All language subtitles for Witness.for.the.Prosecution.1957.720p.BluRay.X264-AMIABLE-English

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.

It's true, in a way,
but I'm really not like that.

My army service unsettled me. That and
living abroad. I was stationed in Germany.

It was fine there, though.
That's where I met my wife.

She was an actress, and a good one.
She's a wonderful wife to me, too.

But I haven't been much of
a provider, I'm afraid.

Somehow, I just don't seem able to settle
down now I've come back to this country.

- If I could just put my eggbeater across.
- Eggbeater?

Yes, sir. I, uh, I'm a bit of an inventor.
Nothing big, just little household things.

Pocket pencil sharpeners,
key chain flashlights.

But my best is really
this eggbeater.

It not only beats, it also
separates the yolk from the white.

Is that really desirable?

If you were a housewife,
you'd see it right away.

The trouble is, I need money for
manufacturing and promotion.

I was really hoping that's what Mrs
French might do for me after I met her.

- Exactly how did you meet Mrs French?
- That's rather funny in itself.

It was 3 September. I remember
because it's my wife's birthday.

I was window-shopping
in Oxford Street,

daydreaming about what I'd buy
for her, if I had any money.

- You really like this one?
- Very much.

- You don't think it's too mad?
- Mad?

Not at all. Daring, perhaps. I wouldn't
recommend it to every woman. But you?

- Why shouldn't you attract attention?
- You think so?

Absolutely. But if I could
suggest one little thing.

Perhaps we could tip it and bring it back
a bit like that. Show more of your face.

- My bus. Goodbye.
- Good...

You buy that hat. I insist.

Actually, it was a ridiculous sort of hat-
a silly thing with ribbons and flowers.

I'm constantly surprised that women's
hats do not provoke more murders.

Go on, please.

I was only trying to be nice
to make her feel good.

I never dreamed I'd see
her again. Or the hat.

- But you did?
- Yes, a few weeks later.

Again, by accident. I was peddling my
eggbeaters and business was a little slow.

Would you mind, madam? Your hat.

- Oh, it's you!
- Hello!

It's your fault, you know.
You chose it yourself.

- May I?
- Sure, if you like.

Thank you. It's such a bother taking
it off and putting it back on again.

That chap is Jesse James. They've led
him into an ambush. It's not at all cricket.

- Don't worry, he shoots his way out.
- He does?

- I've seen it. I got to the movies a lot.
- You do?

I get restless so I go out. Then I find
I've no place to go so I go to the movies.

Sometimes I see the same one
two or three times. Ooh.

- Toffee?
- Oh, yes, please.

At this time you had no idea
that Mrs French was well-off?

No. Absolutely not. We were
sitting in the cheap seats.

All I knew was she seemed to be very
lonely, had no friends whatsoever.

She and her husband lived
abroad in British Nigeria.

He was in the colonial service.
He died in '45, of a heart attack.

Please, Mayhew, not when
I'm smoking. Go on, young man.

Well, they finally
polished off Jesse James,

and after we left the movie she
invited me to her house for tea.

I think it's the most fascinating thing
I've ever seen. Janet, come and look.

I've seen eggbeaters before, ma'am.

But this beats so quickly
and it separates too!

It must be cen-trifugal or
centrifugal, which is it?

It's specific gravity,
but it whips cream too.

Did you hear that, Janet?
It whips cream too.

We must have one. Is it expensive?

Compliments of the inventor,
manufacturer and sole distributor.

Thank you. We'll use it constantly,
won't we, Janet?

Come, we'd better get out of here.
Janet doesn't like visitors in her kitchen.

Ha!

It's a bit chilly in here, isn't it?
Shall we have a fire?

Why not?

This is a charming room.

Hubert and I collected all these
things when we lived in Africa.

Hubert was my husband.

Well, now, there's a loveable chap.

That's the mask of
the witch doctor.

He wore it when he pulled
our servants' teeth.

So Hubert used to call
him a witch dentist.

- Hubert was so witty.
- Yes, I can see that.

Oh, here's tea.

- Let's use our good silver and china.
- Oh, no, don't bother, Mrs French.

- This is perfectly all right.
- Lemon or milk, please?

- I don't really care.
- Would you prefer sherry?

- That'd be fine.
- We've no' got any.

Oh, but we have. There's that bottle,
the one we bought last Christmas.

If you care for an eggnog there's a wasted
egg in the kitchen ready and separated.

Do sit down. Don't mind Janet, Mr Vole.
It's just that she's terribly Scotch.

Oh, is she? I thought she
came with the collection.

You know, maybe I'll take
a glass of sherry myself.

I feel like Christmas, somehow.

After that I saw her once or twice a week.
She always kept a bottle of sherry for me.

We'd talk, play canasta,
listen to gramophone records,

Gilbert and Sullivan mostly.

It's so weird to think of her now,
lying in that living room, murdered.

I assure you she's been moved by now.
To leave her would be unfeeling, unlawful,

and unsanitary.

Tell Sir Wilfrid about the
evening of the murder.

I went around to see her
about eight o'clock.

She fixed a sandwich,
we talked, listened to The Mikado.

I left about nine. I walked home.
I got there about half past.

I can prove that. I can swear to it, in or out
of court, in the witness box, anywhere!

How much money did you
get from Mrs French?

- Nothing.
- The truth. How much?

- Why should she give me any money?
- Because she was in love with you.

That's ridiculous. She liked me.

She pampered me like an aunt.
But that's all, I swear.

- Why didn't you tell her you had a wife?
- I did!

But you never took your wife along
when you went there. Why not?

- Because...
- Because what?

Because she was under the impression
we didn't get along too well.

- Is that true?
- No! We love each other.

- Then how did she get that impression?
- She just seemed to want to believe it.

- You never corrected her. Why?
- I was afraid she'd lose interest.

Because she was rich, and
you were after her money.

Well, yes, in a way.

I was hoping for a loan for my new
invention. Just a few hundred pounds.

An honest business proposition,
that's all. Is that so wicked?

You knew it was the
housekeeper's day off?

- Well, yes.
- You went there because she'd be alone?

No, because I thought
she might be lonely.

All right, lonely. You and the rich
lonely widow all alone in that house

with a gramophone
blaring The Mikado.

Perhaps you turned up the
volume to drown her cries.

- When I left her she was alive!
- When Janet came back she was dead.

The house had been ransacked! It said
in the papers. It must've been a burglar.

I didn't do it. No matter how bad
things look, I didn't do it!

You must believe me.
You do believe me, don't you?

I do now, but I wasn't sure.

That's why I subjected your eyes
and my arteries to that ordeal.

- I'm sorry.
- That's all right.

As for things looking bad, they don't
look bad, Mr Vole, they look terrible.

- Apparently you've no alibi at all.
- But I have. I left Mrs French's at nine.

- By bus or underground?
- No, I walked. It was a fine night.

- Did anyone see you?
- Christine saw me when I got home.

It was 9.26. I know because I went right to
work on a clock I've been tinkering with.

- My wife will tell you.
- Your wife loves you, yes?

Very much. We're
devoted to each other.

You realise, Mr Vole, the testimony of a
devoted wife does not carry much weight.

People might think Christine
would lie on my account?

It has been known, Mr Vole.
Blood is thicker than evidence.

- Ah, Brogan-Moore. Come in, come in.
- So good to have you out of hospital.

I didn't get a full pardon, I'm out on
parole. You know Mr Mayhew, I believe.

- This is his client, Mr Leonard Vole.
- How do you do?

- How do you do?
- The Emily French murder.

- Oh, how do you do?
- Badly, thank you.

A mass of circumstantial evidence.
No alibi whatsoever. It's a hot potato.

- Tossing it into your lap.
- Much obliged.

Your line of defence,
however, will be lack of motive.

You will agree that we can rule
out a crime of passion, hm?

That leaves us with a
murder for profit.

If Mr Vole had been sponging off Mrs
French, why cut off the source of supply?

Or, if he'd been hoping for a golden egg,
why kill the goose before it was laid?

No motive. No motive whatsoever.

- You find some flaw in this reasoning?
- No, no, it's very sound as far as it goes.

Well, it's all yours. You'll find Mr Vole
very responsive and quite candid.

So candid, he's already told me
we'll have to sue him for our fees.

Oh, we'll simply put a
lean on Mr Vole's £80,000.

- What £80,000?
- The £80,000 Mrs French left you.

Left me?

They opened Mrs French's bank
vault today and found her will.

- Congratulations.
- £80,000!

And I was worried about a couple of
hundred for that silly eggbeater.

I must call Christine.

Oh.

