The Mousetrap and Other Plays

ACT TWO

Scene I

SCENE: The same. Early the following morning.

When the curtain rises, it is a fine morning with the sun streaming in through the bay window. The French windows are open. The butler’s tray has been removed. The room is empty. Royde enters by the French windows. He is sucking at his pipe which appears to have become stopped up. He looks around for an ashtray, sees one on the coffee table, moves to it and knocks out the ashes from his pipe. Finding it is still stopped up, he takes a penknife from his pocket and gently probes the bowl. Treves enters down L.

TREVES. Good morning, Thomas.

ROYDE. (Moving above the coffee table.) ’Morning. Going to be another lovely day by the look of it.

TREVES. Yes. (He goes on to the L. end of the rostrum and looks out of the window.) I thought possibly the storm might have broken up the spell of fine weather, but it has only removed that oppressive heat—which is all to the good. (He moves to the R. end of the rostrum.) You’ve been up for hours as usual, I presume?

ROYDE. Since just after six. Been for a walk along the cliffs. Only just got back, as a matter of fact.

TREVES. Nobody else appears to be about yet. Not even Miss Aldin.

ROYDE. Um.

TREVES. Possibly she is fully occupied attending to Lady Tressilian. I should imagine she may be rather upset after that unfortunate incident last night. (He moves to L. of the chaise.)

ROYDE. (Blowing down his pipe.) Bit of a rumpus, wasn’t there?

TREVES. (Moving down R.) You have a positive genius for understatement, Thomas. That unpleasant scene between Nevile and Kay . . .

ROYDE. (Surprised.) Nevile and Kay? The row I heard was between Nevile and Lady Tressilian.

TREVES. (Moving R. of the chaise.) When was this?

ROYDE. Must have been about twenty past ten. They were going at it hammer and tongs. Couldn’t help hearing. My room’s practically opposite hers, you know.

TREVES. (Moving above the chaise, troubled.) Dear, dear, this is news to me.

ROYDE. Thought that was what you meant.

TREVES. (Moving to R. of Royde.) No, no, I was referring to a most distressing scene that took place in here earlier, to part of which I was a reluctant witness. That unfortunate young woman—er—Kay, had a fit of violent hysterics.

ROYDE. What was the row about?

TREVES. I’m afraid it was Nevile’s fault.

ROYDE. That doesn’t surprise me. He’s been behaving like a damn fool. (He moves on to the rostrum.)

TREVES. I entirely agree. His conduct has been most reprehensible. (He sighs and sits on the chaise.)

ROYDE. Was—Audrey mixed up in the row?

TREVES. She was the cause of it. (Kay enters quickly L. She looks subdued and tired. She carries her handbag.)

KAY. Oh! Good—good morning.

TREVES. (Rising.) Good morning, Kay.

ROYDE. Good morning.

KAY. (Moving L. C.; nervous and ill at ease.) We’re—we’re the only ones up, aren’t we?

TREVES. I think so. I haven’t seen anyone else. I breakfasted in—er—solitary state.

ROYDE. Haven’t had mine yet. Think I’ll go and hunt some up. (To Kay.) Have you had breakfast?

KAY. No. I’ve only just come down. I—I don’t want any breakfast. I feel like hell.

ROYDE. Um—could eat a house, myself. (He crosses below Kay to the door L.) See you later. (Royde exits L.)

KAY. (With a step or two towards Treves, after a slight pause.) Mr. Treves—I—I’m afraid I behaved—rather badly last night.

TREVES. It was very natural that you should be upset.

KAY. I lost my temper and I said a lot of—of foolish things.

TREVES. We are all apt to do that at times. You had every provocation. Nevile was, in my opinion, very much to blame.

KAY. He was led into it. Audrey’s been determined to cause trouble between Nevile and me ever since we came here.

TREVES. (Moving above the coffee table.) I don’t think you’re being quite fair to her.

KAY. She planned this, I tell you. She knows that Nevile’s always—always felt guilty at the way he treated her.

TREVES. (Moving to R. of Kay.) No, no, I’m sure you’re wrong.

KAY. No, no, I’m not wrong. You see, Mr. Treves, I went over it all in the night, and Audrey thought that if she could get us all here together and—(She crosses to R. of the coffee table.) and pretend to be friendly and forgiving that she could get him back. She’s worked on his conscience. Pale and aloof—creeping about like a—like a grey ghost. She knew what effect that would have on Nevile. He’s always reproached himself because he thought he’d treated her badly. (She sits on the chaise.) Right from the beginning—or nearly the beginning—Audrey’s shadow has been between us. Nevile couldn’t quite forget about her—she was always there at the back of his mind.

TREVES. You can hardly blame her for that.

KAY. Oh, don’t you see? She knew how Nevile felt. She knew what the result would be if they were thrown together again.

TREVES. I think you are giving her credit for more cunning than she possesses.

KAY. You’re all on her side—all of you.

TREVES. My dear Kay!

KAY. (Rising.) You’d like to see Nevile go back to Audrey. I’m the interloper—I don’t belong—Nevile said so last night and he was right. Camilla’s always disliked me—she’s put up with me for Nevile’s sake. I’m supposed to see everyone’s point of view but my own. What I feel or think doesn’t matter. If my life is all smashed up it’s just too bad, but it doesn’t matter. It’s only Audrey who matters.

TREVES. No, no, no.

KAY. (Her voice rising.) Well, she’s not going to smash up my life. I don’t care what I do to stop it, but I will. I’ll make it impossible for Nevile to go back to her. (Nevile enters L.)

NEVILE. (Taking in the situation.) What’s the matter now? More trouble?

KAY. What do you expect after the way you behaved last night? (She sits on the chaise and takes a handkerchief from her bag. Treves moves on to the R. end of the rostrum.)

NEVILE. (Crossing slowly and standing up L. of Kay.) It was you who made all the fuss, Kay. I was prepared to talk the matter over calmly.

KAY. Calmly! Did you imagine that I was going to accept your suggestion that I should divorce you, and leave the way clear for Audrey, as if—as if you were inviting me to—to go to a dance? (Treves crosses to the L. of the rostrum.)

NEVILE. No, but at least you needn’t behave in this hysterical fashion when you’re staying in other people’s houses. For goodness’ sake control yourself and try to behave properly.

KAY. Like she does, I suppose?

NEVILE. At any rate, Audrey doesn’t make an exhibition of herself.

KAY. She’s turning you against me—just as she intended.

NEVILE. Look here, Kay, this isn’t Audrey’s fault. I told you that last night. I explained the situation. I was quite open and honest about it.

KAY. (Scornfully.) Open and honest!

NEVILE. Yes. I can’t help feeling the way I do.

KAY. How do you suppose I feel? You don’t care about that, do you?

TREVES. (Moving down C. and interposing.) I really think, Nevile, that you should very seriously consider your attitude in this—er—matter. Kay is your wife. She has certain rights of which you cannot deprive her in this—this cavalier manner.

NEVILE. I admit that, but—I’m willing to do the—the right thing.

