The Mousetrap and Other Plays

ACT TWO

Scene I

SCENE: The same. Four days later. About midday.

When the CURTAIN rises, the lights come up. The room is empty. It is much the same as before except that ANYA’S wheelchair has gone. The doors are all closed. After a moment, KARL enters up C, moves down C, pauses for a moment and looks where the wheelchair used to be, then sits in the armchair. LISA enters up C and goes to the desk. She wears outdoor clothes. The DOCTOR enters up C, looks at the others, then moves below the sofa. LESTER enters up C and stands rather awkwardly up C. They all enter very slowly and are very depressed.

DOCTOR. (rather uncomfortably) Well, that’s over.

LISA. (removing her gloves and hat) I have never been to an inquest in this country before. Are they always like that?

DOCTOR. (still a little ill at ease) Well, they vary, you know, they vary. (He sits on the sofa at the right end)

LISA. (after a pause) It seems so business-like, so unemotional.

DOCTOR. Well, of course, we don’t go in for emotion much. It’s just a routine business enquiry, that’s all.

LESTER. (moving up L of the sofa; to the DOCTOR) Wasn’t it rather an odd sort of verdict? They said she died from an overdose of stropanthin but they didn’t say how it was administered. I should have thought they’d have said suicide while the balance of the mind was disturbed and have done with it.

LISA sits at the desk.

KARL. (rousing himself) I cannot believe that Anya committed suicide.

LISA. (thoughtfully) I should not have said so, either.

LESTER. (moving LC) All the same, the evidence was pretty clear. Her fingerprints on the bottle and on the glass.

KARL. It must have been some kind of accident. Her hand shook a great deal, you know. She must have poured in far more than she realized. The curious thing is that I can’t remember putting the bottle and glass beside her, yet I suppose I must have done.

LISA rises and moves to L of KARL. LESTER sits on the left arm of the sofa.

LISA. It was my fault. I should have given her the drops before I went out.

DOCTOR. It was nobody’s fault. Nothing is more unprofitable than accusing oneself of having left undone something one should have done or the opposite. These things happen and they’re very sad. Let’s leave it at that—(Under his breath and not to the others) if we can.

KARL. You don’t think Anya took an overdose, deliberately, Doctor?

DOCTOR. (slowly) I shouldn’t have said so.

LESTER. (rising and moving LC) She did talk about it, you know. I mean, when she got depressed.

LISA moves to the desk.

DOCTOR. Yes, yes, nearly all chronic invalids talk about suicide. They seldom commit it.

LESTER. (after a pause; embarrassed) I say, I do hope I’m not butting in, coming here. (He moves C) I expect you want to be alone. I shouldn’t . . .

KARL. No, no, my dear boy, it was kind of you.

LESTER. I just thought perhaps there was something I could do. (He turns up stage in embarrassment and falls over the chair L of the table, then moves to R of KARL) I’d do anything—(He looks devoutly at KARL) if only I could do something to help.

KARL. Your sympathy helps. Anya was very fond of you, Lester.

MRS. ROPER enters up C. She wears a rusty black costume and hat. She carries a tray of coffee for four and a plate of sandwiches. LESTER goes to the desk.

MRS. ROPER. (in a suitably muted voice) I’ve made some coffee and some little sandwiches. (She puts the tray on the table RC. To KARL) I thought, sir, as you’d need something to keep your strength up.

LISA crosses to the tray and pours the coffee.

KARL. Thank you, Mrs. Roper.

MRS. ROPER. (with conscious virtue) I hurried back from the inquest as fast as I could, sir—(She moves C) so as to have things ready when you come.

KARL. (realizing MRS. ROPER’s rather unusual costume of rusty black with a hat) Did you go to the inquest, then?

MRS. ROPER. ’Course I did. I felt I had an interest, like. Poor, dear lady. (She leans across the sofa to the DOCTOR) Low in her spirits, wasn’t she? I thought I’d go as a sign of respect, if nothing more. I can’t say as it’s been very nice, though, having the police here asking questions.

During this scene with MRS. ROPER, the others all avoid looking at her directly in the hope that she will stop talking and leave, but she persists in trying to start a conversation first with one and then the other.

DOCTOR. (rising) These routine enquiries have to be made, Mrs. Roper. (He takes a cup of coffee to KARL, then goes above MRS. ROPER to the tray.)

MRS. ROPER. Of course, sir.

DOCTOR. Whenever a certificate cannot be given, there has to be a coroner’s enquiry.

MRS. ROPER. Oh, yes, sir, I’m sure it’s very right and proper, but it’s not very nice. That’s what I say.

The DOCTOR takes a cup of coffee for himself, then sits on the sofa.

MRS. ROPER. It’s not what I’ve been accustomed to. My husband, he wouldn’t like it at all if I were to be mixed up in anything of that sort.

LISA. I don’t see that you are mixed up in it in any way, Mrs. Roper.

MRS. ROPER. (moving eagerly towards LISA) Well, they asked me questions, didn’t they, as to whether she was low in her spirits and whether she’d ever talked about anything of the kind. (She moves to R of KARL. Rather significantly) Oh, quite a lot of questions they asked me.

KARL. Well, that is all over now, Mrs. Roper. I don’t think you need worry any further.

MRS. ROPER. (rather squashed) No, sir, thank you, sir.

MRS. ROPER exits up C, closing the doors behind her.

DOCTOR. All ghouls, you know, these women. Nothing they like better than illnesses, deaths, and funerals. An inquest, I expect, is an added joy.

LISA. Lester—coffee?

LESTER. Thanks so much. (He crosses to the chair R of the table RC, sits, helps himself to coffee, then becomes engrossed in a book)

LISA crosses to the desk.

KARL. It must have been some kind of accident, it must.

DOCTOR. I don’t know. (He sips his coffee) Not quite the same as your coffee, Lisa, my dear.

LISA. (crossing below the armchair and sofa and standing down R) I expect it’s been boiling hard for half an hour.

KARL. It was kindly meant.

LISA. (turning to the door down R; over her shoulder) I wonder.

LISA exits down R, leaving the door open. The DOCTOR rises, takes the plate of sandwiches from the tray and crosses to KARL.

DOCTOR. Have a sandwich?

KARL. No, thank you.

DOCTOR. (moving to the table RC and putting the sandwiches in front of LESTER) Finish them up, my boy. Always hungry at your age.

LESTER, by now deep in the book, does not look up but automatically helps himself to a sandwich.

LESTER. Well, thanks. I don’t mind if I do.

LISA. (off; calling) Karl.

KARL. (rising and putting his cup on the work-table) Excuse me a moment. (He calls and crosses to the door down R) Yes, I am coming.

KARL exits down R, closing the door behind him.

LESTER. He’s terribly cut-up, isn’t he, Doctor?

DOCTOR. (taking out his pipe) Yes.

LESTER. It seems odd in a way, at least I don’t mean odd, because, I suppose—what I mean is, it’s so difficult to understand what other people feel like.

DOCTOR. (moving down C and lighting his pipe) Just what are you trying to say, my boy?

LESTER. Well, what I mean is, poor Mrs. Hendryk being an invalid and all that, you’d think, wouldn’t you, that he’d get a bit impatient with her or feel himself tied.