This doesn't make things look
any better for me, does it?

- No. I wouldn't think so.
- So now they'll say I did have a motive.

They will indeed. £80,000 makes
for a very handsome motive.

I thought you were crazy but
now they will arrest me!

It's not unlikely.

As a matter of fact, it's quite likely.
They're on their way up now.

I knew nothing about that will. I'd no idea
she'd any intention of leaving me money.

- If I didn't know, how can it be a motive?
- We'll certainly bring that out in court.

- It's our old friend Inspector Hearne.
- Chief Inspector as of last month.

Chief Inspector? They must think
a lot of you at Scotland Yard.

You're getting the
deluxe treatment.

- Oh, in here, Chief Inspector.
- Sorry to disturb you in your chambers.

That's perfectly all right. I never
object to the actions of the police

- except once in a great while in court.
- Yes, sir, I still have the scars.

You know Mr Mayhew,
Mr Brogan-Moore.

This is Leonard Vole. You'd better search
him, he may be armed with an eggbeater.

- Is your name Leonard Vole?
- Yes, it is.

I have a warrant for your arrest on
the charge of murdering Emily French.

I must warn you that anything you say
may be taken down and used in evidence.

Well, I'm ready.
Must I be handcuffed?

That won't be necessary, sir.

I've never been arrested before,
not even for walking a dog off a lead

- or having a beer after hours.
- There's no disgrace in being arrested.

Kings, prime ministers, archbishops,
even barristers have stood in the dock.

- Somebody better call my wife.
- I will, don't worry.

I'll go too, see you're
properly charged.

- You will see to it that he is well-treated?
- We will.

Would you like a cigar? Pardon me.

- That's very kind of you, Sir Wilfrid.
- I'd better not. It would constitute a bribe.

We ought to be going, Mr Vole.

One thing I've learned for sure, never
look in a window with women's hats.

Good day, sir.

Makes a very nice
impression, doesn't he?

- Yes, rather. Give him the monocle test?
- Passed with flying colours.

I hope he does as well in the dock.
This is sticky, you know.

Of course. The prosecution will blast
in with their heaviest artillery.

All you'll have is one little popgun,
an alibi furnished by his wife.

Isn't that an intriguing challenge?

I think I'd like it more if it was less
of a challenge and less intriguing.

Miss Plimsoll has issued an ultimatum.
In bed in one minute or she'll resign.

Splendid. Give her a month's pay
and kick her down the stairs.

Either you take care of yourself
or I, too, shall resign.

This is blackmail.
But you're quite right.

For my first day this has already been
rather hectic. I should be in bed.

I'd better get in touch with Mrs Vole
and have her come over. Will you sit in?

Thank you, no. I'm in no condition to cope
with emotional wives drenched in tears.

Miss Plimsoll, how alluring you look,
waiting like a hangman on the scaffold.

Take me, I'm yours.

Oh!

About Mrs Vole. Handle her gently,
especially when you tell her of the arrest.

Bear in mind she's a foreigner, so prepare
for hysterics, even a fainting spell.

Better have smelling salts ready,
box of tissues and a nip of brandy.

I do not think that
will be necessary.

I never faint in case
I don't fall gracefully,

and I never use smelling salts
because they puff up the eyes.

I'm Christine Vole.

How do you do?
This is Mr Brogan-Moore.

How do you do?

- I am Wilfrid Robarts.
- How do you do?

My dear Mrs Vole, I'm afraid
we have bad news for you.

- Don't be afraid, I'm quite disciplined.
- There's nothing to be alarmed about yet.

Leonard has been arrested and
charged with murder. Is that it?

- Yes.
- I knew he would be, I told him so.

I'm glad you're showing
such fortitude.

Call it what you like.
What is the next step?

Your husband will have to
stand trial, I'm afraid.

Will you explain the procedure?
Mr Brogan-Moore will lead the defence.

Oh?

- You will not defend Leonard?
- Regrettably not.

My health, or, rather,
the lack of it, forbids me.

It is regrettable. Mr Mayhew described
you as champion of the hopeless cause.

Is it, perhaps, that this
cause is too hopeless?

I'll have a serious talk with Dr Harrison.
It was a mistake to let you come back here.

I should have taken you to
a rest-home or a resort.

Some place quiet,
far off, like Bermuda.

Shut up. You just want to see
me in those nasty shorts.

Come now, Sir Wilfrid,
you must not think of it.

You must get ready for sleep,
think beautiful thoughts.

Now, let's get undressed. Put these on,
tops and bottoms, while I make your bed.

After your rest we'll
have a nice cup of cocoa.

Then perhaps we'll have a
walk around the square.

You know, I feel sorry
for that nice Mr Vole.

And not just because he was arrested,
but that wife of his. She must be German.

That's what happens when we let our
boys cross the Channel. They go crazy.

The government should do something
about foreign wives. Like an embargo.

How else can we take care of our own
surplus. Don't you agree, Sir Wilfrid?

All right. Hop in!

Sir Wilfrid?

Sir Wilfrid!

Come back!

Yes, of course I knew that Leonard had
been seeing Mrs French quite frequently.

Go on.

I knew when he came home with a pair
of green socks she'd knitted for him.

That's quite natural. I'm sure
a jury will find it endearing.

Leonard can be very endearing.
He hates that particular shade of green

and the socks were
two sizes too large,

but he wore them just the
same to give her pleasure.

Leonard has a way with women.

I only hope he has an all-woman jury.
They will carry him from court in triumph.

A simple acquittal will do. Now, you know
Mrs French left your husband money?

Yes. A lot of money.

Of course, your husband had no
previous knowledge of this bequest?

Is that what he told you?

Surely you're not
suggesting different?

Oh, no, no. I do not
suggest anything.

Clearly, she had come to look upon your
husband as a son or favourite nephew.

You think Mrs French looked upon
Leonard as a son? Or a nephew?

I do. An entirely natural and
understandable relationship.

What hypocrites you
are in this country.

Pardon me, Brogan-Moore.

- Do you mind if I ask you a question?
- Go right ahead, Sir Wilfrid.

You realise your husband's entire
defence rests on his word and yours?

- I realise that.
- And that the jury will be quite sceptical

of the word of a man accused of murder
when supported only by that of his wife?

- I realise that too.
- Let us, then, at least make sure

- the two are not in conflict.
- By all means, let's.

I assume you want to
help your husband?

Of course I want to help Leonard. I want
to help Mr Brogan-Moore and to help you.

There. Isn't that more
comfortable for you?

Now, Mrs Vole.
This is very important.

On the night of the murder your husband
came home before 9:30. Correct?

Precisely. Isn't that
what he wants me to say?

Isn't it the truth?

Of course.

But when I told the police,
I do not think they believed me.

Maybe I didn't say it well.
Maybe because of my accent.

My dear Mrs Vole, in our courts

we accept the evidence of witnesses
who speak only Bulgarian

and who must have an interpreter.

We accept the evidence of
deaf-mutes who cannot speak at all,

as long as they tell the truth.

You're aware that when you're in
the witness box you will be sworn

- and you will testify under oath?
- Yes.

Leonard came home at 9.26 precisely
and did not go out again.

The truth, the whole truth and nothing
but the truth. Is that better?

- Mrs Vole, do you love your husband?
- Leonard thinks I do.

- Well, do you?
- Am I already under oath?

Whatever your gambit may be,
do you know that, under British law,

you cannot be called to give
testimony damaging to your husband?

How very convenient.

We are dealing with
a capital crime.

The prosecution will try
to hang your husband.

He is not my husband.

Leonard and I went through
a form of marriage,

but I had a husband living somewhere
in East Germany, in the Russian zone.

- Did you tell Leonard?
- I did not. It would have been stupid.

He would not have married me and I'd
have been left to starve in the rubble.

But he did marry you and
brought you safely here.

Don't you think you
should be grateful?

One can get very
tired of gratitude.

Your husband loves you
very much, does he not?

Leonard? He worships
the ground I walk on.

And you?

You want to know too much.

Auf Wiedersehen, gentlemen.

Thank you for coming in, Mrs Vole.
Your visit has been most reassuring.

Do not worry, Sir Wilfrid. I will give him
an alibi and I shall be very convincing.

There will be tears in my eyes when I say
"Leonard came home at 9.26 precisely."

You're a very remarkable
woman, Mrs Vole.

And you're satisfied, I hope?

- I'm damned if I'm satisfied!
- Care for a whiff of those smelling salts?

That woman's up to something.
But what?

The prosecution will break her down in
no time when she's in the witness box.

This case is going to be rather like
the charge of the Light Brigade

or one of those Japanese
suicide pilots. Quite one-sided.

