The Mousetrap and Other Plays

  LISA looks up sharply from her coffee at KARL.

  KARL. (rather coldly) I’m afraid our accommodation is rather limited. This is the only sitting-room.

  HELEN. Oh, well, I expect you know what I’m going to say. You told me today that your time was so taken up that you couldn’t accept any more private pupils. I’ve come to ask you to change your mind, to make an exception in my favour.

  KARL crosses above ANYA to L of HELEN, looks at LISA as he passes and hands her his cup and saucer.

  KARL. I’m very sorry, Miss Rollander, but my time is absolutely booked up.

  HELEN speaks with great pace and assurance, almost gabbling.

  HELEN. You can’t put me off like that. I happen to know that after you refused me you agreed to take Sydney Abrahamson privately, so you see you had got time. You preferred him to me. Why?

  KARL. If you want an honest answer . . .

  HELEN. I do. I hate beating about the bush.

  KARL. I think Sydney is more likely to profit than you are.

  HELEN. Do you mean you think he’s got a better brain than I have?

  KARL. No, I would not say that, but he has, shall I say, a greater desire for learning.

  HELEN. Oh, I see. You think I’m not serious?

  KARL does not answer.

  But I am serious. The truth is you’re prejudiced. You think that because I’m rich, because I’ve been a deb, and done all the silly things that debs do—you think I’m not in earnest.

  ANYA. (finding HELEN’s chatter is too much; interrupting) Karl.

  HELEN. But, believe me, I am.

  ANYA. Oh, dear—I wonder—Karl!

  KARL. (moving to R of ANYA) Yes, my darling?

  ANYA. My head—I don’t feel terribly well.

  HELEN is put out by ANYA’s interruption, and takes some cigarettes and a lighter from her handbag.

  I’m sorry—er—Miss Rollander, but if you’ll excuse me I think I’ll go back to my own room.

  HELEN. (rather bored) Of course, I quite understand.

  KARL pushes the chair towards the door down R. The DOCTOR moves to the door, opens it and takes charge of the chair. KARL stands R of the sofa.

  ANYA. My heart feels—very odd tonight. Doctor, don’t you think you could . . . ?

  DOCTOR. Yes, yes, I think we can find something that will help you. Karl, will you bring my bag?

  The DOCTOR wheels ANYA off down R. KARL picks up the DOCTOR’s bag.

  KARL. (to HELEN) Excuse me please.

  KARL exits down R.

  Poor Mrs. Hendryk, has she been an invalid long? (She lights her cigarette)

  LISA. (drinking her coffee and watching HELEN) Five years.

  HELEN. Five years! Poor man.

  LISA. Poor man?

  HELEN. I was thinking of him dancing attendance on her all the time. She likes him to dance attendance, doesn’t she?

  LISA. He’s her husband.

  HELEN. (rising, crossing below the armchair and standing down L) He’s a very kind man, isn’t he? But one can be too kind. Pity is weakening, don’t you think? I’m afraid I’m not in the least kind. I never pity anybody. I can’t help it, I’m made that way. (She sits on the left arm of the armchair)

  LISA moves to the work-table and takes ANYA’s cup and saucer to the tray.

  Do you live here, too?

  LISA. I look after Mrs. Hendryk and the flat.

  HELEN. Oh, you poor dear, how awful for you.

  LISA. Not at all. I like it.

  HELEN. (vaguely) Don’t they have household helps or something who go around and do that sort of thing for invalids? (She rises and moves above the armchair) I should have thought it would be much more fun for you to train for something and take a job.

  LISA. There is no need for me to train. I am already a trained physicist.

  HELEN. Oh, but then you could get a job quite easily. (She stubs out her cigarette in the ashtray on the desk)

  LISA. I already have a job—here.

  KARL enters down R, collects the bottle of medicine and glass from the shelves by the door, then moves to the bookshelves up R. LISA picks up the coffee and tray and exits with it up C.

  HELEN. (crossing below the armchair to C) Well, Professor Hendryk, can I come?

  KARL. I’m afraid the answer is no. (He pours some water from the jug on the bookcase shelf into the medicine glass, then moves to the door down R)

  HELEN. (crossing to KARL) You don’t understand. I want to come. I want to be taught. Oh, please, you can’t refuse me. (She comes close to him and puts a hand on his arm)

  KARL. (drawing back a little) But I can refuse you, you know. (He smiles at her quite gently and kindly)

  HELEN. But why, why? Daddy’ll pay you heaps if you let me come. Double the ordinary fee. I know he will.

  KARL. I’m sure your father would do anything you ask him, but it’s not a question of money.

  HELEN turns to C. LISA enters up C and stands above the table RC.

  (He turns to LISA) Lisa, give Miss Rollander a glass of sherry, will you. I must go back to Anya. (He turns to go)

  HELEN. Professor Hendryk!

