The Mousetrap

NEVILE. (Moving downR.) The whole thing’s an appalling mistake. Nobody in their right senses would ever believe that Audrey would be capable—(He moves R. of the chaise, then stands up R. C.) of killing anyone—like that.

TREVES. (Warningly.) The evidence is very strong against her.

NEVILE. I don’t care a damn for the evidence.

TREVES. I’m afraid the police are more practical.

NEVILE. You don’t believe it, do you? You don’t believe . . .

TREVES. I don’t know what to believe. Audrey has always been—an enigma.

NEVILE. (Sitting on the chaise.) Oh, nonsense! She’s always been sweet and gentle.

TREVES. She has always appeared so, certainly.

NEVILE. Appeared so? She is. Audrey and—and violence of any sort just don’t go together. Only a muddle-headed fool like Battle would believe otherwise.

TREVES. Battle is far from being a muddle-headed fool, Nevile. I have always found him particularly shrewd.

NEVILE. Well, he hasn’t proved himself very shrewd over this. (He rises and moves up R.) Good God, you don’t agree with him, do you? You can’t believe this utterly stupid and fantastic story—that Audrey planned all this to—to get back on me for marrying Kay. It’s too absurd.

TREVES. Is it? Love turns to hate very easily, you know, Nevile.

NEVILE. But she had no reason to hate me. (He moves R. C.) That motive was exploded when I told them about—about Adrian.

TREVES. I must confess that that was a surprise to me. I was always under the impression that you left Audrey.

NEVILE. I let everybody think so, of course. What else could I do? It’s always so much worse for the woman—she’d have had to face the whole wretched business alone—with all the gossip and—and mud-slinging. I couldn’t let her do that.

TREVES. It was very—generous of you, Nevile.

NEVILE. (Sitting on the chaise.) Anybody would have done the same. Besides, in a way, it was my fault.

TREVES. Why?

NEVILE. Well—I’d met Kay, you see—while we were at Cannes—and I—I admit I was attracted. I flirted with her—in a harmless sort of way, and Audrey got annoyed.

TREVES. You mean she was jealous?

NEVILE. Well—yes, I think so.

TREVES. (Rising.) If that was the case she couldn’t have been—really—in love with Adrian.

NEVILE. I don’t think she was.

TREVES. Then she left you for Adrian in a fit of pique—because she resented your—er—attentions to Kay?

NEVILE. Something like that.

TREVES. (Moving toL. of Nevile.) If that was the case, the original motive still holds good.

NEVILE. What do you mean?

TREVES. If Audrey was in love with you—if she only ran away with Adrian in a fit of pique—then she might still have hated you for marrying Kay.

NEVILE. (Sharply.) No! She never hated me. She was very understanding about the whole thing.

TREVES. Outwardly—perhaps. What was she like underneath?

NEVILE. (Rising, almost in a whisper.) You believe she did it, don’t you? You believe she killed Camilla—in that horrible way? (He pauses and crosses to the armchair L. C.) It wasn’t Audrey. I’ll swear it wasn’t Audrey. I know her, I tell you. I lived with her for four years—you can’t do that and be mistaken in a person. But if you think she’s guilty, what hope is there?

TREVES. I’ll give you my candid opinion, Nevile. I don’t think there is any hope. I shall brief the best possible counsel, of course, but there’s very little case for the defence. Except insanity. I doubt if we’ll get very far with that. (Nevile drops into the armchair L. C. and covers his face with his hands.)

NEVILE. (Almost inaudibly.) Oh, God! (Mary entersL. She is very quiet and clearly under strain.)

MARY. (Not realizing that Nevile is there.) Mr. Treves! (She sees Nevile.) Er—there are sandwiches in the dining room when anyone wants them. (She moves to L. of Nevile.)

NEVILE. (Turning away.) Sandwiches!

TREVES. (Moving upR. C.; mildly.) Life has to go on, Nevile.

NEVILE. (To Mary.) Do you think she did it, Mary?

MARY. (After a definite pause.) No. (She takes Nevile’s hand.)

NEVILE. Thank God somebody besides me believes in her. (Kay enters by the French windows.)