KAY. The right thing!

TREVES. Furthermore it is hardly the—er—proper procedure to discuss this under Lady Tressilian’s roof. It is bound to upset her very seriously. (He crosses below Nevile to L. of Kay.) My sympathies are entirely with Kay, but I think you both have a duty to your hostess and to your fellow guests. I suggest that you postpone any further discussion of the matter until your visit here has terminated.

NEVILE. (A little shamefacedly.) I suppose you’re right, Mr. Treves—yes, of course, you’re right. I’m willing. What do you say, Kay?

KAY. As long as Audrey doesn’t try and . . .

NEVILE. (Sharply.) Audrey hasn’t tried anything.

TREVES. (To Kay.) Ssh! I think, my dear, you would be well advised to agree to my suggestion. It is only a question of a few more days.

KAY. (Rising, ungraciously.) Oh, very well then. (She moves to the French windows.)

NEVILE. (Relieved.) Well, that’s that. I’m going to get some breakfast. (He moves to the door L.) We might all go sailing later on. (He goes on to the L. end of the rostrum and glances out of the window.) There’s quite a good breeze. (He looks at Treves.) Would you like to come?

TREVES. I’m afraid I’m a little too old for that sort of thing. (He crosses towards the door L.)

NEVILE. What about you, Kay?

KAY. (Moving R. C.) What about Ted? We promised him we’d go over this morning.

NEVILE. There’s no reason why he shouldn’t come, too. I’ll get hold of Royde and Audrey and see what they think of the idea. It should be lovely out in the bay. (Audrey enters L. She looks worried.)

AUDREY. (Anxiously.) Mr. Treves—what do you think we ought to do? We can’t wake Mary. (Kay moves down R. of the chaise.)

NEVILE. Can’t wake her? (He moves off the rostrum to C.) What do you mean?

AUDREY. Just that. When Mrs. Barrett came, she took up Mary’s morning tea as usual. (She moves slowly L. C.) Mary was fast asleep. Mrs. Barrett drew the curtains and called to her, but Mary didn’t wake up, so she left the tea on the bedside table. She didn’t bother much when Mary didn’t come down, but when Mary didn’t come down to fetch Camilla’s tea, Mrs. Barrett went up again. Mary’s tea was stone cold and she was still asleep.

TREVES. (Moving down L. of the armchair L. C.) She was very tired last night, Audrey.

AUDREY. But this isn’t a natural sleep, Mr. Treves. It can’t be. Mrs. Barrett shook her—hard—and she didn’t wake. I went in to Mary and I tried to wake her, too. There’s definitely something wrong with her.

NEVILE. Do you mean she’s unconscious?

AUDREY. I don’t know. She looks very pale and she just lies there—like a log.

KAY. Perhaps she took some sleeping pills.

AUDREY. (Moving C.) That’s what I thought, but it’s so unlike Mary. (She turns to Treves.) What shall we do?

TREVES. I think you should get a doctor. She may be ill.

NEVILE. (Crossing to the door L.) I’ll go and phone Lazenby and get him to come at once. (Nevile exits quickly L.)

TREVES. (Moving L. C.) Have you told Lady Tressilian, Audrey?

AUDREY. (Moving R. C.; shaking her head.) No, not yet. I didn’t want to disturb her. They’re making her some fresh tea in the kitchen. I’m going to take it up. I’ll tell her then.

TREVES. I sincerely hope it’s nothing serious.

KAY. She’s probably taken an overdose of sleeping stuff. (She sits in the easy chair down R.)

TREVES. That could be extremely serious.

AUDREY. I can’t imagine Mary doing such a thing. (Royde enters L.)

ROYDE. (Moving between Treves and Audrey.) I heard Strange telephoning Dr. Lazenby. What’s the matter?

AUDREY. It’s Mary. She’s still asleep and we can’t get her to wake up. Kay thinks she may have taken an overdose of some drug.

KAY. Something like that must have happened or you’d be able to wake her.

ROYDE. Sleeping stuff, do you mean? Shouldn’t think she’d have needed anything like that last night. She was dog tired.

TREVES. I’m sure she wouldn’t take any sort of drug, you know—in case the bell rang.

KAY. Bell?

ROYDE. There’s a bell in her room. Lady Tressilian always rings it if she wants anything in the night. (To Audrey.) Remember she was telling us about it last night.

AUDREY. Mary wouldn’t take anything that would stop her hearing the bell, in case it was urgent. (Nevile enters quickly L.)

NEVILE. Lazenby’s coming round right away.

AUDREY. (Crossing to the door L.) Oh, good. Before he gets here I’d better go and see about Camilla’s tea. She’ll be wondering what’s happened.

NEVILE. Can I help?

AUDREY. No, thank you. I can manage. (Audrey exits L. Kay rises and moves up R. of the chaise.)

ROYDE. (Moving to the chaise.) I wonder if it could be some kind of heart attack. (He sits on the chaise. Treves sits in the armchair L. C.)

NEVILE. (Crossing and standing on the right end of the rostrum.) It’s not much use conjecturing, is it? Lazenby’ll be able to tell us. Poor old Mary. I don’t know what will happen if she’s really ill.

TREVES. It would be disastrous. Lady Tressilian relies on Mary for everything.

KAY. (Moving to R. of Nevile, hopefully.) I suppose we should all have to pack up and go?

NEVILE. (Smiling at Kay.) Perhaps it isn’t anything serious after all. (Kay moves down R.)

ROYDE. Must be something pretty bad if she can’t be wakened.

TREVES. It can’t take Dr. Lazenby very long to get here, and then we shall know. He lives a very short distance away.

NEVILE. He ought to be here in about ten minutes, I should think.

TREVES. Possibly he will be able to relieve all our minds. I trust so.

NEVILE. (With a determinedly cheerful air.) No good looking on the black side of things, anyway.

KAY. (Moving to R. of the chaise.) Always the perfect optimist, aren’t you, Nevile?

NEVILE. Well, things usually work out all right.

ROYDE. They certainly do for you.

NEVILE. (Moving to L. of Royde.) I don’t quite know what you mean by that, Thomas.

ROYDE. (Rising.) I should have thought it was obvious.

NEVILE. What are you insinuating?

ROYDE. I’m not insinuating anything. I’m stating facts.

TREVES. (Rising.) Ssh! (He moves C. and hastily changes the subject.) Do you think—er—we ought to see if there is anything we could do to—er—help. Lady Tressilian might wish . . . (Royde crosses above the others and stands on the left end of the rostrum.)

NEVILE. If Camilla wants us to do anything she’ll soon say so. I wouldn’t interfere unless she does, if I were you. (Audrey is heard to scream off L. Royde exits hurriedly. There is a short pause. Audrey, supported by Royde, enters L. She looks almost dazed.)

AUDREY. Camilla—Camilla . . .

TREVES. (Concerned.) My dear! What’s the matter?

AUDREY. (In a husky whisper.) It’s—Camilla.

NEVILE. (Surprised.) Camilla? What’s wrong with her?

