Witness for the Prosecution Page #2

Hello. Distressing news about your health.

It's tragic. You'd better get

a man with younger arteries.

If you could just give us a few minutes.

This is Mr Leonard Vole.

- He's in rather a ghastly mess, I'm afraid.

- How do you do, Mr Vole?

Well, according to Mr Mayhew,

I'm not doing at all well.

Sir Wilfrid! Sir Wilfrid!

- You're dawdling again!

- Oh, shut up!

Sorry, Mayhew. Try me again when

you've something not too stimulating.

Like a postman bitten by a stray dog.

I wish you could help us, Wilfrid, but

I quite understand. Take care of yourself.

Mayhew! Mayhew!

Oh, no. Sir Wilfrid, please.

Don't worry, we won't take the brief,

but an old friend needs help.

Surely I can give him a word of advice.

Come on, I'll give you five minutes.

No, no, I don't want you, just Mayhew.

Our nap! Sir Wilfrid! Our nap!

You go ahead. Start it without me.

This is your fault.

You should not have permitted it.

It is not my fault. I distinctly told

Sir Wilfrid no criminal cases.

Well, if it's anyone's fault,

I expect it's mine.

Seems silly to me,

but Mr Mayhew thinks it's very urgent.

- He thinks I may be arrested any minute.

- Arrested for what?

Well, for murder.

Oh!

It's the case of Emily French.

You've probably seen reports in the press.

Middle-aged widow, well-off,

living with a housekeeper at Hampstead.

Mr Vole had been with her earlier.

When the housekeeper returned,

she found her dead,

struck on the back of the head

and killed.

Vole seems caught

in a web of circumstantial evidence.

Perhaps if I gave you the details you'd

suggest the strongest line of defence.

- I'd probably think better with a cigar.

- Of course.

No previous convictions. He's of good

character with an excellent war record.

- You'd like him a lot.

- They've confiscated the matches. A light.

The defence may turn on establishing

an alibi for the night of the murder.

- I haven't got any. Let me get you some.

- Lord, no! You don't know Miss Plimsoll.

This will take all our cunning.

Young man!

Come here, please.

Your solicitor and I feel you may be able

to enlighten me on an important point.

- Yes. Thank you.

- Sir Wilfrid!

You're not in bed yet? Upstairs!

- Give me a match.

- Sorry, I never carry them.

- What? You said I'd like him.

- But I do have a lighter.

You're quite right, Mayhew,

I do like him. Thank you.

Can you imagine Miss Plimsoll's face

if she saw me now?

Then let's make absolutely sure

that she doesn't.

Splendid. All the instincts

of a skilled criminal.

- Thank you, sir.

- Here.

Whether or not you murdered

a middle-aged widow,

you certainly saved the life

of an elderly barrister.

I haven't murdered anybody. It's absurd.

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