With the odds all
on the other side.

I haven't got much
to go on, have I?

The fact is, I've got nothing.

Let me ask you something.

Do you believe Leonard
Vole is innocent?

Do you?

Do you?

I'm not sure.

Oh, I'm sorry, Wilfrid.
Of course, I'll do my best.

It's all right, Brogan-Moore.

I'll take it from here.

I have called Dr Harrison and given him
a report on your shocking behaviour.

- Give me a match, Miss Plimsoll.
- Sir Wilfrid!

Did you hear me? A match!

Mr Mayhew. Sir Wilfrid. I'm told you are
going to represent me. I'm very grateful.

I struck a bargain with my doctors. They
exile me to Bermuda as soon as we finish.

- Thank you.
- There's hope that we'll both survive.

- Get into these. We need a photograph.
- Why?

This is what you were
wearing that night.

We'll circulate a photo on the chance
that someone saw you on your way home.

Over here against the wall, please.

Hold it. One more
in profile, please.

Do we really need this? My wife knows
what time I came home that night.

A disinterested witness
may be of more value.

Yes, of course, Christine
is an interested witness.

I'll pick up the negatives later.
Thank you.

I don't understand it.
Why hasn't she come to see me?

Won't they let her see me?
I mean, it's been two weeks now.

Mayhew, give me the reports.

Have you been talking to her?
Is there something the matter?

I want to read a portion of the evidence
of Janet McKenzie, the housekeeper.

"Mr Vole helped Mrs French
with her business affairs,

particularly her
income tax returns."

Oh, yes, I did. Some of those
forms are very complicated.

There's also a hint you may have
helped her draft her new will.

Well, that's not true!
If Janet said that she's lying.

She was always against me,
I don't know why!

It's obvious. You threw an eggbeater into
the wheels of her Victorian household.

Now, this cut in your wrist. You
say you cut yourself with a knife?

Well, that's true, I did. I was
cutting bread and the knife slipped.

But that was two days after. Christine
was there. She'll tell them in her evidence.

Are you keeping something from me?
Is she ill? Was she shocked?

All things considered, she took it well.
Though that may be only on the surface.

Wives are often profoundly
disturbed at such a time.

Yes, it must be hard. We've
never been separated before.

- Not since our first meeting.
- How did you meet your wife, Mr Vole?

In Germany in 1945.

It's rather funny. The very first time
I saw her, the ceiling fell right in on me.

I was stationed outside Hamburg,
with an RAF maintenance unit.

I'd just installed a shower in the officers'
billet, so they gave me a weekend pass.

Come on!

♪ Join the party

♪ Have a hearty glass of rum

♪ Don't ever think about tomorrow

♪ For tomorrow may never come

♪ When I find me a happy place

♪ That's where I wanna stay

♪ Time is nothing as long as
I'm living it up this way

♪ I may never go home any more

♪ Dim the lights and
start locking the door

♪ Give your arms to me
Give your charms to me

♪ After all that's
what sailors are for

♪ I've got kisses and kisses galore

♪ That have never
been tasted before

♪ if you treat me right
This could be the night

♪ I may never go home

♪ I may never go home

♪ I may never go home

♪ I may never go home

♪ I may never go home any more

♪ I may never go home any more

Hey, Fräulein, show us some legs.

They rob you blind and then
throw you a ruddy sailor!

- Come on, let's see 'em.
- We want legs!

Come help the cabaret
out of her trousers!

All right, Fräulein, if you
won't show 'em, I will.

All right, outside, everybody.
Come on, let's go.

Come on.

Bring him round to the other truck.

We'll be back, baby! We'll be back!

Gesundheit.

- What are you looking for?
- My accordion.

Oh, let me help you.

- I think I found it.
- Step on it again, it's still breathing.

I'm terribly sorry.

You better go. We've
had trouble enough.

Well, it's your own fault. That costume
in the picture gave the boys ideas

- then those trousers let them down hard.
- That costume went in the first raid.

Then raid by raid, my other dresses,
and now you've bombed my trousers.

Cigarette? Gum?

You're burning my nose.

- Oh, I'm sorry.
- That's all right.

How about a cup of coffee?
I've got a tin of coffee.

How much?

I don't know. What's
the rate of exchange?

- Depends whether it's fresh or powdered.
- It's instant coffee.

Got any hot water at your place?

- Sometimes.
- Let's take a chance. Where do you live?

Nearby.

Come.

Sorry, it's the maid's night off.

This is pretty horrible.
In a gemütlich sort of way.

Oh, it's fine now. I used to
have a roommate. A dancer.

She had luck, she married a Canadian.
She now lives in Toronto.

She has a Ford automobile.

Make yourself comfortable,
the stove is slow these days.

That's all right,
I've got a weekend pass.

No, not that chair. It holds up the
beam and that holds up the ceiling.

You'd better sit down on the cot.

The cot?

Getting more gemütlich all
the time. Are you married?

- Why?
- Well, the, um...

Oh, that. No, no, I'm not married.

I just wear it when I'm working. Gives
a little protection with all the men.

- Didn't work too well tonight, did it?
- No, tonight was bad.

But it's getting better.

- Where's the coffee?
- Ah, coffee, ja voll.

Finest Brazilian blend. The same brand
that Field Marshal Montgomery drinks.

Is that a fair rate of exchange?

Very fair.

Would you be interested
in having the whole tin?

I would.

- How are you fixed for sugar?
- I could use some.

Milk?

Sure.

Milk. Sugar.

It's a pleasure to do
business with you.

Yeah.

I also carry biscuits,
powdered eggs,

- bacon, marmalade.
- I don't know if I can afford it.

Don't worry, we'll work out
something, like an instalment plan.

♪ I may never go home any more

I'm terribly sorry.
Now you have no ceiling.

- Maybe I can fix it, I'm good at it.
- Why fix it? It's not raining.

Ooh.

- Are you all right?
- I think so. My head aches a little.

Maybe I can fix it.

I'm good at it.

I had a weekend pass,
a month's pay in my pocket.

- And she already had a wedding ring.
- Yes, that's right.

We got married. When I got out
of the service I brought her here.

It was wonderful. I rented
a little flat, Edgware Road.

First time she saw it, she was so
happy she broke down and cried.

Naturally. She had a solid roof over
her head and a British passport.

You don't know her, how she feels about
me. You will when she gives evidence.

Mr Vole, I must tell you I am not
putting her in the witness box.

You're not? Why not?

She's a foreigner, unfamiliar with
the subtleties of our language.

The prosecution could
easily trip her up.

I hear it may be Mr Myers for the
crown. We can't take chances.

Quite. We'd better be going. Miss Plimsoll
is waiting in the car with her pills

- and a Thermos of lukewarm cocoa.
- Officer.

- But Christine must give evidence.
- Mr Vole, you must learn to trust me.

For no other reason than I'm a mean,
ill-tempered old man who hates to lose.

Let us wish each other luck.

Look, I can't face this without Christine.
I tell you, I need her. Without her I'm sunk.

Touching, isn't it? The way
he counts on his wife.

Yes. Like a drowning man
clutching at a razor blade.

Leonard Stephen Vole, you are
charged on indictment for that you,

on the 14th day of October,
in the county of London,

murdered Emily Jane French.

How say you, Leonard Stephen Vole?

Are you guilty or not guilty?

Not guilty.

Members of the jury,

the prisoner stands indicted for
that he, on the 14th day of October,

murdered Emily Jane French.

To this indictment he
has pleaded not guilty.

And it is your charge to say,
having heard the evidence,

whether he be guilty or not.

Members of the jury, by the
oath which you have just taken,

you have sworn to try this
case on the evidence.

You must shut out from
your minds everything

except what will take
place in this court.

You may proceed for the
prosecution, Mr Myers.

May it please you, my lord.
Members of the jury,

I appear in this case with my learned
friend, Mr Barton, for the prosecution.

And my learned friends Sir Wilfrid
Robarts and Mr Brogan-Moore

appear for the defence.

I trust we are not to be deprived

of the learned and stimulating
presence of Sir Wilfrid?

My lord, may I assure my learned friend
that Sir Wilfrid is in the Old Bailey.

He's slightly incapacitated,
but will be in his seat presently.

My lord, may I express my regret that Sir
Wilfrid is even slightly incapacitated.

You may, Mr Myers. You may also proceed
with the case for the prosecution.

Thank you, my lord.

The facts in this case are simple
and, to a point, not in dispute.

You will hear how the prisoner made
the acquaintance of Mrs Emily French,

a woman of 56.

How he was treated by her with
kindness and even affection.

