The Mousetrap and Other Plays (78 page)

MYERS
. Very effective, I'm sure. But in this Court we deal with facts. And the fact is, Mr. Vole, that we have only your word for it that you left Emily French's house at the time you say you did, and that you arrived home at five and twenty minutes past nine, and that you did not go out again.

LEONARD
. (
Wildly
) Someone must have seen me—in the street—or going into the house.

MYERS
. One would certainly think so—but the only person who did see you come home that night says it was at ten minutes past ten. And that person says that you had blood on your clothes.

LEONARD
. I cut my wrist.

MYERS
. A very easy thing to do in case any questions should arise.

LEONARD
. (
Breaking down
) You twist everything. You twist everything I say. You make me sound like a different kind of person from what I am.

MYERS
. You cut your wrist deliberately.

LEONARD
. No, I didn't. I didn't do anything, but you make it all sound as though I did. I can hear it myself.

MYERS
. You came home at ten past ten.

LEONARD
. No, I didn't. You've
got
to believe me. You've got to
believe
me.

MYERS
. You killed Emily French.

LEONARD
. I didn't do it.

(
The LIGHTS fade quickly, leaving two spots on
LEONARD
and
MYERS
.
These fade too as he finishes speaking and the Curtain falls.
)

I didn't kill her. I've never killed anybody. Oh God! It's a nightmare. It's some awful, evil dream.

CURTAIN

ACT THREE

Scene I

SCENE
:
The Chambers of Sir Wilfrid Robarts, Q.C. The same evening.

When the Curtain rises, the stage is empty and in darkness. The window curtains are open.
GRETA
enters immediately and holds the door open.
MAYHEW
and
SIR
WILFRID
enter.
MAYHEW
carries his brief-case.

GRETA
. Good evening, Sir Wilfrid. It's a nasty night, sir. (
GRETA
exits, closing the door behind her.
)

SIR
WILFRID
. Damned fog! (
He switches on the wall-brackets by the switch below the door and crosses to the window.
)

MAYHEW
. It's a beast of an evening. (
He removes his hat and overcoat and hangs them on the pegs up
L
.)

SIR
WILFRID
. (
Closing the window curtains
) Is there no justice? We come out of a stuffy Court Room gasping for fresh air, and what do we find? (
He switches on the desk lamp.
) Fog!

MAYHEW
. It's not as thick as the fog we're in over Mrs. Heilger's antics. (
He crosses to the desk and puts his case on the up
L
.
corner.
)

SIR
WILFRID
. That damned woman. From the very first moment I clapped eyes on her, I scented trouble. I knew she was up to something. A thoroughly vindictive piece of goods and much too deep for that simple young fool in the dock. But what's
her
game, John? What's she up to? Tell me that. (
He crosses below the desk to
L
.)

MAYHEW
. Presumably, it would seem, to get young Leonard Vole convicted of murder.

SIR
WILFRID
. (
Crossing down
R
.) But why? Look what he's done for her.

MAYHEW
. He's probably done too much for her.

SIR
WILFRID
. (
Moving up
R
.
of the desk
) And she despises him for it. That's likely enough. Ungrateful beasts, women. But why be vindictive? After all, if she was bored with him, all she had to do was walk out. (
He crosses above the desk to
L
.) There doesn't seem to be any financial reason for her to remain with him.

GRETA
. (
Enters and crosses to the desk. She carries a tray with two cups of tea.
) I've brought you your tea, Sir Wilfrid, and a cup for Mr. Mayhew, too. (
She puts one cup on each side of the desk.
)

SIR
WILFRID
. (
Sitting
L
.
of the fireplace
) Tea? Strong drink is what we need.

GRETA
. Oh, you know you like your tea really, sir. How did it go today?

SIR
WILFRID
. Badly.

(
MAYHEW
sits
L
.
of the desk.
)

GRETA
. (
Crossing to
SIR
WILFRID
) Oh, no, sir. Oh, I do hope not. Because he didn't do it. I'm sure he didn't do it. (
She crosses to the door.
)

SIR
WILFRID
. You're still sure he didn't do it. (
He looks thoughtfully at her.
) Now why's that?

GRETA
. (
Confidently
) Because he's not the sort. He's
nice
, if you know what I mean—ever so nice. He'd never go coshing an old lady on the head. But you'll get him off, won't you, sir?

SIR
WILFRID
. I'll—get—him—off.

(
GRETA
exits.
)

(
He rises. Almost to himself.
) God knows how. Only one woman on the jury—pity—evidently the women like him—can't think why—he's not particularly—(
He crosses to
R
.
of the desk.
) good looking. Perhaps he's got something that arouses the maternal instinct. Women want to mother him.

MAYHEW
. Whereas Mrs. Heilger—is
not
the maternal type.

SIR
WILFRID
. (
Picking up his tea and crossing with it to
L
.) No, she's the passionate sort. Hot blooded behind that cool self-control. The kind that would knife a man if he double-crossed her. God, how I'd like to break her down. Show up her lies. Show
her
up for what she is.

MAYHEW
. (
Rising and taking his pipe from his pocket
) Forgive me, Wilfrid, but aren't you letting this case become a personal duel between you and her? (
He moves to the fireplace, takes a pipe cleaner from the jar on the mantelpiece and cleans his pipe.
)

SIR
WILFRID
. Am I? Perhaps I am. But she's an evil woman, John. I'm convinced of that. And a young man's life depends on the outcome of that duel.