AUDREY. She’s—she’s dead.

KAY. (Sitting on the chaise.) Oh, no, no.

NEVILE. It must have been her heart.

AUDREY. No—it—it wasn’t her heart. (She presses her hands to her eyes. They all stare at her. She shouts.) There’s blood—all over her head. (She suddenly screams out hysterically.) She’s been murdered. Don’t you understand? She’s been murdered. (Audrey sinks into the easy chair down L. and the lights fade to Black-Out, as—the Curtain falls.)

CURTAIN

Scene II

SCENE—The same. Two hours later. The furniture has been moved to make the room more suitable for the police interrogations. The coffee table has been moved into the alcove R., and the chaise on to the rostrum. A card table has been placed R. C. with the upright chair from the alcove L. of it. The armchair L. C. is now above the card table and the easy chair down L. is now L. C. On the card table is a small tray with a jug of water and two glasses. Also on the card table are a box of cigarettes, an ashtray and a box of matches. A copy of “The Times” lies half open on the window-seat.

When the Curtain rises, Treves is standing L. of the card table, looking around the room. After a moment he moves up C. on the rostrum. Superintendent Battle enters L. He is a big man, aged about fifty, and is quietly dressed. His face is heavy but intelligent.

TREVES. Ah. Battle.

BATTLE. That’s fixed up, sir.

TREVES. It was all right, was it, Battle?

BATTLE. (Crossing to C.) Yes, sir. The Chief Constable got through to the Yard. As I happened to be on the spot they’ve agreed to let me handle the case. (He moves down R., turns and looks around the room.)

TREVES. (Moving down C.) I’m very glad. It’s going to make it easier having you instead of a stranger. Pity to have spoilt your holiday, though.

BATTLE. Oh, I don’t mind that, sir. I’ll be able to give my nephew a hand. It’ll be his first murder case, you see.

TREVES. (Moving to the bureau chair.) Yes, yes—I’ve no doubt he will find your experience of great help. (He moves the chair to R. of the card table.)

BATTLE. (Crossing to R. C.) It’s a nasty business.

TREVES. Shocking, shocking. (He crosses and stands below the easy chair L. C.)

BATTLE. I’ve seen the doctor. Two blows were struck. The first was sufficient to cause death. The murderer must have struck again to make sure, or in a blind rage.

TREVES. Horrible. (He sits in the easy chair L. C.) I can’t believe it could have been anyone in the house.

BATTLE. Afraid it was, sir. We’ve been into all that. No entry was forced. (He moves in the direction of the French windows.) All the doors and windows were fastened this morning as usual. And then there’s the drugging of Miss Aldin—that must have been an inside job.

TREVES. How is she?

BATTLE. Still sleeping it off, but she was given a pretty heavy dose. It looks like careful planning on somebody’s part. (He crosses to C.) Lady Tressilian might have pulled that bell which rings in Miss Aldin’s room, if she’d been alarmed. That had to be taken care of—so Miss Aldin was doped.

TREVES. (Troubled.) It still seems to me quite incredible.

BATTLE. We’ll get to the bottom of it, sir, in the end. (He moves to L. of the card table.) Death occurred, according to the doctor, between ten-thirty and midnight. Not earlier than ten-thirty, not later than midnight. That should be a help. (He sits on the chair L. of the card table.)

TREVES. Yes, yes. And the weapon used was a niblick?

BATTLE. Yes, sir. Thrown down by the bed, blood-stained and with white hairs sticking to it. (Treves makes a gesture of repulsion.) I shouldn’t have deduced a niblick from the appearance of the wound, but apparently the sharp edge of the club didn’t touch the head. The doctor says it was the rounded part of the club hit her.

TREVES. The—er—murderer was incredibly stupid, don’t you think, to leave the weapon behind?

BATTLE. Probably lost his head. It happens.

TREVES. Possibly—yes, possibly. I suppose there are no fingerprints?

BATTLE. (Rising and moving up R. C.) Sergeant Pengelly is attending to that now, sir. I doubt if it’s going to be as easy as that. (Inspector Leach enters L. He is a youngish man, about thirty-eight to forty, thin and dark. He speaks with a slight Cornish accent. He carries a niblick golf club.)

LEACH. (Crossing above the easy chair L. C. to L. of Battle.) See here, Uncle. Pengelly has brought up a beautiful set of dabs on this—clear as day.

BATTLE. (Warningly.) Be careful how you go handling that, my boy.

LEACH. It’s all right, we’ve got photographs. Got specimens of the blood and hair, too. (He shows the club to Battle.) What do you think of these dabs? Clear as clear, aren’t they? (Battle inspects the fingerprints on the shaft of the club, then crosses to R. of Treves.)

BATTLE. They’re clear enough. What a fool! (He shows the club to Treves.)

LEACH. That’s so to be sure.

BATTLE. All we’ve got to do now, my lad, is ask everyone nicely and politely if we may take their fingerprints—no compulsion, of course. Everyone will say “yes”—and one of two things will happen. Either none of the prints will agree, or else . . .

LEACH. It’ll be in the bag, eh? (He crosses to the door L. Battle nods.)

TREVES. Doesn’t it strike you as extremely odd, Battle, that the—er—murderer should have been so foolish as to leave such a damning piece of evidence behind—actually on the scene of the crime?

BATTLE. I’ve known ’em do things equally foolish, sir. (He puts the club on the chaise.) Well, let’s get on with it. Where’s everybody?

LEACH. (Moving up L.) In the library. Pollock is going through all their rooms. Except Miss Aldin’s, of course. She’s still sleeping off the effects of that dope.

BATTLE. We’ll have ’em in here one at a time. (To Treves.) Which Mrs. Strange was it who discovered the murder?

TREVES. Mrs. Audrey Strange.

BATTLE. Oh, yes. Difficult when there are two Mrs. Stranges. Mrs. Audrey Strange is the divorced wife, isn’t she?

TREVES. Yes. I explained to you the—er—situation.

BATTLE. Yes, sir. Funny idea of Mr. Strange’s. I should have thought that most men . . . (Kay enters quickly L. She is very upset and slightly hysterical.)

KAY. (Crossing towards the French windows, to Battle.) I’m not going to stay cooped up in that damned library any longer. I want some air and I’m going out. You can do what the hell you like about it. (Leach moves down L.)

BATTLE. Just a minute, Mrs. Strange. (Kay stops and turns by the French windows.) There’s no reason why you shouldn’t go out if you wish, but it’ll have to be later.

KAY. I want to go now.

BATTLE. I’m afraid that’s impossible.

KAY. (Moving slowly down R.) You’ve no right to keep me here. I haven’t done anything.

BATTLE. (Soothingly.) No, no, of course you haven’t. But you see, there’ll be one or two questions we’ll have to ask you.

KAY. What sort of questions? I can’t help you. I don’t know anything about it.

BATTLE. (Moving down C.; to Leach.) Get Benson, will you, Jim? (Leach nods and exits L.) Now you just sit down here, Mrs. Strange—(He indicates the chair L. of the card table) and relax.