The DOCTOR puts the matchstick in the ashtray on the table RC, then sits on the sofa at the left end.

And you’d think that really, underneath, he’d be glad to be free. Not a bit. He loved her. He really loved her.

DOCTOR. Love isn’t just glamour, desire, sex appeal—all the things you young people are so sure it is. That’s nature’s start of the whole business. It’s the showy flower, if you like. But love’s the root. Underground, out of sight, nothing much to look at, but it’s where the life is.

LESTER. I suppose so, yes. But passion doesn’t last, sir, does it?

DOCTOR. (despairingly) God give me strength. You young people know nothing about these things. You read in the papers of divorces, of love tangles with a sex angle to everything. Study the columns of deaths sometimes for a change. Plenty of records there of Emily this and John that dying in their seventy-fourth year, beloved wife of So-and-so, beloved husband of someone else. Unassuming records of lives spent together, sustained by the root I’ve just talked about which still puts out its leaves and its flowers. Not showy flowers, but still flowers.

LESTER. I suppose you’re right. I’ve never thought about it. (He rises, moves and sits R of the DOCTOR on the sofa) I’ve always thought that getting married is taking a bit of a chance, unless, of course, you meet a girl who . . .

DOCTOR. Yes, yes, that’s the recognized pattern. You meet a girl—or you’ve already met a girl—who’s different.

LESTER. (earnestly) But really, sir, she is different.

DOCTOR. (good-humouredly) I see. Well, good luck to you, young fellow.

KARL enters down R. He carries a small pendant. The DOCTOR rises. KARL crosses to C, looking at the pendant.

KARL. Will you give this to your daughter, Doctor? It was Anya’s and I know she would like Margaret to have it. (He turns and hands the pendant to the DOCTOR)

DOCTOR. (moved) Thank you, Karl. I know Margaret will appreciate the gift. (He puts the pendant in his wallet then moves towards the doors up C) Well, I must be off. Can’t keep my surgery patients waiting.

LESTER. (rising and moving up RC; to KARL) I’ll go, too, if you’re sure there’s nothing I can do for you, sir.

KARL. As a matter of fact there is.

LESTER looks delighted.

Lisa has been making up some parcels of clothes and things like that—she is sending them to the East London Mission. If you would help her to carry them to the post office . . .

LESTER. Of course I will.

LESTER exits down R.

DOCTOR. Good-bye, Karl.

The DOCTOR exits up C. LESTER enters down R. He carries a large box wrapped in brown paper, which he takes to the desk and fastens with sellotape. LISA enters down R. She carries a brown paper parcel and a small drawer containing papers, letters, etc., and a small trinket box.

LISA. (moving below the sofa) If you would look through these, Karl. (She puts the drawer on the sofa) Sit down here and go through these, quietly and alone. It has to be done and the sooner the better.

KARL. How wise you are, Lisa. One puts these things off and dreads them—dreads the hurt. As you say, it’s better to do it and finish.

LISA. I shan’t be long. Come along, Lester.

LISA and LESTER exit up C, closing the doors behind them. KARL collects the wastepaper basket from the desk, sits on the sofa, puts the drawer on his knee and starts to go through the letters.

KARL. (reading a letter) So long ago, so long ago.

The front door bell rings.

Oh, go away whoever you are.

MRS. ROPER. (off) Would you come inside, please.

MRS. ROPER enters up C from R and stands to one side.

It’s Miss Rollander, sir.

HELEN enters up C from R and moves down C. KARL rises and puts the drawer on the table RC. MRS. ROPER exits up C to L, leaving the door open.

HELEN. I do hope I’m not being a nuisance. I went to the inquest, you see, and afterwards I thought I must come on here and speak to you. But if you’d rather I went away . . .

KARL. No, no, it was kind of you.

MRS. ROPER enters up C from L, putting on her coat.

MRS. ROPER. I’ll just pop out and get another quarter of tea before he closes. We’re right out again.

KARL. (fingering the letters in the drawer; far away) Yes, of course, Mrs. Roper.

MRS. ROPER. Oh, I see what you’re doing, sir. And a sad business it always is. My sister now, she’s a widder. Kep’ all her husband’s letters, she did, what he wrote her from the Middle East. And she’ll take them out and cry over them, like as not.

HELEN, rather impatient about MRS. ROPER’s chatter, moves above the armchair.

The heart doesn’t forget, sir, that’s what I say. The heart doesn’t forget.

KARL. (crossing below the sofa to R of it) As you say, Mrs. Roper.

MRS. ROPER. Must have been a terrible shock to you, sir, wasn’t it? Or did you expect it?

KARL. No, I did not expect it.

MRS. ROPER. Can’t imagine how she came to do such a thing. (She stares, fascinated, at the place where ANYA’s chair used to be) It don’t seem right, sir, not right at all.

KARL. (sadly exasperated) Did you say you were going to get some tea, Mrs. Roper?

MRS. ROPER. (still staring at the wheelchair’s place) That’s right, sir, and I must hurry, sir—(She backs slowly up C) because that grocer there, he shuts at half past twelve.

MRS. ROPER exits up C, closing the door behind her.

HELEN. (moving C) I was so sorry to hear . . .

KARL. (moving down R) Thank you.

HELEN. Of course she’d been ill a long time, hadn’t she? She must have got terribly depressed.

KARL. Did she say anything to you before you left her that day?

HELEN. (nervously moving above the armchair and round to L of it) No, I—I don’t think so. Nothing particular.

KARL. (moving below the sofa) But she was depressed—in low spirits?

HELEN. (rather grasping at a straw) Yes. (She moves below the armchair) Yes, she was.

KARL. (a shade accusingly) You went away and left her—alone—before Lisa returned.

HELEN. (sitting in the armchair; quickly) I’m sorry about that. I’m afraid it didn’t occur to me.

KARL moves up C.

I mean she said she was perfectly all right and she urged me not to stay, and—well as a matter of fact, I—I thought she really wanted me to go—and so I did. Of course, now . . .

KARL. (moving down R) No, no. I understand. I can see that if my poor Anya had this in her mind she might have urged you to go.

HELEN. And in a way, really, it’s the best thing that could have happened, isn’t it?

KARL. (moving towards her; angrily) What do you mean—the best thing that could have happened? (He moves up C)

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

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

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

KARL. (thoughtfully) Sometimes she was very happy.

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

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

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

KARL. I don’t think so.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

HELEN. I’m not.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

KARL. (pushing her away) You killed Anya.

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

KARL. You—killed—Anya. (Every time he repeats the words, his consciousness of her act grows greater and his tone more menacing. He seizes her suddenly by the shoulders and shakes her like a rat, then forces her above the left end of the sofa) You miserable immature child—what have you done? Prating so glibly of your courage and your resource. You killed my wife—my Anya. Do you realize what you’ve done? Talking about things you don’t understand, without conscience, without pity. I could take you by the neck and strangle you here and now. (He seizes her by the throat and starts to strangle her)

HELEN is forced backwards over the back of the sofa. KARL eventually flings her away and she falls face downwards over the left arm of the sofa, gasping for breath.