MAYHEW
. (
Thoughtfully
) I don't think the Jury liked her.

SIR
WILFRID
. No, you're right there, John. I don't think they did. To begin with, she's a foreigner, and they distrust foreigners. Then she's not married to the fellow—she's more or less admitting to committing bigamy.

(
MAYHEW
tosses the pipe cleaner into the fireplace, then crosses to
L
.
of the desk.
)

None of that goes down well. And at the end of it all, she's not sticking to her man when he's down. We don't like that in this country.

MAYHEW
. That's all to the good.

SIR
WILFRID
. (
Crossing above the desk to
R
.
of it
) Yes, but it isn't enough. There's no corroboration of his statements whatsoever. (
He puts his tea on the desk.
)

(
MAYHEW
crosses to
L
.)

He admits being with Miss French that evening, his fingerprints are all over the place, we haven't managed to find anybody who saw him on the way home, and there's the altogether damning matter of the will. (
He stands above the desk.
) That travel agency business doesn't help. The woman makes a will in his favour and immediately he goes enquiring about luxury cruises. Couldn't be more unfortunate.

MAYHEW
. (
Moving to the fireplace
) I agree. And his explanation was hardly convincing.

SIR
WILFRID
. (
With a sudden complete change of manner and becoming very human
) And yet, you know, John, my wife does it.

MAYHEW
. Does what?

SIR
WILFRID
. (
Smiling indulgently.
) Gets travel agencies to make out itineraries for extensive foreign tours. For both of us. (
He takes the tobacco jar from the mantelpiece and puts it on the desk.
)

MAYHEW
. Thank you, Wilfrid. (
He sits
L
.
of the desk and fills his pipe.
)

SIR
WILFRID
. She'll work it all out to the last detail and bemoan the fact that the boat misses a connection at Bermuda. (
He moves to
R
.
of the desk.
) She'll say to me that we could save time by flying but that we wouldn't see anything of the country, and (
He sits
R
.
of the desk.
) what do I think? And I say: ‘It's all the same to me, my dear. Arrange it as you like.' We both know that it's a kind of game, and we'll end up with the same old thing—staying at home.

MAYHEW
. Ah, now with
my
wife, it's houses.

SIR
WILFRID
. Houses?

MAYHEW
. Orders to view. Sometimes I think that there's hardly a house in England that's ever been up for sale that my wife hasn't been over. She plans how to apportion the rooms, and works out any structural alterations that will be necessary. She even plans the curtains and the covers and the general colour scheme. (
He rises, puts the tobacco jar on the mantelpiece and feels in his pocket for a match.
)

(
SIR
WILFRID
and
MAYHEW
look at each other and smile indulgently.
)

SIR
WILFRID
. H'm—well . . . (
He becomes the Q.C. again.
) The fantasies of our wives aren't evidence, worse luck. But it helps one to understand why young Vole went asking for cruise literature.

MAYHEW
. Pipe dreams.

SIR
WILFRID
. (
Taking a matchbox from the desk drawer
) There you are, John. (
He puts the box on the desk.
)

MAYHEW
. (
Crossing to
L
.
of the desk and picking up the matchbox
) Thank you, Wilfrid.

SIR
WILFRID
. I think we've had a certain amount of luck with Janet MacKenzie.

MAYHEW
. Bias, you mean?

SIR
WILFRID
. That's right. Overdoing her prejudice.

MAYHEW
. (
Sitting
L
.
of the desk
) That was a very telling point of yours about her deafness.

SIR
WILFRID
. Yes, yes, we got her there. But she got her own back over the wireless.

(
MAYHEW
finds that the matchbox is empty, throws it in the wastepaper basket and puts his pipe in his pocket.
)

Not smoking, John?

MAYHEW
. No, not just now.

SIR
WILFRID
. John, what really happened that night? Was it robbery with violence after all? The police have to admit that it might have been.

MAYHEW
. But they don't really think so and they don't often make a mistake. That inspector is quite convinced that it
was
an inside job—that that window was tampered with from the inside.

SIR
WILFRID
. (
Rising and crossing below the desk to
L
.) Well, he may be wrong.

MAYHEW
. I wonder.

SIR
WILFRID
. But if so who was the man Janet MacKenzie heard talking to Miss French at nine-thirty? Seems to me there are two answers to that.

MAYHEW
. The answers being . . . ?

SIR
WILFRID
. First that she made the whole thing up, when she saw that the police weren't satisfied about its being a burglary.

MAYHEW
. (
Shocked.
) Surely she wouldn't do a thing like that?

SIR
WILFRID
. (
Crossing to
C
.) Well, what did she hear, then? Don't tell me it was a burglar chatting amicably with Miss French—(
He takes his handkerchief from his pocket.
) before he coshed her on the head, you old clown. (
He coshes
MAYHEW
with the handkerchief.
)

MAYHEW
. That certainly seems unlikely.

SIR
WILFRID
. I don't think that that rather grim old woman would stick at making up a thing like that. I don't think she'd stick at anything, you know. No—(
Significantly.
) I don't think—she'd stick—at—
anything.