The Mousetrap

(MR. MAYHEW and LEONARD VOLE enter. MAYHEW is a typical middle-aged solicitor, shrewd and rather dry and precise in manner. LEONARD is a likeable, friendly young man, about twenty seven. He is looking faintly worried. MAYHEW carries a brief-case.)

MAYHEW. (Giving his hat toGRETA) Sit down, Mr. Vole. (He crosses and stands above the desk.) Good afternoon, Carter. (He puts his brief-case on the desk.)

(GRETA takes LEONARD’s hat and hangs both on the pegs above the door. She then exits, staring at LEONARD over her shoulder.)

CARTER. Good afternoon, Mr. Mayhew. Sir Wilfrid shouldn’t be long, sir, although you never can tell with Mr. Justice Banter. I’ll go straight over to the Robing Room and tell him that you’re here! (He hesitates.) with . . . (He crosses below the desk to R. of LEONARD.)

MAYHEW. With Mr. Leonard Vole. Thank you, Carter. I’m afraid our appointment was at rather short notice. But in this case time is—er—rather urgent.

(CARTER crosses to the door.)

How’s the lumbago?

CARTER. (Turning) I only feel it when the wind is in the East. Thank you for remembering, Mr. Mayhew. (CARTERexits hurriedly.)

(MAYHEW sits L. of the desk. LEONARD prowls uneasily.)

MAYHEW. Sit down, Mr. Vole.

LEONARD. Thanks—I’d rather walk about. I—this sort of thing makes you feel a bit jumpy. (He crosses down L.)

MAYHEW. Yes, yes, very probably . . .

GRETA. (Enters. She speaks toMAYHEW, but stares with fascinated interest atLEONARD.) Would you care for a cup of tea, Mr. Mayhew? I’ve just made it.

LEONARD. (Appreciatively.) Thanks, I don’t mind if I . . .

MAYHEW. (Interrupting; decisively.) No, thank you.

(GRETA turns to exit.)

LEONARD. (ToGRETA.) Sorry. (He smiles at her.)

(GRETA smiles at LEONARD and exits. There is a pause.)

(He crosses up R. Abruptly and with a rather likeable air of bewilderment.) What I mean is, I can’t believe it’s me this is happening to. I keep thinking—perhaps it’s all a dream and I’ll wake up presently.

MAYHEW. Yes, I suppose one might feel like that.

LEONARD. (Moving toR. of the desk) What I mean is—well, it seems so silly.

MAYHEW. (Sharply.) Silly, Mr. Vole?

LEONARD. Well, yes. I mean I’ve always been a friendly sort of chap—get on with people and all that. I mean, I’m not the sort of fellow that does—well, anything violent. (He pauses.) But I suppose it will be—all right, won’t it? I mean you don’t get convicted for things you haven’t done in this country, do you?

MAYHEW. Our English judicial system is, in my opinion, the finest in the world.

LEONARD. (Is not much comforted. Crossing above the desk toL.) Of course there was that case of—what was his name—Adolf Beck. I read about it only the other day. After he’d been in prison for years, they found out it was another chap called Smith. They gave him a free pardon then. That’s a thing that seems odd to me—giving you a “pardon” for something you haven’t done.

MAYHEW. It is the necessary legal term.

LEONARD. (Bringing the chair fromL. of the fireplace and setting itC.) Well, it doesn’t seem right to me.

MAYHEW. The important thing was that Beck was set at liberty.

LEONARD. Yes, it was all right for him. But if it had been murder now—(He sits astride the chair C.) if it had been murder it would have been too late. He would have been hanged.

MAYHEW. (Dry but kindly.) Now, Mr. Vole, there is really no need to take a—er—morbid point of view.

LEONARD. (Rather pathetically.) I’m sorry, sir. But you see, in a way, I’m rather getting the wind up.

MAYHEW. Well, try and keep calm. Sir Wilfrid Robarts will be here presently and I want you to tell your story to him exactly as you told it to me.

LEONARD. Yes, sir.

MAYHEW. But meantime perhaps we might fill out a little more of the detail—er—background. You are at present, I understand, out of a job?