On the night of October 14 last,

between 9:30 and 10,
Mrs French was murdered.

Medical testimony will
be introduced to prove

that death was caused by a blow
from a blunt and heavy instrument,

and it is the case
for the prosecution

that the blow was dealt by
the prisoner, Leonard Vole.

That's not true! I didn't do it!

Among the witnesses,
you will hear police evidence,

also the evidence of Mrs French's
housekeeper, Janet McKenzie,

and from the medical and
laboratory experts,

and the evidence of the murdered woman's
solicitor, who drew her final will.

I now call Chief Inspector Hearne,
Criminal Investigation Department,

- New Scotland Yard.
- Chief Inspector Hearne.

- Chief Inspector Hearne.
- Chief Inspector Hearne.

This is ridiculous. Just nervous heartburn.
I always get it the first day of a trial.

240 above 130. You
shouldn't be here at all.

- I should be in court, the trial's begun.
- Syringe, please.

Be a good, brave boy, Sir Wilfrid.

It may interest you to know that I
am descended from a warrior family

which traces its brave past back
to Richard the Lion-Hearted.

You're to have a calcium
injection daily,

- tranquillising pill every hour.
- I'll set my wristwatch alarm.

Any pain or shortness of breath, pop
one of these nitroglycerin tablets

under your tongue. Oh, and
I'll leave you some...

That's enough, Doctor. The judge
will be asking for a saliva test.

Carter, I'd better take that
Thermos of cocoa with me.

- Helps me wash down the pills.
- Let me see it, please.

My learned patient is not above
substituting brandy for cocoa.

It is cocoa. So sorry.

If you were a woman, Miss Plimsoll,
I would strike you.

Take care of this, Carter.

Now, Sir Wilfrid, in the courtroom,
you must avoid overexcitement.

Yes, Doctor, yes, yes.

Watch your temper. Keep
your blood pressure down.

Thank you, Doctor, I shall be quite safe,
what with the pills and the cocoa.

Come along, Carter.

From the body temperature
and other factors,

we placed the time of death
at between 9:30 and 10pm,

approximately 30 minutes before Janet
McKenzie returned home and called us.

Death was instantaneous, caused by one
blow from a heavy and blunt instrument.

Were there any signs of a struggle?

None. Just the one blow.

Would that indicate that the murderer
had taken Mrs French by surprise?

My lord, I must object.

My learned friend refers to the
assailant as "the murderer".

We have not yet determined whether
the assailant was a man or a woman.

It could quite conceivably
have been "the murderess".

Mr Myers, Sir Wilfrid has joined us just in
time to catch you on a point of grammar.

Please rephrase your question.

Yes, my lord. Inspector, is it
your opinion that the assailant,

whether he, she or it, had
taken Mrs French by surprise?

My lord, I am taken by surprise

that my learned friend should try to solicit
from the witness an opinion, not a fact.

Quite so. You'll have to do
better than that, Mr Myers.

My lord, I withdraw the
question entirely.

- Is that better?
- That's much better.

Silence! Silence!

Very well, Inspector, let
us proceed with the facts.

After establishing the cause and the
time of death, what did you then do?

A search was made, photographs were
taken and the premises fingerprinted.

- What fingerprints did you discover?
- I found the fingerprints of Mrs French,

those of Janet McKenzie, and some which
later proved to be those of Leonard Vole.

- No others?
- No others.

Did you say the room had the appearance
that a robbery had been committed?

Yes. Things were strewn about and the
window had been broken near the catch.

There was glass on the floor,
and fragments were found outside.

The glass outside was not consistent with
the window being forced from the outside.

You're saying that someone made it look as
if it had been forced from the outside?

My lord, I must object. My learned friend
is putting words in the witness' mouth.

After all, if he insists on
answering his own questions,

the presence of the witness
would seem superfluous.

Quite. Don't you
think so, Mr Myers?

Yes, my lord.

Inspector,

did you ascertain if any of the
murdered woman's property was missing?

According to the housekeeper,
nothing was missing.

In your experience, Inspector,
when burglars or burglaresses

break into a house, do they
leave without taking anything?

No, sir.

- Do you produce a jacket, Inspector?
- Yes, sir.

Is that the jacket?

- Yes, sir.
- That is exhibit P1, my lord.

Where did you find this, Inspector?

That is the jacket found
in the prisoner's flat,

which I handed to our lab
to test for bloodstains.

- And did you find any bloodstains?
- Yes.

Though an attempt had been
made to wash them out.

What tests were made?

First to determine if the
stains were human blood,

then to classify it
by group or type.

And was the blood of a
particular group or type?

Yes, sir. It is type O.

And did you subsequently test
the blood of the dead woman?

- Yes, sir.
- What type was that?

The same. Type O.

Thank you, Inspector.
No further questions.

Inspector, you say the only fingerprints
you found were those of Mrs French,

Janet McKenzie and Leonard Vole.

In your experience, when a burglar breaks
in, does he usually leave fingerprints

- or does he wear gloves?
- He wears gloves.

So the absence of
fingerprints in a robbery

- would hardly surprise you?
- No, sir.

Can't we surmise the burglar might
have entered a presumably empty house,

suddenly encountered Mrs
French and struck her,

then, realising she was dead,
fled without taking anything?

I submit, my lord, that
it is entirely impossible

to guess what went on in the mind
of some entirely imaginary burglar.

With or without gloves.

Let us not surmise, Sir Wilfrid,
but confine ourselves to facts.

Inspector, when you questioned the
prisoner as to the stains on his jacket,

did he not show you a
recently-healed scar on his wrist,

- saying he had cut himself slicing bread?
- Yes, sir, that is what he said.

And were you not told the
same thing by his wife?

- Yes, sir. But afterwards...
- Just a simple yes or no, please.

Did the prisoner's
wife show you a knife

and tell you that her husband had
cut his wrist while slicing bread?

- Yes, sir.
- I will ask you to examine this knife.

Just test the edge of it
with your finger. Carefully!

You agree that the point and the
cutting edge are razor-sharp?

- Yes, sir.
- Now, if such a knife were to slip,

might it not inflict a cut
that would bleed profusely?

Yes, sir, it might.

Inspector, you stated that the bloodstains
on the prisoner's jacket were analysed,

as was the blood of Mrs French, and
they were both found to be of group O.

- That is correct.
- However,

if the prisoner's blood were
also of this same group,

then the stains on his jacket
may well have resulted

from the household accident
he described to you.

Yes, sir.

Did you examine the
prisoner's blood, Inspector?

No, sir.

I have here a certificate

stating that Leonard Stephen
Vole is a blood donor

at the North London Hospital.

And that his blood is group O.

Thank you, Inspector.

Inspector, granted that the cut on
the wrist was caused by that knife,

is there anything to show
whether it was an accident

or done deliberately after the murder
to account for the bloodstains?

- Oh, really, my lord!
- I withdraw the question.

You may stand down.

- Call Janet McKenzie.
- Janet McKenzie.

- Janet McKenzie.
- Janet McKenzie.

I swear by Almighty God
that the evidence...

...the truth, the whole truth
and nothing but the truth.

Carter. Carter. Pill. Pill.

- Your name is Janet McKenzie?
- Aye, that's my name.

- When did you first come to London?
- That was many years ago. 28 years ago.

- Where do you live?
- Now that Mrs French, poor soul, is dead,

I've moved in with my niece
at 19 Glenister Road.

You were companion-housekeeper
to the late Mrs Emily French?

I was her housekeeper!
I've no opinion of companions,

poor feckless bodies, afraid of
a bit of honest domestic work.

I meant you were on friendly terms, not
altogether those of mistress and servant.

Aye. Ten years I was with
her and looked after her.

She knew me and she trusted me.

Many's the time I prevented
her doing a foolish thing.

Please tell us, in your own words, about
the events of the evening of October 14.

It was a Friday and my night out. I was
going to see my niece at Glenister Road,

which is about five minutes' walk.
I left the house at half past seven.

I promised to take her a dress
pattern that she admired.

- Och, is this thing necessary?
- An excellent question.

However, it has been installed at
considerable expense to the taxpayers,

so let us take advantage of it.
Please continue.

Well, when I got to my niece's,
I found I'd left the pattern behind.

So after supper I slipped back
to get it as it was no distance.

I got back to the
house at 25 past 9.

I let myself in and went
upstairs to my room.

As I passed the sitting room, I heard the
prisoner in there, talking to Mrs French.

No, it wasn't me!
It wasn't my voice!

Talking and laughing they were.

But it was no business of mine, so I
went upstairs to fetch my pattern.

Now, let us be very
exact as to the time.