Get out of here. Get out before I do to you what you did to Anya.

HELEN is still gasping for breath and sobbing. KARL staggers to the desk chair and leans on the back, near collapse.

HELEN. (broken and desperate) Karl.

KARL. Get out. (He shouts) Get out, I say.

HELEN, still sobbing, rises, staggers to the armchair, collects her handbag and gloves, and as in a trance, exits up C to R. KARL sinks on to the desk chair and buries his head in his hands. There is a pause, then the front door is heard closing. LISA enters the hall from R.

LISA. (calling) I’m back, Karl.

LISA exits to her bedroom. KARL rises, crosses slowly to the sofa and almost collapses on to it.

KARL. My poor Anya.

There is a pause. LISA enters from her bedroom and comes into the room. She is tying an apron on as she enters, and goes to look out the window.

LISA. (casually) I met Helen on the stairs. She looked very strange. Went past me as though she didn’t see me. (She finishes her apron, turns and sees KARL) Karl, what has happened? (She crosses to him)

KARL. (quite simply) She killed Anya.

LISA. (startled) What!

KARL. She killed Anya. Anya asked for her medicine and that miserable child gave her an overdose deliberately.

LISA. But Anya’s fingerprints were on the glass.

KARL. Helen put them there after she was dead.

LISA. (a calm, matter-of-fact mind dealing with the situation) I see—she thought of everything.

KARL. I knew. I always knew that Anya wouldn’t have killed herself.

LISA. She’s in love with you, of course.

KARL. Yes, yes. But I never gave her any reason to believe that I cared for her. I didn’t, Lisa, I swear I didn’t.

LISA. I don’t suppose you did. She’s the type of girl who would assume that whatever she wanted must be so. (She moves to the armchair and sits)

KARL. My poor, brave Anya.

There is a long pause.

LISA. What are you going to do about it?

KARL. (surprised) Do?

LISA. Aren’t you going to report it to the police?

KARL. (startled) Tell the police?

LISA. (still calm) It’s murder, you know.

KARL. Yes, it was murder.

LISA. Well, you must report what she said to the police.

KARL. I can’t do that.

LISA. Why not? Do you condone murder?

KARL rises, paces up C, turns slowly to L, then crosses above the armchair to L of it.

KARL. But I can’t let that girl . . .

LISA. (restraining herself; calmly) We’ve come of our own accord, as refugees, to a country where we live under the protection of its laws. I think we should respect its law, no matter what our own feelings on the subject may be.

KARL. You seriously think I should go to the police?

LISA. Yes.

KARL. Why?

LISA. It seems to me pure common sense.

KARL. (sitting at the desk) Common sense! Common sense! Can one rule one’s life by common sense?

LISA. You don’t, I know. You never have. You’re softhearted, Karl. I’m not.

KARL. Is it wrong to feel pity? Can mercy ever be wrong?

LISA. It can lead to a lot of unhappiness.

KARL. One must be prepared to suffer for one’s principles.

LISA. Perhaps. That is your business. (She rises and crosses to L of the table RC) But other people suffer for them as well. Anya suffered for them.

KARL. I know, I know. But you don’t understand.

LISA. (turning to face KARL) I understand very well.

KARL. What do you want me to do?

LISA. I have told you. Go to the police. Anya has been murdered. This girl has admitted to murdering her. The police must be told.

KARL. (rising and crossing above the armchair to C) You haven’t thought, Lisa. The girl is so young. She is only twenty-three.

LISA. Whereas Anya was thirty-eight.

KARL. If she is tried and condemned—what good will it do? Can it bring Anya back? Don’t you see, Lisa, revenge can’t bring Anya back to life again.

LISA. No. Anya is dead.

KARL. (crossing to the sofa and sitting) I wish you could see it my way.

LISA. (moving to L of the sofa) I can’t see it your way. I loved Anya. We were cousins and friends. We went about as girls together. I looked after her when she was ill. I know how she tried to be brave, how she tried not to complain. I know how difficult life was for her.

KARL. Going to the police won’t bring Anya back.

LISA does not answer but turns and moves up RC.

And don’t you see, Lisa, I’m bound to feel responsible myself. I must in some way have encouraged the girl.

LISA. You didn’t encourage her. (She moves to L of the sofa and kneels, facing KARL) Let’s speak plainly. She did her utmost to seduce you, and failed.

KARL. No matter how you put it, I feel responsible. Love for me was her motive.

LISA. Her motive was to get what she wanted, as she always has got everything she wanted all her life.

KARL. That’s just what has been her tragedy. She has never had a chance.

LISA. And she’s young and beautiful.

KARL. (sharply) What do you mean?

LISA. I wonder if you’d be so tender if she were one of your plain girl students.

KARL. (rising) You can’t think . . .

LISA. (rising) What can’t I think?

KARL. That I want that girl . . .

LISA. (moving slowly down L) Why not? Aren’t you attracted to her? Be honest with yourself. Are you sure you’re not really a little in love with the girl?

KARL. (crossing to R of LISA) You can say that? You? When you know—when you’ve always known . . . ? It’s you I love. You! I lie awake at nights thinking about you, longing for you. Lisa, Lisa . . .

KARL takes LISA in his arms. They embrace passionately. There is a shadowy figure in the doorway up C. After a pause, the door closes with a bang. This makes KARL and LISA move apart and look at the door. They do not see who it was and the audience are left unaware of the identity of the eavesdropper. The lights BLACK-OUT as—

The CURTAIN falls.

Scene II

SCENE: The same. Six hours later. Evening.

When the CURTAIN rises, the lights come up a very little, leaving most of the room in darkness. LISA is seated on the sofa, at the right end, smoking. She is almost invisible. The front door is heard opening and closing and there is the sound of voices in the hall. KARL enters up C. He has a newspaper in his overcoat pocket. The DOCTOR follows him on.

KARL. Nobody’s at home. I wonder . . .

The DOCTOR switches on the lights by the switch L of the double doors, and he and KARL see LISA.

DOCTOR. Lisa! Why are you sitting here in the dark?

KARL goes to the desk chair and puts his coat over the back of it.

LISA. I was just thinking.

KARL sits in the armchair.

DOCTOR. I met Karl at the end of the street and we came along together. (He puts his coat on the chair above the table RC) D’you know what I prescribe for you, Karl? A little alcohol. A stiff brandy, eh. Lisa?

LISA makes a slight move.

No—I know my way about. (He goes to the cupboard under the bookcase R, takes out a bottle of brandy and a glass, and pours a stiff drink) He’s had a shock, you know. A bad shock.

KARL. I have told him about Helen.

DOCTOR. Yes, he told me.

LISA. It’s not been such a shock to you, I gather?

DOCTOR. I’ve been worried, you know. I didn’t think Anya was a suicidal type and I couldn’t see any possibility of an accident. (He crosses to R of KARL and gives him the brandy) And then the inquest aroused my suspicions. Clearly the police were behind the verdict. (He sits L of LISA on the sofa) Yes, it looked fishy. The police questioned me fairly closely and I couldn’t help seeing what they were driving at. Of course, they didn’t actually say anything.

LISA. So you were not surprised?

