Witness for the Prosecution

Silence. Be upstanding in court.

All persons who have anything to do before my lords,

the queen's justices of oyer and terminer and general jail delivery

for the jurisdiction of the Central Criminal Court

draw near and give your attendance. God save the queen.

What a beautiful day. I've been hoping for a bit of sun for our homecoming.

It's worth having the fog just to appreciate the sunshine. Is there a draught?

- Shall I roll up the window? - Roll up your mouth. You talk too much.

If I'd known how much you talked I'd never have come out of my coma.

- This thing weighs a ton. - Now, now.

We've been flat on our back for two months, we'd better be careful.

Lovely, lovely. It must be perfectly lovely to live and work in the Inns of Court.

How lucky you lawyers are.

I almost married a lawyer. I was in attendance for his appendectomy

and we became engaged as soon as he could sit up.

And then peritonitis set in and he went like that.

He certainly was a lucky lawyer.

Teeny-weeny steps, now. Remember we had a teeny-weeny heart attack.

Oh, shut up!

Williams, my cane.

Here he comes!

Good afternoon. Thank you very much. Everybody back to work.

Sir Wilfrid, if you don't mind, I'd like to read you a poem to welcome you back.

Very touching. You can recite it after office hours in your own time.

Now back to work. What's the matter with you?

Nothing. I'm just happy that you're your old self again.

Any more sentimentality around here, I shall go back to the hospital!

They won't take him back. He wasn't really discharged, you know,

he was expelled for conduct unbecoming a cardiac patient.

Put these in water, blabbermouth! Come on in, Carter.

Look at this room. It's ugly, old and musty.

But I never knew I could miss anything so much.

- Missed you too, you musty old buzzard. - Oh, thank you, sir.

I'm not a religious man, but when they carted you off, I went out and lit a candle.

- Why, thank you, Carter. - Actually, sir, I was lighting it for myself.

If anything happened to you, what would happen to me, after 37 years?

37 years! Has it been all that long?

Yes, sir. This is 1952, that was in October 1915. The Shepherd's Bush murder.

The chemist accused of putting cyanide in his uncle's toothpaste.

My first murder trial. I was more frightened than the defendant.

First time I rose to make an objection, my wig fell off. Where's my wig?

Right here.

- I've guarded it with me life. - I hope it still fits.

I lost 30lbs in that wretched hospital.

Still, I suppose my head isn't any smaller.

What's all this?

- We've put it in mothballs. - Mothballs? Am I not to practise again?

Of course. The solicitors have been breaking down our doors.

- I've got some interesting briefs for you. - That's better.

Divorce case, a tax appeal, and an important marine insurance claim.

- Nice smooth matters with excellent fees. - No, Carter.

I'm sorry, but you're not to undertake any criminal cases. Your doctors have...

Doctors! They've deprived me of alcohol, tobacco, female companionship.

If only they'd let me do something worthwhile!

Sorry, sir.

Might as well get a bigger box, more mothballs, put me away too.

- 2:30, Sir Wilfrid. Time for our little nap! - Oh, get out!

Beddy-bye. We'd better go upstairs now, get undressed and lie down.

- We? What a nauseating prospect. - Upstairs, please.

Are you aware that, while on my sickbed,

I seriously considered strangling you with one of your own rubber tubes.

I would then have admitted the crime, retained myself for the defence.

My lord, members of the jury, I hereby enter a plea of justifiable homicide.

For four months this alleged angel of mercy has pored, probed,

punctured, pillaged and plundered my helpless body

while tormenting my mind with a steady drip of baby talk.

Come along now, like a good boy. Oh, no.

Take your hands off me, or I'll strike you with my cane.

- You wouldn't, it might break your cigars. - What cigars?

- The ones you're smuggling in your cane. - Cane?

You could be jailed for this. You had no search warrant.

In hospital he'd hide cigars and brandy all over the place.

We called him Wilfrid the fox.

- I'm confiscating these. - Can't I have just one?

No. Upstairs.

A few puffs after meals? Please.

