The Mousetrap

LEONARD. No, I can’t. That’s the awful thing. There’s no reason at all. I think she must have gone mad.

MYERS. You think she must have gone mad? She seemed extremely sane, and self-possessed. But insanity is the only reason you can suggest.

LEONARD. I don’t understand it. Ah, God, what’s happened—what’s changed her?

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.GRETAenters immediately and holds the door open.MAYHEWandSIRWILFRIDenter.MAYHEWcarries his brief-case.

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

SIRWILFRID. 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.)

SIRWILFRID. (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.)

SIRWILFRID. 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.

SIRWILFRID. (Crossing downR.) But why? Look what he’s done for her.

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

SIRWILFRID. (Moving upR. 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.)

SIRWILFRID. (SittingL. 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?

SIRWILFRID. Badly.

(MAYHEW sits L. of the desk.)