DOCTOR. No, not really. That young woman thought she could get away with anything. Even murder. Well, she was wrong.

KARL. (in a low voice) I feel responsible.

DOCTOR. Karl, take it from me, you weren’t responsible in any way. Compared to that young woman you’re an innocent in arms. (He rises and moves up C) Anyway, the whole thing’s out of your hands now.

LISA. You think he should go to the police?

DOCTOR. Yes.

KARL. No.

DOCTOR. Because you insist on feeling partly responsible? You’re too sensitive.

KARL. Poor wretched child.

DOCTOR. (crossing above the armchair and standing down L) Callous, murdering little bitch! That’s nearer the mark. And I shouldn’t worry before you need. Ten to one it’ll never come to an arrest. (He crosses below KARL to RC) Presumably she’ll deny everything—and there’s got to be evidence, you know. The police may be quite sure who’s done a thing, but be unable to make out a case. The girl’s father is a very important person. One of the richest men in England. That counts.

KARL. There I think you are wrong.

DOCTOR. Oh, I’m not saying anything against the police. (He moves up C) If they’ve got a case they’ll go ahead, without fear or favour. All I mean is that they’ll have to scrutinize their evidence with extra care. And on the face of it there can’t really be much evidence, you know. Unless, of course, she breaks down and confesses the whole thing. And I should imagine she’s much too hard-boiled for that.

KARL. She confessed to me.

DOCTOR. That’s different. Though as a matter of fact I can’t see why she did. (He moves and sits on the left arm of the sofa) Seems to me a damn silly thing to do.

LISA. Because she was proud of it.

DOCTOR. (looking curiously at her) You think so?

KARL. It is true—that’s what is so terrible.

The front door bell rings.

Who can that be?

DOCTOR. One of your boys or girls, I expect. (He rises) I’ll get rid of them.

The DOCTOR exits up C to R. KARL rises and puts his glass on the desk.

OGDEN. (off) Could I see Professor Hendryk, please?

DOCTOR. (off) Would you come this way, please.

The DOCTOR enters up C from R and stands to one side.

It’s Inspector Ogden.

DETECTIVE INSPECTOR OGDEN and POLICE SERGEANT PEARCE enter up C from R. OGDEN has a pleasant manner and a poker face. The SERGEANT closes the doors, then stands above the table RC.

OGDEN. (very pleasantly) I hope we’re not disturbing you, Professor Hendryk.

KARL. (moving down L) Not at all.

OGDEN. Good evening, Miss Koletzky. I expect you didn’t think you would see me again—but we have a few more questions to ask. It was an open verdict, you understand. Insufficient evidence as to how the deceased lady came to take the fatal dose.

KARL. I know.

OGDEN. Have your own ideas changed as to that, sir, since we first talked about it?

KARL looks quickly at LISA. OGDEN and the SERGEANT note the look and exchange quick glances. There is a pause.

KARL. (deliberately) They have not changed. I still think it must have been some sort of—accident.

LISA turns away. The DOCTOR almost snorts and turns aside.

OGDEN. But definitely not suicide.

KARL. Definitely not suicide.

OGDEN. Well, you’re quite right as to that, sir. (With emphasis) It was not suicide.

KARL and LISA turn to OGDEN.

LISA. (quietly) How do you know?

OGDEN. By evidence that was not given at the inquest. Evidence as to the fingerprints found on the bottle containing the fatal drug—and on the glass, also.

KARL. You mean . . . But they were my wife’s fingerprints, weren’t they?

OGDEN. Oh, yes, sir. They were your wife’s fingerprints. (Softly) But she didn’t make them. (He moves the chair L of the table RC and sets it L of the sofa)

The DOCTOR and KARL exchange looks.

KARL. What do you mean?

OGDEN. It’s the sort of thing that an amateur criminal thinks is so easy. To pick up a person’s hand and close it round a gun or a bottle or whatever it may be. (He sits on the chair he has placed C) But actually it’s not so easy to do.

KARL sits in the armchair.

The position of those fingerprints is such that they couldn’t have been made by a living-woman grasping a bottle. That means that somebody else took your wife’s hand and folded the fingers round the bottle and the glass so as to give the impression that your wife committed suicide. A rather childish piece of reasoning and done by someone rather cocksure of their own ability. Also, there ought to have been plenty of other prints on the bottle, but there weren’t—it had been wiped clean before your wife’s were applied. You see what that means?

KARL. I see what it means.

OGDEN. There would be no reason to do such a thing if it was an accident. That only leaves one possibility.

KARL. Yes.

OGDEN. I wonder if you do see, sir. It means—an ugly word—murder.

KARL. Murder.

OGDEN. Doesn’t that seem very incredible to you, sir?

KARL. (more to himself than OGDEN) You cannot know how incredible. My wife was a very sweet and gentle woman. It will always seem to me both terrible and unbelievable that anyone should have—killed her.

OGDEN. You, yourself . . .

KARL. (sharply) Are you accusing me?

OGDEN. (rising) Of course not, sir. If I’d any suspicions concerning you, I should give you the proper warning. No, Professor Hendryk, we’ve checked your story and your time is fully accounted for. (He resumes his seat) You left here in the company of Dr. Stoner and he states that there was no medicine bottle or glass on your wife’s table at that time. Between the time you left and the time Miss Koletzky says she arrived here and found your wife dead, every moment of your time is accounted for. You were lecturing to a group of students at the university. No, there is no suggestion of your having been the person to put the fingerprints on the glass.

The DOCTOR moves down L.

What I am asking you, sir, is whether you have any idea yourself as to who could have done so?

There is quite a long pause. KARL stares fixedly ahead of him.

KARL. (presently) I—(He pauses) cannot help you.

OGDEN rises and as he replaces the chair beside the table, he exchanges glances with the SERGEANT, who moves to the door down R.

OGDEN. (moving C) You will appreciate, of course, that this alters things. I wonder if I might have a look round the flat. Round Mrs. Hendryk’s bedroom in particular. I can get a search warrant if necessary, but . . .

KARL. Of course. Look anywhere you please. (He rises)

LISA rises.

My wife’s bedroom—(He indicates the door down R) is through there.

OGDEN. Thank you.

KARL. Miss Koletzky has been sorting through her things.

LISA crosses to the door R and opens it. OGDEN and the SERGEANT exit down R. LISA turns and looks at KARL, then exits down R, closing the door behind her.

DOCTOR. (moving up L of the armchair) I’ve known you long enough, Karl, to tell you plainly that you’re being a fool.

KARL. (moving up R of the armchair) I can’t be the one to put them on her track. They’ll get her soon enough without my help.

DOCTOR. I’m not so sure of that. And it’s all high-falutin’ nonsense. (He sits in the armchair)

KARL. She didn’t know what she was doing.

DOCTOR. She knew perfectly.

KARL. She didn’t know what she was doing because life has not yet taught her understanding and compassion. (He moves above the armchair)

LISA enters down R, closing the door behind her.

LISA. (moving RC; to the DOCTOR) Have you made him see sense?

DOCTOR. Not yet.

LISA shivers.

You’re cold.

LISA. No—I’m not cold. I’m afraid. (She moves towards the doors up C) I shall make some coffee.

