The Mousetrap

TROTTER. Miss Waring. You taught school—in the school where those children went.

MOLLIE. Yes.

TROTTER. It’s true, isn’t it, that Jimmy, the child who died, managed to get a letter posted to you? (He sits at the Right end of the sofa.) The letter begged for help—help from his kind young teacher. You never answered that letter.

MOLLIE. I couldn’t. I never got it.

TROTTER. You just—didn’t bother.

MOLLIE. That’s not true. I was ill. I went down with pneumonia that very day. The letter was put aside with others. It was weeks afterwards that I found it with a lot of other letters. And by then that poor child was dead . . . (Her eyes close.) Dead—dead . . . Waiting for me to do something—hoping—gradually losing hope . . . Oh, it’s haunted me ever since . . . If only I hadn’t been ill—if only I’d known . . . Oh, it’s monstrous that such things should happen.

TROTTER. (His voice suddenly thick) Yes, it’s monstrous. (He takes a revolver out of his pocket.)

MOLLIE. I thought the police didn’t carry revolvers . . . (She suddenly sees TROTTER’s face, and gasps in horror.)

TROTTER. The police don’t . . . I’m not a policeman, Mrs. Ralston. You thought I was a policeman because I rang up from a call box and said I was speaking from police headquarters and that Sergeant Trotter was on his way. I cut the telephone wires before I came to the front door. You know who I am, Mrs. Ralston? I’m Georgie—I’m Jimmy’s brother, Georgie.

MOLLIE. Oh. (She looks round her wildly.)

TROTTER. (Rising) You’d better not scream, Mrs. Ralston—because if you do I shall fire this revolver . . . I’d like to talk to you a little. (He turns away.) I said I’d like to talk to you a little. Jimmy died. (His manner becomes very simple and childlike.) That nasty cruel woman killed him. They put her in prison. Prison wasn’t bad enough for her. I said I’d kill her one day . . . I did, too. In the fog. It was great fun. I hope Jimmy knows. “I’ll kill them all when I’ve grown up.” That’s what I said to myself. Because grown-ups can do anything they like. (Gaily) I’m going to kill you in a minute.

MOLLIE. You’d better not. (She tries very hard to be persuasive.) You’ll never get safely away, you know.

TROTTER. (Pettishly) Someone’s hidden my skis! I can’t find them. But it doesn’t matter. I don’t really mind if I get away or not. I’m tired. It’s all been such fun. Watching you all. And pretending to be a policeman.

MOLLIE. That revolver will make a lot of noise.

TROTTER. It will rather. Much better to do it the usual way, and take you by the neck. (He slowly approaches her, whistling “Three Blind Mice.”) The last little mouse in the trap. (He drops the revolver on the sofa, and leans over her with his left hand on her mouth and his right hand on her neck.)

(MISS CASEWELL and MAJOR METCALF appear in the arch up Right.)

MISSCASEWELL. Georgie, Georgie, you know me, don’t you? Don’t you remember the farm, Georgie? The animals, that fat old pig, and the day the bull chased us across the field. And the dogs. (She crosses to Left of the sofa table.)

TROTTER. Dogs?

MISSCASEWELL. Yes, Spot and Plain.

TROTTER. Kathy?

MISSCASEWELL. Yes, Kathy—you remember me now, don’t you?

TROTTER. Kathy, it is you. What are you doing here? (He rises and moves to Right of the sofa table.)

MISSCASEWELL. I came to England to find you. I didn’t recognize you until you twirled your hair the way you always used to do.

(TROTTER twirls his hair.)

Yes, you always did it. Georgie, come with me. (Firmly) You’re coming with me.

TROTTER. Where are we going?

MISSCASEWELL. (Gently, as if to a child) It’s all right, Georgie. I’m taking you somewhere where they will look after you, and see that you won’t do any more harm.

(MISS CASEWELL exits up the stairs, leading TROTTER by the hand. MAJOR METCALF switches on the lights, crosses to the stairs, and looks up.)

MAJORMETCALF. (Calling) Ralston! Ralston!