You say that you re-entered
the house at 25 past 9?

Aye. The pattern was on a shelf in my
room next to my clock so I saw the time.

- And it was 25 past 9.
- Go on, please.

I went back to my niece. Och, she was
delighted with the pattern. Si...

Simply delighted. I stayed until 20 to 11,
then I said good night and I come home.

I went into the sitting room to see
if the mistress wanted anything

before she went to bed.

And there she was, dead. And
everything tossed hither and thither.

Did you really think that a
burglary had been committed?

My lord, I must protest!

I will not allow that question
to be answered, Mr Myers.

Miss McKenzie, were you aware that
Leonard Vole was a married man?

No, indeed. And neither
was the mistress.

- Janet!
- My lord, I must object.

What Mrs French knew or did not know is
pure conjecture on Janet McKenzie's part.

Let me put it this way.
You formed the opinion

that Mrs French thought Leonard
Vole was a single man?

- Have you any facts to support this?
- The books that she ordered.

A life of the Baroness Burdett-Coutts,
and the one about Disraeli and his wife.

Both of them about women that married
men years younger than themselves. Oh!

- I knew what she was thinking.
- I'm afraid we cannot admit that.

Why?

Members of the jury, it is possible for
a woman to read The Life of Disraeli

without contemplating marriage
with a man younger than herself.

Were you aware of the arrangements Mrs
French made to dispose of her money?

She had her old will revoked
and a new one drawn up.

I heard her calling Mr Stokes,
her solicitor.

He was there at the time.
The prisoner, I mean.

You heard Mrs French and the
prisoner discussing her new will?

Yes. He was to have all
her money, she told him,

as she had no near relations nor
anybody that meant to her what he did.

- When did this take place?
- On October 8.

One week to the day
before she was murdered.

Thank you. That concludes
my examination.

Not just yet, Miss McKenzie.

Would you...? Thank you.

Miss McKenzie, you have given
evidence about two wills.

In the old will, that
which was revoked,

were you not to receive the
bulk of Mrs French's estate?

That's so.

Whereas in the new will, except for a
bequest to you of a small annuity,

the principal beneficiary is
the prisoner, Leonard Vole.

It'll be a wicked injustice if he
ever touches a penny of that money.

It is entirely understandable that you
are antagonistic to the prisoner.

I'm not antagonistic to him.

He's a shiftless, scheming rascal.
But I'm not antagonistic to him.

I suggest you formed this opinion

because his friendship with Mrs French
cost you the bulk of her estate.

- I've never liked him.
- Your candour is refreshing.

Now. On the night of October 14

you say you heard the prisoner
and Mrs French talking together.

- What did you hear them say?
- I didn't hear what they actually said.

You mean you only heard the voices?

- The murmur of voices?
- They were laughing.

What makes you say the man's
voice was Leonard Vole's?

- I know his voice well enough.
- The door was closed, was it not?

- Aye, that's so.
- You were in a hurry to get the pattern

so you probably walked quickly
past the closed door,

yet you are sure you heard
Leonard Vole's voice?

I was there long enough
to hear what I heard.

Come, I'm sure you don't wish to suggest
to the jury that you were eavesdropping.

It was him in there.
Who else could it have been?

What you mean is that you wanted it to
be him. That's the way your mind worked.

Now, tell me, did Mrs French sometimes
watch television in the evening?

Yes. She was fond of a
talk or a good play.

Wasn't it possible when you
returned home and passed the door,

what you really heard
was the television

and a man and woman's
voices and laughter?

There was a play called Lover's
Leap on the television that night.

- It was not the television.
- Oh, why not?

Because the television was away being
repaired that week, that's why.

Silence! Silence!

Odd. It's not time yet.

If my learned friend has no
further questions, I'd like...

I have not quite finished.

You are registered, are you not, under
the National Health Insurance Act?

Aye, that's so. Four and
sixpence I pay out every week.

That's a terrible lot of money
for a working woman to pay.

I am sure that many agree with you.

Miss McKenzie, did you recently apply
to the National Health Insurance for...

- ...a hearing aid?
- For... for what?

I protest against the way in
which this question was put!

I will repeat the
question, my lord.

I asked you in a normal tone of voice,
audible to everyone in open court,

did you apply to the National
Health Insurance for a hearing aid?

Yes, I did.

- Did you get it?
- Not yet.

However, you state that you walked past
a door, which is four inches of solid oak,

you heard voices,
and you are willing to swear

that you could distinguish
the voice of...

...the prisoner, Leonard Vole.

Who? Who?

No further questions.

Och, maybe you could
help me, Your Lordship.

Six months ago I applied for my hearing
aid, and I'm still waiting for it.

My dear Miss McKenzie, considering the
rubbish that is being talked nowadays,

you are missing very little.
You may stand down now.

Call Police Constable Jeffries.

- Police Constable Jeffries.
- Police Constable Jeffries.

I swear by Almighty God that
the evidence I shall give

shall be the truth, the whole
truth and nothing but the truth.

Mr Myers, does that
conclude your case?

No, my lord. I now call the final witness
for the prosecution, Christine Helm.

- Christine Helm!
- Christine Helm.

Christine.

I swear by Almighty God that
the evidence I shall give

shall be the truth, the whole
truth and nothing but the truth.

My lord, I have the
most serious objection

to this witness being summoned,
as she is the wife of the prisoner.

I call my learned
friend's attention

to the fact that I summoned
not Mrs Vole, but Mrs Helm.

- Your name, in fact, is Christine Helm?
- Yes. Christine Helm.

And you have been living as the
wife of the prisoner, Leonard Vole?

- Yes.
- Are you actually his wife?

No.

I went through a marriage ceremony
with him, but I already had a husband.

- He's still alive.
- Christine, that's not true!

There is proof of a marriage between
the witness and the prisoner,

but is there any proof of a
so-called previous marriage?

My lord, the so-called previous
marriage is, in fact, well-documented.

Mrs Helm, is this a certificate of marriage
between yourself and Otto Ludwig Helm,

the ceremony having taken place
in Breslau on 18 April 1942?

Yes, that is the paper
of my marriage.

I don't see any reason why this witness
should not be qualified to give evidence.

You're willing to give evidence against
the man you've been calling your husband?

Yes.

You stated to the police that on the
night that Mrs French was murdered,

Leonard Vole left the house at 7:30
and returned at 25 minutes past 9.

Did he, in fact,
return at 25 past 9?

No. He returned at ten
minutes past ten.

Christine, what are you saying?
It's not true. You know it's not true!

Silence!

I must have silence.

As your counsel will tell you,
Vole, you will very shortly

have an opportunity of
speaking in your own defence.

Leonard Vole returned, you say,
at ten minutes past ten.

- And what happened next?
- He was breathing hard, very excited.

He threw off his coat and
examined the sleeves.

Then he told me to wash the cuffs.

- They had blood on them.
- Go on.

- I said "What have you done?"
- What did the prisoner say?

He said "I've killed her."

Christine! Why are you lying?
Why are you saying these things?

- What an awful woman.
- She's evil. I've known it all along.

If the defence so desires,
I will adjourn for a short time

so that the prisoner may
gain control of himself.

My lord is most gracious, but
pray let the witness continue.

We are all of us caught up in the
suspense of this horror fiction.

To have to hear it in instalments
might prove unendurable.

- Proceed, Mr Myers.
- Mrs Helm,

when the prisoner said "I have killed her",
did you know to whom he referred?

It was that woman he had
been seeing so often.

When questioned by the police, you told
them that the prisoner returned at 9.25.

Yes. Because Leonard
asked me to say that.

But you've changed
your story now. Why?

I cannot go on lying to save him.

I said to the police what he wanted
because I'm grateful to him.

He married me and brought
me to this country.

What he has asked me to do I
have because I was grateful.

It was not because he was your
husband and you loved him?

I never loved him.

It was gratitude, then, that
prompted you to give him an alibi

- in your statement to the police?
- That is it. Exactly.

- But now you think it was wrong to do so.
- Because it is murder.

That woman, she was a
harmless old fool,

and he makes of me an
accomplice to the murder.

I cannot come into court and swear that
he was with me at the time it was done.

I cannot do it! I cannot do it!

Then this is the truth?

That Leonard Vole returned that
night at ten minutes past ten,

he had blood on the
sleeves of his coat,

and that he said to you
"I have killed her"?

That is the truth.

That is the truth, before God?

That is the truth.

Thank you.

Mrs Vole, or Mrs Helm, which
do you prefer to be called?

- It does not matter.
- Does it not?

In this country we are inclined to take
a rather more serious view of marriage.

