The Mousetrap

JEFFROGERSsuddenly strides in.TURNBALL, indignantly protesting, follows him on.JEFFis a big, slick, self-satisfied man of thirty-five, good-looking and insensitive to others. He wears an overcoat and carries a hat, which he throws on to the desk.

JEFF. (standing above the desk) Sorry to bust in, but all this sitting around in waiting rooms gives me claustrophobia. (To Carla) Time means nothing to you, honey. (To Justin) I take it you’re Mr. Fogg? Pleased to meet you.

(JEFF and JUSTIN shake hands)

TURNBALL. (in the archway; to Justin) I’m extremely sorry, sir. I was—er—quite unable to restrain this—gentleman.

JEFF. (cheerily) Forget it, Pop. (He slaps Turnball on the back)

(TURNBALL winces)

JUSTIN. It’s quite all right, Turnball.

(TURNBALL exits)

JEFF. (calling) No hard feelings, Turnball. (To Carla) Well, I suppose you haven’t finished your business, Carla?

CARLA. But I have. I came to ask Mr. Fogg something—(coldly) and he’s answered me.

JUSTIN. I’m sorry.

CARLA. All right, Jeff. Let’s go. (She moves to the arch)

JEFF. Oh, Carla—

(CARLA stops and turns)

—I rather wanted to have a word with Mr. Fogg, myself—about some affairs of mine here. Would you mind? I’ll only be a few minutes.

(CARLA hesitates)

CARLA. I’ll go and soothe Mr. Turnball’s feelings. He was absolutely horrified by your behaviour.

(CARLA exits)

JEFF. (moving to the arch and calling) That’s right, darling. Tell him I’m an overseas hick who knows no better. (He laughs loudly and turns) That old boy’s like something out of Dickens.

JUSTIN. (dryly) Come in, Mr.—er . . . (He looks unsuccessfully for Jeff’s name on the band inside his hat)

JEFF. (not listening) I wanted to have a word with you, Mr. Fogg. (He moves downC) It’s this business about Carla’s mother. The whole thing’s given her a bit of a jolt.

JUSTIN. (very cold and legal) Not unnaturally.

JEFF. It’s a shock to learn suddenly that your mother was a cold-blooded poisoner. I don’t mind telling you that it was a bit of a jolt to me, too.

JUSTIN. Indeed!

(JEFF moves and sits on the upstage end of the desk)

JEFF. There I was, all set to marry a nice girl, uncle and aunt some of the nicest people in Montreal, a well-bred girl, money of her own, everything a man could want. And then—out of the blue—this.

JUSTIN. It must have upset you.

JEFF. (with feeling) Oh, it did.

JUSTIN. (quietly) Sit down, Mr.—er . . .

JEFF. What?

JUSTIN. (nodding towards the chairC) On the chair.

(JEFF looks at the chair C, then rises, moves to the chair and sits on it)

JEFF. Oh, I’ll admit that, just at first, I thought of backing out—you know, kids—things like that?

JUSTIN. You have strong views about heredity?

JEFF. You can’t do any cattle breeding without realizing that certain strains repeat themselves. “Still,” I said to myself, “it isn’t the girl’s fault. She’s a fine girl. You can’t let her down. You’ve just got to go through with it.”

(JUSTIN picks up the box of cigarettes and lighter and crosses above Jeff to L of him)

JUSTIN. Cattle breeding.

JEFF. So I told her it made no difference at all. (He takes a packet of American cigarettes and a lighter from his pocket)

JUSTIN. But it does?

JEFF. (taking a cigarette from his packet) No, no, I’ve put it behind me. But Carla’s got some morbid idea in her head of raking the whole thing up. That’s got to be stopped. (He offers Justin a cigarette)

JUSTIN. Yes? No. (He puts the cigarette box quickly on the tableL)

JEFF. She’ll only upset herself. Let her down lightly—but let your answer be “No.” See?