The Mousetrap and Other Plays

  ROMAINE. He told me that he had rescued an old lady and her parcels one day in the middle of a crowded street. He told me that she had asked him to go and see her.

  SIR WILFRID. All very natural, I think. And your husband did go and see her.

  ROMAINE. Yes.

  SIR WILFRID. And they became great friends.

  ROMAINE. Evidently.

  SIR WILFRID. There was no question of your accompanying your husband on any occasion?

  ROMAINE. Leonard thought it better not.

  SIR WILFRID. (Shooting a keen glance at her) He thought it better not. Yes. Just between ourselves, why did he think it better not?

  ROMAINE. He thought Miss French would prefer it that way.

  SIR WILFRID. (A little nervously and sliding off the subject.) Yes, yes, quite. Well, we can go into that some other time. Your husband, then, became friends with Miss French, he did her various little services, she was a lonely old woman with time on her hands and she found your husband’s companionship congenial to her.

  ROMAINE. Leonard can be very charming.

  SIR WILFRID. Yes, I’m sure he can. He felt, no doubt, it was a kindly action on his part to go and cheer up the old lady.

  ROMAINE. I daresay.

  SIR WILFRID. You yourself did not object at all to your husband’s friendship with this old lady?

  ROMAINE. I do not think I objected, no.

  SIR WILFRID. You have, of course, perfect trust in your husband, Mrs. Vole. Knowing him as well as you do . . .

  ROMAINE. Yes, I know Leonard very well.

  SIR WILFRID. I can’t tell you how much I admire your calm and your courage, Mrs. Vole. Knowing as I do how devoted you are to him . . .

  ROMAINE. So you know how devoted I am to him?

  SIR WILFRID. Of course.

  ROMAINE. But excuse me, I am a foreigner. I do not always know your English terms. But is there not a saying about knowing something of your own knowledge? You do not know that I am devoted to Leonard, of your own knowledge, do you, Sir Wilfrid? (She smiles.)

  SIR WILFRID. (Slightly disconcerted.) No, no, that is of course true. But your husband told me.

  ROMAINE. Leonard told you how devoted I was to him?

  SIR WILFRID. Indeed, he spoke of your devotion in the most moving terms.

  ROMAINE. Men, I often think, are very stupid.

  SIR WILFRID. I beg your pardon?

  ROMAINE. It does not matter. Please go on.

  SIR WILFRID. (Rising and crossing above the desk to C.) This Miss French was a woman of some considerable wealth. She had no near relations. Like many eccentric elderly ladies she was fond of making wills. She had made several wills in her lifetime. Shortly after meeting your husband she made a fresh will. After some small bequests she left the whole of her fortune to your husband.

  ROMAINE. Yes.

  SIR WILFRID. You know that?

  ROMAINE. I read it in the paper this evening.

  SIR WILFRID. Quite, quite. Before reading it in the paper, you had no idea of the fact? Your husband had no idea of it?

  ROMAINE. (After a pause.) Is that what he told you?

  SIR WILFRID. Yes. You don’t suggest anything different?

  ROMAINE. No. Oh, no. I do not suggest anything.

  SIR WILFRID. (Crossing above the desk to R. of it and sitting) There seems to be no doubt that Miss French looked upon your husband rather in the light of a son, or perhaps a very favourite nephew.

  ROMAINE. (With distinct irony.) You think Miss French looked upon Leonard as a son?

  SIR WILFRID. (Flustered.) Yes, I think so. Definitely I think so. I think that could be regarded as quite natural, quite normal under the circumstances.

  ROMAINE. What hypocrites you are in this country.

  (MAYHEW sits on the chair L. of the fireplace.)

  SIR WILFRID. My dear Mrs. Vole!

  ROMAINE. I shock you? I am so sorry.

  SIR WILFRID. Of course, of course. You have a continental way of looking at these things. But I assure you, dear Mrs. Vole, that is not the line to take. It would be most unwise to suggest in any way that Miss French had—er—any—er—feelings for Leonard Vole other than those of a—of a mother or—shall we say—an aunt.

  ROMAINE. Oh, by all means let us say an aunt, if you think it best.

  SIR WILFRID. One has to think of the effect on the jury of all these things, Mrs. Vole.

  ROMAINE. Yes. I also wish to do that. I have been thinking of that a good deal.

  SIR WILFRID. Quite so. We must work together. Now we come to the evening of October fourteenth. That is just over a week ago. You remember that evening?

  ROMAINE. I remember it very well.

