The Mousetrap

(ROGERS enters Left 2, switches on LIGHTS, draws curtains and exits to study up Right. MARSTON comes to Right end of Left sofa. LOMBARD rises to Left end sofa.)

MARSTON. Damn shame we didn’t know each other. I could have given you a lift down.

VERA. Yes, that would have been grand.

MARSTON. Like to show you what I can do across Salisbury Plain. Tell you what—maybe we can drive back together?

(Enter WARGRAVE and EMILY Centre. MACKENZIE enters; sits chair down Left.)

VERA. (Surprised) But I—(Rising.)

MARSTON. But it seems damn silly. I’ve got an empty car.

LOMBARD. Yes, but she likes the way she’s going back and—

VERA. (Crosses to fireplace) Look! Aren’t they sweet? Those ten little china Indians. (MARSTON and LOMBARD scowl at each other.) Oh, and there’s the old nursery rhyme.

LOMBARD. What are you talking about? What figures? What nursery rhyme?

VERA. (She points at the figures and rhyme—reading) “Ten little Indian boys going out to dine

One choked his little self and then there were nine—” (ROGERS enters up Right and crosses Left. VERA continues reading nursery rhyme. BLORE crosses up to below her; EMILY to above her.)

“Nine little Indian boys sat up very late.

One overslept himself and then there were eight.”

(Crosses Left.)

BLORE.

“Eight little Indian boys travelling in Devon.

One got left behind and then there were seven—”

VOICE. (Very slowly and clearly from off up Right) Ladies and gentlemen, silence, please! (ALLrise.EVERYBODYstops talking and stares round at each other, at the walls. As each name is mentioned that person reacts by a sudden movement or gesture.) You are charged with these indictments: that you did respectively and at divers times commit the following: Edward Armstrong, that you did cause the death of Louisa Mary Clees. William Henry Blore, that you brought about the death of James Stephen Landor. Emily Caroline Brent, that you were responsible for the death of Beatrice Taylor. Vera Elizabeth Claythorne, that you killed Peter Ogilvie Hamilton. (VERAsits Left sofa) Philip Lombard, that you were guilty of the deaths of twenty-one men, members of an East African tribe. John Gordon MacKenzie, that you sent your wife’s lover, Arthur Richmond, to his death. (MACKENZIE sits down Left) Anthony James Marston, that you were guilty of the murder of John and Lucy Combes. Thomas Rogers and Ethel Rogers, that you brought about the death of Jennifer Brady. Lawrence John Wargrave, that you were guilty of the murder of Edward Seton. Prisoners at the bar, have you anything to say in your defence?

(There is a momentary paralysed silence. Then there is a scream outside door Left 2. LOMBARD springs across the room to it. Indignant murmur breaks out as people recover from first shock. Door Left 2 opens to show MRS. ROGERS in a fallen heap. MARSTON springs across to LOMBARD. They pick up MRS. ROGERS and carry her in to Right sofa. ARMSTRONG comes to her.)

ARMSTRONG. It’s nothing much. She’s fainted, that’s all. She’ll be round in a minute. Get some brandy—

BLORE. Rogers, get some brandy.

(ROGERS, shaking all over, goes out Left 2.)

VERA. Who was that speaking? It sounded—

MACKENZIE. (Above Left sofa. His hands shaking, pulling at his moustache) What’s going on here? What kind of practical joke was that?

(BLORE wipes face with handkerchief. WARGRAVE stands in the middle of room near sofas, thoughtfully stroking chin, his eyes peering suspiciously from one to the other.)

LOMBARD. Where the devil did that voice come from? (They stare all round.LOMBARDgoes into study up Right.) Here we are.

VOICE. You are charged with these indictments—