The Mousetrap and Other Plays

ACT THREE

Scene I

SCENE: The same. The next morning.

Most of the furniture has been replaced in its original position, but the coffee table is now on the rostrum up C. and the workbasket has been removed.

When the curtain rises it is about eleven o’clock. The sun is shining brightly and the bay and French windows are open. Royde is standing on the rostrum, gazing out of the window. Mary enters by the French windows. She looks a little pale and worried. She moves above the chaise and sees Royde.

MARY. Oh, dear!

ROYDE. (Closing the window and turning.) Anything the matter?

MARY. (Laughing with a slight note of hysteria.) Nobody but you could say a thing like that, Thomas. A murder in the house and you just say “Is anything the matter?” (She sits on the chaise, at the upstage end.)

ROYDE. I meant anything fresh.

MARY. Oh, I know what you meant. It’s really a wonderful relief to find anyone so gloriously just-the-same-as-usual as you are.

ROYDE. Not much good, is it, getting all het up over things?

MARY. No, you’re very sensible, of course. It’s how you manage to do it, beats me.

ROYDE. (Moving down L. C.) I’m not so—close to things as you are.

MARY. That’s true. I don’t know what we should have done without you. You’ve been a tower of strength.

ROYDE. The human buffer, eh?

MARY. The house is still full of policemen.

ROYDE. Yes, I know. Found one in the bathroom this morning. I had to turf him out before I could shave. (He sits in the armchair L. C.)

MARY. I know—you come across them in the most unexpected places. (She rises.) They’re looking for something. (She shivers and moves up R.) It was a very near thing for poor Nevile, wasn’t it?

ROYDE. Yes, very near. (Grimly.) I can’t help feeling pleased he’s had a bit of a kick in the pants. He’s always so damned complacent.

MARY. It’s just his manner.

ROYDE. He’s had the devil’s own luck. If it had been some other poor chap with all that evidence piled against him, he wouldn’t have had a hope.

MARY. It must have been someone from outside.

ROYDE. It wasn’t. They’ve proved that. Everything was fastened up and bolted in the morning. (Mary moves to the C. bay window and examines the catch.) Besides, what about your dope? That must have been someone in the house.

MARY. (Shaking her head.) I just can’t believe it could have been one of—us. (She moves to the R. end of the rostrum. Latimer enters by the French windows. He carries his jacket.)

LATIMER. (Moving to R. of the chaise.) Hullo, Royde. Good morning, Miss Aldin. I’m looking for Kay. Do you know where she is?

MARY. I think she’s up in her room, Mr. Latimer.

LATIMER. (Putting his jacket over the upstage end of the chaise.) I thought she might like to come and have lunch at the hotel. Not very cheerful for her here, in the circumstances.

MARY. You can hardly expect us to be very cheerful after what’s happened, can you?

LATIMER. (Moving down R.) That’s what I meant. It’s different for Kay, though, you know. The old girl didn’t mean so much to her.

MARY. Naturally. She hasn’t known Lady Tressilian as long as we have.

LATIMER. Nasty business. I’ve had the police over at the hotel this morning.

MARY. What did they want?

LATIMER. Checking up on Strange, I suppose. They asked me all sorts of questions. I told them he was with me from after eleven until half past two, and they seemed satisfied. Lucky thing for him that he decided to follow me over to the hotel that night, wasn’t it?

ROYDE. (Rising.) Very lucky. (He moves to the door L.) I’m going upstairs, Latimer. I’ll tell Kay you’re here, if I can find her.

LATIMER. Thanks. (Royde exits L. He looks toward the door L. for a moment, then goes to his jacket and takes his cigarettes from the pocket.) A queer chap. Always seems to be keeping himself bottled up and afraid the cork might come out. Is Audrey going to reward at long last the dog-like devotion of a lifetime? (He lights a cigarette for himself.)

MARY. (Crossing to the door L.; annoyed.) I don’t know, and it’s no business of ours. (She hesitates and turns.) When you saw the police did they say anything—I mean—did you get any idea as to who they suspect now. (She moves to L. of the armchair L. C.)

LATIMER. They weren’t making any confidences.

MARY. I didn’t suppose they were, but I thought, perhaps from the questions they asked . . .(Kay enters L.)

KAY. (Crossing to Latimer.) Hullo, Ted. It was sweet of you to come over.

LATIMER. I thought you could probably do with a bit of cheering up, Kay.

KAY. My God, how right you were. It was bad enough before in this house, but now . . .