  SIR WILFRID. Leonard Vole called on Miss French that evening. The housekeeper, Janet MacKenzie, was out. Mr. Vole played a game of Double Demon with Miss French and finally took leave of her about nine o’clock. He returned home on foot, he tells me, arriving at approximately twenty-five minutes past nine. (He looks interrogatively at her.)

  (ROMAINE rises and moves to the fireplace. SIR WILFRID and MAYHEW rise.)

  ROMAINE. (Without expression; thoughtfully.) Twenty-five past nine.

  SIR WILFRID. At half past nine the housekeeper returned to the house to get something she had forgotten. Passing the sitting-room door she heard Miss French’s voice in conversation with a man. She assumed that the man with Miss French was Leonard Vole, and Inspector Hearne says that it is this statement of hers which has led to your husband’s arrest. Mr. Vole, however, tells me that he has an absolute alibi for that time, since he was at home with you at nine-thirty.

  (There is a pause. ROMAINE does not speak although SIR WILFRID looks at her.)

  That is so, is it not? He was with you at nine-thirty?

  (SIR WILFRID and MAYHEW look at ROMAINE.)

  ROMAINE. That is what Leonard says? That he was home with me at nine-thirty?

  SIR WILFRID. (Sharply) Isn’t it true?

  (There is a long silence.)

  ROMAINE. (Moving to the chair L. of the desk; presently.) But of course. (She sits.)

  SIR WILFRID. (Sighs with relief and resumes his seat R. of the desk.) Possibly the police have already questioned you on that point?

  ROMAINE. Oh yes, they came to see me yesterday evening.

  SIR WILFRID. And you said . . . ?

  ROMAINE. (As though repeating something that she has learned by rote) I said Leonard came in at nine-twenty-five that night and did not go out again.

  MAYHEW. (A little uneasily.) You said . . . ? Oh! (He sits on the chair L. of the fireplace.)

  ROMAINE. That was right, was it not?

  SIR WILFRID. What do you mean by that, Mrs. Vole?

  ROMAINE. (Sweetly.) That is what Leonard wants me to say, is it not?

  SIR WILFRID. It’s the truth. You said so just now.

  ROMAINE. I have to understand—to be sure. If I say yes, it is so, Leonard was with me in the flat at nine-thirty—will they acquit him?

  (SIR WILFRID and MAYHEW are puzzled by ROMAINE’s manner.)

  Will they let him go?

  MAYHEW. (Rising and crossing to L. of her) If you are both speaking the truth then they will—er—have to acquit him.

  ROMAINE. But when I said—that—to the police, I do not think they believed me. (She is not distressed; instead she seems faintly satisfied.)

  SIR WILFRID. What makes you think they did not believe you?

  ROMAINE. (With sudden malice.) Perhaps I did not say it very well?

  (SIR WILFRID and MAYHEW exchange glances. MAYHEW resumes his seat. ROMAINE’s cool, impudent glance meets SIR WILFRID’s. There is a definite antagonism between them.)

  SIR WILFRID. (Changing his manner) You know, Mrs. Vole, I don’t quite understand your attitude in all this.

  ROMAINE. So you don’t understand? Well, perhaps it is difficult.

  SIR WILFRID. Perhaps your husband’s position is not quite clear to you?

  ROMAINE. I have already said that I want to understand
fully just how black the case against—my husband is. I say to the police, Leonard was at home with me at nine-thirty—and they do not believe me. But perhaps there is someone who saw him leave Miss French’s house, or who saw him in the street on his way home? (She looks sharply and rather slyly from one to the other.)

  (SIR WILFRID looks enquiringly at MAYHEW.)

  MAYHEW. (Rising and moving C.; reluctantly) Your husband cannot think of, or remember, anything helpful of that kind.

  ROMAINE. So it will be only his word—and mine. (With intensity.) And mine. (She rises abruptly.) Thank you, that is what I wanted to know. (She crosses to L.)

  MAYHEW. But, Mrs. Vole, please don’t go. There is a lot more to be discussed.

  ROMAINE. Not by me.

  SIR WILFRID. Why not, Mrs. Vole?

  ROMAINE. I shall have to swear, shall I not, to speak the truth and all the truth and nothing but the truth? (She seems amused.)

  SIR WILFRID. That is the oath you take.

  ROMAINE. (Crossing and standing above the chair L. of the desk; now openly mocking) And suppose that then, when you ask me—(She imitates a man’s voice.) “When did Leonard Vole come that night?” I should say . . .