I'll do it. Some dark night when her back is turned, I'll snatch her thermometer

and plunge it between her shoulder blades. So help me, I will.

Oh, no, sir. You mustn't walk up. We've installed something for you here. It's a lift.

A lift? I'm sick of this plot to make me a helpless invalid.

I think it's a splendid idea. Let's try it, shall we?

Out of there. I'll try it. It's my lift because it was my heart attack.

Here you are. Simply press this button for up and this one for down.

Carter, I warn you, if this contraption should collapse,

if the barrister should fall off the bannister...

Remarkable. Smoothest flight I've had in years.

- Upsy-daisy! - Once more to get the feel of the controls.

Good afternoon. Is it possible to see Sir Wilfrid?

I didn't make an appointment, but this is urgent.

If it's about a brief, I'm sorry, but we're full. Sir Wilfrid has all that he can handle.

I'm sure he'll want this brief.

Serious criminal matter.

Absolutely not, Mr Mayhew. Sir Wilfrid is still convalescent.

He can't accept anything of an overstimulating nature.

Put me on a diet of bland civil suits. Hello, Mayhew.

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 tum 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.

Christine, that's my wife, she thought I may be implicated and needed a lawyer.

That's why I went to see Mr Mayhew. Now he thinks he needs a lawyer

and now I have two lawyers. It's rather silly.

I am a solicitor. Sir Wilfrid is a barrister.

Only a barrister can actually plead a case in court.

- Oh, I see. - She shall not even find the ashes.

- Sit down. - Thank you.

I saw in the paper that Mrs French had been found dead with her head bashed in.

It also said the police were anxious to interview me since I visited that evening.

- Naturally, I went to the police station. - Did they caution you?

I don't quite know. They asked if I'd like to make a statement

and said they'd write it down and it might be used against me. Is that a caution?

Well, it can't be helped now.

- They seemed quite satisfied. - They seemed satisfied, Mr Vole.

He thinks that he made a statement and that's the end of it. Isn't it obvious

that you will be regarded as the principal suspect? I'm afraid you'll be arrested.

I've done nothing! Why should I be arrested?

This is England! You don't get arrested or convicted for crimes you haven't done.

We try not to make a habit of it.

But it does happen, though, doesn't it?

Of course. There was that case of that fellow, whatshisname, Adolph Beck.

In jail for years and they suddenly found it was another chap.

- He'd been innocent! - Unfortunate, but restitution was made.

He received a pardon, a bounty from the crown, and was restored to normal life.

That's all right for him. What if it had been murder? What if he'd hanged?

How would they have restored him to his normal life then?

Mr Vole, you must not take such a morbid point of view.

It's just when you say these things are closing in on me, it's like a nightmare.

Relax. You're in the hands of the finest, most experienced barrister in London.

Let's get this straight. I may have done something highly unethical.

I've taken your cigar but I'm not taking your case. I can't.

I'm forbidden. My doctors would never allow it. I'm truly sorry, young man.

But if you'd like the case handled by these chambers,

- I'd recommend Mr Brogan-Moore. - Yes. A very able man.

- I second Sir Wilfrid's recommendation. - All right, sir, if you say so.

Hold this.

Carter?

I would like to see Brogan-Moore here as soon as he comes in from court.

Sir Wilfrid, I have never known such insubordination.

Not even as a nurse during the war.

What war was that? The Crimean War, no doubt.

You'll like Brogan-Moore, he's had excellent training. Under me.

This morning I had no lawyers at all and now suddenly I have three.

We should explain that I have very little money.

I shan't be able to pay all the costs and fees.

We'll get a fourth lawyer to sue you.

He won't get very much. I haven't had a job in four months.

- What sort of work do you do? - Well, uh...

My last job was as a mechanic. The foreman kept riding me all the time.

- I took it as long as I could, then I quit. - And before that?

I worked in a department store, in toys, demonstrating children's building sets.

Of course, it lasted only during Christmas. Before that I tested electric blankets.

- Electric blankets? - I suppose you think I'm a bit of a drifter.