The Mousetrap and Other Plays

by Agatha Christie

WOMAN. (Peering at SIR WILFRID) 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.

  SIR WILFRID. You know, Miss—er . . .

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

  SIR WILFRID. (Standing C.) 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.

  SIR WILFRID. 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?

  SIR WILFRID. A butcher’s?

  WOMAN. A butcher’s ’ook—look.

  SIR WILFRID. 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.

  SIR WILFRID. 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.

  SIR WILFRID. (Crossing to MAYHEW and 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.

  SIR WILFRID. 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.)

  (SIR WILFRID is too quick for the WOMAN and picks up the money. The WOMAN quickly retrieves the letters.)

  SIR WILFRID. Just a moment. I suppose this is her handwriting?

  WOMAN. It’s her handwriting all right. She wrote ’em. It’s all fair and square.

  SIR WILFRID. We have only your word for that.

  MAYHEW. Just a moment. I have a letter from Mrs. Vole—not here, but at my office.

  SIR WILFRID. Well, madam, it looks as though we’ll have to trust you—(He hands her the notes.) for the moment. (He takes the letters from her, smooths them out and begins to read.)

  (The WOMAN slowly counts the notes, carefully watching the OTHERS meanwhile. MAYHEW moves to SIR WILFRID and peers at the letters. The WOMAN rises and crosses towards the door.)

  (To MAYHEW.) It’s incredible. Quite incredible.

  MAYHEW. (Reading over his shoulder) The cold-blooded vindictiveness.

  SIR WILFRID. (Crossing to the WOMAN) How did you get hold of these?

  WOMAN. That’d be telling.

  SIR WILFRID. What have you got against Romaine Vole?

  (The WOMAN crosses to the desk, suddenly and dramatically turns her head, swings the desk lamp so that it flows on to her face on the side that has been turned away from the audience, pushing her hair back as she does so, revealing that her cheek is all slashed, scarred and disfigured. SIR WILFRID starts back with an ejaculation.)

  WOMAN. See that?

  SIR WILFRID. Did she do that to you?

  WOMAN. (Crossing to C.) Not her. The chap I was going with. Going with him steady, I was too. He was a bit younger than me, but he was fond of me and I loved him. Then she came along. She took a fancy to him and she got him away from me. She started to see him on the sly and then one day he cleared out. I knew where he’d gone. I went after him and I found them together. (She sits L. of the desk.) I told ’er what I thought of ’er and ’er set on me. In with one of the razor gangs, he was. He cut my face up proper. “There,” he says, “no man’ll ever look at you now.”

  SIR WILFRID. Did you go to the police about it?

  WOMAN. Me? Not likely. ’Sides it wasn’t ’is fault. Not really. It was hers, all hers. Getting him away from me, turning ’im against me. But I waited my time. I followed ’er about and watched ’er. I know some of the things she’s bin up to. I know where the bloke lives who she goes to see on the sly sometimes. That’s how I got hold of them letters. So now you know the whole story, mister. (She rises, thrusts her face forward and pushes her hair aside.) Want to kiss me?

  (SIR WILFRID shrinks back.)

  I don’t blame yer. (She crosses to L.)

  SIR WILFRID. I’m deeply sorry, deeply sorry. Got a fiver, John?

  (MAYHEW shows his empty wallet.)

  (He takes his wallet from his pocket and extracts a fivepound note.) Er—we’ll make it another five pounds.

  WOMAN. (Grabbing the note) ’Oldin’ out on me, were yer? Willin’ to go up another five quid. (She advances on SIR WILFRID.)

  (SIR WILFRID backs towards MAYHEW.)

  Ah, I knew I was being too soft with you. Those letters are the goods, aren’t they?

  SIR WILFRID. They will, I think, be very useful. (He turns to MAYHEW and holds out a letter.) Here, John, have a butcher’s at this one.

  (The WOMAN slips quickly out of the door.)

