yes.
Yes, it is.
Now, what shall we have?
Some rather good '87 port.
Sounds fine.
Proper Madeira, has got some body to it.
[Footsteps approaching]
[Fitch continues speaking indistinctly]
[Boots stamp loudly]
[Footsteps continue]
[Stamping loudly]
Halt! Who goes there?
Friend. Password.
Essex.
Pass, friend.
Fitch: There you are, old boy.
Wondered what had happened to you.
Taking a look at the Queen's cash-box, eh?
I dug up a bottle of '87 port.
Told you there's nothing to see down here.
The piper's reported, Sir.
Oh, splendid. Send him in, would you, Walters?
Sir.
Uh, have a cigar.
Well, thank you.
The floors get worn away when the sentries march, don't they?
What? Oh, down there.
Well, they've been patrolling this place since the Gordon riots,
1790-odd.
And always in exactly the same places.
Naturally.
Good evening.
Guardsmen always take the same pace,
trained to it from birth.
2'6".
Now tell me, who built the doors?
Doors?
Oh, you mean the cash-box.
No idea. Why?
Well, it's a very, very fine piece of welding.
Of course you know all about that, don't you?
The trouble with safes is
that you need another safe to keep the key to the first one in
and so on and so on.
Ha ha! Not this one.
This has 3 keys, so I'm told,
each kept by a different official,
on the person, as it were.
To get into the bullion vaults,
they'd have to get the 3 chaps here at the same time.
Oh, well, let's have some after-dinner music, shall we?
[Begins playing]
A weakness, he said.
Oh, let's stop fooling ourselves.
There is no way in.
Why did they reinforce the floor?
Simple. It wears out.
3 locks. Nicht gut.
We'd have to dispose of the picket,
and the watchmen, what about them...
30 men or more... and how would we get away?
There's a fault in it somewhere. There's got to be.
Sure.
We can go on telling ourselves that for 20 years.
In fact, we can climb into our coffins still saying it.
[Door slams]
Are you calling it off?
Why should I?
Because it's no use. We're beaten.
What are beasties?
Beasties?
Whatever they are, there's lots of them in the vaults,
get under these sentries' feet.
Beetles?
I don't know.
Doesn't matter.
Mice, maybe, or rats.
Rats.
I better telegraph O'Shea.
You all have wasted enough time.
Not yet.
Certainly problems with sewage are universal ones, Mr. Reynolds,
but that a distinguished expert like yourself should come to visit us,
that I find uncommonly pleasing.
My department is at your disposal.
Gudgeon.
Yes, Mr...
stand by.
How is it in New York?
Rough. We're having trouble with the new system.
I know. The old one's in the way?
Dutch.
But you must have your own problems right here.
Oh, quite appalling.
I've passed my best years in the field,
and, candidly, I've never seen anything like it.
Under the city itself?
Labyrinthine, if you'll pardon the expression.
Do you know the route of the travel?
Underground rivers.
Gudgeon.
Yes, Mr. Benge.
Pass me those charts
of the Walbrook River in the 11th century,
and that will show you, Mr. Reynolds.
Oh, come along, gudgeon.
You'll never get on this way.
The Walbrook, of course, was used as a sewer itself,
noted for its rats, Mr. Reynolds.
What street does it run under?
Ah. Well, now I'll show you that, Mr. Reynolds,
when gudgeon finds the chart.
I'm looking, Mr. Benge.
I'm looking hard.
The first inquiry we've had in years, and this is the result.
Sir, have you been in the sewer yourself,
this Walbrook, I mean?
Oh, no, no, no. Nobody has.
It's been sealed up for 40 years.
Somebody must remember it.
I doubt it very much, Mr. Reynolds.
The only persons who'd know it would be the toshers,
and they're a dying breed.
Ah, this is it, no doubt.
Calcutta.
Uh, toshers? What are toshers?
Toshers? Scavengers of the Thames,
sewer pickers.
Oddly enough, there's a paragraph about one of them
in the press only this morning, I believe.
Yes. Here it is.
The courts...
"Alfred Sparrow of Bow Creek
"was again taken into custody last night
"following his release yesterday
"for being drunk and disorderly.
"He will appear this morning at 10 A.M. at Taybridge,
"his 23rd appearance on a similar charge.