However, it would appear that when you
first met the prisoner in Hamburg

- you lied to him about your marital status.
- I wanted to get out of Germany, so...

You lied, did you not?
Just yes or no, please.

- Yes.
- Thank you.

And in arranging the marriage,
you lied to the authorities?

I, um, did not tell the
truth to the authorities.

- You lied to them?
- Yes.

And in the ceremony, when you swore to
love, honour and cherish your husband,

- that too was a lie?
- Yes.

And when the police questioned
you about this wretched man

who believed himself
married and loved,

- you told them...
- I told them what he wanted me to.

You told them that he was at home
with you at 25 minutes past 9,

- and now you say that that was a lie?
- Yes, a lie!

And when you said that he had accidentally
cut his wrist, again, you lied?

- Yes!
- And today you told a new story entirely.

The question is, Frau Helm, were
you lying then, are you lying now?

Or are you not, in fact,
a chronic and habitual liar?!

Carter, Carter! The other
pill. Under the tongue.

My lord, is my learned friend to be
allowed to bully and insult the witness?

Mr Myers, this is a capital charge
and, within the bounds of reason,

I should like the defence
to have every latitude.

My lord, may I also
remind my learned friend

that his witness, by her own admission,
has already violated so many oaths

that I am surprised the Testament
did not leap from her hand

when she was sworn here today.

I doubt if anything is to be gained
by questioning you any further.

That will be all, Frau Helm.

Mrs Helm, I presume you know the
meaning of the English word "perjury"?

- In German, the word is Meineid.
- Yes. Meineid.

It means to swear
falsely under oath.

And are you aware, Mrs Helm,

that the penalty in this country for
perjury is a heavy term of imprisonment?

Yes, I'm aware.

Mindful of this fact, I ask you once more,
is the evidence that you have given

the truth, the whole truth
and nothing but the truth?

So help me, God.

Then that, my lord, is the
case for the prosecution.

- Want a tissue?
- Yes, thanks.

It's the first murder trial
I've ever been to. It's terrible.

Silence.

Sir Wilfrid. Are you
ready for the defence?

My lord, members of the jury,

the prosecution has very ably presented
against the prisoner, Leonard Vole,

a case with the most overwhelming
circumstantial evidence.

Among the witnesses you have
heard Chief Inspector Hearne,

who has given his testimony in a fair and
impartial manner, as he always does.

He has put before you a clever theory
of how this crime was committed.

Whether it is theory or
actual fact, however,

you will decide for yourselves.

And then you have heard the
evidence of Janet McKenzie,

a worthy and devoted housekeeper who
has suffered two most grievous losses.

One, the death of her
beloved mistress

and, second, in being deprived
of an inheritance of £80,000,

which she'd fully
expected to receive.

I will not comment
further on her evidence,

but will express only my
deepest sympathy for her

in both these... mishaps.

And most damaging of all, the prosecution
has produced a surprise witness,

one Christine Helm, whom the prisoner
brought from the rubble of her homeland

to the safety of this country, giving her
his love and the protection of his name.

I objected to her testimony because
a wife cannot give evidence

harmful to her husband.

But it has been proven that her marriage
to Mr Vole was fraudulent and bigamous.

Therefore, her evidence must be
admitted and you must consider it.

For what it is worth.

Such is the prosecution's case.
Now it is the tum of the defence.

We could present, on behalf of the
prisoner, witnesses to his character,

his war record, the lack of criminal
or evil association in his past.

However, only one witness
can shed new light

on this tragic riddle.

The prisoner himself.

Members of the jury,

I call Leonard Stephen Vole.

I swear by Almighty God that the
evidence I give will be the truth,

- the whole truth and nothing but the truth.
- No.

- Is your name Leonard Stephen Vole?
- It is.

- Where do live?
- 620 Edgware Road.

Leonard Stephen Vole, did you or did you
not on the night of October 14 last,

murder Emily Jane French?

- I did not.
- Thank you, that will be all.

Have you, in fact, concluded your
examination of the prisoner, Sir Wilfrid?

The prisoner has endured three days
of profound mental agony and shock.

The defence feels his
faculties should be spared

for the cross-examination by my
learned friend for the prosecution.

This is not a plea
for any indulgence.

I am confident that no matter
how searching this may be,

the prisoner will withstand it.

At the time you made the acquaintance
of Mrs French, were you employed?

- No, sir.
- How much money did you have?

- A few pounds.
- Did she give you any?

No.

- Did you expect to receive any?
- No, sir.

Did you know that in her new will,
you were the beneficiary of £80,000?

No, I didn't.

Now, Mr Vole, when you went to visit
Mrs French for the last time,

did you wear a trench
coat and a brown hat?

- Yes, I did.
- Was it this coat and hat?

Yes, sir.

My lord, the defence, in its efforts
to establish an alibi for the prisoner,

circulated this photograph,
hoping to bring forth a witness

who had seen him leaving Mrs
French's house or entering his own

at the times that he has stated.

Apparently, this splendid
effort was without results.

However, the defence
will be pleased to learn

that, at the last moment,
a witness has come forward,

and that the prisoner had been seen
wearing this coat and this hat.

Lamentably, he had not been seen on the
night of the murder but one week before.

On the afternoon of October 8, were you
not in a travel agency in Regent Street?

And did you not make inquiries about
prices and schedules of foreign cruises?

Supposing I did?
It's not a crime, is it?

Not at all. Many people go on a cruise
when they can afford to pay for it.

- But you couldn't pay for it, could you?
- Well, I was hard up. I told you that.

And yet you came to this particular
travel agency with a clinging brunette?

A clinging brunette, Mr Myers?

My lord, the lady was
so described to me.

She was very affectionate with the
prisoner, constantly clinging to his arm.

Oh.

You then admit that you made inquiries
about expensive and luxurious cruises?

How did you expect to
pay for such a thing?

- I don't know. It was...
- If you don't know, perhaps I can help.

On the morning of the very same day,
you heard Mrs French change her will,

- leaving you the bulk of her money.
- I didn't!

And in the afternoon, you
started plans to dispose of it.

No! It was nothing of the kind.

I was in a pub and I met a girl.
I don't even remember her name.

We had a drink and
walked out together.

We passed the window and saw the fancy
posters, all blue seas and palm trees.

The Grecian isles or somewhere. We went
in for fun and I started asking for folders.

Well, the man gave me a funny look
because I did look a bit shabby.

Anyway, it irritated me, so I kept
asking for the swankiest tours,

all deluxe and cabin on the boat
deck, but it was just an act!

An act? You knew that in a week
you were going to inherit £80,000!

No! it wasn't that way at all. It was
make-believe and childish but...

it was fun and I enjoyed it. I never thought
of killing anyone or inheriting any money.

It's just a coincidence that Mrs French
should be killed only one week later?

I told you! I didn't kill her!

Do you know any reason why Christine
Helm should give the evidence she has

- if it were not true?
- No. I don't know why my wife...

I don't know why I still call her my wife.
She must be lying or out of her mind.

She seemed remarkably
sane and self-possessed.

- But insanity is all you can suggest?
- I don't understand it.

Oh, God! What's happened?
What's changed her?

Very effective, I'm sure. But in
this court we deal with fact.

And the fact, Mr Vole, is that
we've only your word for it.

That you left Mrs French's
house at the time you say,

that you came home at 5 and 20 minutes
past 9, and that you did not go out again!

Somebody must have seen me in the
street or going in the house!

One would think so. But the only person
who did see you come home that night

says it was ten past ten and that
you had blood on your hands.

- I cut my wrist!
- You cut your wrist deliberately!

No, I didn't! I didn't do anything.

But you make it sound as though
I did. I can hear it myself.

You came home at ten past ten!

No, I didn't! You've got to believe me.
You've got to believe me!

You killed Emily French!

No, I didn't! I didn't do it!

I didn't kill her!
I never killed anybody!

God, it's like a nightmare.
Some ghastly, horrible dream.

Good evening, Sir Wilfrid.
How did it go today?

Oh, Sir Wilfrid.

I'm from Hawks and Hill, sir, and I've
brought your Bermuda shorts for a fitting.

What?

- You'd better slip these on, Sir Wilfrid.
- I'm in the middle of a murder trial.

It'll all be over by the afternoon, and
the boat train doesn't go until 9.40.

You work it out. You know my shape,
you've stabbed it often enough.

Upstairs. You need a lukewarm
bath and your calcium injection.

And there's a lot more
packing to be done.

It's ridiculous having boat reservations.
The jury may be out for days.

Not on this case, I'm afraid.
It seems too open-and-shut.