  MAYHEW. We’ll have a handwriting expert on these for safety’s sake, and he can give evidence if necessary.

  SIR WILFRID. We shall require this man’s surname and his address.

  MAYHEW. (Looking around) Hullo, where has she gone? She mustn’t leave without giving us further particulars. (He crosses to C.)

  SIR WILFRID. (Crosses and exits hurriedly. Off, calling) Carter! Carter!

  CARTER. (Off.) Yes, Sir Wilfrid?

  SIR WILFRID. (Off.) Carter, where did that young woman go?

  CARTER. (Off.) She went straight out, sir.

  SIR WILFRID. (Off.) Well, you shouldn’t have let her go. Send Greta after her.

  CARTER. (Off.) Very good, Sir Wilfrid.

  (SIR WILFRID enters and crosses to L. of MAYHEW.)

  MAYHEW. She’s gone?

  SIR WILFRID. Yes, I’ve sent Greta after her, but there’s not a hope in this fog. Damn! We must have this man’s surname and address.

  MAYHEW. We won’t get it. She thought things out too carefully. Wouldn’t give us her name, and slipped out like an eel as soon as she saw us busy with the letters. She daren’t risk having to appear in the witness box. Look what the man did to her last time.

  SIR WILFRID. (Without co
nviction) She’d have protection.

  MAYHEW. Would she? For how long? He’d get her in the end, or his pals would. She’s already risked something coming here. She doesn’t want to bring the man into it. It’s Romaine Heilger she’s after.

  SIR WILFRID. And what a beauty our Romaine is. But we’ve got something to go on at last. Now as to procedure . . .

  CURTAIN

  Scene II

  SCENE: The Old Bailey. The next morning.

  When the Curtain rises, the Court is awaiting the entry of the JUDGE. Leonard and the WARDER are seated in the dock. Two BARRISTERS are seated at the L. end of the back row of BARRISTERS’ seats. SIR WILFRID and his ASSISTANT are in their places. MAYHEW is standing L. of the table talking to SIR WILFRID. The CLERK OF THE COURT, the JUDGE’S CLERK and the STENOGRAPHER are in their places. The three visible MEMBERS OF THE JURY are seated. The POLICEMAN is at the doors up L. The USHER is standing at the top of the steps up R.C. MYERS, his ASSISTANT and two BARRISTERS enter up C. MYERS crosses to SIR WILFRID and starts talking angrily. The ASSISTANT and the BARRISTERS take their seats. There are three KNOCKS on the JUDGE’S door. The USHER comes down the steps to R.C.

  USHER. Stand up.

  (ALL stand. The JUDGE and ALDERMAN enter by the JUDGE’S door and take their seats.)

  All persons who have anything further to do before my lady the Queen’s justices of Oyer and Terminer and general gaol delivery for the jurisdiction of the Central Criminal Court draw near and give your attendance. God Save the Queen.

  (The JUDGE bows to the Court and ALL take their seats. The USHER sits on the stool down R.)

  SIR WILFRID. (Rising) My lord, since this was adjourned, certain evidence of a rather startling character has come into my hands. This evidence is such that I am taking it upon myself to ask your lordship’s permission to have the last witness for the prosecution, Romaine Heilger, recalled.

  (The CLERK rises and whispers to the JUDGE.)

  JUDGE. When exactly, Sir Wilfrid, did this evidence come to your knowledge?

  (The CLERK sits.)

  SIR WILFRID. It was brought to me after the Court was adjourned last night.

  MYERS. (Rising) My lord, I must object to my learned friend’s request. The case for the prosecution is closed and . . .

  (SIR WILFRID sits.)

  JUDGE. Mr. Myers, I had not intended to rule on this question without first observing the customary formality of inviting your observations on the matter. Yes, Sir Wilfrid?

  (MYERS sits.)

