The Mousetrap and Other Plays

  GERARD. And the digitoxin is mine. All the same, we did not kill her.

  SARAH. That’s what you say.

  GERARD. We are doctors. We save life—we do not take it.

  SARAH. “Doctors differ—and patients die.” What years ago it seems when you said that to me in Jerusalem.

  GERARD. Courage, mon enfant. And if I can help, remember that we are colleagues.

  (GERARD exits to the marquee, SARAH moves towards the rock up Right.)

  SARAH. Raymond. (She moves nearer. Imperiously) Raymond.

  (RAYMOND turns his head and looks at SARAH.)

  Come down here.

  (RAYMOND rises, but does not come down. His manner is apathetic and he does not look at SARAH.)

  RAYMOND. Yes, Sarah?

  SARAH. Why don’t you stay down here and—talk to me? Why do you all sit up there by that cave?

  RAYMOND. It seems—the right place for us.

  (SARAH reaches up and takes RAYMOND’s hand.)

  SARAH. I never heard such nonsense.

  RAYMOND. (Sighing) You don’t understand. (He turns away.)

  SARAH. Raymond—(She goes up to him.) do you think I believe you killed her? I don’t. I don’t.

  RAYMOND. One of us killed her.

  SARAH. You don’t even know that.

  RAYMOND. Yes, I do. (Thoughtfully) We all know.

  SARAH. But you didn’t kill her. You yourself didn’t kill her.

  RAYMOND. No, I didn’t kill her. (He looks at the others.)

  SARAH. Well then, that’s all that matters. Surely you see that?

  RAYMOND. No, it’s you who don’t see. I suggested killing her. One of us acted on that suggestion. I don’t know which of us. I don’t want to know. But there it is. We’re all in it together.

  SARAH. You won’t even fight?

  RAYMOND. (Turning and smiling at her) There’s no one to fight. Don’t you understand, Sarah? One can’t fight the dead. (He sits on the steps.)

  SARAH. (Moving down Centre) Oh, what shall I do?

  LADY WESTHOLME. (Off Left) I can only tell you, Colonel Carbery, that I shall take it up with the Foreign Office.

  (SARAH moves wearily to Right of the table and sits. LADY WESTHOLME and CARBERY enter from the marquee. They cross to Centre, CARBERY Left of LADY WESTHOLME.)

  CARBERY. This is my territory, Lady Westholme, and I am responsible for its administration. To put it plainly, an old woman has been cold-bloodedly murdered, and you are suggesting that I should refrain from enquiring into the matter.

  LADY WESTHOLME. There are wider diplomatic considerations to be observed. The whole thing must be dropped.

  CARBERY. I don’t take my orders from you, Lady Westholme.

  LADY WESTHOLME. I assure you that I shall pull strings—and that I can pull strings. Once I get to a telegraph office.

  CARBERY. You will get to a telegraph office tomorrow, and you can send wires to the Prime Minister, the Foreign Secretary and the President of the United States and play cat’s cradle with the Minister of Agriculture and Fisheries if it pleases you. In the meantime, I run my own show.

  LADY WESTHOLME. You will find, Colonel Carbery, that I am more influential than you think.

  (LADY WESTHOLME exits angrily Right.)

  CARBERY. Phew! What a tartar! (He moves above the table.) The worst of it is—(He smiles ruefully at SARAH) the damn woman’s quite right.

  SARAH. What do you mean?

  CARBERY. The whole thing will have to be dropped.

  SARAH. Why?

  CARBERY. Because there’s no evidence. One of ’em did it, all right, but as the evidence lies there’s no earthly chance of proving which one. Oh, that’s a very common state of affairs in police work. Knowledge without proof. And in this case the Westholme woman is quite right—there is an international aspect. Can’t bring an accusation against an American subject unless you’ve got sufficient evidence. We haven’t.

  SARAH. (Slowly) So the whole thing will be dropped.

  CARBERY. Yes. There’ll be an inquest and all that. But the result’s a foregone conclusion. They’ll go scot free. (He gives her a quick glance.) That please you?

  SARAH. I don’t know.

  CARBERY. (Moving to Left of the table) Well—(He jerks his thumb towards the BOYNTONS) it ought to please them.

  SARAH. Ought it?

  CARBERY. Don’t you think so?

  SARAH. (Rising and moving Right Centre, explosively) No, no, no!

  CARBERY. You’re very emphatic, Miss King.

  SARAH. Don’t you see—it’s the most awful thing that could happen to them? They don’t know themselves which one of them it was—and now they’ll never know.