KAY. (Moving and sitting L. of the card table.) I’ve told you I don’t know anything. Why do I have to answer a lot of questions when I don’t know anything?

BATTLE. (Moving above the card table and standing down R. of it, apologetically.) We’ve got to interview everybody, you see. It’s just part of the routine. Not very pleasant for you, or for us, but there you are.

KAY. Oh, well—all right. (Police-Constable Benson enters L. Leach follows him on. Benson is a youngish man, fairish and very quiet. He moves to L. of the chaise and takes out a notebook and pencil.)

BATTLE. (Sitting R. of the card table.) Now, just tell us about last night, Mrs. Strange.

KAY. What about last night?

BATTLE. What did you do—say from after dinner, onwards?

KAY. I had a headache. I—I went to bed quite early.

BATTLE. How early?

KAY. I don’t know exactly. It was about a quarter to ten, I think.

TREVES. (Interposing gently.) Ten minutes to ten.

KAY. Was it? I wouldn’t know to the minute.

BATTLE. We’ll take it was ten minutes to ten. (He makes a sign to Benson. Benson makes a note in his book.) Did your husband accompany you?

KAY. No.

BATTLE. (After a pause.) What time did he come to bed?

KAY. I’ve no idea. You’d better ask him that.

LEACH. (Crossing to L. of Kay.) The door between your room and your husband’s is locked. Was it locked when you went to bed?

KAY. Yes.

LEACH. Who locked it?

KAY. I did.

BATTLE. Was it usual for you to lock it?

KAY. No.

BATTLE. (Rising.) Why did you do so last night, Mrs. Strange? (Kay does not reply. Leach moves up R. C.)

TREVES. (After a pause.) I should tell them, Kay.

KAY. I suppose if I don’t, you will. Oh, well, then. You can have it. Nevile and I had a row—a flaming row. (Leach looks at Benson, who makes a note.) I was furious with him. I went to bed and locked the door because I was still in a flaming rage with him.

BATTLE. I see—what was the trouble about?

KAY. Does it matter? I don’t see how it concerns . . .

BATTLE. You’re not compelled to answer, if you’d rather not.

KAY. Oh, I don’t mind. My husband has been behaving like a perfect fool. It’s all that woman’s fault, though.

BATTLE. What woman?

KAY. Audrey—his first wife. It was she who got him to come here in the first place.

BATTLE. I understood that it was Mr. Strange’s idea.

KAY. Well, it wasn’t. It was hers.

BATTLE. But why should Mrs. Audrey Strange have suggested it? (During the following speech, Leach crosses slowly to the door L.)

KAY. To cause trouble, I suppose. Nevile thinks it was his own idea—poor innocent. But he never thought of such a thing until he met Audrey in the Park one day in London, and she put the idea into his head and made him believe he’d thought of it himself. I’ve seen her scheming mind behind it from the first. She’s never taken me in.

BATTLE. Why should she be so anxious for you all to come here together?

KAY. (Quickly and breathlessly.) Because she wanted to get hold of Nevile again. That’s why. She’s never forgiven him for going off with me. This is her revenge. She got him to fix it so that we’d be here together and then she got to work on him. She’s been doing it ever since we arrived. (Battle crosses above the card table to C.) She’s clever, damned clever. She knows just how to look pathetic and elusive. Poor sweet, injured little kitten—with all her blasted claws out.

TREVES. Kay—Kay . . .

BATTLE. I see. Surely, if you felt so strongly, you could have objected to this arrangement of coming here?

KAY. Do you think I didn’t try? Nevile was set on it. He insisted.

BATTLE. But you’re quite sure it wasn’t his idea?

KAY. I’m positive. That white-faced little cat planned it all.

TREVES. You have no actual evidence on which to base such an assertion, Kay.

KAY. (Rising and crossing to R. of Treves.) I know, I tell you, and you know it, too, though you won’t admit it. Audrey’s been . . .

BATTLE. Come and sit down, Mrs. Strange. (Kay crosses reluctantly to L. of the card table and sits.) Did Lady Tressilian approve of the arrangement?

KAY. She didn’t approve of anything in connection with me. Audrey was her pet. She disliked me for taking Audrey’s place with Nevile.

BATTLE. Did you—quarrel with Lady Tressilian?

KAY. No.

BATTLE. After you’d gone to bed, Mrs. Strange, did you hear anything? Any unusual sounds in the house?

KAY. I didn’t hear anything. I was so upset I took some sleeping stuff. I fell asleep almost at once.

BATTLE. (Crossing to R. of the card table.) What kind of sleeping stuff?

KAY. They’re little blue capsules. I don’t know what’s in them. (Battle looks at Benson, who makes a note.)

BATTLE. (Moving to the chaise.) You didn’t see your husband after you went up to bed?

KAY. No, no, no. I’ve already told you that I locked the door.

BATTLE. (Picking up the niblick and bringing it to L. of Kay.) Have you ever seen this before, Mrs. Strange?

KAY. (Shrinking away.) How—how horrible. Is that what—what it was done with?

BATTLE. We believe so. Have you any idea to whom it belongs?

KAY. (Shaking her head.) There are packets of golf clubs in the house. Mrs. Royde’s—Nevile’s—mine . . .

BATTLE. This is a man’s club. It wouldn’t be one of yours.

KAY. Then it must be . . . I don’t know.

BATTLE. I see. (He moves to the chaise and replaces the niblick on it.) Thank you, Mrs. Strange, that’s all for the present. (Kay rises and moves down R.)

LEACH. There’s just one other thing. (Kay turns. He crosses to L. of Kay.) Would you object to letting Detective Sergeant Pengelly take your fingerprints?

KAY. My—fingerprints?

BATTLE. (Smoothly.) It’s just a matter of routine, Mrs. Strange. We’re asking everybody.

KAY. I don’t mind anything—so long as I don’t have to go back to that menagerie in the library.

LEACH. I’ll arrange for Sergeant Pengelly to take your fingerprints in the breakfast room. (Kay crosses below Leach to L. C., looks closely at Treves for a moment, then exits L. Leach crosses and exits L. Benson closes his notebook and waits stolidly.)

BATTLE. Benson. Go and ask Pollock if he saw some small blue capsules in Mrs. Strange’s room—Mrs. Kay Strange. I want a specimen of them.

BENSON. Yes, sir. (He moves to the door L.)

BATTLE. (Moving C.) Come back here when you’ve done that.

BENSON. Yes, sir. (Benson exits L.)

TREVES. (Rising.) Do you think the same drug was used to—er—dope Miss Aldin?

BATTLE. (Moving on to the R. end of the rostrum.) It’s worth checking up on. Would you mind telling me, sir, who stands to gain by Lady Tressilian’s death?

TREVES. Lady Tressilian had very little money of her own. The late Sir Mortimer Tressilian’s estate was left in trust for her during her lifetime. On her death it is to be equally divided between Nevile and his wife.

BATTLE. Which wife?