  SIR WILFRID. Well?

  ROMAINE. There are so many things I could say.

  SIR WILFRID. Mrs. Vole, do you love your husband?

  ROMAINE. (Shifting her mocking glance to MAYHEW) Leonard says I do.

  MAYHEW. Leonard Vole believes so.

  ROMAINE. But Leonard is not very clever.

  SIR WILFRID. You are aware, Mrs. Vole, that you cannot by law be called to give testimony damaging to your husband?

  ROMAINE. How very convenient.

  SIR WILFRID. And your husband can . . .

  ROMAINE. (Interrupting) He is not my husband.

  SIR WILFRID. What?

  ROMAINE. Leonard Vole is not my husband. He went through a form of marriage with me in Berlin. He got me out of the Russian zone and brought me to this country. I did not tell him, but I had a husband living at the time.

  SIR WILFRID. He got you out of the Russian sector and safely to this country? You should be very grateful to him. (Sharply.) Are you?

  ROMAINE. One can get tired of gratitude.

  SIR WILFRID. Has Leonard Vole ever injured you in any way?

  ROMAINE. (Scornfully) Leonard? Injured me? He worships the ground I walk on.

  SIR WILFRID. And you?

  (Again there is a duel of eyes between them, then she laughs and turns away.)

  ROMAINE. You want to know too much. (She crosses to the door.)

  MAYHEW. I think we must be quite clear about this. Your statements have been somewhat ambiguous. What exactly happened on the evening of October fourteenth?

  ROMAINE. (In a monotonous voice) Leonard came in at twenty-five minutes past nine and did not go out again. I have given him an alibi, have I not?

  SIR WILFRID. (Rising) You have. (He crosses to her.) Mrs. Vole. . . (He catches her eye and pauses.)

  ROMAINE. Yes?

  SIR WILFRID. You’re a very remarkable woman, Mrs. Vole.

  ROMAINE. And you are satisfied, I hope? (ROMAINE exits.)

  SIR WILFRID. I’m damned if I’m satisfied.

  MAYHEW. Nor I.

  SIR WILFRID. She’s up to something, that woman—but what? I don’t like it, John.

  MAYHEW. She certainly hasn’t had hysterics all over the place.

  SIR WILFRID. Cool as a cucumber.

  MAYHEW. (Sitting on the chair L. of the desk) What’s going to happen if we put her into the witness box?

  SIR WILFRID. (Crossing to C.) God knows!

  MAYHEW. The prosecution would break her down in no time, especially if it were Myers.

  SIR WILFRID. If it’s not the Attorney-General, it probably will be.

  MAYHEW. Then what’s your line of attack?

  SIR WILFRID. The usual. Keep interrupting—as many objections as possible.

  MAYHEW. What beats me is that young Vole is convinced of her devotion.

  SIR WILFRID. Don’t put your trust in that. Any woman can fool a man if she wants to and if he’s in love with her.

  MAYHEW. He’s in love with her all right. And trusts her completely.

  SIR WILFRID. More fool he. Never trust a woman.

  CURTAIN

  ACT TWO

  SCENE: The Central Criminal Court, London—better known as the Old Bailey. Six weeks later. Morning.

  The section of the Court Room seen has a tall rostrum, the bench, running from down R. to up C. On it are the armchairs and desks for the Judge, his Clerk and the Alderman. Access to the bench is by a door in the up R. from the floor of the court. On the wall over the Judge’s chair are the Royal Arms and the Sword of Justice. Below the bench are small desks and chairs for the Clerk of the Court and the Court Stenographer. There is a small stool R. of the desks for the Usher. The witness box is immediately below the up C. end of the bench. Up C. is a door leading to the Barristers’ robing room and up L.C. are glass-panelled double doors leading to a corridor and other parts of the building. Up L.C., between the doors, are two pews for the Barristers. Below the pews is a table with three chairs and a stool. The dock is L. and is entered by a door in the L. wall and a gate in the upstage rail. There are chairs in the dock for Leonard and the Warder. The jury box is down R., only the back of the three end seats being visible to the audience.

