The Mousetrap

EDWARD. (Moving to the coffee table) And have some coffee.

MIDGE. No, I don’t want anything.

EDWARD. Yes, you do. (He handsMIDGEa cup of coffee.) Come on now—drink this. It’ll make you feel better.

LADYANGKATELL. Some coffee, Henrietta?

HENRIETTA. Yes, thank you. Shouldn’t one of us go up to Gerda?

(EDWARD picks up a cup of coffee and crosses with it to HENRIETTA.)

LADYANGKATELL. My dear child, one doesn’t know what to think.

(EDWARD moves to the coffee table, picks up a cup of coffee for himself and eases up Centre.)

One doesn’t even know what her reactions are. How would one feel if one had just killed one’s husband? One simply doesn’t know.

HENRIETTA. Aren’t we assuming rather too readily that Gerda has killed her husband?

(There is an awkward pause. EDWARD looks at LADY ANGKATELL and shifts uneasily. LADY ANGKATELL looks searchingly at HENRIETTA, trying to make up her mind about something.)

EDWARD. Well, we found her standing over his body with the revolver in her hand. I imagined there was no question about it.

HENRIETTA. We haven’t heard yet what she has to say.

EDWARD. It seems self-evident to me.

(HENRIETTA moves up Centre and goes on to the terrace.)

LADYANGKATELL. Mind you, she had every provocation. John behaved in a most barefaced manner. After all, there are ways of doing these things. Being unfaithful, I mean.

(GERDA enters Left. She is very shaky and incoherent. She carries her leathercraft bag.)

GERDA. (Looking around apologetically) I—I really couldn’t lie down any longer. I felt—so restless.

LADYANGKATELL. (Rising and moving toGERDA) No, of course not. (She leads her to the sofa and sits her at the Left end of it.) Come and sit here, my dear. (She moves above the sofa.) Midge, that little cushion.

(MIDGE rises, puts her cup on the writing table, then takes the cushion from the chair down Right and hands it to LADY ANGKATELL.)

(To GERDA.) Put your feet up. (She puts the cushion behind GERDA’s head.) We were just about to have some sandwiches. Would you like one?

GERDA. No, no, thank you. I—I am only just beginning to realize it. I haven’t been able to feel—I still can’t feel—that John is really dead. That I shall never see him again. Who could possibly have killed him?

(They all look embarrassed. SIR HENRY enters Left. He is followed on by INSPECTOR COLQUHOUN, who is a thoughtful, quiet man with charm and a sense of humour. His personality is sympathetic. He must not be played as a comedy part. SIR HENRY has a filled pipe in his hand.)

SIRHENRY. (Moving to the fireplace) Inspector Colquhoun would like to talk to Gerda, my dear. (He turns.) Could you take him up and . . . (He sees GERDA and breaks off.)

LADYANGKATELL. This is Mrs. Cristow, Mr. Colquhoun.

(The INSPECTOR crosses to Left of the sofa.)

GERDA. (Nervously) Yes—yes—I—you want to talk to me? About John’s death?

INSPECTOR. I don’t want to distress you, Mrs. Cristow, but I would like to ask you a few questions. You’re not bound to answer them unless you wish to do so, and you are entitled, if you like, to have your solicitor present before you say anything at all.

SIRHENRY. That is what I should advise, Gerda.

GERDA. (Putting her feet to the ground and sitting up) A solicitor? But why a solicitor? A solicitor wouldn’t know anything about John’s death.

INSPECTOR. Any statement you choose to make . . .

GERDA. I want to tell you. It’s all so bewildering—like a bad dream. I haven’t been able to cry, even. I just don’t feel anything at all.

SIRHENRY. It’s the shock.