LISA exits up C. The DOCTOR rises and moves below the sofa.

KARL. (moving down L of the armchair) I wish I could get you and Lisa to see that revenge will not bring Anya back to life again.

DOCTOR. (moving up LC) And suppose our little beauty goes on disposing of wives that happen to stand in her way?

KARL. I will not believe that.

The SERGEANT and OGDEN enter down R. The sergeant stands above the table RC and OGDEN stands down R.

OGDEN. I gather some of your wife’s clothing and effects have already been disposed of?

KARL. Yes. They were sent off to the East London Mission, I think.

The SERGEANT makes a note.

OGDEN. (moving to R of the sofa) What about papers, letters?

KARL. (crossing to the table RC) I was going through them this morning. (He indicates the little drawer) Though what you expect to find . . .

OGDEN. (evading the issue; vaguely) One never knows. Some note, a memorandum set down . . .

KARL. I doubt it. Still, look through them, of course, if you must. I don’t expect you’ll find . . . (He picks up a bundle of letters tied with ribbon) Will you need these? They are the letters I wrote to my wife many years ago.

OGDEN. (gently) I’m afraid I must just look through them. (He takes the letters from KARL)

There is quite a pause, then KARL turns impatiently towards the doors up C.

KARL. I shall be in the kitchen if you want me, Inspector Ogden.

The DOCTOR opens the right half of the doors up C. KARL exits up C. The DOCTOR follows him off, closing the door behind him. OGDEN moves to R of the table RC.

SERGEANT. Do you think he was in on it?

OGDEN. No, I don’t. (He starts to go through the papers in the drawer) Not beforehand. Hadn’t the faintest idea. I should say. (Grimly) But he knows now—and it’s been a shock to him.

SERGEANT. (also going through the papers, etc., in the drawer) He’s not saying anything.

OGDEN. No. That would be too much to expect. Doesn’t mean to be much here. Not likely to be, under the circumstances.

SERGEANT. If there had been, our Mrs. Mop would have known about it. I’d say she was a pretty good snooper. That kind always knows the dirt. And did she enjoy spilling it!

OGDEN. (with distaste) An unpleasant woman.

SERGEANT. She’ll do all right in the witness-box.

OGDEN. Unless she overdoes it. Well, nothing additional here. We’d better get on with the job. (He moves to the doors up C, opens one and calls) Will you come in here, please. (He moves below the armchair)

LISA enters up C and moves down C. The DOCTOR enters up C and moves down R of the sofa. KARL enters up C and stands up L of the sofa. The SERGEANT moves to the doors up C, closes them and stands in front of them.

Miss Koletzky, there are some additional questions I would like to ask you. You understand that you are not forced to answer anything unless you please.

LISA. I do not want to answer any questions.

OGDEN. Perhaps you’re wise. Lisa Koletzky, I arrest you on the charge of administering poison to Anya Hendryk on March the fifth last—

KARL moves to R of LISA.

—and it is my duty to warn you that anything you say will be taken down and may be used in evidence.

KARL. (horror struck) What’s this? What are you doing? What are you saying?

OGDEN. Please, Professor Hendryk, don’t let’s have a scene.

KARL. (moving behind LISA and holding her in his arms) But you can’t arrest Lisa, you can’t, you can’t. She’s done nothing.

LISA. (gently pushing KARL away; in a loud, clear, calm voice) I did not murder my cousin.

OGDEN. You’ll have plenty of opportunity to say everything you want, later.

KARL, losing restraint, advances on OGDEN but the DOCTOR holds his arm.

KARL. (pushing the DOCTOR away; almost shouting) You can’t do this. You can’t.

OGDEN. (to LISA) If you need a coat or a hat . . .

LISA. I need nothing.

LISA turns and looks at KARL for a moment, then turns and goes up C. The SERGEANT opens the door. LISA exits up C. OGDEN and the SERGEANT follow her off. KARL suddenly makes a decision and runs after them.

KARL. Inspector Ogden! Come back. I must speak to you.

(He moves RC)

OGDEN. (off) Wait in the hall, Sergeant.

SERGEANT. (off) Yes, sir.

OGDEN enters up C. The DOCTOR crosses to LC.

OGDEN. Yes, Professor Hendryk?

KARL. (moving to L of the sofa) I have something to tell you. I know who killed my wife. It was not Miss Koletzky.

OGDEN. (politely) Who was it, then?

KARL. It was a girl called Helen Rollander. She is one of my pupils. (He crosses and sits in the armchair) She—she formed an unfortunate attachment to me.

The DOCTOR moves to L of the armchair.

She was alone with my wife on the day in question, and she gave her an overdose of the heart medicine.

OGDEN. (moving down C) How do you know this, Professor Hendryk?

KARL. She told me herself, this morning.

OGDEN. Indeed? Were there any witnesses?

KARL. No, but I am telling you the truth.

OGDEN. (thoughtfully) Helen—Rollander. You mean the daughter of Sir William Rollander?

KARL. Yes. Her father is William Rollander. He is an important man. Does that make any difference?

OGDEN. (moving below the left end of the sofa) No, it wouldn’t make any difference—if your story were true.

KARL. (rising) I swear to you that it’s true.

OGDEN. You are very devoted to Miss Koletzky, aren’t you?

KARL. Do you think I would make up a story just to protect her?

OGDEN. (moving C) I think it is quite possible—you are on terms of intimacy with Miss Koletzky, aren’t you?

KARL. (dumbfounded) What do you mean?

OGDEN. Let me tell you, Professor Hendryk, that your daily woman, Mrs. Roper, came along to the police station this afternoon and made a statement.

KARL. Then it was Mrs. Roper who . . .

OGDEN. It is partly because of that statement that Miss Koletzky has been arrested.

KARL. (turning to the DOCTOR for support) You believe that Lisa and I . . .

OGDEN. Your wife was an invalid. Miss Koletzky is an attractive young woman. You were thrown together.

KARL. You think we planned together to kill Anya.

OGDEN. No, I don’t think you planned it. I may be wrong there, of course.

KARL circles the armchair to C.

I think all the planning was done by Miss Koletzky. There was a prospect of your wife’s regaining her health owing to a new treatment. I think Miss Koletzky was taking no chance of that happening.

KARL. But I tell you that it was Helen Rollander.

OGDEN. You tell me, yes. It seems to me a most unlikely story. (He moves up C)

KARL crosses and stands down R.

Is it plausible that a girl like Miss Rollander who’s got the world at her feet and who hardly knows you, would do a thing like that? Making up an accusation of that kind reflects little credit on you, Professor Hendryk—trumping it up on the spur of the moment because you think it cannot be contradicted.

KARL. (moving to R of OGDEN) Listen. Go to Miss Rollander. Tell her that another woman has been arrested for the murder. Tell her, from me, that I know—know—that with all her faults, she is decent and honest. I swear that she will confirm what I have told you.

OGDEN. You’ve thought it up very cleverly, haven’t you?

KARL. What do you mean?

OGDEN. What I say. But there’s no one who can confirm your story.

KARL. Only Helen herself.

OGDEN. Exactly.

KARL. And Dr. Stoner knows. I told him.

OGDEN. He knows because you told him.