LATIMER. What about a run in the car and lunch at the hotel—or anywhere else you like? (Mary moves down L.)

KAY. I don’t know what Nevile’s doing . . .

LATIMER. I’m not asking Nevile—I’m asking you.

KAY. I couldn’t come without Nevile, Ted. I’m sure it would do him good to get away from here for a bit.

LATIMER. (Shrugging his shoulders.) All right—bring him along if you want to, Kay. I’m easy.

KAY. Where is Nevile, Mary?

MARY. I don’t know. I think he’s in the garden somewhere.

KAY. (Crossing to the French windows.) I’ll see if I can find him. I won’t be long, Ted. (Kay exits by the French windows.)

LATIMER. (Moving up R.; angrily.) What she sees in him I can’t think. He’s treated her like dirt.

MARY. (Moving up L. of the armchair L. C.) I think she’ll forgive him.

LATIMER. She shouldn’t—now she’s got her share of the old girl’s money—she can go where she pleases, do what she likes. She’s got a chance now of having a life of her own.

MARY. (Sitting in the armchair L. C.; with obscure feeling.) Can one ever really have a life of one’s own? Isn’t that just the illusion that lures us on—thinking—planning—for a future that will never really exist?

LATIMER. That wasn’t what you were saying the other night.

MARY. I know. But that seems a long time ago. So much has happened since then.

LATIMER. Specifically, one murder.

MARY. You wouldn’t talk so flippantly about murder if . . .

LATIMER. If what, Miss Aldin? (He moves to R. of Mary.)

MARY. If you had been as close to murder as I have.

LATIMER. This time it is better to be an outsider. (Kay and Nevile enter by the French windows. Kay looks a little annoyed.)

KAY. (As she enters.) It’s no good, Ted. (She goes on to the R. end of the rostrum.) Nevile won’t come so we can’t go.

NEVILE. (Moving down R.) I don’t see very well how we can. It’s awfully nice of you, Latimer, but it would hardly be the thing, would it, after what’s happened?

LATIMER. (Moving above the chaise.) I don’t see what harm it would do to go out to lunch—you’ve got to eat.

NEVILE. We can eat here. (He crosses to R. of Kay.) Hang it all, Kay, we can’t go joy-riding about the country. The inquest hasn’t been held yet.

LATIMER. If you feel like that about it, Strange, I suppose we’d better call it off. (He picks up his jacket and moves to the French windows.)

MARY. (Rising.) Perhaps you would care to stay and lunch with us, Mr. Latimer?

LATIMER. Well, that’s very nice of you, Miss Aldin . . .

NEVILE. (Moving above the chaise.) Yes, do, Latimer.

KAY. (Moving to L. of the rostrum.) Will you, Ted?

LATIMER. (Moving to R. of the chaise.) Thanks, I’d like to.

MARY. You’ll have to take pot luck. I’m afraid the domestic arrangements are just a little disorganized with the police popping in and out of the kitchen every two minutes.

LATIMER. If it’s going to be any trouble . . .

MARY. (Moving to the door L.) Oh, no—it’ll be no trouble at all. (Audrey enters L. Kay looks at the magazines on the coffee table.)

AUDREY. Has anyone seen Mr. Treves this morning?

NEVILE. I haven’t seen him since breakfast. (Latimer moves down R.)

MARY. He was talking to the Inspector in the garden about half an hour ago. Do you want him particularly?

AUDREY. (Crossing to L. C.) Oh, no—I just wondered where he was.

NEVILE. (Looking off R.) They’re coming now. Not Mr. Treves. Superintendent Battle and Inspector Leach.

MARY. (Nervously.) What do you think they want now? (They all wait nervously. Battle and Leach enter by the French windows. Leach carries a long brown-paper parcel. He stands R. of the chaise.)

BATTLE. (Crossing to R. C.) Hope we’re not disturbing you all. There are one or two things we’d like to know about.

NEVILE. I should have thought you’d exhausted everything by now, Superintendent.

BATTLE. Not quite, Mr. Strange. (He takes a small chamois leather glove from his pocket.) There’s this glove, for instance—who does it belong to? (They all stare at the glove without answering. To Audrey.) Is it yours, Mrs. Strange?

AUDREY. (Shaking her head.) No, no, it isn’t mine. (She sits in the armchair L. C.)

BATTLE. (Holding the glove out towards Mary.) Miss Aldin?

MARY. I don’t think so. I have none of that color. (She sits in the easy chair down L.)

BATTLE. (To Kay.) What about you?

KAY. No. I’m sure it doesn’t belong to me.