  KARL. My wife is having one of her bad days. I know you’ll excuse me if I go back to her now.

  KARL smiles very charmingly at HELEN then exits down R. HELEN looks after him. LISA takes a bottle of sherry from the bookcase, cupboard R. HELEN, after a slight pause, makes a decision and collects her handbag and gloves from the sofa.

  HELEN. No, thanks, I don’t want any sherry. I’ll be going now. (She moves towards the double doors, then pauses and looks back)

  The DOCTOR enters down R and stands by the door.

  I shall get my own way, you know. I always do.

  HELEN sweeps out up C.

  LISA. (taking some glasses from the cupboard) You will have a glass of sherry, Doctor?

  DOCTOR. Thank you. (He crosses to LC and puts his bag down) That’s a very determined young woman.

  LISA. (pouring two glasses of sherry) Yes. She has fallen in love with Karl, of course.

  DOCTOR. I suppose that happens fairly often?

  LISA. Oh, yes. I remember being frightfully in love myself with my professor of mathematics. He never even noticed me. (She crosses to the DOCTOR, hands him a glass of sherry, then sits on the left arm of the sofa)

  DOCTOR. But you were probably younger than that girl.

  LISA. Yes, I was younger.

  DOCTOR. (sitting in the armchair) You don’t think that Karl may respond?

  LISA. One never knows. I don’t think so.

  DOCTOR. He’s used to it, you mean?

  LISA. He’s not used to it from quite that type of girl. Most of the students are rather an unattractive lot, but this girl has beauty and glamour and money—and she wants him very badly.

  DOCTOR. So you are afraid.

  LISA. No, I’m not afraid, not for Karl. I know what Karl is. I know what Anya means to him and always will. If I am afraid . . . (She hesitates)

  DOCTOR. Yes?

  LISA. Oh, what does it matter? (She takes refuge in her sherry)

  KARL enters down R.

  KARL. (crossing to RC) So my importunate young lady has gone.

  LISA rises and pours a glass of sherry for KARL.

  DOCTOR. A very beautiful girl. Are many of your students like that, Karl?

  KARL. Fortunately, no, or we should have more complications than we have already. (He sits on the sofa at the left end)

  DOCTOR. (rising) You must be careful, my boy. (He sets down his glass and picks up his bag, then moves up C)

  KARL. (amused) Oh, I am careful. I have to be.

  LISA moves up RC.

  DOCTOR. And if you do give her private lessons, have Lisa there as chaperon. Good night, Lisa.

  LISA. Good night, Doctor.

  The DOCTOR exits up C, closing the doors behind him. LISA moves to L of KARL and hands him the glass of sherry. There is a pause.

  (She moves to the door down R) I’d better go
to Anya.

  KARL. No. She said she wanted to be left to rest a little. (He pauses) I’m afraid it upset her, that girl coming.

  LISA. Yes, I know.

  KARL. It’s the contrast between her life and—the other. And she says she gets jealous, too. Anya’s always convinced I’m going to fall in love with one of my students.

  LISA. (sitting beside KARL on the sofa) Perhaps you will.

  KARL. (sharply and significantly) Can you say that?

  LISA. (turning away and shrugging her shoulders) It might happen.

  KARL. Never. And you know it.

  There is a rather constrained pause. They both stare into their glasses.

  Why do you stay with us?

  LISA does not answer.

  (After a pause) Why do you stay with us?

  LISA. You know perfectly why I stay.

  KARL. I think it’s wrong for you. I think perhaps you should go back.

  LISA. Go back? Go back where?

  KARL. There’s nothing against you and never was. You could go back and take up your old post. They’d leap at the chance of having you.

  LISA. Perhaps, but I don’t want to go.

  KARL. But perhaps you should go.

  LISA. Should go? Should go? What do you mean?

  KARL. This is no life for you.

  LISA. It’s the life I choose.

  KARL. It’s wrong for you. Go back. Go away. Have a life of your own.

  LISA. I have a life of my own.

  KARL. You know what I mean. Marry. Have children.

  LISA. I do not think I shall marry.

  KARL. Not if you stay here, but if you go away . . .

  LISA. Do you want me to go? (She pauses) Answer me, do you want me to go?

  KARL. (with difficulty) No, I don’t want you to go.

  LISA. Then don’t let’s talk about it. (She rises, takes KARL’s glass and puts it with her own on the bookcase shelf)

  KARL. Do you remember the concert in the Kursaal that day? It was August and very hot. An immensely fat soprano sang the Liebestod. She did not sing it well, either. We were not impressed, either of us. You had a green coat and skirt and a funny little velvet hat. Odd isn’t it, how there are some things that one never forgets, that one never will forget? I don’t know what happened the day before that, or what happened the day after it, but I remember that afternoon very well. The gold chairs and the platform, the orchestra wiping their foreheads and the fat soprano bowing and kissing her hand. And then they played the Rachmaninoff piano concerto. Do you remember, Lisa?

