The Mousetrap

LEONARD. Yes. She’d urged me to name a day specially and it seemed rather churlish to refuse. So I said I’d go on the following Saturday.

SIRWILFRID. And you went to her house at. . . (He looks at one of the papers.)

MAYHEW. Hampstead.

LEONARD. Yes.

SIRWILFRID. What did you know about her when you first went to the house? (He perches himself on the downR. corner of the desk.)

LEONARD. Well, nothing really but what she’d told me, that she lived alone and hadn’t very many friends. Something of that kind.

SIRWILFRID. She lived with only a housekeeper?

LEONARD. That’s right. She had eight cats, though. Eight of them. The house was beautifully furnished and all that, but it smelt a bit of cat.

SIRWILFRID. (Rising and moving above the desk) Had you reason to believe she was well off?

LEONARD. Well, she talked as though she was.

SIRWILFRID. And you yourself? (He crosses and stands upL. ofLEONARD.)

LEONARD. (Cheerfully.) Oh, I’m practically stony broke and have been for a long time.

SIRWILFRID. Unfortunate.

LEONARD. Yes, it is rather. Oh, you mean people will say I was sucking up to her for her money?

SIRWILFRID. (Disarmed.) I shouldn’t have put it quite like that, but in essence, yes, that is possibly what people might say.

LEONARD. It isn’t really true, you know. As a matter of fact, I was sorry for her. I thought she was lonely. I was brought up by an old aunt, my Aunt Betsy, and I like old ladies.

SIRWILFRID. You say old ladies. Do you know what age Miss French was?

LEONARD. Well, I didn’t know, but I read it in the paper after she was murdered. She was fifty-six.

SIRWILFRID. Fifty-six. You consider that old, Mr. Vole, but I should doubt if Miss Emily French considered herself old.

LEONARD. But you can’t call it a chicken, can you?

SIRWILFRID. (Crossing above the desk and sittingR. of it) Well, let us get on. You went to see Miss French fairly frequently?

LEONARD. Yes, I should say once, twice a week perhaps.

SIRWILFRID. Did you take your wife with you?

LEONARD. (Slightly embarrassed.) No, no, I didn’t.

SIRWILFRID. Why didn’t you?

LEONARD. Well—well, frankly, I don’t think it would have gone down very well if I had.

SIRWILFRID. Do you mean with your wife or with Miss French?

LEONARD. Oh, with Miss French. (He hesitates.)

MAYHEW. Go on, go on.

LEONARD. You see, she got rather fond of me.

SIRWILFRID. You mean, she fell in love with you?

LEONARD. (Horrified.) Oh, good Lord, no, nothing of that kind. Just sort of pampered me and spoiled me, that sort of thing.

SIRWILFRID. (After a short pause.) You see, Mr. Vole, I have no doubt part of the police case against you, if there is a case against you which as yet we have no definite reason to suppose, will be why did you, young, good-looking, married, devote so much of your time to an elderly woman with whom you could hardly have very much in common?

LEONARD. (Gloomily.) Yes, I know they’ll say I was after her for her money. And in a way perhaps that’s true. But only in a way.

SIRWILFRID. (Slightly disarmed.) Well, at least you’re frank, Mr. Vole. Can you explain a little more clearly?

LEONARD. (Rising and moving to the fireplace) Well, she made no secret of the fact that she was rolling in money. As I told you, Romaine and I—that’s my wife—are pretty hard up. (He moves and stands above his chair.) I’ll admit that I did hope that if I was really in a tight place she’d lend me some money. I’m being honest about it.

SIRWILFRID. Did you ask her for a loan?

LEONARD. No, I didn’t. I mean, things weren’t desperate. (He becomes suddenly rather more serious as though he realized the gravity of that.) Of course I can see—it does look rather bad for me. (He resumes his seat.)

SIRWILFRID. Miss French knew you were a married man?

LEONARD. Oh, yes.

SIRWILFRID. But she didn’t suggest that you should bring your wife to see her?

LEONARD. (Slightly embarrassed.) No. She—well, she seemed to take it for granted my wife and I didn’t get on.

SIRWILFRID. Did you deliberately give her that impression?