DOCTOR. I believe it to be the truth, Inspector Ogden. If you remember, I mentioned to you that when we left Mrs. Hendryk that day, Miss Rollander remained behind to keep her company.

OGDEN. A kind offer on her part. (He crosses to R of the DOCTOR) We interviewed Miss Rollander at the time and I see no reason to doubt her story. She stayed for a short time and then Mrs. Hendryk asked her to leave since she felt tired. (He moves above the armchair)

KARL. Go to Helen now. Tell her what has happened. Tell her what I have asked you to tell her.

OGDEN. (to the DOCTOR) Just when did Professor Hendryk tell you that Miss Rollander had killed his wife? Within the last hour, I should imagine.

DOCTOR. That is so.

KARL. We met in the street. (He moves below the sofa)

OGDEN. Didn’t it strike you that if this was true, he would have come to us as soon as she admitted to him what she had done?

DOCTOR. He’s not that kind of man.

OGDEN. (ruthlessly) I don’t think you’re really aware what kind of man he is. (He moves to KARL’s coat on the desk chair) He’s a quick and clever thinker, and he’s not over scrupulous.

KARL starts towards the INSPECTOR, but the DOCTOR crosses quickly to L of KARL and restrains him.

This is your coat and an evening paper, I see. (He draws the evening paper from the pocket)

KARL moves down R of the sofa. The DOCTOR moves up L of the sofa.

KARL. Yes, I bought it on the corner, just before I came in. I haven’t had time to read it, yet.

OGDEN. (moving C) Are you sure?

KARL. Yes—(He moves RC) I am quite sure.

OGDEN. I think you did. (He reads from the paper) “Sir William Rollander’s only daughter, Helen Rollander, was the victim of a regrettable accident this morning. In crossing the road she was knocked down by a lorry. The lorry driver claims that Miss Rollander gave him no time to brake. She walked straight into the road without looking right or left, and was killed instantly.”

KARL slumps on to the sofa.

I think that when you saw that paragraph, Professor Hendryk, you saw a way out to save your mistress by accusing a girl who could never refute what you said—because she was dead.

The lights BLACK-OUT as—

The CURTAIN falls.

Scene III

SCENE: The same. Two months later. Late afternoon.

When the CURTAIN rises, the lights come up. KARL is seated on the sofa. The DOCTOR is leaning against the table RC, reading the “Walter Savage Landor.” LESTER is pacing up and down LC. The telephone rings. They all start. LESTER, who is nearest to the telephone, lifts the receiver.

LESTER. (into the telephone) Hello? . . . No. (He replaces the receiver) These reporters never stop. (He moves down L)

The DOCTOR crosses and sits in the armchair. KARL rises and circles the sofa to C.

KARL. I wish I had stayed in court. Why didn’t you let me stay?

DOCTOR. Lisa specially asked that you shouldn’t remain in court to hear the verdict. We’ve got to respect her wish.

KARL. You could have stayed.

DOCTOR. She wanted me to be with you. The lawyers will let us know at once . . .

KARL. They can’t find her guilty. They can’t. (He moves up R)

LESTER. (moving down C) If you’d like me to go back there . . .

DOCTOR. You stay here, Lester.

LESTER. If I’m any use. If there’s anything I could do . . .

DOCTOR. You can answer that damn telephone that keeps ringing.

KARL. (moving below the sofa) Yes, my dear boy. Stay. Your presence here helps me.

LESTER. Does it? Does it, really?

KARL. She must be, she will be acquitted. I can’t believe that innocence can go unrecognized. (He sits on the sofa)

LESTER moves up C.

DOCTOR. Can’t you? I can. One’s seen it often enough. And you’ve seen it, Karl, time and time again. Mind you, I think she made a good impression on the jury.

LESTER. But the evidence was pretty damning. It’s that frightful Roper woman. The things she said. (He sits L of the table RC)

DOCTOR. She believed what she was saying, of course. That’s what made her so unshakeable under cross-examination. It’s particularly unfortunate that she should have seen you and Lisa embracing each other on the day of the inquest. She did see it, I suppose.

KARL. Yes, she must have seen it. It was true. It’s the first time I have ever kissed Lisa.

DOCTOR. And a thoroughly bad time to choose. It’s really a thousand pities that snooping woman never saw or heard anything that passed between you and Helen. “A very nice young lady”—that’s all she had to say.

KARL. It is so odd to tell the truth and not be believed.

DOCTOR. All you’ve done is to bring down a lot of odium on yourself, for cooking up a scurrilous story about a girl who is dead.

KARL. (rising and moving up C) If I’d only gone to the police right away, the moment she’d told me . . .

DOCTOR. If only you had. It’s particularly unfortunate that you only came out with the story after you’d bought a paper containing the news that she’s dead. And your reasons for not going to the police didn’t sound credible in the least.

KARL moves down L.

Though they are to me, of course, because I know the incredible fool you are. The whole set of circumstances is thoroughly damnable. The Roper woman coming in to find Lisa standing by the body and holding the bottle in gloved fingers. The whole thing has built itself up in the most incredible fashion.

KARL crosses and stands down R. The telephone rings.

KARL. Is that . . . ? Can it . . . ?

There is a moment’s agonizing pause, then the DOCTOR motions to LESTER who rises, goes to the telephone and lifts the receiver.

LESTER. (into the telephone) Yes? . . . Hello? . . . Go to hell!

DOCTOR. Ghouls, that’s what they are, ghouls.

KARL. (moving up R) If they find her guilty, if they . . .

DOCTOR. Well, we can appeal, you know.

KARL. (moving down C and then below the sofa) Why should she have to go through all this? Why should she be the one to suffer? I wish I were in her place.

DOCTOR. Yes, it’s always easier when it’s oneself.

KARL. After all, I’m partly responsible for what happened . . .

DOCTOR. (interrupting) I’ve told you that’s nonsense.

KARL. But Lisa has done nothing. Nothing. (He moves down C, then goes up R)

DOCTOR. (after a long pause; to LESTER) Go and make us some coffee, boy, if you know how.

LESTER. (indignantly) Of course I know how. (He moves up C)

The telephone rings. LESTER makes a move to answer it.

KARL. (stopping LESTER) Don’t answer it.

The telephone goes on ringing. LESTER hesitates then exits up C to L. The telephone goes on ringing solidly. KARL eventually rushes to it and picks up the receiver.

(Into the telephone) Leave me alone, can’t you. Leave me alone. (He slams down the receiver and sinks into the desk chair) I can’t bear it. I can’t bear it.

DOCTOR. (rising and moving to KARL) Patience, Karl. Courage.

KARL. What good is it saying that to me?

DOCTOR. Not much, but there’s nothing else to say, is there? There’s nothing that can help you now except courage.

KARL. I keep thinking of Lisa. Of what she must be suffering.

DOCTOR. I know. I know.

KARL. She’s so brave. So wonderfully brave.

DOCTOR. (moving C) Lisa is a very wonderful person. I have always known that.

KARL. I love her. Did you know I loved her?

DOCTOR. Yes, of course I knew. You’ve loved her for a long time.