  SIR WILFRID. (Rising) My lord, in a case where evidence vital to the prisoner comes into possession of his legal advisers at any time before the jury have returned their verdict, I contend that such evidence is not only admissible, but desirable. Happily there is clear authority to support my proposition, to be found in the case of the King against Stillman, reported in nineteen twenty-six Appeal Cases at page four-six-three. (He opens a law volume in front of him.)

  JUDGE. You needn’t trouble to cite the authority, Sir Wilfrid. I am quite familiar with it. I should like to hear the prosecution. Now, Mr. Myers.

  (SIR WILFRID sits.)

  MYERS. (Rising) In my respectful submission, my lord, the course my friend proposes is, save in exceptional circumstances, quite unprecedented. And what, may I ask, is this startling new evidence of which Sir Wilfrid speaks?

  SIR WILFRID. (Rising) Letters, my lord. Letters from Romaine Heilger.

  JUDGE. I should like to see these letters to which you refer, Sir Wilfrid.

  (SIR WILFRID and MYERS sit. The USHER rises, crosses to SIR WILFRID, collects the letters, passes them to the CLERK, who hands them to the JUDGE. The JUDGE studies the letters. The USHER resumes his seat.)

  MYERS. (Rising) My friend was good enough to tell me only as we came into Court that he intended to make this submission, so that I have had no opportunity to examine the authorities. But I seem to remember a case in, I think, nineteen thirty, the King against Porter, I believe . . .

  JUDGE. No, Mr. Myers, the King against Potter, and it was reported in nineteen thirty-one. I appeared for the prosecution.

  MYERS. And if my memory serves me well, your lordship’s similar objection was sustained.

  JUDGE. Your memory for once serves you ill, Mr. Myers. My objection then was overruled by Mr. Justice Swindon—as yours is now, by me.

  (MYERS sits.)

  SIR WILFRID. (Rising) Call Romaine Heilger.

  USHER. (Rises and moves down C.) Romaine Heilger.

  POLICEMAN. (Opens the door. Calling) Romaine Heilger.

  JUDGE. If these letters are authentic it raises very serious issues. (He hands the letters to the CLERK.)

  (The CLERK hands the letters to the USHER, who returns them to SIR WILFRID. During the slight wait that ensues, LEONARD is very agitated. He speaks to the WARDER, then puts his hands to his face. The USHER sits on the stool R. of the table. MAYHEW rises, speaks to LEONARD and calms him down. LEONARD shakes his head and looks upset and worried. ROMAINE enters up L., crosses and enters the witness box. The POLICEMAN closes the door.)

  SIR WILFRID. Mrs. Heilger, you appreciate that you are still on your oath?

  ROMAINE. Yes.

  JUDGE. Romaine Heilger, you are recalled to this box so that Sir Wilfrid may ask you further questions.

  SIR WILFRID. Mrs. Heilger, do you know a certain man whose Christian name is Max?

  ROMAINE. (Starts violently at the mention of the name.) I don’t know what you mean.

  SIR WILFRID. (Pleasantly.) And yet it’s a very simple question. Do you or do you not know a man called Max?

  ROMAINE. Certainly not.

  SIR WILFRID. You’re quite sure of that?

  ROMAINE. I’ve never known anyone called Max. Never.

  SIR WILFRID. And yet I believe it’s a fairly common Christian name, or contraction of a name, in your country. You mean that you have never known anyone of that name?

  ROMAINE. (Doubtfully.) Oh, in Germany—yes—perhaps, I do not remember. It is a long time ago.

  SIR WILFRID. I shall not ask you to throw your mind back such a long way as that. A few weeks will suffice. Let us say—(He picks up one of the letters and unfolds it, making rather a parade of it.) the seventeenth of October last.

  ROMAINE. (Startled.) What have you got there?

  SIR WILFRID. A letter.

  ROMAINE. I don’t know what you’re talking about.

  SIR WILFRID. I’m talking about a letter. A letter written on the seventeenth of October. You remember that date, perhaps.

  ROMAINE. Not particularly, why?