TREVES. His first wife.

BATTLE. Audrey Strange?

TREVES. Yes. The bequest is quite clearly worded, “Nevile Henry Strange, and his wife, Audrey Elizabeth Strange, née Standish.” The subsequent divorce makes no difference whatever to that bequest.

BATTLE. (Moving down R.) Mrs. Audrey Strange is of course fully aware of that?

TREVES. Certainly.

BATTLE. And the present Mrs. Strange—does she know that she gets nothing?

TREVES. Really I cannot say. (His voice is doubtful.) Presumably her husband has made it clear to her. (He moves to L. of the card table.)

BATTLE. If he hadn’t she might be under the impression that she was the one who benefited?

TREVES. It’s possible—yes. (He sits L. of the card table.)

BATTLE. Is the amount involved a large one, sir?

TREVES. Quite considerable. Approaching one hundred thousand pounds.

BATTLE. Whew! That’s quite something, even in these days. (Leach enters L. He is carrying a crumpled dinner jacket.)

LEACH. (Moving L. C.) I say, take a look at this. Pollock has just found it bundled down in the bottom of Nevile Strange’s wardrobe. (Battle crosses to R. of Leach. He points to the sleeve.) Look at these stains. That’s blood, or I’m Marilyn Monroe.

BATTLE. (Taking the jacket from Leach.) You’re certainly not Marilyn Monroe, Jim. It’s spattered all up the sleeve as well. Any other suits in the room?

LEACH. Dark grey pinstripe hanging over a chair. And there’s a lot of water round the wash basin on the floor—quite a pool of it. Looks as if it had slopped over.

BATTLE. Such as might have been made if he’d washed the blood off his hands in the devil of a hurry, eh?

LEACH. Yes. (He takes some small tweezers from his pocket and picks some hairs off the inside of the collar.)

BATTLE. Hairs! A woman’s fair hairs on the inside of the collar.

LEACH. Some on the sleeve, too.

BATTLE. Red ones, these. Mr. Strange seems to have had his arm around one wife and the other one’s head on his shoulder.

LEACH. Quite a Mormon. Looks bad for him, don’t it?

BATTLE. We’ll have to have the blood on this tested later to see if it’s the same group as Lady Tressilian’s.

LEACH. I’ll try and arrange it, Uncle.

TREVES. (Rising and moving down R.; very perturbed.) I can’t believe, I really can’t believe that Nevile, whom I’ve known all his life, is capable of such a terrible act. There must be a mistake.

BATTLE. (Moving and putting the jacket on the chaise.) I hope so, I’m sure, sir. (To Leach.) We’ll have Mr. Royde in next. (Leach nods and exits L.)

TREVES. I’m quite sure there must be some innocent explanation, Battle, for that stained dinner jacket. Quite apart from lack of motive, Nevile is . . .

BATTLE. Fifty thousand pounds is a pretty good motive, sir, to my mind.

TREVES. But Nevile is well off. He’s not in need of money.

BATTLE. There may be something we know nothing about, sir. (Benson enters L. and crosses to L. of Battle. He carries a small round box.)

BENSON. Pollock found the pills, sir. (He hands the box to Battle.) Here you are.

BATTLE. (Looking into the box.) These are the things. I’ll get the doctor to tell us whether they contain the same stuff that was given to Miss Aldin. (He moves up R. Royde enters L.)

ROYDE. (Moving L. C.) You want to see me?

BATTLE. (Moving down R. C.) Yes, Mr. Royde. (He indicates the chair L. of the card table.) Will you sit down, sir?

ROYDE. Rather stand.

BATTLE. Just as you like. (Benson takes out his notebook and pencil. Treves sits in the easy chair down R.). I’d like you to answer one or two questions, if you’ve no objection.

ROYDE. No objection at all. Nothing to hide.

BATTLE. (Moving below the card table.) I understand that you have only just returned from Malaya, Mr. Royde.

ROYDE. That’s right. First time I’ve been home for seven years.

BATTLE. You’ve known Lady Tressilian for a long time?

ROYDE. Ever since I was a boy.

BATTLE. Can you suggest a reason why anyone should want to kill her?

ROYDE. No.

BATTLE. (Moving up R. of the card table.) How long have you known Mr. Nevile Strange?

ROYDE. Practically all my life.

BATTLE. (Moving up R. C.) Do you know him sufficiently well to be aware if he was worried over money?

ROYDE. No, but I shouldn’t think so. Always seems to have plenty.

BATTLE. If there was any trouble like that, he wouldn’t be likely to confide in you?

ROYDE. Very unlikely.

BATTLE. (Moving down L. of the card table.) What time did you go to bed last night, Mr. Royde?

ROYDE. Round about half past nine, I should think.

BATTLE. That seems to be very early.

ROYDE. Always go to bed early. Like to get up early.

BATTLE. I see. Your room is practically opposite Lady Tressilian’s, isn’t it?

ROYDE. Practically.

BATTLE. Did you go to sleep immediately you went to bed?

ROYDE. No. Finished a detective story I was reading. Not very good—it seems to me they always . . .

BATTLE. Yes, yes. Were you still awake at half past ten?

ROYDE. Yes.

BATTLE. (Sitting L. of the card table.) Did you—this is very important, Mr. Royde—did you hear any unusual sounds round about that time? (Royde does not reply.) I’ll repeat that question. Did you . . . ?

ROYDE. There’s no need. I heard you.

BATTLE. (After a pause.) Well, Mr. Royde?

ROYDE. Heard a noise in the attic over my head, rats, I expect. Anyway, that was later.

BATTLE. I don’t mean that.

ROYDE. (Looking at Treves, reluctantly.) There was a bit of a rumpus.

BATTLE. What sort of rumpus?

ROYDE. Well—an argument.

BATTLE. An argument? Who was the argument between?

ROYDE. Lady Tressilian and Strange.

BATTLE. Lady Tressilian and Mr. Strange were quarreling?

ROYDE. Well, yes. I suppose you’d call it that.

BATTLE. (Rising and moving to R. of Royde.) It’s not what I would call it, Mr. Royde. Do you call it that?

ROYDE. Yes.

BATTLE. Thank you. What was this quarrel about?

ROYDE. Didn’t listen. Not my business.

BATTLE. But you are quite sure they were quarreling?

ROYDE. Sounded like it. Their voices were raised pretty high.

BATTLE. Can you place the time exactly?

ROYDE. About twenty past ten I should think.

BATTLE. Twenty past ten. You didn’t hear anything else?

ROYDE. Strange slammed the door when he left.

BATTLE. You heard nothing more after that?

ROYDE. (Crossing below Battle to the card table.) Only rats. (He knocks out his pipe in the ashtray.)

BATTLE. (Moving to the chaise.) Never mind the rats. (He picks up the niblick. Royde fills and lights his pipe. He moves to L. of Royde.) Does this belong to you, Mr. Royde? (Royde, engrossed with his pipe, does not reply.) Mr. Royde!

ROYDE. (Looking at the niblick.) No. All my clubs have got T.R. scratched on the shaft.