  CARBERY. May have been all in it together. (He sits Left of the table.)

  SARAH. No, they weren’t. That’s just the awful part of it. Three of them are innocent—but they’re all four of them in the shadow together—and now they’ll never get out of the shadow.

  CARBERY. Yes, that’s the worst of the verdict not proven. The innocent suffer. (He coughs.) You’ve got—a special interest, I gather.

  SARAH. Yes.

  CARBERY. I’m sorry. I wish I could help you.

  SARAH. You see—he won’t fight for himself.

  CARBERY. So you’ve got to fight for him?

  SARAH. (Moving to Right of the table) Yes—it began when she was alive. I fought her. I thought I’d win, too. This morning I thought I had won. But now—they’re back again—back in her shadow. That’s where she sat, you know. In the mouth of the cave there—like an obscene old idol. Gloating in her own power and her cruelty. I feel as though she’s sitting there now, holding them still, laughing because she’s got them where she wants them, knowing that they’ll never escape her now. (She speaks up to the cave.) Yes, you’ve won, you old devil. You’ve proved that death is stronger than life. It oughtn’t to be—it oughtn’t to be. (She breaks down and sinks on to the chair Right of the table.)

  (There is a pause. CARBERY realizes there is nothing he can do, rises and exits to the marquee. HIGGS enters from the marquee.)

  HIGGS. Aye, but it’s warm. (He crosses to Centre.)

  (The DRAGOMAN enters down the slope Left.)

  DRAGOMAN. Horses coming over pass. Be here in a few moments.

  HIGGS. Then hurry oop and get some beer—ah’m in a muck sweat again.

  (The DRAGOMAN exits to the marquee. MISS PRYCE enters down the slope.)

  MISS PRYCE. What a wonderful place this is.

  SARAH. I think it’s a damnable place.

  MISS PRYCE. (Crossing to Right Centre) Oh, really—Miss King . . .

  SARAH. Sorry.

  MISS PRYCE. Oh, I quite understand. Such tragic associations. And then, of course, you are so young.

  (MISS PRYCE exits Right.)

  SARAH. (Bitterly) Yes, I’m young. What’s the good of being young? It ought to be some good. Youth means strength. It means life. Life ought to be stronger than death.

  HIGGS. (Seriously) So it is, lass. Make no mistake about that.

  SARAH. It isn’t. (She indicates the BOYNTONS) Look at them. Sitting in the shadow of death.

  HIGGS. (Considering them) Aye! They look as though they’d been given a life sentence.

  SARAH. That’s just what they have been given. (She rises.) Of course. That’s it. (She crosses to Right Centre) That’s what she wanted.

  HIGGS. What’s oop?

  SARAH. (Laughing wildly) I think I’ve got a touch of the sun. But the sun lets in light, doesn’t it?

  HIGGS. (Crossing to the marquee and calling) Hey, Doctor, here’s a patient for you out here.

  (GERARD enters from the marquee. HIGGS jerks his thumb at SARAH and exits to the marquee)

  GERARD. (Moving Left Centre) Are you ill?

  SARAH. (Moving to Right of Gerard.) No, I’m not ill. Listen, Doctor Gerard. I know who killed Mrs. Boynton. I know it quite certainly—(She touches her forehead) here. What I must do—what you must help me to do—is to get proo
f.

  GERARD. You know which of them killed her?

  SARAH. None of them killed her.

  (GERARD is about to interrupt.)

  Wait. I know what you are going to say—that they themselves think so. That’s what she wanted.

  GERARD. Comment?

  SARAH. Listen. Yesterday I lost my temper—I told her what was the truth, that she couldn’t live long. I told her that when she died, they’d be free. You know what she was like—the lust for power and cruelty had grown—she wasn’t quite sane, was she?

  GERARD. She was a sadist—yes. She specialized in mental cruelty.

  SARAH. She couldn’t bear what I told her, she couldn’t face the thought of their being free—and happy. And she saw a way to keep them in prison for ever.

  GERARD. Mon Dieu, you mean . . .

  SARAH. Yes, don’t you see? She took the digitoxin from your case. She took my syringe. She slipped the empty bottle into Raymond’s pocket, and she asked Lennox to fasten her bracelet and then cried out when she knew someone was watching them. It was clever—damnably clever—just enough suspicion against each of them. Not enough to convict one but enough to keep them believing all their lives that one of them had killed her.

  GERARD. And then she committed suicide. Yes, she had the courage for that.