"Mr. Sparrow claims better acquaintance with the old sewers of London
than any living person."
Not a character you and I would wish
to associate with, Mr. Reynolds.
Thank you very much.
Mr. Benge,
you know our records don't go back to the 11th century.
What a pity.
Prognosticate me, your worship.
Ever hear of a stream called the Walbrook, tosher?
It's a disused sewer now,
under the city, remember?
Number 3.
Ruined my living, they did,
when the authorities sealed up the old number 3.
Best pickings in the city.
Where does the number 3 run?
I just said... under the city.
I mean, which street?
What's the game, your worship?
You paid me fine. You got me out of trouble.
Why me?
I, uh...
I'm an archaeologist...
Roman ruins, temples.
Oh, I always had a feeling for them holy Romans meself.
A couple more, please.
Best.
Who let you out again, tosher?
I'm talking to this here noted archaeological philanthropist.
Continue, your worship.
Somewhere under the city, tosher,
there's a Roman temple.
Oh, them Romans could be up to anything.
That temple is something I've wanted to get at all my life.
I asked the authorities for permission to excavate,
but they wouldn't even listen.
You could help me, tosher.
Me?
I need your help,
and I'd like your friendship, too.
How about it, tosher?
You and me?
Against the authorities.
[Sets down drinks]
Where does the number 3 run, tosher?
Into the river by Tollgate.
Any other way?
Straight line up under Prince's Street.
Prince's Street. Hmm.
The Bank of England.
[Children singing and shouting]
Tosher: Follow me, your worship.
Down here, your worship.
That's it.
Tosher: The outfall of the old number 3.
How did you get in?
Boat,
but you got to watch the tide.
Comes up over.
Norgate: Is that the only way in?
[Boat horn blows]
Follow me. Come on.
Down here, your worship. Mind your step.
Oh, this will do.
Over this way, your worship.
[Tapping]
There it is, your worship.
The sewer?
Number 3.
How far down?
There's a manhole right over it.
What's that?
Compass.
[Masonry falls]
Ugh!
[Sniffing deeply]
Ahhh.
Home.
Norgate: Now start from the river at the outfall of the sewer.
The sewer runs dead straight in a line
27 degrees east of true north.
Should run under the warehouse.
Yes.
Now continue the line.
Runs right under the bank.
Right under here.
Now the distance
from the vault doors to the end of the corridor
is 18 guardsman's paces,
each 2'6".
See if that checks with your scale.
Yes. 4 feet, to an inch.
Then how far is it
from the vaults to the sewer?
23 feet.
A tunnel...
30 feet long
that would take us under the floors of the vaults
with 7 feet to spare.
Check it, Hagen.
Fault it every way you can.
[Door opens]
Now you can telegraph Dublin.
Tell O'Shea he's right.
We found the old lady's weakness.
[Children shouting]
14 minutes.
Good.
I think we shall need a two-foot width
to get your shoulders through.
Good.
12-inch radius, 2(Pi)R...
Circumference of 75 inches.
Two hours 50 minutes to cut a hole that size
through the floor of the vault.
Try it out.
Fancy a little boating?
Here's a spare copy of the high-water tables.
Thank you very much.
Tell me, then... how much clay
can a man dig in an hour?
11 cubic feet.
How do you want the timber cut, Sir?
In lengths of 4 feet.
Very good.
A tunnel 4 feet square by 30 feet long,
11 cubic feet of clay an hour...
43 1/2 hours.
3 hours to cut through the floor,
two hours for the shaft,
two hours loading.
Same whichever way... 51 hours total.
Two days at least.
If we've got to finish on a Sunday night,
why can't we start earlier?
No. We'd be heard.
The bullion weighing office is open until noon on Saturday,
and the sewer runs right under it.
Clay doesn't carry sound.
Sewer's made of brick.
Iris: Bank holiday.
What's that?
It's the first Monday in August.
All the banks are closed for the day, a long weekend.
The vaults will be closed for nearly 3 whole days.
August 3...
high tide at 10:32 in the evening.
Reaches the bottom of the sewer, therefore, at...
9:45.
Dark at 9:50.
We'll dynamite the outfall at 10:00.
Tell O'Shea we'll need a freighter that night.