BATTLE. Do you know to whom it does belong?

ROYDE. No idea. (He moves up R.)

BATTLE. (Replacing the niblick on the chaise.) We shall want to take your fingerprints, Mr. Royde. Have you any objection to that?

ROYDE. Not much use objecting, is it? Your man’s already done it. (Benson laughs quietly.)

BATTLE. Thank you, then, Mr. Royde. That’s all for the present.

ROYDE. Do you mind if I go out for a bit? Feel like some fresh air. Only out on the terrace, if you want me.

BATTLE. That’ll be quite all right, sir.

ROYDE. Thanks. (Royde exits by the French windows. Benson sits on the window-seat.)

BATTLE. (Moving C.) The evidence seems to be piling up against Mr. Strange, sir.

TREVES. (Rising and moving to R. of the card table.) It’s incredible—incredible. (Leach enters L. and crosses to L. C.)

LEACH. (Jubilantly.) The fingerprints are Nevile Strange’s all right.

BATTLE. That would seem to clinch it, Jim. He leaves his weapon—he leaves his fingerprints; I wonder he didn’t leave his visiting card.

LEACH. Been easy, hasn’t it?

TREVES. It can’t have been Nevile. There must be a mistake. (He pours himself a glass of water.)

BATTLE. It all adds up. We’ll see what Mr. Strange has to say, anyhow. Bring him in, Jim. (Leach exits L.)

TREVES. I don’t understand it. I’m sure there’s something wrong. (Battle moves down L. C.) Nevile’s not a complete and utter fool. Even if he were capable of committing such a brutal act—which I refuse to believe—would he have left all this damning evidence strewn about so carelessly? (He moves up R.)

BATTLE. Well, sir, apparently he did. (He moves to R. of the easy chair L. C.) You can’t get away from facts. (Nevile and Leach enter L. Nevile looks worried and a little nervous. He stands a moment in the doorway. He indicates the chair L. of the card table.) Come and sit down, Mr. Strange.

NEVILE. (Crossing to the chair L. of the card table.) Thank you. (He sits. Treves crosses slowly above the others and stands down L.)

BATTLE. We should like you to answer certain questions, but it’s my duty to caution you that you are not bound to answer these questions unless you wish.

NEVILE. Go ahead. Ask me anything you wish.

BATTLE. (Moving C.) You realize that anything you say will be taken down in writing and may subsequently be used in evidence in a court of law?

NEVILE. Are you threatening me?

BATTLE. No, no, Mr. Strange. Warning you.

TREVES. (Moving below the easy chair L. C.) Superintendent Battle is obliged to conform to the regulations, Nevile. You need say nothing unless you wish to?

NEVILE. Why shouldn’t I wish to?

TREVES. It might be wiser not to.

NEVILE. Nonsense! Go ahead, Superintendent. Ask me anything you like. (Treves makes a despairing gesture and sits in the easy chair L. C. Benson rises.)

BATTLE. (Crossing below Nevile and standing down R.) Are you prepared to make a statement?

NEVILE. If that’s what you call it. I’m afraid, though, I can’t help you very much.

BATTLE. Will you begin by telling us exactly what you did last night? From dinner onwards? (He sits R. of the card table.)

NEVILE. Let me see. Immediately after dinner I went up to my room and wrote a couple of letters—I’d been putting them off for a long time and I thought I might as well get them done. When I’d finished I came down here.

BATTLE. What time would that be?

NEVILE. I suppose it was about a quarter past nine. That’s as near as damnit, anyhow. (Battle helps himself to a cigarette.)

BATTLE. (Offering the cigarettes to Nevile.) I’m so sorry.

NEVILE. No, thank you.

BATTLE. What did you do after that? (He lights his cigarette.)

NEVILE. I talked to—to Kay, my wife, and Ted Latimer.

BATTLE. Latimer—who’s he?

NEVILE. A friend of ours who’s staying at the Easterhead Bay Hotel. He’d come over for dinner. He left soon after and everybody else went off to bed.

BATTLE. Including your wife?

NEVILE. Yes, she was feeling a bit off color.

BATTLE. (Rising.) I understand there was some sort of—unpleasantness?

NEVILE. Oh—(He looks at Treves.) you’ve heard about that, have you? It was purely a domestic quarrel. Can’t have anything to do with this horrible business.

BATTLE. I see. (He crosses below the table and moves up C. After a pause.) After everybody else had gone to bed, what did you do then?

NEVILE. I was a bit bored. It was still fairly early and I decided to go across to the Easterhead Bay Hotel.

BATTLE. In the storm? It had broken by this time, surely?

NEVILE. Yes, it had. But it didn’t worry me. I went upstairs to change . . .

BATTLE. (Moving quickly to Nevile, breaking in quickly.) Change into what, Mr. Strange?

NEVILE. I was wearing a dinner jacket. As I proposed to take the ferry across the river and it was raining pretty heavily, I changed. Into a grey pinstripe—(He pauses.) if it interests you.

BATTLE. (After a pause.) Go on, Mr. Strange.

NEVILE. (Showing signs of increasing nervousness.) I went up to change, as I said. I was passing Lady Tressilian’s door, which was ajar, when she called, “Is that you, Nevile?” and asked me to come in. I went in and—and we chatted for a bit.

BATTLE. How long were you with her?

NEVILE. About twenty minutes, I suppose. When I left her I went to my room, changed, and hurried off. I took the latchkey with me because I expected to be late.

BATTLE. What time was it then?

NEVILE. (Reflectively.) About half past ten, I should think, I just caught the ten-thirty-five ferry and went across to the Easterhead side of the river. I had a drink or two with Latimer at the hotel and watched the dancing. Then we had a game of billiards. In the end I found I’d missed the last ferry back. It goes at one-thirty. Latimer very decently got out his car and drove me home. It’s fifteen miles round by road, you know. (He pauses.) We left the hotel at two o’clock and reached here at half past. Latimer wouldn’t come in for a drink, so I let myself in and went straight up to bed. (Battle and Treves exchange looks.)

BATTLE. (Crossing below Nevile to R. of the card table.) During your conversation with Lady Tressilian—was she quite normal in her manner? (He stubs out his cigarette in the ashtray on the card table.)

NEVILE. Oh, yes, quite.

BATTLE. (Moving above the card table.) What did you talk about?

NEVILE. This and that.

BATTLE. (Moving behind Nevile.) Amiably?

NEVILE. Of course.

BATTLE. (Moving down L. C.; smoothly.) You didn’t have a violent quarrel?

NEVILE. (Rising, angrily.) What the devil do you mean?

BATTLE. You’d better tell the truth, Mr. Strange. I’ll warn you—you were overheard.

NEVILE. (Crossing slowly below the card table to R. of it.) Well, we did have a difference of opinion. She—she disapproved of my behaviour over—over Kay and—and my first wife. I may have got a bit heated, but we parted on perfectly friendly terms. (He bangs his fist on the table. With a sudden burst of temper.) I didn’t bash her over the head because I lost my temper—if that’s what you think. (Battle moves to the chaise, picks up the niblick, then moves to L. of the card table.)