KARL. Yes. Neither of us ever acknowledged it, but we knew. It didn’t mean that I didn’t love Anya. I did love Anya. I shall always love her. I didn’t want her to die.

DOCTOR. I know, I know. I’ve never doubted that.

KARL. It’s strange, perhaps, but one can love two women at the same time.

DOCTOR. Not at all strange. It often happens. (He moves behind KARL) And you know what Anya used to say to me? “When I’m gone, Karl must marry Lisa.” That’s what she used to say. “You must make him do it, Doctor,” she used to say. “Lisa will look after him and be good to him. If he doesn’t think of it you must put it into his head.” That’s what she used to say to me. I promised her that I would.

KARL. (rising) Tell me, really, Doctor. Do you think they’ll acquit her? Do you?

DOCTOR. (gently) I think—you ought to prepare yourself . . .

KARL. (moving below the armchair) Even her counsel didn’t believe me, did he? He pretended to, of course, but he didn’t believe me. (He sits in the armchair)

DOCTOR. No, I don’t think he did, but there are one or two sensible people on the jury—I think. (He moves down L) That fat woman in the funny hat listened to every word you were saying about Helen, and I noticed her nodding her head in complete agreement. She probably has a husband who went off the rails with a young girl. You never know what queer things influence people.

The telephone rings.

KARL. (rising) This time it must be.

The DOCTOR moves to the telephone and lifts the receiver.

DOCTOR. (into the telephone) Hello? . . .

LESTER enters up C from L, carrying a tray with three cups of coffee on it. The coffee has slopped into the saucers.

KARL. Well?

LESTER. Is that . . . ? (He puts the tray on the table RC and pours the coffee into the cup from one of the saucers)

DOCTOR. (into the telephone) No . . . No, I’m afraid he can’t. (He slams down the receiver) Another of the ghouls. (He crosses to the sofa and sits)

KARL. What can they hope to get out of it?

DOCTOR. Increased circulation, I suppose.

LESTER. (handing a cup of coffee to KARL) I hope it’s all right. It took me some time to find everything.

KARL. Thank you. (He crosses to the desk chair and sits)

LESTER hands a cup of coffee to the DOCTOR, then takes his own and stands RC. They sip their coffee. There is quite a pause.

DOCTOR. Have you ever seen herons flying low over a river bank?

LESTER. No, I don’t think I have. Why?

DOCTOR. No reason.

LESTER. What put it into your head?

DOCTOR. I’ve no idea. Just wishing, I suppose, that all this wasn’t true and that I was somewhere else.

LESTER. Yes, I can see that. (He moves up C) It’s so awful, not being able to do anything.

DOCTOR. Nothing’s so bad as waiting.

LESTER. (after a pause) I don’t believe, you know, that I’ve ever seen a heron.

DOCTOR. Very graceful birds.

KARL. Doctor, I want you to do something for me.

DOCTOR. (rising) Yes? What is it?

KARL. I want you to go back to the court.

DOCTOR. (crossing to KARL and putting his cup on the work-table as he passes) No, Karl.

KARL. Yes, I know that you promised. But I want you to go back.

DOCTOR. Karl—Lisa . . .

KARL. If the worst happens, I would like Lisa to be able to see you there. And if it isn’t the worst—well, then she’ll need someone to look after her, to get her away, to bring her here.

The DOCTOR stares at KARL for a moment or two.

I know I’m right.

DOCTOR. (deciding) Very well.

LESTER. (to the DOCTOR) I can stay and . . .

KARL looks at the DOCTOR and shakes his head very slightly. The DOCTOR is quick to take the hint.

DOCTOR. No, you come with me, Lester. (He moves up C) There are times when a man has got to be alone. That’s right, isn’t it, Karl?

KARL. Don’t worry about me. I want to stay here quietly with Anya.

DOCTOR. (pulling round sharply as he is on his way to the door) What did you say? With Anya?

KARL. Did I say that? That’s what it seems like. Leave me here. I shan’t answer the telephone if it rings. I shall wait now until you come.

LESTER exits up C. The DOCTOR follows him off and closes the door. KARL leans back in his chair. The clock chimes six.

“While the light lasts I shall remember,

And in the darkness I shall not forget.”

There is a pause then the telephone rings. KARL rises, ignores the telephone, takes his coffee cup to the tray, at the same time collecting the DOCTOR’s cup as he passes the work-table. He then exits with the tray up C to L. While he is off, the telephone stops ringing. KARL re-enters and moves down L, leaving the door open. He pauses for a moment, staring at the work-table, then goes to the record cabinet and takes the Rachmaninoff record from it. He goes to the desk and sits, putting the record on the desk in front of him. LISA suddenly enters up C from R, shuts the door behind her and leans against it. KARL rises and turns.

KARL. Lisa! Lisa! (He goes towards her as though he can hardly believe his eyes) Is it true? Is it?

LISA. They found me not guilty.

KARL. (attempting to take her in his arms) Oh, my darling, I’m so thankful. No one shall ever hurt you again, Lisa.

LISA. (pushing him away) No.

KARL. (realizing her coldness and aloofness) What do you mean?

LISA. I’ve come here to get my things.

KARL. (backing above the armchair) What do you mean—your things?

LISA. Just a few things that I need. Then I am going away.

KARL. What do you mean—going away?

LISA. I’m leaving here.

KARL. But surely—that’s ridiculous! D’you mean because of what people would say? Does that matter now?

LISA. You don’t understand. I am going away for good.

KARL. Going away—where?

LISA. (moving slowly down C) What does it matter? Somewhere. I can get a job. There’ll be no difficulty about that. I may go abroad. I may stay in England. Wherever I go I’m starting a new life.

KARL. A new life? You mean—without me?

LISA. Yes. Yes, Karl. That’s just what I do mean. Without you.

KARL. (backing down L) But why? Why?

LISA. (up R of the armchair) Because I’ve had enough.

KARL. I don’t understand you.

LISA. (moving to the sofa) We’re not made to understand each other. We don’t see things the same way, and I’m afraid of you.

KARL. How can you be afraid of me?

LISA. Because you’re the kind of man who always brings suffering.

KARL. No.

LISA. It’s true.

KARL. No.

LISA. I see people as they are. Without malice and without entering into judgement, but without illusions, either. I don’t expect people to be wonderful or life to be wonderful, and I don’t particularly want to be wonderful myself. If there are fields of amaranth—they can be on the other side of the grave as far as I am concerned.

KARL. Fields of amaranth? What are you talking about?

LISA. I’m talking about you, Karl. You put ideas first, not people. Ideas of loyalty and friendship and pity. And because of that the people who are near, suffer. (She moves to R of the armchair) You knew you’d lose your job if you befriended the Schultzes. And you knew, you must have known, what an unhappy life that would mean for Anya. But you didn’t care about Anya. You only cared about your ideas of what was right. But people matter, Karl. They matter as much as ideas. Anya mattered, I matter. Because of your ideas, because of your mercy and compassion for the girl who killed your wife, you sacrificed me. I was the one who paid for your compassion. But I’m not ready to do that any more. I love you, but love isn’t enough. You’ve more in common with the girl Helen than you have with me. She was like you—ruthless. She went all out for the things she believed in. She didn’t care what happened to people as long as she got her own way.

