The Mousetrap

LEONARD. (Embarrassed.) Yes, but I’ve got a few pounds put by. It’s not much, but if you can see your way . . .

MAYHEW. (Upset.) Oh, I’m not thinking of—er—legal fees. It’s just the—er—pictures I’m trying to get clear. Your surroundings and—er—circumstances. How long have you been unemployed?

LEONARD. (Answers everything readily, with an engaging friendliness.) About a couple of months.

MAYHEW. What were you doing before that?

LEONARD. I was in a motor servicing firm—kind of mechanic, that’s what I was.

MAYHEW. How long had you worked there?

LEONARD. Oh, about three months.

MAYHEW. (Sharply.) Were you discharged?

LEONARD. No, I quit. Had words with the foreman. Proper old b— (He breaks off.) That is, he was a mean sort of chap, always picking on you.

MAYHEW. Hm! And before that?

LEONARD. I worked in a petrol station, but things got a bit awkward and I left.

MAYHEW. Awkward? In what way?

LEONARD. (Embarrassed.) Well—the boss’s daughter—she was only a kid, but she took a—well, a sort of fancy to me—and there was nothing there shouldn’t have been between us, but the old man got a bit fed up and said I’d better go. He was quite nice about it and gave me a good chit. (He rises and suddenly grins.) Before that, I was selling egg beaters on commission. (He replaces the chair L. of the fireplace.)

MAYHEW. Indeed.

LEONARD. (Crossing and standing above the desk; boyishly.) And a rotten job they were, too. I could have invented a better egg beater myself. (CatchingMAYHEW’s mood) You’re thinking I’m a bit of a drifter, sir. It’s true in a way—but I’m not really like that. Doing my army service unsettled me a bit—that and being abroad. I was in Germany. It was fine there. That’s where I met my wife. She’s an actress. Since I’ve come back to this country I can’t seem somehow to settle down properly. I don’t know really just what I want to do—I like working on cars best and thinking out new gadgets for them. That’s interesting, that is. And you see . . .

(SIR WILFRID ROBARTS, Q.C., enters. He is followed on by CARTER. SIR WILFRID is wearing his Q.C.’s jacket and bands and carries his wig and gown. CARTER carries SIR WILFRID’s ordinary jacket and bow tie.)

SIRWILFRID. Hullo, John.

MAYHEW. (Rising) Ah, Wilfrid.

SIRWILFRID. (Handing the wig and gown to) CARTER) Carter told you I was in Court? Banter really surpassed himself. (He looks atLEONARD.) And this is Mr.—er—Vole? (He crosses to L. of LEONARD.)

MAYHEW. This is Leonard Vole.

LEONARD. How do you do, sir?

(MAYHEW moves to the fireplace.)

SIRWILFRID. How do you do, Vole? Won’t you sit down?

(LEONARD sits L. of the desk.)

How’s the family, John? (He crosses to CARTER.)

(CARTER assists SIR WILFRID to change his jacket and remove his bands.)

MAYHEW. Molly’s got a touch of this twenty-four-hour flu.

SIRWILFRID. Too bad!

MAYHEW. Yes, damnable. Did you win your case, Wilfrid?

SIRWILFRID. Yes, I’m glad to say.

MAYHEW. It always gives you satisfaction to beat Myers, doesn’t it?

SIRWILFRID. It gives me satisfaction to beat anyone.

MAYHEW. But especially Myers.

SIRWILFRID. (Taking the bow tie fromCARTER) Especially Myers. (He crosses to the mirrorR.) He’s an irritating—gentleman. (He puts on his bow tie.) He always seems to bring out the worst in me.

MAYHEW. That would appear to be mutual. You irritate him because you hardly ever let him finish a sentence.

(CARTER exits, taking the wig, gown, jacket and bands with him.)

SIRWILFRID. He irritates me because of that mannerism of his. (He turns and standsR. of the desk.) It’s this—(He clears his throat and adjusts an imaginary wig.) that drives me to distraction, and he will call me Ro-barts—Ro-barts. But he’s a very able advocate, if only he’d remember not to ask leading questions when he knows damn well he shouldn’t. But let’s get down to business.