The Mousetrap

TREVES. Was it really Nevile’s idea to come here all together?

AUDREY. (Sharply.) Of course it was.

TREVES. But you agreed?

AUDREY. I agreed. Why not?

TREVES. It hasn’t turned out very well, has it?

AUDREY. That’s not my fault.

TREVES. No, it isn’t your fault—ostensibly.

AUDREY. (Rising.) What do you mean?

TREVES. I was wondering . . .

AUDREY. You know, Mr. Treves, sometimes I think I’m just a little frightened of you.

TREVES. Why should you be?

AUDREY. I don’t know. You’re a very shrewd observer. I sometimes . . . (Mary enters L.)

MARY. Audrey, will you go to Lady Tressilian? She’s in the library.

AUDREY. Yes. (Audrey crosses and exitsL. Treves sits on the chaise. Mary goes to the butler’s tray and collects the dirty sherry glasses.)

TREVES. Miss Aldin, who do you think is behind this plan of meeting here?

MARY. (Moving toR. of the butler’s tray.) Audrey.

TREVES. But why?

MARY. (Moving toL. of Treves.) I suppose—she still cares for him.

TREVES. You think it’s that?

MARY. What else can it be? He’s not really in love with Kay, you know.

TREVES. (Primly.) These sudden passionate infatuations are very often not of long duration.

MARY. You’d think Audrey would have more pride.

TREVES. In my experience, pride is a word often on women’s lips—but they display little sign of it where love affairs are concerned.

MARY. (With bitterness.) Perhaps. I wouldn’t know. (She looks towards the French windows.) Excuse me. (Mary exits L. Royde enters by the French windows. He carries a book.)

TREVES. Ah, Thomas, have you been down to the ferry?

ROYDE. (Crossing toC.) No, I’ve been reading a detective story. Not very good. (He looks down at the book.) Always seems to me these yarns begin in the wrong place. Begin with the murder. But the murder’s not really the beginning.

TREVES. Indeed? Where would you begin?

ROYDE. As I see it, the murder is the end of the story. (He sits in the armchairL. C.) I mean, the real story begins long before—years before, sometimes. Must do. All the causes and events that bring the people concerned to a certain place on a certain day at a certain time. And then, over the top—zero hour.

TREVES. (Rising.) That is an interesting point of view.

ROYDE. (Apologetically.) Not very good at explaining myself, I’m afraid.

TREVES. (Moving above the coffee table.) I think you’ve put it very clearly, Thomas. (He uses the coffee table as a globe.) All sorts of people converging towards a given spot and hour—all going towards zero. (He pauses briefly.) Towards Zero. (Treves looks at Royde, and the lights fade to Black-Out, as—the Curtain falls.)

CURTAIN

Scene II

SCENE: The same. After dinner, four days later. When the Curtain rises, the lights are on. The curtains of the bay window are half closed. The French windows are open, the curtains undrawn. The night is very warm, sultry and cloudy. Kay is seated on the chaise, smoking a cigarette. She is in evening dress and looks rather sulky and bored. Ted Latimer is standing on the rostrum, gazing out of the window. He is a very dark, good-looking man of about twenty-six. His dinner suit fits him a shade too well.

KAY. (After a pause.) This is what I call a wildly hilarious evening, Ted.

LATIMER. (Turning.) You should have come over to the hotel as I suggested. (He moves to the downstage edge of the rostrum.) They’ve got a dance on. The band’s not so hot, but it’s fun.

KAY. I wanted to, but Nevile wasn’t keen.

LATIMER. So you behaved like a dutiful wife.

KAY. Yes—and I’ve been rewarded by being bored to death.