Do you know how to handle a tug, Sir?
I'll send a man who does.
Cost you a bit, the whole holiday weekend.
?50?
There's the coal, Sir.
75?
O'Shea?
It came by hand.
In London, is he?
Potato ship Duncanan
will wait for the tug at Gravesend, reach you Monday night.
Well, we're ready to go.
The movement will be greatly beholden to you.
There's just one more thing.
Don't you think you better get some sleep?
I can sleep afterwards.
You'll be two whole days and nights in that tunnel.
I'm used to it. You ought to know that.
I'm a tramp, aren't I,
a muscleman, a bum?
Whatever you say, that's what I am,
but I've got something else besides.
I got a brain that talks to me,
tells me things about you.
You don't give a hoot for the movement.
I live for it.
You're trying to drown something else.
That's not true.
You're afraid if you stop what a dead man might think.
He was worth a thousand like you.
Hello, Norgate.
Oh, I must have dropped off.
Oh, what's the time?
About 11:00.
Is something wrong?
Well, I came to apologize, as a matter of fact.
Actually, I can talk to you,
and not many people I can talk to in my world.
Have another drink.
Well, I've had a couple already, old...
still...
you remember our fishing trip?
Had we... Arranged one?
Oh, no, no, no.
It was to be a surprise.
Well, you know that gamekeeper fellow at the colonel's?
You forgot to double his tip.
Double it? I forgot to tip him at all.
Do you know what the colonel called me?
A poacher,
bloody poacher, if you please.
Well, I have a good mind to resign my commission.
That would be pretty foolish, wouldn't it?
Uh, well, yeah.
Suppose it would.
What on earth could I do?
See, there's nothing wrong with soldiering.
You see, I'm never called on to think in my profession,
and I'd rather like to just once,
and then I'd know.
Know what?
Whether I stay a soldier
because there's nothing else I can do
or because I choose to.
I'll probably make a fearful hash of it...
thinking, I mean.
Heh. Get myself court-martialled.
You'll come out all right.
Probably end up covered with medals.
I understand the guards never lose their battles.
Battles? Ha!
Lead me to one.
They'll come.
Ah, if the grenadiers don't hog them all.
Oh, talking too much.
Sorry about the fishing, old boy,
but the colonel's given me the entire weekend on duty.
That's rough.
Oh, it's bank holiday at the back.
[Door closes]
What are you doing here, Sparrow, eh?
Pickled herring road's your pitch,
across the river.
Oh, I got business interests in the city.
Scrap iron.
At it again, eh?
Who are you gonna get to pay your fine this time?
Well, that's it.
Let's have it again, Cohoun.
Move the tug from Hammersmith,
tie up at a jetty here,
8:30 Monday night, maximum steam,
make for the sewer outfall
after you dynamite it.
And the best of luck to you.
Here, you can't go down there!
Can I not? I'm going.
Don't worry.
Ooh!
The constable's after you, your worship.
I drawed him away.
Then he followed me right...
constable: Hey, Sparrow. Where are you?
Excuse me, mate,
but you haven't seen anybody entering these premises unlawfully...
old boy, name of Sparrow?
Now, how would I know his name
if I never seen him in me life before, huh?
Must have been mistaken.
Constable: Working late Saturday?
Cohoun: Got to get the business on its feet, you know.
Well, watch out for that scrap iron up there.
Keep those gates locked.
Oh, they'd steal anything these days.
Now you're here, you better stay.
Walsh, make sure you count your paces, or you'll get too far.
Hagen, start measuring.
Here. Make yourself useful.
Thank you, your worship. I'll do that.
Ah, it's grand to be back in the old hole.
I know every brick in it.
I know exactly where we are now, your worship.
We're passing directly under Cannon street.
I know every foot of it.
Ah, it's a wonderful place.
The old number 3,
best toshing in London...
money, gold, ornaments,
all kinds of valuables.
We passed under the mansion house back there,
the official residence
of his majesty,
the lord mayor of London.
Close enough. Go help Walsh.
Your worship,
you're under the bank.
Your worship,
you're right under the bank.
That's where the temple is.
Oh, now fancy that.
Aye. Right under the old lady of Thread-me-needle Street.
Ah, you couldn't be after them holy Romans, could you?