BATTLE. Is this your property, Mr. Strange?

NEVILE. (Looking at the niblick.) Yes. It’s one of Walter Hudson’s niblicks from St. Egbert’s.

BATTLE. This is the weapon we think was used to kill Lady Tressilian. Have you any explanation for your fingerprints being on the grip?

NEVILE. But—of course they would be—it’s my club. I’ve often handled it.

BATTLE. Any explanation, I mean, for the fact that your fingerprints show that you were the last person to have handled it?

NEVILE. That’s not true. It can’t be. Somebody could have handled it after me—someone wearing gloves.

BATTLE. Nobody could have handled it in the sense you mean—by raising it to strike—without blurring your own marks.

NEVILE. (Staring at the niblick in sudden realization.) It can’t be! (He sits R. of the card table and covers his face with his hands.) Oh, God! (After a pause he takes his hands away and looks up.) It isn’t that! It simply isn’t true. You think I killed her, but I didn’t. I swear I didn’t. There’s some horrible mistake. (Battle replaces the niblick on the chaise.)

TREVES. (Rising and crossing to L. of the card table.) Can’t you think of any explanation to account for those fingerprints, Nevile? (Battle picks up the dinner jacket.)

NEVILE. No—no—I can’t think—of anything. (Treves moves above the card table.)

BATTLE. (Moving to L. of the card table.) Can you explain why the cuffs, and sleeve of this dinner jacket—your dinner jacket—are stained with blood?

NEVILE. (In a horror-stricken whisper.) Blood? It couldn’t be.

TREVES. You didn’t, for instance, cut yourself?

NEVILE. (Rising and pushing his chair violently backwards.) No—no, of course I didn’t. It’s fantastic—simply fantastic. It’s none of it true.

BATTLE. The facts are true enough, Mr. Strange.

NEVILE. But why should I do such a dreadful thing? It’s unthinkable—unbelievable. I’ve known Lady Tressilian all my life. (He moves to R. of Treves.) Mr. Treves—you don’t believe it, do you? You don’t believe that I would do a thing like this? (Battle replaces the jacket on the chaise.)

TREVES. No, Nevile, I can’t believe it.

NEVILE. I didn’t. I swear I didn’t. What reason could I have . . . ?

BATTLE. (Turning and standing on the rostrum.) I believe that you inherit a great deal of money on Lady Tressilian’s death, Mr. Strange.

NEVILE. (Moving down R.) You mean—You think that . . . ? It’s ridiculous! I don’t need money. I’m quite well off. You’ve only to enquire at my bank . . . (Treves sits R. of the card table.)

BATTLE. We shall check up on that. But there may be some reason why you suddenly require a large sum of money—some reason unknown to anyone except yourself.

NEVILE. There’s nothing of the sort.

BATTLE. As to that—we shall see.

NEVILE. (Crossing slowly below the card table to R. of Battle.) Are you going to arrest me?

BATTLE. Not yet—we propose to give you the benefit of the doubt.

NEVILE. (Bitterly.) You mean that you’ve made up your mind I did it, but you want to be sure of my motive so as to clinch the case against me. (He moves above the armchair R. C.) That’s it, isn’t it? (He grips the back of the armchair.) My God! It’s like some awful dream. Like being caught in a trap and you can’t get out. (He pauses.) Do you want me any more now? I’d like to—to get out—by myself—and think over all this. It’s been rather a shock.

BATTLE. We’ve finished with you for the present, sir.

NEVILE. Thank you.

BATTLE. (Moving down L. C.) Don’t go too far away, though, will you, sir?

NEVILE. (Moving to the French windows.) You needn’t worry. I shan’t try and run away—if that’s what you mean. (He glances off R.) I see you’ve taken your precautions, anyway. (Nevile exits by the French windows. Benson sits on the window-seat.)

LEACH. (Moving to L. of Battle.) He did it all right.

BATTLE. (Moving C.) I don’t know, Jim. If you want the truth, I don’t like it. I don’t like any of it. There’s too much evidence against him. Besides, it doesn’t quite fit. Lady Tressilian calls him into the room, and he goes happening to have a niblick in his hand. Why?

LEACH. So as to bash her over the head.

BATTLE. Meaning it’s premeditated? All right, he’s drugged Miss Aldin. But he can’t count on her being asleep so soon. He couldn’t count on anybody being asleep so soon.

LEACH. Well then, say he’s cleaning his clubs. Lady T calls him. They have a row—he loses his temper and bashes her with the club he just happens to be holding.

BATTLE. That doesn’t account for the drugging of Mary Aldin. And she was drugged—the doctor says so. Of course—(Meditatively.) she could have drugged herself.

LEACH. Why?

BATTLE. (Moving to L. of the card table, to Treves.) Is there any possible motive in Miss Aldin’s case?

TREVES. Lady Tressilian left her a legacy—not a very large one—a few hundreds a year. As I told you, Lady Tressilian had very little personal fortune.

BATTLE. A few hundreds a year. (He sits L. of the card table.)

TREVES. (Rising and moving down R.) I agree. An inadequate motive.

BATTLE. (Sighing.) Well, let’s see the first wife. Jim, get Mrs. Audrey Strange. (Leach exits L.) There’s something peculiar about this business, sir. A mixture of cold premeditation and unpremeditated violence, and the two don’t mix.

TREVES. Exactly, Battle. The drugging of Miss Aldin suggests premeditation . . .

BATTLE. And the way the murder was carried out looks as though it was done in a fit of blind rage. Yes, sir. It’s all wrong.

TREVES. Did you notice what he said—about a trap?

BATTLE. (Thoughtfully.) “A trap.” (Leach enters L. and holds the door open. Audrey enters L. She is very pale but completely composed. Benson rises. Treves moves up R. Leach exits L. and closes the door.)

AUDREY. (Crossing to C.) You wish to see me?

BATTLE. (Rising.) Yes. (He indicates the chair L. of the card table.) Please sit down, Mrs. Strange. (Audrey crosses quickly to the chair L. of the card table and sits.) You’ve already told me how you came to make the discovery, so we needn’t go into that again.

AUDREY. Thank you.

BATTLE. (Moving down R.) I’m afraid, however, that I shall have to ask you several questions that you may find embarrassing. You are not compelled to answer them unless you like.

AUDREY. I don’t mind. I only wish to help. (Treves moves slowly down L.)

BATTLE. First of all, then, will you tell us what you did after dinner last night?

AUDREY. I was on the terrace for some time talking to Mr. Treves. Then Miss Aldin came out to say that Lady Tressilian would like to see him in her room, and I came in here. I talked to Kay and Mr. Latimer and, later, to Mr. Royde and Nevile. Then I went up to bed.

BATTLE. What time did you go to bed?

AUDREY. I think it was about half past nine. I’m not sure of the time exactly. It may have been a little later.

BATTLE. There was some sort of trouble between Mr. Strange and his wife, I believe. Were you mixed up in that?