BATTLE. (Moving to Kay.) Perhaps you’d just slip it on? It’s the left hand glove. (Kay tries on the glove but it is too small. He crosses to Mary.) Will you try, Miss Aldin? (Mary tries on the glove but it is too small. He moves to L. of Audrey.) I think you’ll find it fits you all right. Your hand is smaller than the other two ladies’. (Audrey reluctantly takes the glove.)

NEVILE. (Moving R. C. sharply.) She’s already told you that it isn’t her glove.

BATTLE. (Blandly.) Perhaps she made a mistake—or forgot.

AUDREY. It may be mine—gloves are so alike, aren’t they?

BATTLE. Try it on, Mrs. Strange. (Audrey slips the glove on her left hand. It fits perfectly.) It seems as if it is yours—at any rate it was found outside your window, pushed down into the ivy—with the other one that goes with it.

AUDREY. (With difficulty.) I—I don’t know—anything about it. (She hastily removes the glove and gives it to Battle.)

NEVILE. Look here, Superintendent, what are you driving at?

BATTLE. (Crossing to L. of Nevile.) Perhaps I might have a word with you privately, Mr. Strange?

LATIMER. (Moving to the French windows.) Come on, Kay, let’s go out in the garden. (Kay and Latimer exit by the French windows.)

BATTLE. There’s no need to disturb everybody. (To Nevile.) Isn’t there somewhere else we could . . . ?

MARY. (Rising quickly.) I was just going, in any case. (To Audrey.) You coming with me, Audrey?

AUDREY. (Almost in a dream.) Yes—yes. (She nods in a dazed, frightened manner, and rises slowly. Mary puts her arm around Audrey, and they exit L.)

NEVILE. (Sitting on the chaise.) Now, Superintendent? What’s this absurd story about gloves outside Audrey’s window?

BATTLE. It’s not absurd, sir. We’ve found some very curious things in this house.

NEVILE. Curious? What do you mean by curious?

BATTLE. Give us the exhibit, Jim. (Leách moves to R. of Battle, extracts a heavy, steel-headed poker from his parcel, hands it to Battle, then moves down L. C. He shows the poker to Nevile.) Old-fashioned Victorian fire-iron.

NEVILE. You think that this—

BATTLE.—was what was really used? Yes, Mr. Strange, I do.

NEVILE. But why? There’s no sign . . .

BATTLE. Oh, it’s been cleaned, and put back in the grate of the room where it belonged. But you can’t remove bloodstains as easily as all that. We found traces all right. (He moves up C. and puts the poker on the window-seat.)

NEVILE. (Hoarsely.) Whose room was it in?

BATTLE. (With a quick glance at Nevile.) We’ll come to that presently. I’ve got another question to ask you. That dinner jacket you wore last night, it’s got fair hairs on the inside of the collar and on the shoulders. Do you know how they got there? (He moves to the L. end of the rostrum.)

NEVILE. No.

BATTLE. (Crossing and standing up R.) They’re a lady’s hairs, sir. Fair hairs. There were several red hairs, as well, on the sleeves.

NEVILE. These would be my wife’s—Kay’s. You are suggesting that the others are Audrey’s?

BATTLE. Oh, they are, sir. Unquestionably. We’ve had them compared with hairs from her brush.

NEVILE. Very likely they are. What about it? I remember I caught my cuff button in her hair the other night on the terrace.

LEACH. In that case the hairs would be on the cuff, sir. Not on the inside of the collar.

NEVILE. (Rising.) What are you insinuating?

BATTLE. There are traces of powder, too, inside the jacket collar. Primavera Naturelle, a very pleasant-scented powder and expensive. It’s no good telling me that you use it, Mr. Strange, because I shan’t believe you. And Mrs. Kay Strange uses Orchid Sun Kiss. Mrs. Audrey Strange uses Primavera Naturelle.

NEVILE. Supposing she does?

BATTLE. It seems obvious that on some occasion Mrs. Audrey Strange actually wore your dinner jacket. It’s the only reasonable way the hairs and the powder could have got inside the collar. You’ve seen the glove that was found in the ivy outside her window. It’s hers all right. It was the left hand glove. Here’s the right hand one. (He takes the glove from his pocket and holds it up. It is crumpled and stained with dried blood.)

NEVILE. (Huskily.) What—what’s that on it?

BATTLE. Blood, Mr. Strange. (He holds the glove out to Leach. Leach moves on to the rostrum and takes the glove from Battle.) Blood of the same group as Lady Tressilian’s. An unusual blood group.