You know, my old woman would be surprised
if she saw me friends with a gentleman like you, your worship.
She's dead now.
Aye.
Can I tell you something?
His worship is a very old and dear friend of mine.
Why the blazes don't we get rid of him?
Leave him alone. He's safer here than by himself.
We're gonna work in shifts of an hour...
one man digging, one hauling, one resting.
Hagen, you take the slide.
Tosher: ♪ they say there's a boat on the river ♪
♪ they say that it's loaded with beer ♪
♪ oh ♪
♪ they say it's the best find... ♪
your turn, Hagen.
Walsh, come out!
♪ they say there's a boat on the river... ♪
can't you shut him up?
♪ it's loaded with beer ♪
♪ they say... ♪
ah, you're a man after me own heart, your worship.
Ha ha!
Down the hatch.
5 A.M., Sir.
Ohhhh.
I brought you a cup of tea, Sir.
Are there any guests for dinner tonight, Sir?
Who'd want to spend Sunday evening in this place?
There's always Mr. Norgate, Sir.
He seems to like it here.
Mr. Norgate is probably spending a gaudy weekend
touring the iron foundries.
Oh, no, Sir. They're all closed for the holidays.
Besides, there are no foundries near London, Sir.
They're all in the north.
Must be some local ones.
Begging your pardon, Sir, I don't think so.
You see, my brother's a foundry-man.
Tosher: ♪ down me hole ♪
♪ down me hole, boy ♪
♪ you'll have a drink ♪
♪ I'll have a drink ♪
♪ and we'll all have a drink together ♪
♪ down me... ♪
I told you to shut up!
♪ hole... ♪
yes.
You're on, Walsh.
If you'd listened to me
and used dynamite,
we'd be there.
Yeah...
With everybody waiting for us.
Go on.
Fine way to spend
a Sunday morning.
I shall want a cab...
To the Strand.
I'll see to it right away, Sir.
Mr. Norgate, please.
Mr. Norgate checked out yesterday, Sir.
He's gone?
Yes, Sir.
Are you sure?
Quite sure, Sir.
Did he leave a forwarding address?
I can find out, Sir.
The Bank of England, Sir.
[Grunting]
[Coughing]
What time is it?
Almost 9:00...
Evening, Sunday.
You got 12 minutes to go, Walsh.
Number 6 post. All's well, Sir!
Number 7 post. All's well, Sir!
Number 8 post. All well, Sir!
Finch: Patrol...
Halt!
Everything all right, sentry?
Yes, Sir.
Usual beasties, I expect.
No, Sir.
No rats?
Not a sign of them, Sir.
You seen any rats?
No, Sir.
Know anything about the habits of rats, Walters?
Very little, Sir.
The rats in the vaults have disappeared.
Been there for 200 years.
So they say, Sir.
Were you expecting Mr. Norgate to dinner, Sir?
Mr. Norgate's left.
Very good, Sir.
We're in for another long night, Walter.
Oh, it will soon be Monday morning, Sir.
Your worship has... Been in there a long time.
He must want them ruins desperately, hmm?
7 more feet, then up.
Where are we going to come out?
If we ever do get out of this bloody tomb!
He's off his rocker!
Can't you see, Hagen? He's crazy!
Tosher: Your worship, don't get excited.
He's not worth it.
And while we're at it, Norgate,
there's another matter
I'm going to settle with you.
I'll take his shift.
It's your shift, Walsh.
Fitch: About 3 or so weeks ago...
A big fellow, fair hair.
Yes, I seem to remember...
an American.
Oh, yes. Of course, yes.
The one who was so interested
in Soane's designs for the bank.
Was he, now?
Yes. He wanted to see the plans for the vaults,
I remember.
Of course, we had to disappoint him,
but, well...
They're not available
to the general public.
You keep them here, though?
Oh, yes, yes, under lock and key.
We're obliged to by the bank.
Yes, of course. You can't leave...
Those things lying around, can you?
Of course, there are a great many other drawings.
Curator, would you do me a favour?
Assistant curator...
yes, of course, if I can.
My card.
Oh, thank you.
Ah, yes, Sir.
Would you see if the plans of the vaults
are where they should be?
Well, really, Mr... Mr. Fitch...