  SARAH. She’d got guts all right. And hate.

  GERARD. (Crossing to Right as he works it out) After filling the syringe she slipped the empty bottle into Raymond’s pocket—yes, she could have done that as he was helping her up to the cave. Then later she called Lennox, pretended her bracelet was undone. Yes, that too. But she made no attempt to incriminate Nadine or Jinny.

  SARAH. Nadine would come under suspicion because of always giving her medicine, and she could pretty well trust Jinny to incriminate herself with her wild talk.

  GERARD. (Crossing to Left as he works it out) After filling the syringe, seeing there is no one to see, she plunges the needle into her wrist—so—and dies. But no, that will not do—for in that case what happened to the hypodermic needle? It would have been found by the body. There would have been only a minute or two—not time enough for her to get up and hide it. There is a flaw there.

  SARAH. (Moving up Centre) I tell you I know what happened. She’s laughing at me—somewhere—now, taunting me because I can’t prove it—to him.

  GERARD. (Following SARAH) That is all you are thinking of—to prove it to Raymond? And you think he will not believe you without proof.

  SARAH. Do you?

  GERARD. No.

  SARAH. Then I must get proof. I must. I must. Oh, God, I must.

  (The jingle of harness is heard off Left. MISS PRYCE enters Right, crosses to the slope Left and looks off.)

  GERARD. You do well to invoke God. It is a miracle you need. (He crosses and sits down on the case.)

  SARAH. Miracles don’t happen, and there’s no time—no time.

  MISS PRYCE. (Turning and moving Left Centre) Were you talking about miracles?

  SARAH. (Bitterly) I was saying that miracles don’t happen.

  MISS PRYCE. Oh, but they do. A friend of mine had the most wonderful results from a bottle of water from Lourdes—really quite remarkable.

  SARAH. (To herself) I must go on fighting. I won’t give in.

  MISS PRYCE. The doctors were really quite astonished. They said . . . (She breaks off) Is anything the matter, dear?

  SARAH. Yes, that she-devil, Mrs. Boynton.

  MISS PRYCE. (Shocked) Oh, really, Miss King, I don’t think . . . After all, we must remember she is dead.

  SARAH. De mortias.

  MISS PRYCE. Quite—quite.

  SARAH. Death doesn’t make people good who have been wicked.

  MISS PRYCE. Wicked is rather a strong word, dear. I always feel people who take drugs are to be pitied rather than blamed.

  SARAH. I know what I’m talking about and . . . (She stops) What did you say? Mrs. Boynton didn’t take drugs.

  MISS PRYCE. (Confused) Oh, really, I never meant—I mean, I thought you, being a doctor, had probably noticed the signs. I’m sure I don’t want to say anything against the poor old woman.

  SARAH. Mrs. Boynton didn’t take drugs. Why do you think she did?

  MISS PRYCE. Oh, but I’m afraid she was a drug addict, my dear. Lady Westholme goes about saying she drank, which of course wasn’t so at all, but I haven’t liked to contradict her because saying that anyone is a dope fiend is worse.

  SARAH. (Slowly but excited) Why do you think Mrs. Boynton was a dope fiend?

  MISS PRYCE. I should not dream of saying.

  (The DRAGOMAN enters down the slope Left.)

  There is such a thing as Christian charity.

  DRAGOMAN. Abraham good Christian dragoman. All my ladies and gentleman say Abraham first-class Christian dragoman. You come now, ladies, horses all ready.

  (SARAH seizes MISS PRYCE by the arm and sits her in the chair Right of the table.)

  SARAH. You don’t leave here until you tell me why you think Mrs. Boynton took drugs. You can’t just hint things like that out of your imagination.

  MISS PRYCE. (Indignantly) Not at all. It was not imagination. I saw her . . . (She stops.)

  SARAH. You saw what?

  DRAGOMAN. You come now.

  SARAH. (Sharply) Shut up, Abraham.

  (The DRAGOMAN exits to the marquee.)

  MISS PRYCE. (Upset and rather on her dignity) Really, I did not want to mention the occurrence, it seems so unkind. But since you have accused me of imagining—well, it was yesterday afternoon.

  SARAH. Yes?

  MISS PRYCE. I came out of my tent—at least, not right out—I just pushed back the flap and tried to remember where I had left my book. Was it in the marquee, I said to myself, or was it in the deckchair.

  SARAH. Yes—yes.

  MISS PRYCE. And then I noticed Mrs. Boynton. She was sitting up there quite alone and she rolled up her sleeve and injected the dope into her arm, looking about her first, you know, in a most guilty manner.

