Maybe it was the crossed tennis racquets (not quite crossed swords, but almost) above the photos of the faded hero; maybe it was the cherrywood and walnut furniture complimenting the deep mahogany finish on the front door; maybe it was the allowance the room gave to only the very briefest touches of femininity – the white roses and wedding portrait on the far stage left above the mending-basket with its Chekhovian scissors (useful for cutting out newspaper clippings, useful for stabbing assailants); or maybe it was just the heavy red lamp illuminating the equally red telephone. Whichever, it was clear from the outset that Sheila and Tony Wendice were playing in no Wendy house and that their match was to the death, although whose death it would be was still a ball in play.

Frederick Knott’s 1950s-era thriller, famously filmed by Hitchcock with Grace Kelly as the tragic blonde and Ray Milland as the smooth villain, is a minor masterpiece of construction. Ex-amateur tennis star Tony Wendice has been anonymously blackmailing his wife Sheila to discover the depth of her infidelity with television-screenwriter Max. Fearful of losing access to her money if she divorces him he threatens to blackmail former schoolmate, thief, and petty conman Swann (masquerading as squeakily-voiced “Captain Lesgate”) in order to get him to murder Sheila. Success relies on Swann being able to gain entrance to the Wendice’s flat using Sheila’s latch-key and strangling her whilst she answers the aforementioned telephone, and the resolution depends on both villain Tony and saintly Detective Inspector Hubbard both keeping their near-identical latch-keys in their near-identical coats. Well, why not? It was great fun to watch and elegantly played by a competent cast of five.

Mark Haumann was beguilingly plausible as the villain Tony Wendice. With the manner of a young Hugh Laurie and eyebrows arched sufficiently to construct a bridge over the Thames (or perhaps, this being Hertford, the Beane), he controlled the rest of the cast like a puppeteer. Indeed, on of the strengths of Knott’s plot and Mr Haumann’s performance is that inwardly you’re cheering him on, almost to the end, and it’s only the intervention of DI Hubbard that turns that allegiance around. Particularly, his piece-by-piece disassembly of “Lesgate” into the infinitely more thuggish Swann was a joy to watch. He commanded the stage absolutely.

Shed no tears for Lesgate, or Swann, or Wilson, or whatever other names Alex Brace’s character was going by, as he is as immoral as Wendice, possibly more so. Mr Brace handled the vocal changed competently, which was just as well – I’m not sure my throat could have sustained that squeak for much longer. And again, the key word is plausibility – the way he and Mr Haumann airily discussed the snags and solutions of the ripping off or bumping off the women in their life was chilling. “I’m almost resigned to having to live on what I can earn”, says Swann. Are you? Poor chap. Join the club. But lying on the stage dead without letting one’s breathing show is no mean feat, particularly in a small theatre when this critic was sitting in the front row, so all credit there.

Hannah Tuson-Heasley played the porcelain doll that is Sheila Wendice. It’s a pretty thankless role in my opinion, very much the foil of other characters’ machinations, and with no particular individual moment. I’d liked to have seen a little more urgency in the performance, whether it be in a hastily-stolen kiss with rejected suitor Max, or in shock from just surviving an attempted strangling, or the mental trauma of being released from Holloway Prison mere minutes before one’s scheduled execution, but to be fair to Ms Tuson-Heasley the script doesn’t really give her much to chew on.

Max Halliday is the square-jawed screenwriter of whom Wendice is jealous, and Jonathon Wallis was perfectly cast. My view is that he doesn’t just dream up the ‘fake’ plot which he tries to convince Wendice to admit to, to save Sheila’s neck; deep down he actually believes that Wendice has orchestrated things that way. There was a lightness of touch in his early scenes with Wendice and Sheila which I liked, and the urgency needed in the final scene was there.

Pete Dawson completed the quintet as Detective Inspector Hubbard, another excellent piece of casting. There was a sufficient amount of professional journeyman’s bonhomie in his scenes opposite Wendice, and one always felt that this turtle was at least the equal of the hare, and more dogged to boot. Mr Dawson brough the necessary contrast to the urbanity of Wendice and Halliday, and he was clearly the one puppet that Wendice couldn’t control.

Director Loretta Freeman brought so many delightful touches to the production, and if I credit her unfairly for something that was a matter of set or costume design then I apologise, but ultimately the director takes responsibility. From the telephone to the drapes Swann hides behind to the strangling stockings to the letters of blackmain, every weapon in the plot was red; even Swann’s suit was a rusty brown. One could argue that colouring the Yale-type latch-keys red was a step too far for a 1950s setting, but it made me smile. Consequently, I admire that the scarf in Sheila’s hair was blue – a little noticeable point of contrast.

The style of the performance perfectly captured the era, such as the way a certain breed of Englishman crosses his legs, and the way he holds and dials the telephone. The walls had six-inch skirting boards, the props looked period and even the inner label on the telephone dial looked correct (even though it was something no audience member could ever see). Attention to that sort of detail always pays off.

I must make special mention of Andy Lee’s sound design: the swirling orchestra in the background effortlessly evoked the aura of a seat-edging thriller at a cinema matinee on a rainy afternoon, and if having background music over the dialogue isn’t brave enough, the decision to use audible pre-recorded responses in all the telephone conversations was remarkable and effective.

Overall, it was played straight down the middle, absolutely correctly; the script is strong enough to stand on its own and doesn’t need anything added in performance. In other words, don’t send it up – and they didn’t. Many congratulations to Loretta,  her cast, and all the production team. This was a very strong production and very enjoyable with it.