I'm very busy,
and it's bank holiday Monday, and, uh,
besides, visitors are not...
I'll stand over here.
Well...
Of course they're in their place.
It's absolutely unthinkable.
Yes. Ha!
There they are.
6-a.
Take them out, would you?
There, naturally.
Mind counting?
1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6,
7, 8, 9...
10, 11... 12.
There. All complete, as I said.
One out of its proper place?
This is a museum devoted to the arts, Mr. Fitch,
not the exact sciences.
Ahem.
Yes, of course. I'm sorry.
Uh, curator, how often do you open this window?
Window?
Oh, I don't think it's been touched for years.
I mean, it's quite a job
running a museum, you know.
Well, what's that?
Oil.
Norgate.
What is it?
Gas pipe.
Sergeant!
Sir.
Fitch: If anything unusual occurs,
I want to know.
Don't wait for the patrols.
Inform me at once. Understood?
Yes, Sir.
[Grunting]
It's no use.
It's no use, I say.
We're too deep.
Keep at it!
[Hissing]
Gas.
Guard: Call the officer of the guard!
[Coughing]
I'm getting out!
What about Walsh?
Don't worry about him.
He's in too deep himself.
Fitch: What happened?
Guard: The lights went out, Sir.
There was a sound.
The light went down.
Rats come back?
No, Sir.
[Coughing]
Sergeant.
Sir!
Turn out the guard...
emergency posts.
Yes, Sir.
My compliments to the deputy chief cashier.
Would he kindly come down to the bullion vaults?
Sir.
Double!
[Coughing]
Deputy chief cashier, Sir.
Carry on.
You wish to see me, mister...?
Fitch.
Green.
How do you do, Sir?
Mr. Green, I have reason to believe
an attempt is being made
to break into the bullion vaults.
You alarm me, Mr. Fitch.
Mr. Green,
I should like to inspect the bullion vaults.
Young man, your devotion to duty
does you the liveliest credit...
thank you, Sir.
I insist on inspecting the bullion vaults.
The bank has never been robbed, Mr. Fitch.
What makes you think it likely to happen now?
A number of things.
Separately, they're of no account.
Collectively,
they add up to a reasonable suspicion.
I'll take full responsibility.
No, Sir. The responsibility is mine.
I have no authority to delegate it.
Mr. Green, would you kindly open the vaults?
Mr. Fitch, there are 3 different keys
to that combination, as you know.
I have one.
The head watchman has a second,
and Mr. Peabody, head of the bullion weighing department,
has the third.
Mr. Peabody, very rightly,
is enjoying his bank holiday elsewhere.
Where does Mr. Peabody live?
Patna, I believe.
He must be sent for.
Mr. Fitch...
You may be starting something
you'll live to regret.
It's got to be there.
Bricks.
The floor.
Pretty soon, we'll be through to the...
the plate steel.
Go get the cylinders.
All ranks at emergency posts, Sir.
Thank you, sergeant.
Well, Mr. Green.
They left for Patna half an hour ago.
Two watchmen.
You'll have a long wait.
I suggest you inform the police, also.
I'll do no such thing.
Do you want to make a laughingstock
of yourself, me, and the bank?
No, Sir. We'll keep this to ourselves.
Very well.
We'll wait for Peabody.
Man: Good afternoon.
We're looking for Mr. Peabody.
Mr. Peabody, gentlemen?
He's out on the course somewhere.
Walk around. You'll find him.
Mr. Peabody?
Where do you think he is?
He hasn't missed this ruddy wood in 15 years.
Come on!
[Train whistle blows]
Now...
Tell me exactly what all this is about.
Well, Mr. Peabody...
I had enough, and I got out.
Where are they?
Still there.
Moles, that's what they are.
They'll never get into those vaults.
If they come up at all,
it'll be right under the sentries' feet.
Iris...
Why did you shift away from me?
There was a time...
oh, sure, I stink a little.
I stink of clay and sweat and sewers.
[Door opens]
Mr. O'Shea.
Where's Norgate?
Digging his own grave.
Where do you think he is?
He must be stopped.
Stopped?
I was at the home office an hour ago.
The Irish home rule bill
is to be reintroduced.
Do you understand what that means?
Nothing must be allowed to jeopardize
the passage of that bill.