  (GERARD rises and exchanges glances with SARAH.)

  SARAH. You’re quite sure? What happened then?

  MISS PRYCE. My dear, it was quite like a novel. She unscrewed the knob of her stick and put the hypodermic needle inside. So of course, I knew then that it was drugs—not drink, as Lady Westholme said.

  (CARBERY and LADY WESTHOLME enter Right. CARBERY beckons to the BOYNTONS. NADINE and GINEVRA rise and group with RAYMOND and LENNOX at the foot of the rock up Right.)

  CARBERY. (Moving Right Centre) Miss King—Pryce. We’re starting.

  SARAH. (Crossing to Left of CARBERY) Colonel Carbery, Miss Pryce has something to tell you.

  (MISS PRYCE rises.)

  When she was alone in camp yesterday, she saw Mrs. Boynton inject something into her own arm.

  CARBERY. What’s that?

  (NADINE and LENNOX move down Right.)

  SARAH. (To MISS PRYCE) That’s quite true, isn’t it?

  MISS PRYCE. Yes, indeed.

  SARAH. After that Mrs. Boynton concealed the hypodermic needle in her stick, the head of which unscrews.

  CARBERY. (Calling sharply) Aissa.

  (The DRAGOMAN enters from the marquee.)

  (To the DRAGOMAN) Tal a hinna. Fee bataga.

  (The DRAGOMAN exits to the marquee.)

  SARAH. (To RAYMOND) Oh, Ray!

  (RAYMOND moves to Left of SARAH.)

  We’ve found out the truth.

  (The DRAGOMAN enters from the marquee with MRS. BOYNTON’s stick. He crosses to CARBERY, who takes the stick, unscrews the knob and produces the hypodermic needle, handling it carefully with his handkerchief.)

  She did it herself. (She catches RAYMOND’s arm excitedly) Do you understand? She did it herself.

  CARBERY. Well, that seems to clinch matters. There will be traces of digitoxin in the barrel, and in all probability deceased’s fingerprints. That, and Miss Pryce’s evidence, seems conclusive. Mrs. Boynton took her own life.

&n
bsp; RAYMOND. Sarah!

  SARAH. (Half crying) Miracles do happen. Darling Miss Pryce, you’re better than any Lourdes water.

  CARBERY. Well, we must be getting along. The plane is waiting at Ain Musa. (He moves up Centre.)

  (The ARAB BOY enters from the marquee. He carries a cablegram which he hands to CARBERY.)

  GINEVRA. (Moving to GERARD) Doctor Gerard—I—I did invent those things. Sometimes—(Confusedly) I really thought they were true. You will help me, won’t you?

  GERARD. Yes, chérie, I will help you.

  CARBERY. (Handing the cablegram to LADY WESTHOLME) Lady Westholme, there’s a cable they brought along for you.

  (LADY WESTHOLME opens the cable and reads it. HIGGS enters from the marquee.)

  LADY WESTHOLME. Dear me. Sir Eric Hartly-Witherspoon is dead.

  HIGGS. So’s Queen Anne.

  LADY WESTHOLME. (Radiant) This is most important. I must return to England at once.

  CARBERY. A near relation?

  LADY WESTHOLME. No relation at all. Sir Eric was Member for Market Spotsbury. (Pronounced Spurry) That means a by-election. I am the prospective Conservative candidate and I may say that when I get into the House again . . .

  HIGGS. Yer seem mighty sure about it.

  LADY WESTHOLME. Market Spotsbury has always returned a Conservative.

  HIGGS. Aye—but times is changin’ and “always” ’as a ’abit of becomin’ “never no more.” ’Oo’s yer opponent?

  LADY WESTHOLME. I believe some Independent candidate.

  HIGGS. What’s ’is name?

  LADY WESTHOLME. (Nonplussed) I’ve no idea. Probably someone quite unimportant.

  HIGGS. Ah’ll tell yer ’is name—it’s Alderman ’Iggs—and if I can keep you out of the first floor in Jerusalem—by gum—I’ll keep yer out of the ground floor in Westminster.

  CURTAIN

  The Hollow

  Presented by Peter Saunders at the Fortune Theatre, London, on 7th June 1951, with the following cast of characters:

  (in the order of their appearance)

  HENRIETTA ANGKATELL

  Beryl Baxter

  SIR HENRY ANGKATELL, KCB

  George Thorpe

  LADY ANGKATELL