The Mousetrap

(CARTER enters and ushers in a WOMAN. She appears to be aged almost thirty-five and is flamboyantly but cheaply dressed. Blond hair falls over one side of her face. She is violently and crudely made up. She carries a shabby handbag. MAYHEW rises.)

CARTER. The young lady. (CARTERexits.)

WOMAN. (Looking sharply fromSIRWILFRIDtoMAYHEW) Here, what’s this? Two o’ yer? I’m not talking to two of yer. (She turns to go.)

SIRWILFRID. This is Mr. Mayhew. He is Leonard Vole’s solicitor. I am Sir Wilfrid Robarts, Counsel for the Defence.

WOMAN. (Peering atSIRWILFRID) So you are, dear. Didn’t recognize you without your wig. Lovely you all look in them wigs.

(MAYHEW gives SIR WILFRID a nudge, then stands above the desk.)

Havin’ a bit of a confab, are you? Well, maybe I can help you if you make it worth my while.

SIRWILFRID. You know, Miss—er . . .

WOMAN. (Crossing and sittingL. of the desk) No need for names. If I did give you a name, it mightn’t be the right one, might it?

SIRWILFRID. (StandingC.) As you please. You realize you are in duty bound to come forward to give any evidence that may be in your possession.

WOMAN. Aw, come off it! I didn’t say I knew anything, did I? I’ve got something. That’s more to the point.

MAYHEW. What is it you have got, madam?

WOMAN. Aye-aye! I was in court today. I watched the—that trollop give her evidence. So high and mighty about it too. She’s a wicked one. A Jezebel, that’s what she is.

SIRWILFRID. Quite so. But as to this special information you have . . .

WOMAN. (Cunningly.) Ah, but what’s in it for me? It’s valuable, what I’ve got. A hundred quid, that’s what I want.

MAYHEW. I’m afraid we could not countenance anything of that character, but perhaps if you tell us a little more about what you have to offer . . .

WOMAN. You don’t buy unless you get a butcher’s, is that it?

SIRWILFRID. A butcher’s?

WOMAN. A butcher’s ’ook—look.

SIRWILFRID. Oh, yes—yes.

WOMAN. I’ve got the goods on her all right. (She opens her handbag.) It’s letters, that’s what it is. Letters.

SIRWILFRID. Letters written by Romaine Vole to the prisoner?

WOMAN. (Laughing coarsely) To the prisoner? Don’t make me laugh. Poor ruddy prisoner, he’s been took in by her all right. (She winks.) I’ve got something to sell, dear, and don’t you forget it.

MAYHEW. (Smoothly.) If you will let us see these letters, we shall be able to advise you as to how pertinent they are.

WOMAN. Putting it in your own language, aren’t you? Well, as I say, I don’t expect you to buy without seeing. But fair’s fair. If those letters will do the trick, if they’ll get the boy off, and put that foreign bitch where she belongs, well, it’s a hundred quid for me. Right?

MAYHEW. (Taking his wallet from his pocket and extracting ten pounds) If these letters contain information that is useful to the defense—to help your expenses in coming here—I am prepared to offer you ten pounds.

WOMAN. (Almost screaming.) Ten bloody quid for letters like these. Think again.

SIRWILFRID. (Crossing toMAYHEWand taking the wallet from him) If you have a letter there that will help to prove my client’s innocence, twenty pounds would I think not be an unreasonable sum for your expenses. (He crosses to R. of the desk, takes ten pounds from the wallet, returns the empty wallet to MAYHEW, and takes the first ten pounds from him.)

WOMAN. Fifty quid and it’s a bargain. That’s if you’re satisfied with the letters.

SIRWILFRID. Twenty pounds. (He puts the notes on the desk.)

(The WOMAN watches him and wets her lips. It is too much for her.)

WOMAN. All right, blast you. ’Ere, take ’em. Quite a packet of ’em. (She takes the letters from her handbag.) The top one’s the one will do the trick. (She puts the letters on the desk, then goes to pick up the money.)