NEVILE. (Moving slowly down R.) Good God! Are you suggesting that Audrey—Audrey—would make all these elaborate preparations to kill an old lady she had known for years so that she could get hold of that money? (His voice rises.) Audrey? (Royde enters quickly L.)

ROYDE. (Crossing to L. of the chaise.) Sorry to interrupt, but I’d like to be in on this.

NEVILE. (Annoyed.) Do you mind, Thomas? This is all rather private.

ROYDE. I’m afraid I don’t care about that. You see, I heard Audrey’s name mentioned . . .

NEVILE. (Moving to R. of the chaise, angrily.) What the hell has Audrey’s name got to do with you?

ROYDE. What has it to do with you, if it comes to that? I came here meaning to ask her to marry me, and I think she knows it. What’s more, I mean to marry her.

NEVILE. I think you’ve got a damn nerve . . .

ROYDE. You can think what you like. I’m stopping here. (Battle coughs.)

NEVILE. Oh, all right! Sorry, Superintendent, for the interruption. (To Royde.) The Superintendent is suggesting that Audrey—Audrey committed a brutal assault on Camilla and killed her. Motive—money.

BATTLE. (Moving down L. C.) I didn’t say the motive was money. I don’t think it was, though fifty thousand pounds is a very sizeable motive. No, I think that this crime was directed against you, Mr. Strange.

NEVILE. (Startled.) Me?

BATTLE. I asked you—yesterday—who hated you. The answer, I think, is Audrey Strange.

NEVILE. Impossible. Why should she? I don’t understand.

BATTLE. Ever since you left her for another woman, Audrey Strange has been brooding over her hatred of you. In my opinion—and strictly off the record—I think she’s become mentally unbalanced. I daresay we’ll have these high-class doctors saying so with a lot of long words. Killing you wasn’t enough to satisfy her hate. She decided to get you hanged for murder. (Royde moves up to R.)

NEVILE. (Shaken.) I’ll never believe that. (He perches on the back of the chaise.)

BATTLE. She wore your dinner jacket, she planted your niblick, smearing it with Lady Tressilian’s blood and hair. The only thing that saved you was something she couldn’t foresee. Lady Tressilian rang her bell for Miss Aldin after you’d left . . .

NEVILE. It isn’t true—it can’t be true. You’ve got the whole thing wrong. Audrey’s never borne a grudge against me. She’s always been gentle—forgiving.

BATTLE. It’s not my business to argue with you, Mr. Strange. I asked for a word in private because I wanted to prepare you for what’s about to happen. I’m afraid I shall have to caution Mrs. Audrey Strange and ask her to accompany me . . .

NEVILE. (Rising.) You mean—you’re going to arrest her?

BATTLE. Yes, sir.

NEVILE. (Crossing below the chaise to R. of Battle.) You can’t—you can’t—it’s preposterous. (Royde moves to L. of Nevile.)

ROYDE. (Pushing Nevile down on to the chaise.) Pull yourself together, Strange. Don’t you see that the only thing that can help Audrey now is for you to forget all your ideas of chivalry and come out with the truth?

NEVILE. The truth? You mean . . . ?

ROYDE. I mean the truth about Audrey and Adrian. (He turns to Battle.) I’m sorry, Superintendent, but you’ve got your facts wrong. Strange didn’t leave Audrey for another woman. She left him. She ran away with my brother Adrian. Then Adrian was killed in a car accident on his way to meet her. Strange behaved very decently to Audrey. He arranged for her to divorce him and agreed to take the blame.

NEVILE. I didn’t want her name dragged through the mud. I didn’t know anyone knew.

ROYDE. Adrian wrote to me and told me all about it just before he was killed. (To Battle.) You see, that knocks your motive out, doesn’t it? (He moves up R. C.) Audrey has no cause to hate Strange. On the contrary, she has every reason to be grateful to him.

NEVILE. (Rising; eagerly.) Royde’s right. He’s right. That cuts out the motive. Audrey can’t have done it. (Kay enters quickly by the French windows. Latimer slowly follows Kay on and stands down R.)

KAY. She did. She did. Of course she did.

NEVILE. (Angrily.) Have you been listening?

KAY. Of course I have. And Audrey did it, I tell you. I’ve known she did it all the time. (To Nevile.) Don’t you understand? She tried to get you hanged.

NEVILE. (Crossing to R. of Battle.) You won’t go through with it—not now?

BATTLE. (Slowly.) I seem to have been wrong—about the motive. But there’s still the money.

