The Mousetrap

LADYANGKATELL. (With unexpected triumph) I knew you’d ask me that. And of course there must be some answer. (She looks at SIR HENRY.) Mustn’t there, Henry?

SIRHENRY. I should certainly have thought so, my dear.

LADYANGKATELL. Yes, obviously I must have had some idea in my head when I took that little Derringer and put it in my egg basket. (She looks hopefully at SIR HENRY.) I wonder what it could have been?

SIRHENRY. My wife is extremely absentminded, Inspector.

INSPECTOR. So it seems.

LADYANGKATELL. Why should I have taken that pistol?

INSPECTOR. (Rising and breaking up Centre) I haven’t the faintest idea, Lady Angkatell.

LADYANGKATELL. (Rising) I came in here—this being your study, Henry—with the window there and the fireplace here. I had been talking to Simmonds about pillow cases—let’s hang on to pillow cases—and I distinctly remember crossing—(She moves to the writing table) over to the fireplace—and thinking we must get a new poker—the curate, not the rector—(She looks at the INSPECTOR) you’re probably too young to know what that means.

(The INSPECTOR and the SERGEANT look at each other.)

And I remember opening the drawer and taking out the Derringer—it was a nice handy little gun—I’ve always liked it—and dropping it in the egg basket. And then I . . . No, there were so many things in my head—(She eases to the sofa and sits) what with bindweed in the border—and hoping Mrs. Medway would make a really rich nègre en chemise.

SERGEANT. (Unable to contain himself) A nègre en chemise

LADYANGKATELL. Yes, chocolate, eggs and cream. John Cristow loved a really rich sweet.

INSPECTOR. (Moving to Left of the sofa) Did you load the pistol?

LADYANGKATELL. (Thoughtfully) Ah, did I? Really, it’s too ridiculous that I can’t remember. But I should think I must have, don’t you, Inspector?

INSPECTOR. I think I’ll have a few more words with Gudgeon. (He turns and crosses to the door Left.) When you remember a little more, perhaps you’ll let me know, Lady Angkatell?

(The SERGEANT crosses to the door Left.)

LADYANGKATELL. Of course. Things come back to one quite suddenly sometimes, don’t they?

INSPECTOR. Yes.

(He exits Left. The SERGEANT follows him off. The clock strikes eleven.)

SIRHENRY. (Crossing to Left of the sofa) Why did you take the pistol, Lucy?

LADYANGKATELL. I’m really not quite sure, Henry—I suppose I had some vague idea about an accident.

SIRHENRY. Accident?

LADYANGKATELL. Yes, all those roots of tree sticking up—so easy to trip over one. I’ve always thought that an accident would be the simplest way to do a thing of that kind. One would be dreadfully sorry, of course, and blame oneself . . . (Her voice trails off.)

SIRHENRY. Who was to have had the accident?

LADYANGKATELL. John Cristow, of course.

SIRHENRY. (Sitting Left of her on the sofa) Good God, Lucy!

(LADY ANGKATELL’s manner suddenly changes. All the vagueness goes and she is almost fanatical.)

LADYANGKATELL. Oh, Henry, I’ve been so dreadfully worried. About Ainswick.

SIRHENRY. I see. So it was Ainswick. You’ve always cared too much about Ainswick, Lucy.

LADYANGKATELL. You and Edward are the last of the Angkatells. Unless Edward marries, the whole thing will die out—and he’s so obstinate—that long head of his, just like my father. I felt that if only John were out of the way, Henrietta would marry Edward—she’s really quite fond of him—and when a person’s dead, you do forget. So, it all came to that—get rid of John Cristow.

SIRHENRY. (Aghast) Lucy! It was you . . .