  SIR WILFRID. I suggest that on that day, you wrote a certain letter—a letter addressed to a man called Max.

  ROMAINE. I did nothing of the kind. These are lies that you are telling. I don’t know what you mean.

  SIR WILFRID. That letter was one of a series written to the same man over a considerable period of time.

  ROMAINE. (Agitated.) Lies—all lies!

  SIR WILFRID. You would seem to have been on—(Significantly.) intimate terms with this man.

  LEONARD. (Rising) How dare you say a thing like that?

  (The WARDER rises and attempts to restrain LEONARD.)

  (He waves the WARDER aside.) It isn’t true!

  JUDGE. The prisoner in his own interest will remain silent.

  (LEONARD and the WARDER resume their seats.)

  SIR WILFRID. I am not concerned with the general trend of this correspondence. I am only interested in one particular letter. (He reads.) “My beloved Max. An extraordinary thing has happened. I believe all our difficulties may be ended . . .”

  ROMAINE. (Interrupting in a frenzy) It’s a lie—I never wrote it. How did you get hold of that letter? Who gave it to you?

  SIR WILFRID. How the letter came into my possession is irrelevant.

  ROMAINE. You stole it. You are a thief as well as a liar. Or did some woman give it to you? Yes, I am right, am I not?

  JUDGE. Kindly confine yourself to answering Counsel’s
questions.

  ROMAINE. But I will not listen.

  JUDGE. Proceed, Sir Wilfrid.

  SIR WILFRID. So far you have only heard the opening phrases of the letter. Am I to understand that you definitely deny writing it?

  ROMAINE. Of course I never wrote it. It is a forgery. It is an outrage that I should be forced to listen to a pack of lies—lies made up by a jealous woman.

  SIR WILFRID. I suggest it is you who have lied. You have lied flagrantly and persistently in this Court and upon oath. And the reason why you have lied is made clear by— (He taps the letter.) this letter—written down by you in black and white.

  ROMAINE. You are crazy. Why should I write down a lot of nonsense?

  SIR WILFRID. Because a way had opened before you to freedom—and in planning to take that way, the fact that an innocent man would be sent to his death meant nothing to you. You have even included that final deadly touch of how you yourself managed accidentally to wound Leonard Vole with a ham knife.

  ROMAINE. (Carried away with fury.) I never wrote that. I wrote that he did it himself cutting the ham . . . (Her voice dies away.)

  (All eyes in court turn on her.)

  SIR WILFRID. (Triumphantly.) So you know what is in the letter—before I have read it.

  ROMAINE. (Casting aside all restraint) Damn you! Damn you! Damn you!

  LEONARD. (Shouting) Leave her alone. Don’t bully her.

  ROMAINE. (Looking wildly around) Let me get out of here—let me go. (She comes out of the witness box.)

  (The USHER rises and restrains ROMAINE.)

  JUDGE. Usher, give the witness a chair.

  (ROMAINE sinks on to the stool R. of the table, sobs hysterically and buries her face in her hands. The USHER crosses and sits on the stool down R.)

  Sir Wilfrid, will you now read the letter aloud so that the Jury can hear it.

  SIR WILFRID. (Reading) “My beloved Max. An extraordinary thing has happened. I believe all our difficulties may be ended. I can come to you without any fear of endangering the valuable work you are doing in this country. The old lady I told you about has been murdered and I think Leonard is suspected. He was there earlier that night and his fingerprints will be all over the place. Nine-thirty seems to be the time. Leonard was home by then, but his alibi depends on me—on me. Supposing I say he came home much later and that he had blood on his clothes—he did have blood on his sleeve, because he cut his wrist at supper, so you see it would all fit in. I can even say he told me he killed her. Oh, Max, beloved! Tell me I can go ahead—it would be so wonderful to be free from playing the part of a loving, grateful wife. I know the Cause and the Party comes first, but if Leonard was convicted of murder, I could come to you safely and we could be together for always. Your adoring Romaine.”