KAY. (Moving below the chaise.) What money?

BATTLE. (Crossing below Nevile to L. of Kay.) Fifty thousand pounds comes to Mrs. Audrey Strange at Lady Tressilian’s death.

KAY. (Dumbfounded.) To Audrey? To me. The money comes to Nevile and his wife. I’m his wife. Half the money comes to me. (Nevile moves slowly down L.)

BATTLE. I am informed—definitely—that the money was left in trust for Nevile Strange and “his wife Audrey Strange.” She gets it, not you. (He makes a sign to Leach. Leach exits quickly L. Royde crosses slowly and stands up L.)

KAY. (With a step towards Nevile.) But you told me—you let me think . . .

NEVILE. (Mechanically.) I thought you knew. We—I get fifty thousand. Isn’t that enough? (He moves to L. of the chaise.)

BATTLE. Apart from all questions of motive, facts are facts. The facts point to her being guilty. (Kay sits on the chaise.)

NEVILE. All the facts showed that I was guilty yesterday.

BATTLE. (Slightly taken aback.) That’s true. (He moves a little up C.) But are you seriously asking me to believe that there’s someone who hates both of you? Someone who, if the plan failed against you, laid a second trail to Audrey Strange? Can you think of anyone who hates both you and your former wife sufficiently for that?

NEVILE. (Crushed.) No—no.

KAY. Of course Audrey did it. She planned it . . .(Audrey enters L. She moves like a sleepwalker. Leach follows her on.)

AUDREY. (Moving up L. C.) You wanted me, Superintendent? (Royde moves quietly behind Audrey. Nevile faces Audrey, his back to the audience.)

BATTLE. (Becoming very official.) Audrey Strange, I arrest you on the charge of murdering Camilla Tressilian on Thursday last, September the twenty-first. I must caution you that anything you say will be written down and may be used in evidence at your trial. (Kay rises and moves to Latimer. Leach takes a notebook and pencil from his pocket, and stands waiting. Audrey stares straight at Nevile as though hypnotized.)

AUDREY. So—it’s come at last—it’s come.

NEVILE. (Turning away.) Where’s Treves? Don’t say anything. I’m going to find Treves. (Nevile exits by the French windows. Off. Calling.) Mr. Treves. (Audrey sways and Royde holds her.)

AUDREY. Oh—there’s no escape—no escape. (To Royde.) Dear Thomas, I’m so glad—it’s all over—all over. (She looks at Battle.) I’m quite ready. (Leach writes down Audrey’s words. Battle is impassive. The others stare at Audrey, stupefied. Battle makes a sign to Leach, who opens the door L. Audrey turns and exits slowly L., followed by Battle and the others. The lights fade to Black-Out as—)

THE CURTAIN FALLS

Scene II

SCENE: The same. The same evening.

When the curtain rises the windows and curtains are closed and the room is in darkness. Nevile is standing down L. He crosses to the French windows, draws the curtains, opens the windows to get some air, then moves above the chaise. The door L. opens and a shaft of light illuminates Nevile. Treves enters down L.

TREVES. Ah, Nevile. (He switches on the lights, closes the door and moves L. C.)

NEVILE. (Quickly and eagerly.) Did you see Audrey?

TREVES. Yes, I’ve just left her.

NEVILE. How is she? Has she got everything she wants? I tried to see her this afternoon, but they wouldn’t let me.

TREVES. (Sitting in the armchair L. C.) She doesn’t wish to see anybody at present.

NEVILE. Poor darling. She must be feeling awful. We’ve got to get her out of it.

TREVES. I am doing everything that’s possible, Nevile.

NEVILE. (Moving down R.) 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 to L. 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 enters L. 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 up R. 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.)

KAY. (Moving to R. of the chaise.) Ted’s just coming. He’s running the car round into the drive. I came up through the garden.

NEVILE. (Rising and moving above the chaise.) What’s Latimer coming here for? Can’t he keep away for five minutes?

TREVES. I sent for him, Nevile. Kay very kindly took the message. I also asked Battle to come. I would prefer not to explain in detail. Let us say, Nevile, that I am trying out a last forlorn hope.

NEVILE. To save Audrey?

TREVES. Yes.

KAY. (To Nevile.) Can’t you think of anything else but Audrey?

NEVILE. No, I can’t. (Kay moves to the easy chair down R. Latimer enters by the French windows and crosses to R. of Treves.)

LATIMER. I came as quickly as I could, Mr. Treves. Kay didn’t say what you wanted me for, only that it was urgent.