  When the Curtain rises, the Court has opened. The Judge, MR. JUSTICE WAINWRIGHT, is seated R. of him and the ALDERMAN is seated L. of the Judge. The CLERK OF THE COURT and the STENOGRAPHER are in their seats below the bench. MR. MYERS, Q.C., for the Prosecution, is seated R. of the front row of Barristers with his ASSISTANT L. of him. SIR WILFRID, for the Defence, is seated L. of the front row of Barristers with his ASSISTANT R. of him. Four BARRISTERS, one a woman, are seated in the back row of the Barristers’ seats. LEONARD is standing in the dock with the WARDER beside him. DR. WYATT is seated on the stool R. of the table. The INSPECTOR is seated on the chair above the R. end of the table. MAYHEW is seated L. of the table. A POLICEMAN stands at the double doors. Three MEMBERS of the JURY are seen, the first a man, the FOREMAN, the second a WOMAN and the third a MAN. The USHER is administering the oath to the WOMAN JUROR who is standing.

  WOMAN JUROR. (Holding the Bible and oath card) . . . lady the Queen and the prisoner at the Bar whom I shall have in charge, and a true verdict give according to the evidence. (She hands the Bible and oath card to the USHER, then sits.)

  (The USHER gives the Bible and oath card to the FOREMAN.)

  FOREMAN. (Rising) I swear by Almighty God that I will well and truly try and true deliverance make between our sovereign lady the Queen and the prisoner at the Bar whom I have in charge, and a true verdict give according to the evidence. (He hands the Bible and oath card to the USHER, then sits.)

  (The USHER puts the Bible and card on the ledge of the jury box, then sits on his stool down R.)

  CLERK. (Rising) Leonard Vole, you are charged on indictment for that you on the fourteenth day of October in the Country of London murdered Emily Jane French. How say you, Leonard Vole, are you guilty or not guilty?

  LEONARD. Not guilty.

  CLERK. Members of the Jury, the prisoner stands indicted for that he on the fourteenth day of October murdered Emily Jane French. To this indictment he has pleaded not guilty, and it is your charge to say, having heard the evidence, whether he be guilty or not. (He motions to LEONARD to sit, then resumes his own seat.)

  (LEONARD and the WARDER sit. MYERS rises.)

  JUDGE. One moment, Mr. Myers.

  (MYERS bows to the JUDGE and resumes his seat.)

  (He turns to the jury.) Members of the Jury, the proper time for me to sum up the evidence to you, and instruct you as to the law, is after you have heard all the evidence. But because there has been a considerable amount of publicity about this case in the Press, I would just like to say this to you now. By the oath which each of you has just taken you swore to try this case o
n the evidence. That means on the evidence that you are now going to hear and see. It does not mean that you are to consider also anything you have heard or read before taking your oaths. You must shut out from your minds everything except what will take place in this Court. You must not let anything else influence your minds in favour of or against the prisoner. I am quite sure that you will do your duty conscientiously in the way that I have indicated. Yes, Mr. Myers.

  (MYERS rises, clears his throat and adjusts his wig in the manner taken off by SIR WILFRID in the previous scene.)

  MYERS. May it please you, my lord. Members of the Jury, I appear in this case with my learned friend Mr. Barton for the prosecution, and my learned friends Sir Wilfrid Robarts and Mr. Brogan-Moore appear for the defence. This is a case of murder. The facts are simple and up to a certain point are not in dispute. You will hear how the prisoner, a young and, you may think, a not unattractive man, made the acquaintance of Miss Emily French, a woman of fifty-six. How he was treated by her with kindness and even with affection. The nature of that affection you will have to decide for yourselves. Dr. Wyatt will tell you that in his opinion death occurred at some time between nine-thirty and ten on the night of the fourteenth of October last. You will hear the evidence of Janet MacKenzie, who was Miss French’s faithful and devoted housekeeper. The fourteenth of October—it was a Friday—was Janet MacKenzie’s night out, but on this occasion she happened to return for a few minutes at nine twenty-five. She let herself in with a key and upon going upstairs to her room she passed the door of the sitting-room. She will tell you that in the sitting-room she heard the voices of Miss French and of the prisoner, Leonard Vole.

  LEONARD. (Rising) That’s not true. It wasn’t me.

  (The WARDER restrains LEONARD and makes him resume his seat.)

  MYERS. Janet MacKenzie was surprised, since as far as she knew, Miss French had not expected Leonard Vole to call that evening. However, she went out again and when she returned finally at eleven she found Miss Emily French murdered, the room in disorder, a window smashed and the curtains blowing wildly. Horror-stricken, Janet MacKenzie immediately rang up the police. I should tell you that the prisoner was arrested on the twentieth of October. It is the case for the prosecution that Miss Emily Jane French was murdered between nine-thirty and ten p.m. on the evening of the fourteen of October, by a blow from a cosh and that the blow was struck by the prisoner. I will now call Inspector Hearne.