I watched when Frau Helm was on
the stand. They didn't like her.

No, but they believed her. They liked
Leonard Vole but they didn't believe him.

And that travel agency business
doesn't help either. Cigar?

No.

- Wilfrid, do you think she lied?
- Well, don't you?

I'm not sure.

I am. She lied. Whether she calls
it Meineid or perjury, she lied.

The only question is why. What's
her game? What is she up to? What?

I hope that in your final speech you
won't become too emotionally involved.

- You must think of your condition.
- He's right.

I want to see you save yourself.
This isn't going to be your last case.

Yes, it is. But until it's over,
I'm still a barrister.

My client's life is at stake.
That's all that matters... his life.

He's entitled to the
best that I can do.

If I can't stand up to make my final
appeal for him, I'll make it sitting down.

If I become short of breath I'll take a pill,
or two pills, or all of them and the box too.

- Yes?
- This Sir Wilfrid Robarts' place?

- Well, yes, it is.
- Let me talk to the old geezer.

- Who is this speaking, please?
- Never you mind. Let me talk to 'im.

I'm afraid that's impossible. What
is the nature of your business?

It's business all right. I've got
something to sell 'im, I 'ave.

Well, really, madam!

And what I want to sell 'im,
believe me, 'e'll want to buy.

- It's got to do with that Leonard Vole.
- Leonard Vole?

It's about that German wife.

I've got the goods on
her and it's for sale.

This is Wilfrid Robarts speaking.
Now, what is this all about?

Well, hello, ducky.

What is this you said
about Mrs Leonard Vole?

I'm not just saying.
I've got it in black and white.

- You've got what?
- Listen to this carefully, ducks.

I'm at the buffet at Euston Station
at the far end of the bar.

I'll be here for 30 minutes because
that's when me train leaves.

If you want the lowdown on that
German bag, get yourself here.

What lowdown?
What do you know about her?

Uh-uh. Not on the phone.

You'd better get on over here,
and bring plenty of money.

Now, just a moment! Hello? Hello?

That's... bilge. Some drunken crank.
You get those in every murder trial.

Giving me an ultimatum, Euston Station in
30 minutes. Got the lowdown on Mrs Vole.

Balderdash.

I'm too old and too sick to
go on a wild-goose chase.

- Come on, Mayhew.
- Where to, Sir Wilfrid?

Euston Station, where do you think?

Now, sir?

Shortly.

Cigar!

Sir Wilfrid, where are you going?

Your bath, your massage,
your dinner, your injection!

Thank you, Miss Plimsoll.

- You wouldn't be Sir Wilfrid, would you?
- I would.

Didn't recognise you without your wig.
Lovely you all look in them wigs.

Two o' yer? I'm not
talking to two o' yer.

This is Mr Mayhew,
Leonard Vole's solicitor.

- Well, that's all right, then.
- And your name, please?

No need for mine. If did give you a name
it mightn't be the right one, might it?

'Ave a drink, boys. Two whiskies
for me gen'lmen friends.

Now what is this information
you allegedly have?

You realise that you're duty-bound to
give any evidence that you might have?

- Come off it. Did you bring any money?
- What is it you have, madam?

Letters. Letters that German wife
of 'is wrote. That's what I've got.

- Letters written to the prisoner?
- To the prisoner? Don't make me laugh.

Poor bleeder, he's been took in by 'er
all right. And these letters prove it.

If we could see these letters, we could
advise you as to how pertinent they are.

Well, I don't expect you...

Well, as I say, I don't expect you to
buy without seeing, but fair's fair.

If these letters get the boy off,
it's £100 for me, right?

If these letters contain information useful
to the defence, I'm prepared to offer £10.

What? Ten bleeding pounds
for letters like these?

Take that piece of glass
out o' yer eye. Good night.

If these help prove my
client's innocence,

£20 should, I think, not be an
unreasonable sum for your expenses.

50 and it's a bargain. That's
if you're satisfied with 'em.

- £40.
- All right, blast yer.

'Ere, take 'em.
Nice little lot there.

How do we know these
are from Mrs Vole?

Oh, she wrote 'em all right.
It's all fair an' square.

I 'ope they fix 'er
good and proper.

I've had messages from Mrs Vole.
It looks like her handwriting.

Good heavens, look at this.

Juicy, ain't they?

- There's one that's even better.
- How did you get hold of these?

What's the difference so long
as she gets what's coming?

- What have you got against her?
- Ha!

I'll give you something
to dream about, mister.

Want to kiss me, ducky?

Ha!

- I didn't suppose you would.
- Christine Vole did that to you?

Not 'er, the chap I was going with. He was
a bit younger than me but I loved 'im.

Then she come along, started seeing 'im
on the sly. Then one day he cleared out.

I found 'em together. I said what I thought
of 'er and he cut me face up proper.

- Did you go to the police about it?
- Who, me? Not likely.

It wasn't 'is fault. It was all 'ers, gettin'
'im away from me, turnin' 'im against me.

But I waited me time to pay
'er back. And it's come now.

I'm deeply sorry, deeply sorry. We'll
make it another £5 for the letters.

'Olding out on me, were yer?
I knew I was being soft with yer.

Cold-blooded vindictiveness.
Read this one.

Unbelievable.

We'd better have the full name of the man
to whom these were addressed, Miss...

Miss, um...

Where is she?

On that train, I should think. Doesn't want
her other cheek slashed. Can't blame her.

- Care for another, sir?
- Hm?

Good idea.

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.

Since the defence has called
but one witness, the prisoner,

it has the right to be heard last.

Mr Myers, if you are ready, let us have
the final address for the prosecution.

My lord, members of the jury,
I will be brief in my final speech

because I think we've proved so obvious
a case of murder against Leonard Vole,

that a verdict of guilty must be
the only possible conclusion.

I will briefly summarise
these facts...

You'd better begin again, Mr Myers.

That is, if Sir Wilfrid is at all
interested in our proceedings.

I am, indeed, my lord. The speech for
the crown, however, is premature.

I ask that the case for the defence be
reopened. And that a witness be recalled.

I most strenuously object to the case
being reopened at this final stage.

Evidence of a startling nature
has come into my possession.

The course my learned friend
proposes is quite unprecedented.

I have anticipated this objection and
can meet it with ample precedent.

There is the king vs Stillman, reported
in the criminal appeal reports of 1926

at page 463.

Also, the king vs Porter in volume one
of the king's bench division reports,

1942 at page 153.

And lastly there is the case
of the king vs Sullivan

in which this issue was raised, which
I'm sure Your Lordship will remember,

since you appeared
for the prosecution.

I did? Oh, yes, before
Mr Justice Swindon.

What is this new
evidence, Sir Wilfrid?

Letters, my lord.

Letters written by Christine Helm.

My lord, the prosecution
continues its objection.

If my memory serves me well,
Your Lordship's similar objection

in the king against
Sullivan was sustained.

Your memory, for once,
serves you ill, Mr Myers.

My objection then was overruled
by Mr Justice Swindon.

As yours is now, by me.

Call Christine Helm.

Christine Helm.

- Christine Helm.
- Christine Helm.

If you still have doubts about Mr Vole, I
wouldn't mind betting you a box of cigars.

Mrs Helm, you appreciate
you are still under oath?

Yes.

- Do you know a man named Max?
- I don't know what you mean.

It's a simple question. Do you or
do you not know a man called Max?

Max? Certainly not.

It's a fairly common name and yet
you've never known a man named Max?

In Germany, perhaps,
but a long time ago.

I shall not ask you to go back that far.
Just a few weeks, to... October 20 last.

- What have you got there?
- A letter.

I suggest that on October 20

- you wrote a letter...
- I don't know what you're talking about.

- ...Addressed to a man named Max.
- I did nothing of the sort.

The letter was but one of a
series written to the same man.

Lies! All lies!

You seem to have been, well, let us
say, on intimate terms with this man.

How dare you say a thing like that?
It isn't true!

I'm not concerned with the general trend
of this correspondence, only one letter.

"My beloved Max, an extraordinary
thing has happened."

"I believe all our
difficulties may be ended."

I will not stand here and
listen to a pack of lies!

That letter's a forgery.
It isn't even my letter paper!

- It isn't?
- No!

I write my letters on small blue
paper with my initials on it.

Like this?

This is a bill from my tailor for a pair
of extremely becoming Bermuda shorts.

Wilfrid the fox! That's what we
call him and that's what he is.

Now, Mrs Helm, you've been kind
enough to identify your letter paper.

Now, if you like, I can have an
expert identify your handwriting.

Damn you!

- Damn you!
- Leave her alone!