KAY. (Sitting in the easy chair down R.) I said what I was told to say. I haven’t the faintest idea what it’s all about.

MARY. (Crossing to the chaise and sitting.) We’re all in the dark, Kay. As you heard, Mr. Treves is trying to help Audrey.

KAY. Audrey, Audrey, Audrey. It’s always Audrey. I suppose she’ll haunt us for the rest of our lives.

NEVILE. (Moving down R. of the chaise.) That’s a beastly thing to say, Kay.

LATIMER. (Angrily.) Can’t you see that her nerves are all in shreds?

NEVILE. So are everybody’s. (Latimer moves and stands above Kay. Royde enters L.)

ROYDE. Superintendent Battle is here. (To Treves.) He says he’s expected.

TREVES. Bring him in. (Royde turns and beckons off. Battle enters L.)

BATTLE. Good evening. (He looks enquiringly at Treves.)

TREVES. (Moving down C.) Thank you for coming, Superintendent. It is good of you to spare the time.

NEVILE. (Bitterly.) Especially when you’ve got your victim.

TREVES. I don’t think that kind of remark is going to get us anywhere, Nevile. Battle has only done his duty as a police officer.

NEVILE. (Moving up R.) I’m—I’m sorry, Battle.

BATTLE. That’s all right, sir.

TREVES. (Indicating the easy chair L. C.) Sit down, Battle.

BATTLE. (Sitting in the easy chair L. C.) Thank you, sir.

TREVES. Mr. Royde said something to me the other day, Battle, that I’ve thought about a great deal since.

ROYDE. (Surprised.) I did?

TREVES. Yes, Thomas. You were talking about a detective story you were reading. You said that they all begin in the wrong place. The murder should not be the beginning of the story but the end. And, of course, you were right. A murder is the culmination of a lot of different circumstances, all converging at a given moment at a given point. Rather fancifully you called it Zero Hour.

ROYDE. I remember.

NEVILE. (Impatiently.) What’s this got to do with Audrey?

TREVES. A great deal—it’s Zero Hour now. (There is a rather uncomfortable pause.)

MARY. But Lady Tressilian was murdered three days ago.

TREVES. It is not exactly Lady Tressilian’s murder that I am talking about now. There are different kinds of murder. Superintendent Battle, when I put it to you, will you allow that all the evidence against Audrey Strange could have been faked? The weapon taken from her fender. Her gloves, stained with blood, and hidden in the ivy outside her window. Her face powder, dusted on the inside of Nevile’s dinner jacket. Hairs from her brush placed there as well?

BATTLE. (Stirring uncomfortably.) I suppose it could have been done, but . . .

KAY. But she admitted she was guilty—herself—when you arrested her.

ROYDE. (Moving down L.) No, she didn’t.

KAY. She said that she couldn’t escape.

MARY. She said that she was glad it was all over.

KAY. What more do you want? (Treves holds up a hand. They subside. Nevile crosses slowly and stands on the L. end of the rostrum.)

TREVES. (Moving to C. of the rostrum.) Do you remember, Thomas, that when the Superintendent here was questioning you as to what you had heard on the night of the murder, you mentioned rats? Rats in the attic—over your head?

ROYDE. (Sitting in the easy chair down L.) Yes.

TREVES. That remark of yours interested me. I went up to the attic floor—I will admit, with no very clear idea in my head. The attic directly over your bedroom, Thomas, is used as a lumber room. It is full of what may be termed junk. Unwanted junk. There was heavy dust over everything except one thing. (He crosses to the bureau.) But there was one thing that was not covered with dust. (He takes out a long coil of thin rope which has been concealed in the corner R. of the bureau.) This. (He crosses to R. of Battle. Battle takes the rope. His eyebrows rise in surprise.)

BATTLE. It’s damp.

TREVES. Yes, it’s still damp. No dust on it—and damp. Thrown into the lumber room where someone thought it would never be noticed.

BATTLE. Are you going to tell us, sir, what it means? (He returns the rope to Treves.)

TREVES. (Moving on to the rostrum) It means that during the storm on the night of the murder, that rope was hanging from one of the windows of this house. Hanging from a window down to the water below. (He tosses the rope on to the coffee table.) You said, Superintendent, that no one could have entered this house to commit murder from outside that night. That isn’t quite true. Someone could have entered from outside—(Latimer moves very slowly above the chaise.) if this rope was hanging ready for them to climb up from the estuary.

BATTLE. You mean someone came from the other side? The Easterhead side?