KARL. (moving towards the armchair) Lisa, you can’t mean what you are saying. You can’t.

LISA. I do mean it. I’ve been thinking it really for a long time. (She moves below the left end of the sofa) I’ve thought of it all these days in court. I didn’t really think they’d acquit me. I don’t know why they did. The judge didn’t seem to think there was much reasonable doubt. But I suppose some of the jury believed me. There was one little man who kept on looking at me as though he was sizing me up. Just a commonplace ordinary little man—but he looked at me and thought I hadn’t done it—or perhaps he thought I was the kind of woman that he’d like to go to bed with and he didn’t want me to suffer. I don’t know what he thought—but—he was a person looking at another person and he was on my side and perhaps he persuaded the others. And so I’m free. I’ve been given a second chance to start life again. I’m starting again—alone.

LISA exits down R. KARL crosses and sits on the sofa.

KARL. (pleadingly) Lisa. You can’t mean it. You can’t be so cruel. You must listen. Lisa. I implore you.

LISA re-enters down R. She carries a small silver photo frame. She remains down R, facing KARL.

LISA. No, Karl. What happens to the women who love you? Anya loved you and she died. Helen loved you and she’s dead. I—have been very near death. I’ve had enough. I want to be free of you—for ever.

KARL. But where will you go?

There is a pause as LISA crosses below KARL to C.

LISA. You told me to go away and marry and have children. Perhaps that’s what I’ll do. If so, I’ll find someone like that little man on the jury, someone who’ll be human and a person, like me. (She suddenly cries out) I’ve had enough. I’ve loved you for years and it’s broken me. I’m going away and I shall never see you again. Never!

KARL. Lisa!

LISA. (moving down L) Never!

The DOCTOR is suddenly heard calling from the hall.

DOCTOR. (off; calling) Karl! Karl!

The DOCTOR enters up C from R and moves towards KARL, without noticing LISA.

It’s all right, my boy. She’s acquitted. (During this he is quite out of breath) Do you understand? She’s acquitted. (He suddenly sees LISA and crosses to her with outstretched arms) Lisa—my dear Lisa. Thank God we’ve got you safe. It’s wonderful. Wonderful!

LISA. (trying to respond to him) Yes, it’s wonderful.

DOCTOR. (holding her away from him and looking her up and down) How are you? A little fine drawn—thinner—only natural with all you’ve been through. But we’ll make it up to you. (He crosses above the armchair to KARL) We’ll look after you. As for Karl here, you can imagine the state he’s been in. Ah, well, thank God that’s all over now. (He turns to KARL) What do you say—shall we go out—celebrate? A bottle of champagne—eh? (He beams expectantly)

LISA. (forcing a smile) No, Doctor—not tonight.

DOCTOR. Ah, what an old fool I am. Of course not. You need rest.

LISA. I am all right. (She moves towards the doors up C) I must just get my things together.

DOCTOR. (moving to LISA) Things?

LISA. I am not—staying here.

DOCTOR. But . . . (Enlightened) Oh, I see—well, perhaps that is wise—with people like your Mrs. Roper about, with their evil minds and tongues. But where will you go? To an hotel? Better come to us. Margaret will be delighted. It’s a very tiny room that we have, but we’ll look after you well.

LISA. How kind you are. But I have all my plans made. Tell—tell Margaret that I will come to see her very soon.

LISA goes into the hall and exits to her bedroom. The DOCTOR turns back to KARL and begins to realize that all is not well.

DOCTOR (moving C) Karl—is anything wrong?

KARL. What should be wrong?

DOCTOR. (semi-relieved) She has been through a terrible ordeal. It takes a little time to—to come back to normal. (He looks around) When I think we sat here—waiting—with that damn telephone ringing all the time—hoping—fearing—and now—all over.

KARL. (tonelessly) Yes—all over.

DOCTOR. (robustly) No decent jury would ever have convicted her. (He moves and sits L of KARL on the sofa) I told you so. You look half dazed still, Karl. Can’t you believe it yet? (He takes KARL affectionately by the shoulder) Karl, snap out of it. We’ve got our Lisa back again.

KARL turns sharply away.

Oh, I know—I’m clumsy—it takes a little time to get used to the joy.

LISA enters from her bedroom and comes into the room. She carries a hold-all which she puts on the floor up C. She avoids looking at KARL and stands up LC.

LISA. I’m going now.

DOCTOR. (rising) I’ll get a taxi for you.

LISA. (sharply) No—please—I’d rather be alone. (She turns away L)

The DOCTOR is slightly taken aback. She relents, moves to the DOCTOR and puts her hands on his shoulders.

Thank you—for all your kindness—for all you did for Anya—you have been a good friend—I shall never forget.

LISA kisses the DOCTOR, picks up her hold-all and without once looking at KARL exits up C to R.

DOCTOR. (moving to KARL) Karl—what does this mean. There is something wrong.

KARL. Lisa is going away.

DOCTOR. Yes, yes—temporarily. But—she is coming back.

KARL. (turning to face the DOCTOR) No, she is not coming back.

DOCTOR. (appalled) What do you mean?

KARL. (with complete conviction and force) She—is—not—coming—back.

DOCTOR. (incredulously) Do you mean—you have parted?

KARL. You saw her go—that was our parting.

DOCTOR. But—why?

KARL. She had had enough.

DOCTOR. Talk sense, man.

KARL. It’s very simple. She has suffered. She doesn’t want to suffer any more.

DOCTOR. Why should she suffer?

KARL. It seems—I am a man—who brings suffering to those who love him.

DOCTOR. Nonsense!

KARL. Is it? Anya loved me and she is dead. Helen loved me and she died.

DOCTOR. Did Lisa say that to you?

KARL. Yes. Am I such a man? Do I bring suffering to those who love me? What did she mean when she talked of fields of amaranth?

DOCTOR. Fields of amaranth. (He thinks for a moment, then recollects, moves to the table RC, picks up the “Walter Savage Landor” and gives it to KARL) Yes, I was reading there. (He points to the quotation)

KARL. Please leave me.

DOCTOR. I’d like to stay.

KARL. I must get used to being alone.

DOCTOR. (moving up C, then hesitating and returning to KARL) You don’t think . . . ?

KARL. She will not come back.

The DOCTOR exits reluctantly up C to R.

(He rises, crosses to the desk, switches on the desk light, draws the curtains, then sits at the desk and reads) “There are no fields of Amaranth this side of the grave. There are no voices, oh Rhodope, that are not soon mute, however tuneful: there is no name, with whatever emphasis of passionate love repeated, of which the echo is not faint at last . . .” (He puts the book gently on the desk, rises, picks up the record, goes to the record player, puts on the record, switches on, then goes slowly to the armchair and sinks into it) Lisa—Lisa—how can I live without you? (He drops his head into his hands)

The door up C opens slowly. LISA enters up C, moves slowly to R of KARL and puts her hand gently on his shoulder.

(He looks up at LISA) Lisa? You’ve come back. Why?

LISA. (kneeling at KARL’s side) Because I am a fool.

LISA rests her head on KARL’s lap, he rests his head on hers and the music builds up as—

The CURTAIN falls.