Norgate must be stopped at all costs.
But it was you yourself who set it going.
What may have been sound policy
yesterday, Mr. Walsh,
can today be inexpedient.
And what are we going to do
if it's too late to stop them?
Well, we shall have to...
Take the necessary steps,
a word in the right quarter.
The movement, of course,
will dissociate itself completely.
Of course.
It's the old story, isn't it?
This is what the movement did to Michael, my husband.
They let him break into the armoury
and then dissociated themselves.
Walsh: Mr. O'Shea,
are you talking of ditching the boys down there?
All right. So I got out.
But I'm not going to inform on them.
Neither is he.
Come, Mrs. Muldoon.
What's Norgate to you?
You owe him something.
I am involved in the struggle
for the independence of Ireland.
I have no other loyalties.
Neither have you.
Or have you?
Well?
Are you gonna stop him, or shall I?
Independence of Ireland?
All you want is to save your own skin!
I'll do it.
Remember, if you fail us now,
the movement is finished,
and that's the truth.
Truth?
We're nothing but puppets dancing on a string,
and that's the truth.
The answer to that, Mrs. Muldoon,
is that my truth is truer than yours.
You have rather less than an hour.
[Door closes]
You don't even know where they are!
I'll find them.
Why should I help him?
I hope he rots.
Come on.
[Clock chiming]
You know what to do.
Listen! You've got to stop!
Come on out!
It's no use, I tell you!
Fast!
You've done it.
Oh, mother mine, I'd like to see inside there.
You said something just now.
No, nothing that won't keep.
There's time for just one look.
Come on. Hurry, men.
Come on!
Quietly!
They can't hear us.
There's two feet of steel there.
[Clock chiming]
Come on, get out of there!
Tosher: Hey, wait a minute.
Wait a minute down there.
Come on!
[Muttering]
Have you counted?
?900,000.
It's getting late.
I like a round figure.
You can go.
Thank you, ma'am.
Your worship, you've done it!
Your worship, where are you?
Where are you?
Look! A Roman ruin.
Oh, quit loitering!
Where are we now?
We're just approaching earls court, Sir.
Oh, where in the blazes is that man?
Chasing some other wild goose, perhaps.
Mr. Green, I heard them.
My dear chap, an air lock and a water pipe.
Does that gas bracket supply water?
Mr. Fitch,
you think too much for a soldier.
[Hammering]
The dynamite. Come on.
Get back.
[Strikes match]
Iris: You can stop that.
The tug's gone. Cohoun isn't there.
Who sent him away?
I did.
The robbery is no longer necessary.
O'Shea's been to the home office.
The home rule bill is coming up again.
We can get what we want without this.
Walsh: But, Iris, we've done it.
We've done it. The job's finished!
Come away.
Iris, look. We've got a million pounds right here...
a million in gold!
Through the warehouse.
The cart! Come on!
No.
The movement doesn't want it.
Did you hear?
Come on. Stop them!
You started this.
I'll finish it.
Iris: Don't do it.
You'll ruin everything we... we've worked for.
You're doing it for yourself.
It's greed, do you hear?
Stop them!
Get out of the way.
If you don't stop them now,
I'll inform the bank.
For the movement?
Yes.
You won't.
You wouldn't do it for the movement.
You'd do it just to get rid of me.
But you won't.
You know why?
Because you can't!
Go on home.
Cabby, can't you go faster?
Hurry! There's time for another load.
That's enough.
I'm telling you, there's plenty of time!
I said that's enough.
Where's tosher?
Oh, let's leave him.
He knows too much.
Get the cart away... through Limehouse,
tosher's cabin on Bow Creek.
Right you are, mate.
Your worship,
you found them...
the holy Roman ruins.
Where are you?
It won't take any more.
I'm not leaving this.
Come on! Let's get going!
Hurry up!
Your worship.
Tosher!
Wait right there till I show you this.
You'll get a surprise.
Ah, it surprised me.
I had some trouble getting it up.
But listen.
I... i just said you're...
tosher!
Norgate: Tosher!
It's the Queen's yellow.
Tosher!
Come out of here!
Still at it?
Just finishing off.
Your worship,
I thought you was a gentleman.
[Bagpipes playing]