TREVES. Yes. (He turns to Nevile.) You went over on the ten-thirty-five ferry. You must have got to the Easterhead Bay Hotel at about a quarter to eleven—but you weren’t able to find Mr. Latimer for some time, were you? (Latimer makes a move as though to speak, then stops himself.)

NEVILE. No, that’s true. I looked all around, too. He wasn’t in his room—they telephoned up.

LATIMER. Actually, I was sitting out on the glass-enclosed terrace with a fat, talkative body from Lancashire. (Easily.) She wanted to dance—but I stalled her off. Too painful on the feet.

TREVES. (Moving C.) Strange wasn’t able to find you until half past eleven. Three-quarters of an hour. Plenty of time. . . .

LATIMER. Look here, what do you mean?

NEVILE. Do you mean that he . . . ? (Kay shows every sign of violent agitation, rises and moves to Latimer.)

TREVES. Plenty of time to strip, swim across the estuary—it’s narrow just here—swarm up the rope—do what you had to do—swim back, get into your clothes and meet Nevile in the lounge of the hotel.

LATIMER. Leaving the rope hanging from the window? You’re crazy—the whole thing’s crazy.

TREVES. (With a slight glance towards Kay.) The same person who arranged the rope for you could have drawn it up again and put it in the attic.

LATIMER. (Frenzied.) You can’t do this to me. You can’t frame me—and don’t you try. I couldn’t climb up a rope all that way—and anyway, I can’t swim. I tell you, I can’t swim.

KAY. No, Ted can’t swim. It’s true, I tell you, he can’t swim.

TREVES. (Gently.) No, you can’t swim. I have ascertained that fact. (He moves on to the rostrum. Kay moves down. To Nevile.) But you’re a very fine swimmer, aren’t you, Nevile? And you’re an expert climber. It would be child’s play to you to swim across, climb up the rope you’d left ready—(Latimer moves R. of the chaise.) go along to Lady Tressilian’s room, kill her, and go back the way you came. Plenty of time to dispose of the rope when you got back at two-thirty. You didn’t see Latimer at the hotel between ten-forty-five and eleven-thirty—but he didn’t see you either. It cuts both ways. (Battle rises and stands in front of the door L.)

NEVILE. I never heard such rubbish! Swim across—kill Camilla. Why ever should I do such a fantastic thing?

TREVES. Because you wanted to hang the woman who had left you for another man. (Kay collapses in the easy chair down R. Mary rises, moves to Kay and comforts her. Royde rises and moves to L. of the armchair L. C.) She had to be punished—your ego has been swelling for a long time—nobody must dare to oppose you.

NEVILE. Is it likely I’d fake all those clues against myself?

TREVES. (Crossing to L. of Nevile.) It’s exactly what you did do—and took the precaution of ringing Lady Tressilian’s bell by pulling the old-fashioned bell wire outside her room, to make sure that Mary would see you leaving the house. Lady Tressilian didn’t remember ringing that bell. You rang it.

NEVILE. (Moving to the French windows.) What an absurd pack of lies. (Leach appears at the French windows.)

TREVES. You murdered Lady Tressilian—but the real murder, the murder that you gloated over secretly, was the murder of Audrey Strange. You wanted her not only to die—but to suffer. You wanted her to be afraid—she was afraid—of you. You enjoyed the idea of her suffering, didn’t you?

NEVILE. (Sitting on the chaise, thickly.) All—a tissue of lies.

BATTLE. (Crossing to L. of Nevile.) Is it? I’ve met people like you before—people with a mental kink. Your vanity was hurt when Audrey Strange left you, wasn’t it? You loved her and she had the colossal impertinence to prefer another man. (Nevile’s face shows momentary agreement. He watches Nevile narrowly.) You wanted to think of something special—something clever, something quite out of the way. The fact that it entailed the killing of a woman who had been almost a mother to you didn’t worry you.

NEVILE. (With resentment.) She shouldn’t have ticked me off like a child. But it’s lies—all lies. And I haven’t got a mental kink.

BATTLE. (Watching Nevile.) Oh, yes, you have. Your wife flicked you on the raw, didn’t she, when she left you? You—the wonderful Nevile Strange. You saved your pride by pretending that you’d left her—and you married another girl just to bolster up that story.

KAY. Oh. (She turns to Mary. Mary puts her arm around Kay.)

BATTLE. But all the time you were planning what you’d do to Audrey. Pity you didn’t have the brains to carry it out better.

NEVILE. (Almost whimpering.) It’s not true.