AUDREY. Nevile behaved very stupidly. I think he was rather excited and overwrought. I left them together and went to bed. I don’t know what happened after that, naturally. (Treves sits in the easy chair L. C.)

BATTLE. Did you go to sleep at once?

AUDREY. No. I was reading for some little while.

BATTLE. (Moving on to the rostrum.) And you heard nothing unusual during the night?

AUDREY. No, nothing. My room is on the floor above Cam—Lady Tressilian’s. I wouldn’t have heard anything.

BATTLE. (Picking up the niblick.) I’m sorry, Mrs. Strange—(He moves to L. of Audrey and shows her the niblick.) we believe this was used to kill Lady Tressilian. It has been identified by Mr. Strange as his property. It also bears his fingerprints.

AUDREY. (Drawing in her breath sharply.) Oh, you—you’re not suggesting that it was—Nevile . . .

BATTLE. Would it surprise you?

AUDREY. Very much. I’m sure you’re quite wrong, if you think so. Nevile would never do a thing like that. Besides, he had no reason.

BATTLE. Not if he wanted money very urgently?

AUDREY. He wouldn’t. He’s not an extravagant person—he never has been. You’re quite, quite wrong if you think it was Nevile.

BATTLE. You don’t think he would be capable of violence in a fit of temper?

AUDREY. Nevile? Oh, no!

BATTLE. (Moving and replacing the niblick on the chaise.) I don’t want to pry into your private affairs, Mrs. Strange, but will you explain why you are here? (He moves to L. of Audrey.)

AUDREY. (Surprised.) Why? I always come here at this time.

BATTLE. But not at the same time as your ex-husband.

AUDREY. He did ask me if I’d mind.

BATTLE. It was his suggestion?

AUDREY. Oh, yes.

BATTLE. Not yours?

AUDREY. No.

BATTLE. But you agreed?

AUDREY. Yes, I agreed—I didn’t feel that I could very well refuse.

BATTLE. Why not? You must have realized that it might be embarrassing?

AUDREY. Yes—I did realize that.

BATTLE. You were the injured party?

AUDREY. I beg your pardon?

BATTLE. It was you who divorced your husband?

AUDREY. Oh, I see—yes.

BATTLE. Do you feel any animosity towards him, Mrs. Strange?

AUDREY. No—none at all.

BATTLE. You have a very forgiving nature. (Audrey does not reply. He crosses and stands down R.) Are you on friendly terms with the present Mrs. Strange?

AUDREY. I don’t think she likes me very much.

BATTLE. Do you like her?

AUDREY. I really don’t know her.

BATTLE. (Moving to R. of the card table.) You are quite sure it was not your idea—this meeting?

AUDREY. Quite sure.

BATTLE. I think that’s all, Mrs. Strange, thank you.

AUDREY. (Rising, quietly.) Thank you. (She crosses to the door L. then hesitates, turns and moves L. C. Treves rises. Nervously and quickly.) I would just like to say—you think Nevile did this—that he killed her because of the money? I’m quite sure that isn’t so. Nevile never cared much about money. I do know that. I was married to him for several years, you see. It—it—isn’t Nevile. I know my saying this isn’t of any value as evidence—but I do wish you would believe it. (Audrey turns quickly and exits L. Benson sits on the window-seat.)

BATTLE. (Moving R. C.) It’s difficult to know what to make of her, sir. I’ve never seen anyone so devoid of emotion.

TREVES. (Moving L. C.) H’m. She didn’t show any, Battle, but it’s there—some very strong emotion. I thought—but I may have been wrong . . . (Mary, assisted by Leach, enters L. Mary is wearing a dressing-gown. She sways a little. He moves to Mary.) Mary! (He leads her to the easy chair L. C. Mary sits in the easy chair L. C.)

BATTLE. Miss Aldin! You shouldn’t . . .

LEACH. She insisted on seeing you, Uncle. (He stands above the door L.)

MARY. (Faintly.) I’m all right. I just feel—a little dizzy still. (Treves crosses to the card table and pours a glass of water.) I had to come. They told me something about your suspecting Nevile. Is that true? Do you suspect Nevile? (Treves crosses with the glass of water to R. of Mary.)

BATTLE. (moving down R. C.) Who told you so?

MARY. The cook. She brought me up some tea. She heard them talking in his room. And then—I came down—and I saw Audrey—and she said it was so. (She looks from one to the other.)

BATTLE. (Moving down R.; evasively.) We are not contemplating an arrest—at this moment.

MARY. But it can’t have been Nevile. I had to come and tell you. Whoever did it, it wasn’t Nevile. That I know.

BATTLE. (Crossing to C.) How do you know?

MARY. Because I saw her—Lady Tressilian—alive after Nevile had left the house.

BATTLE. What?

MARY. My bell rang, you see. I was terribly sleepy. I could only just get up. It was a minute or two before half past ten. As I came out of my room Nevile was in the hall below. I looked over the banisters and saw him. He went out of the front door and slammed it behind him. Then I went in to Lady Tressilian.

BATTLE. And she was alive and well?

MARY. Yes, of course. She seemed a little upset and said Nevile had shouted at her.

BATTLE. (To Leach.) Get Mr. Strange. (Leach crosses and exits by the French windows. Mary takes the glass from Treves and sips the water. He sits on the chair L. of the card table.) What did Lady Tressilian say exactly?

MARY. She said——(She thinks.) Oh, dear, what did she say? She said, “Did I ring for you? I can’t remember doing so. Nevile has behaved very badly—losing his temper—shouting at me. I feel most upset.” I gave her some aspirin and some hot milk from the thermos and she settled down. Then I went back to bed. I was desperately sleepy. Dr. Lazenby asked me if I’d taken any sleeping pills . . .

BATTLE. Yes, we know . . . (Nevile and Leach enter by the French windows. Kay follows them on and stands down R. of the card table. Leach stands up R. He rises and moves L. C.) You are a very lucky man, Mr. Strange.

NEVILE. (Moving above the card table.) Lucky? Why?

BATTLE. Miss Aldin saw Lady Tressilian alive after you left the house, and we’ve already established you were on the ten-thirty-five ferry.

NEVILE. (Bewildered.) Then—that lets me out? But the bloodstained jacket—(He moves to R. of the chaise.) The niblick with my fingerprints on it . . . ? (Kay sits in the easy chair down R.)

BATTLE. (Moving to L. of the chaise.) Planted. Very ingeniously planted. Blood and hair smeared on the niblick head. Someone put on your jacket to commit the crime and then stuffed it away in your wardrobe to incriminate you.

NEVILE. (Moving behind the chair L. of the card table.) But why? I can’t believe it.

BATTLE. (Impressively.) Who hates you, Mr. Strange? Hates you so much that they wanted you to be hanged for a murder you didn’t commit?

NEVILE. (After a pause; shaken.) Nobody—nobody . . . (Royde enters by the French windows and moves slowly towards the card table as—)

THE CURTAIN FALLS