The Mousetrap

SIRHENRY. My wife is very fond of going to the pictures, Inspector.

INSPECTOR. I’m afraid in real life it’s much more boring than on the screen. (He crosses below LADY ANGKATELL to Left Centre.) We just go on asking people a lot of rather dull questions.

LADYANGKATELL. (Radiantly) And now you want to ask me a lot of questions. Well, I shall do everything I can to help you. As long as you don’t ask me what time anything was, or where I was, or what I was doing. Because that’s something I never remember—even when I was quite tiny.

SIRHENRY. Don’t discourage the Inspector too much, my dear. (He moves to the door Left and opens it.) May I come along, too?

INSPECTOR. I should be pleased, Sir Henry.

SIRHENRY. My wife’s remarks are sometimes rather hard to follow. I can act as interpreter.

(LADY ANGKATELL crosses and exits Left. The INSPECTOR and SIR HENRY follow her off. HENRIETTA moves on to the terrace up Centre and stands in the window. EDWARD watches her in silence for a few moments. She pays no attention to him.)

EDWARD. It’s not so warm as yesterday.

HENRIETTA. No, no—it’s cold—autumn chill.

EDWARD. You’d better come in—you’ll catch cold.

HENRIETTA. I think I’ll go for a walk.

EDWARD. I shouldn’t.

HENRIETTA. Why?

EDWARD. (Crossing to the fireplace and putting his cup and saucer on the mantelpiece) Well, for one thing it’s going to rain—and another—they might think it odd.

HENRIETTA. You think a policeman would plod after me through the woods?

EDWARD. I really don’t know. One can’t tell what they’re thinking—the whole thing seems obvious.

HENRIETTA. Gerda, you mean?

EDWARD. After all, who else is there?

HENRIETTA. (Moving to Right of the armchair Left Centre) Who else had a motive to kill John Cristow?

EDWARD. Yes.

HENRIETTA. Did Gerda have a motive?

EDWARD. If she found out a few things—after all, last night . . . (He breaks off.)

HENRIETTA. John and Veronica Craye, you mean?

EDWARD. (Slightly embarrassed) Well, yes. (Impatiently) He must have been crazy.

HENRIETTA. He was. Adolescent passion unresolved and kept in cold storage and then suddenly released. (She crosses to the coffee table and stubs out her cigarette in the ashtray.) He was crazy all right.

EDWARD. She’s a remarkably good-looking woman in a rather hard, obvious sort of way. But I can’t see anything to lose your head about.

HENRIETTA. I don’t suppose John could—this morning.

EDWARD. (Turning to face the fire) It’s an unsavoury business.

HENRIETTA. Yes. (She crosses to Right of the sofa.) I think I will go for a walk.

EDWARD. Then I’ll come with you.

HENRIETTA. I’d rather be alone.

EDWARD. (Moving below the sofa) I’m coming with you.

HENRIETTA. Don’t you understand? I want to be alone—with my dead.

EDWARD. I’m sorry. (He pauses.) Henrietta, I haven’t said anything—I thought you’d rather I didn’t. But you do know, don’t you, how sorry I am?

HENRIETTA. Sorry? (With a bitter smile) That John Cristow’s dead?

EDWARD. (Taken aback) I meant—sorry for you. I know it’s been a great shock.

HENRIETTA. (Bitterly) Shock? Oh, but I’m tough, Edward. I can stand shocks. Was it a shock to you? (She crosses above the sofa to Left of it.) I wonder what you felt when you saw him lying there? Glad, I suppose. (Accusingly) Were you glad?

EDWARD. Of course I wasn’t glad. Cristow and I had nothing in common, but . . .

HENRIETTA. You had me in common. You were both fond of me, weren’t you? But it didn’t make a bond between you—quite the opposite.

EDWARD. Henrietta—don’t speak so bitterly. I do feel for you in your loss—your grief.

HENRIETTA. (Sombrely) Is it grief?

EDWARD. What do you mean?