BATTLE. (Inexorably breaking him down.) Audrey’s been laughing at you—while you’ve been preening yourself and thinking how clever you were. (He raises his voice and calls.) Come in, Mrs. Strange. (Audrey enters L. Nevile gives a strangled cry and rises. Royde moves to Audrey and puts an arm around her.) She’s never been really under arrest, you know. We just wanted to keep her out of your crazy reach. There was no knowing what you might do if you thought your silly childish plan was going wrong. (Benson appears at the French windows. Leach moves above the chaise.)

NEVILE. (Breaking down and screaming with rage.) It wasn’t silly. It was clever—it was clever. I thought out every detail. How was I to know that Royde knew the truth about Audrey and Adrian? Audrey and Adrian . . .(He suddenly loses control and screams at Audrey.) How dare you prefer Adrian to me? God damn and blast your soul, you shall hang. They’ve got to hang you. They’ve got to. (He makes a dash towards Audrey. Battle makes a sign to Leach and Benson, who move one each side of Nevile. Audrey clings to Royde. Half sobbing.) Leave me alone. I want her to die afraid—to die afraid. I hate her. (Audrey and Royde turn away from Nevile and move up L.)

MARY. (Moving to the chaise and sitting, almost inaudibly.) Oh, God!

BATTLE. Take him away, Jim. (Leach and Benson close in on Nevile.)

NEVILE. (Suddenly quite calm.) You’re making a great mistake, you know. I can . . .(Leach and Benson lead Nevile to the door L. Nevile suddenly kicks Benson on the shin, pushes him into Leach, and dashes off L. Leach and Benson dash off after Nevile.)

BATTLE. (In alarm.) Look out! Stop him. (Battle dashes off L. Off. Shouting.) After him—don’t let him get away. (Treves and Royde run out L. Audrey moves slowly to C. of rostrum.)

ROYDE. (Off; shouting.) He’s locked himself in the dining room.

BATTLE. (Off; shouting.) Break the door open. (The sound of heavy blows on wood is heard off. Kay rises.)

KAY. (Burying her face in Latimer’s shoulder.) Ted—oh, Ted . . .(She sobs. There is a crash of breaking glass off, followed by the sound of the door breaking open.)

BATTLE. (Off; shouting.) Jim—you go down by the road. I’ll take the cliff path. (Battle enters quickly L., and crosses quickly to the French windows. He looks worried. Breathlessly.) He flung himself through the dining room window. It’s a sheer drop to the rocks below. I shouldn’t think there was a chance. (Battle exits by the French windows. Benson enters L., crosses, exits by the French windows, and is heard to give three shrill blasts on his whistle.)

KAY. (Hysterically.) I want to get away. I can’t . . .

MARY. (Rising and moving C.) Why don’t you take her back to the hotel with you, Mr. Latimer?

KAY. (Eagerly.) Yes. Ted, please—anything to get away from here.

MARY. Take her. I’ll have her things packed and sent over.

LATIMER. (Gently.) Come along. (Kay exits with Latimer by the French windows. Mary nods and exits L. Audrey moves to the chaise, sits on it, with her back to the bay window, and sobs. There is a slight pause, then the curtains of the bay window are parted a little. Nevile enters quietly over the sill of the bay window. His hair is dishevelled and there are streaks of dirt on his face and hands. There is a cruel and devilish smile on his face as he looks at Audrey. He moves silently towards her.)

NEVILE. Audrey! (Audrey turns quickly and sees Nevile. In a low, tense voice.) You didn’t think I’d come back, did you? I was too clever for them, Audrey. While they were breaking open the door I flung a stool through the window and climbed out on to the stone ledge. Only a man who is used to mountain climbing could have done it—a man with strong fingers—like mine. (He moves slowly nearer and nearer to Audrey.) Strong fingers, Audrey—and a soft throat. They wouldn’t hang you as I wanted them to, would they? But you’re going to die just the same. (His fingers close on her throat.) You’ll never belong to anyone but me. (Leach dashes in L. Benson dashes in by the French windows. Leach and Benson drag Nevile from Audrey and exit with him by the French windows. Audrey is left gasping for breath on the chaise. Royde enters L. He stares in a puzzled way towards the French windows and crosses towards them. He has almost passed the upstage end of the chaise when he realizes Audrey is there.)

ROYDE. (Stopping and turning to Audrey.) I say, are you all right?

AUDREY. Am I all right? Oh, Thomas! (She laughs. Royde, with his arms outstretched, moves towards Audrey as—)

THE CURTAIN FALLS