The Mousetrap

HELEN. (rising) For you, I mean. And for her, too. She wanted to get out of it all, well, now she has. So everything is all right, isn’t it? (She moves up LC, between the armchair and the desk)

KARL. (moving upRC) It’s difficult for me to believe that she did want to get out of it all.

HELEN. She said so—after all, she couldn’t have been happy, could she?

KARL. (thoughtfully) Sometimes she was very happy.

HELEN. (circling the armchair) She couldn’t have been, knowing she was a burden on you.

KARL. (moving below the sofa; beginning to lose his temper) She was never a burden to me.

HELEN. Oh, why must you be so hypocritical about it all? I know you were kind to her and good to her, but let’s face facts, to be tied to a querulous invalid is a drag on any man. Now, you’re free. You can go ahead. You can do anything—anything. Aren’t you ambitious?

KARL. I don’t think so.

HELEN. But you are, of course you are. I’ve heard people talk about you, I’ve heard people say that that book of yours was the most brilliant of the century.

KARL. (sitting on the sofa at the left end) Fine words, indeed.

HELEN. And they were people who knew. You’ve had offers, too, to go to the United States, to all sorts of places. Haven’t you? You turned them down because of your wife whom you couldn’t leave and who couldn’t travel. (She kneels at the left end of the sofa) You’ve been tied so long, you hardly know what it is to feel free. Wake up, Karl, wake up. Be yourself. You did the best you could for Anya. Well, now it’s over. You can start to enjoy yourself, to live life as it really ought to be lived.

KARL. Is this a sermon you’re preaching me, Helen?

HELEN. It’s only the present and the future that matter.

KARL. The present and the future are made up of the past.

HELEN. (rising and movingLC) You’re free. Why should we go on pretending we don’t love each other?

KARL. (rising and crossing to the armchair; firmly and almost harshly) I don’t love you, Helen, you must get that into your head. I don’t love you. You’re living in a fantasy of your own making.

HELEN. I’m not.

KARL. You are. I hate to be brutal, but I’ve got to tell you now I’ve no feelings for you of the kind you imagine. (He sits in the armchair)

HELEN. You must have. You must have. (She moves downRC) After what I’ve done for you. Some people wouldn’t have had the courage, but I had. I loved you so much that I couldn’t bear to see you tied to a useless querulous woman. You don’t know what I’m talking about, do you? I killed her. Now, do you understand? I killed her.

KARL. (utterly stupefied) You killed . . . I don’t know what you’re saying.

HELEN. (moving downRofKARL) I killed your wife. I’m not ashamed of it. People who are sick and worn out and useless should be removed so as to leave room for the ones who matter.

KARL. (rising and backing away downL) You killed Anya?

HELEN. She asked for her medicine. I gave it to her. I gave her the whole bottleful.

KARL. (backing further away from her upL; aghast) You—you . . .

HELEN. (movingC) Don’t worry. Nobody will ever know. I thought of everything. (She speaks rather like a confident, pleased child) I wiped off all the fingerprints—(She moves level with KARL) and put her own fingers first round the glass and then round the bottle. So that’s all right, you see. (She moves to R of him) I never really meant to tell you, but I just suddenly felt that I couldn’t bear there to be any secrets between us. (She puts her hands on KARL)

KARL. (pushing her away) You killed Anya.

HELEN. If you once got used to the idea . . .