- Damn you!
- Mrs Helm!

Let me go! Let me get
out of here! Let me go!

- Mrs Helm!
- Let me go!

Usher, get the witness a chair.

Sir Wilfrid, will you now read the letter
in question so that the jury may hear it?

"My beloved Max, an extraordinary
thing has happened."

"All our difficulties
may soon be solved."

"Leonard is suspected of murdering
the old lady I told you about."

"His only hope of an alibi
depends on me and me alone."

"Suppose I testify that he was not at
home with me at the time of the murder,

that he came home with
blood on his sleeves,

and that he even admitted to
me that he'd killed her?"

"Strange that he always said he
would never let me leave him."

"But now, if this succeeds,
he will be leaving me

because they will
take him away forever

and I shall be free and
yours, my beloved."

"I count the hours until we
are together. Christine."

Mrs Helm? Will you go
back to the witness box?

I now ask you again, Christine
Helm, did you write this letter?

Christine, tell him you didn't
write it. I know you didn't.

Please answer my question.
Did you write this letter?

Before answering, Mrs Helm,

I wish to warn you that the law regarding
perjury in this country is very severe.

If you have already committed
perjury in this courtroom,

I strongly advise you not
to add to your crime.

But, if this letter has
not been written by you,

then now is the time
to state this fact.

I wrote the letter.

And that, my lord, is the
case for the defence.

I keep asking which is harder,
your head or your arteries?

Stop pressing your luck,
you're overdue.

We're all packed and ready. I hope
the jury won't take all afternoon.

I concede.

- Congratulations, here are your cigars.
- Not yet.

Come on, it's all over,
wrapped up neat and tidy.

- What's wrong?
- It's a little too neat, too tidy,

and altogether too symmetrical,
that's what's wrong with it.

- The jury is back.
- You're not worried about the verdict?

It's not their judgment
that worries me, it's mine.

Come along.

Where's my Wig?

The prisoner will stand up.

Members of the jury, are you
all agreed upon your verdict?

We are.

Do you find the prisoner at the
bar, Leonard Stephen Vole,

guilty or not guilty of the
murder of Emily Jane French?

Not guilty, m'lord.

Silence!

Silence!

Leonard Stephen Vole, you
have been found not guilty

of the murder of Emily
Jane French on October 14.

You are hereby discharged and
are free to leave the court.

Persons with anything more to
do before the queen's justices

of oyer and terminer
and jail delivery

for the jurisdiction of the Central
Criminal Court may depart the area.

Thank you. Yes, we'll talk later.
Thank you, Mr Mayhew.

Thank you, Mr Brogan-Moore. Carter.

Thank you, Sir Wilfrid, for everything.
You were wonderful.

- I'd say we were lucky all around.
- Yeah.

I have your belongings. Sign the receipt,
Mr Vole, and we can release you.

"Mr Vole." They didn't call
me Mr when they charged me.

- I'll go with you, I have your hat and coat.
- Let's go before they change their mind!

Chipper, isn't he? An hour ago,
he had one foot on the gallows

and the other on a banana peel.

You ought to be very proud,
Wilfrid. Aren't you?

Not yet. We've disposed
of the gallows,

but there's still that banana peel
somewhere, under somebody's foot.

- Every word you said was a lie!
- You ought to be locked up! Liar!

You'd better wait here until we
get rid of that crowd, madam.

Thank you.

Ready, sir?
Miss Plimsoll will be waiting.

Let me finish the last of the cocoa while
I'm still beyond her jurisdiction.

Would you excuse me,
Brogan-Moore, Carter? Thank you.

I never thought you British could get
so emotional. Especially in public.

- I apologise for my compatriots.
- It's all right.

I don't mind being called names or pushed
around or even kicked in the shin.

But I have a ladder in
my last pair of nylons.

In case you are not familiar with our
prison regulations, no silk stockings.

Prison? Will I go to prison?

You heard the judge. You will
certainly be charged with perjury,

- tried for it, and to prison you shall go.
- Well, it won't be for life, will it?

If I were appearing for the
prosecution, it would be.

You loathe me, don't you?
Like the people outside.

What a wicked woman I am,
and how brilliantly you exposed me

and saved Leonard's life. The great
Sir Wilfrid Robarts did it again.

Well, let me tell you something.
You didn't do it alone. You had help.

What are you driving at?

I'm not driving at anything.
Leonard is free and we did it.

- We?
- Remember?

When you said that no jury would believe
an alibi given by a loving wife,

no matter how much she swore he was
innocent? That gave me the idea.

What idea?

The idea that I should be a witness, not
for my husband, but for the prosecution.

That I should swear Leonard was guilty
and that you should expose me as a liar

because only then would they
believe Leonard was innocent.

So now you know the whole
story, Sir Wilfrid.

I'll give yer something
to dream about, mister.

Want to kiss me, ducky?

I suspected something,
but not that.

- Never that!
- Thank you for the compliment.

It's been a long time since I acted
and I never played such a vital role.

All those blue letters!

It took me hours to write them,
to invent Max. There never was a Max.

There's never been
anyone but Leonard.

My dear, could you
not have trusted me,

worked with me truthfully and
honourably? We would have won.

I could not run that risk.
You thought he was innocent.

And you knew he was innocent.
I understand.

No, Sir Wilfrid, you do
not understand at all.

I knew he was guilty.

That can't be true! No!

Listen to me, once and for all.

He came home after ten,
he had blood on his sleeves,

he said he had killed the woman,
only I could save him. He pleaded.

And you saved him? A murderer?

Again, you don't understand.

I love him.

I told you she was an actress.
And a good one.

Leonard!

I knew she'd do something,
but I just didn't know what or how.

Leonard, Leonard.

- Fooled you completely, didn't she?
- It was you, Vole, who fooled me.

Oh, easy. Easy. We both got out of
this alive, let's stay this way.

- Where are your pills?
- You've made a mockery of English law.

Who did? You got me off and
I can't be tried again for this.

- That's English law too, isn't it?
- You can't touch him now. Nobody can.

The scales of justice may
tip one way or another,

but ultimately they balance out.
You'll pay for this.

Ultimately's a long way off. I'd rather pay
for it as soon as possible and in cash.

Suppose we double your fee? There'll be
lots of money once the will goes through.

I'm not cheap, I want everybody
to get something out of it.

There's Janet McKenzie.
We'll get her that new hearing aid.

And we'll get you a new one of these.
18-carat gold if they make them.

And when they try you for perjury
there'll be £5,000 for the defence.

I don't care, just so we'll be together.
You don't know what I've been through.

Standing in the witness box, having to
face you, saying I never loved you.

What is it, Leonard?

The luggage is in the car and we've only
20 minutes to catch the boat train.

This is a nice young lady
I met during the trial.

Len!

Oh, Len!

Len...

Oh, Len, they've been trying to keep
me away. It's had me nearly crazy.

Leonard, who's this girl?

I'm not this girl, I'm his girl.

Tell her, Len.

Leonard, is this the girl who was
with you in the travel bureau?

The girl you said you hardly knew,
didn't even know her name?

That's right. That's who I am and I know
all about you. You're not his wife.

Never have been. You're years older than
he is. We've been together for months

and we're going away on a cruise, just
like they said in court. Tell her, Len.

- Yes, Len, tell me yourself.
- All right, Diana, come along.

You can't, not after what
I've done. I won't let you.

I saved your life getting
you out of Germany,

you got me out of this mess,
so we're even. It's over now.

Don't, Leonard! Don't leave me!
Don't, Leonard! Don't!

Full yourself together. They'll
have you up for perjury.

Don't make it worse or they'll
try you as an accessory.

And you know what that means.

I don't care. Let them. Let them try me
for perjury, or an accessory, or...

- Ready?
- Or better yet...

let them try me for...!

Argh!

- Call a doctor.
- It's no use. No doctor can help now.

- What happened?
- She killed him.

Killed him?

She executed him.

Carter, what have you
done with the luggage?

I sent it on ahead to the station,
and I've got a cab waiting outside.

- A remarkable woman.
- You can just barely catch the boat train.

Better bring the luggage back,
and you can dismiss the cab.

We are not going yet, are we?

Thank you, Miss Plimsoll.

Get Brogan-Moore to my
chambers, and Mayhew too.

We're appearing for the defence
in the trial of Christine Vole.

Sir Wilfrid?

You've forgotten your brandy.

The management of
this theatre suggests

that for the greater entertainment of
friends who have not yet seen the picture,

you will not divulge to anyone
the secret of the ending

of "Witness For The Prosecution".

Visiontext Subtitles:
Katherine Appleby

ENHOH