  LISA. (calmly) Of course.

  KARL hums the tune of the “Rachmaninoff piano concerto.”

  KARL. I can hear it now. (He hums)

  The front door bell rings.

  Now, who’s that?

  LISA turns abruptly and exits up C to R.

  ROLLANDER. (off) Good evening. Is Professor Hendryk in?

  KARL picks up a book and glances through it.

  LISA. (off) Yes. Will you come in, please?

  SIR WILLIAM ROLLANDER enters up C from R. He is a tall, grey-haired man of forceful personality. LISA follows him on, closes the doors and stands behind the armchair.

  ROLLANDER. (moving down C.) Professor Hendryk? My name is Rollander. (He holds out his hand)

  KARL rises, puts the book on the table RC and shakes ROLLANDER’s hand.

  KARL. How do you do? This is Miss Koletzky.

  ROLLANDER. How do you do?

  LISA. How do you do?

  ROLLANDER. I have a daughter who studies under you, Professor Hendryk.

  KARL. Yes, that is so.

  ROLLANDER. She feels that the attending of lectures in a class is not sufficient for her. She would like you to give her extra private tuition.

  KARL. I’m afraid that is not possible. (He moves away below the right end of the sofa)

  ROLLANDER. Yes, I know that she has already approached you on the matter and that you have refused. But I should like to reopen the subject if I may.

  LISA sits in the desk chair.

  KARL. (calmly) Certainly, Sir William, but I do not think that you will alter my decision.

  ROLLANDER. I should like to understand first your reasons for refusing. They are not quite clear to me.

  KARL. They are quite simple. Please do sit down. (He indicates the sofa) Your daughter is charming and intelligent, but she is not in my opinion the stuff of which true scholars are made.

  ROLLANDER. (sitting on the sofa at the left end) Isn’t that rather an arbitrary decision?

  KARL. (smiling) I think you have the popular belief that learning is a thing that can be stuffed into people as you put stuffing into a goose. (He sits on the right arm of the sofa) Perhaps it would be easier for you to understand if it was a question of music. If your daughter had a pretty and tuneful voice and you brought her to a singing teacher and wanted her trained for opera, a conscientious and honest teacher would tell you frankly that her voice was not suitable for opera. Would never be suitable with all the training in the world.

  ROLLANDER. Well, you’re the expert. I must, I suppose, bow to your ruling on that.

  KARL. Do you, yourself, really believe that your daughter wants to take up an academic career?

  ROLLANDER. No, quite frankly, I do not think so. But she thinks so, Professor Hendryk. Shall we put it as simply as this, that I want my daughter to have what she wants.

  KARL. A common parental weakness.

  ROLLANDER. As you say, a common parental weakness. My position, however, is more uncommon than that of some parents. I am, as you may or may not know, a rich man—to put it simply.

  KARL. I am aware of that, Sir William. I read the newspapers. I think it was only a few days ago that I read the description of the exotically fitted luxury car which you were having specially built as a present for your daughter.

  ROLLANDER. Oh, that! Probably seems to you foolish and ostentatious. The reasons behind it, let me tell you, are mainly business ones. Helen’s not even particularly interested in the car. Her mind at the moment is set on serious subjects. That, I may say, is something for a change, for which I am thankful. She’s run around for a couple of years now with a set of people whom I don’t much care for. People without a thing in their heads except pleasure. Now she seems to want to go in for serious study and I am behind her one hundred per cent.

  KARL. I can quite understand your point of view, but . . .

  ROLLANDER. I’ll tell you a little more, Professor Hendryk. Helen is all that I have. Her mother died when she was seven years old. I loved my wife and I’ve never married again. All that I have left of her is Helen. I’ve always given Helen every single mortal thing she wanted.

  KARL. That was natural, I’m sure, but has it been wise?

  ROLLANDER. Probably not, but it’s become a habit of life, now. And Helen’s a fine girl, Professor Hendryk. I dare say she’s made her mistakes, she’s been foolish, but the only way you can learn about life is by experience. The Spanish have a proverb, “ ‘Take what you want and pay for it,’ says God.” That’s sound, Professor Hendryk, very sound.

  KARL. (rising and crossing to R of the work-table) The payment may be high.

  ROLLANDER. Helen wants private tuition from you. I want to give it to her. I’m prepared to pay your price.

  KARL. (coldly) It’s not a question of price, Sir William. I’m not in the market for the highest fees I can get. I have a responsibility to my profession. My time and energy are limited. I have two good scholars, poor men, but they rate with me in priority above your daughter. You will forgive me for speaking frankly.

  ROLLANDER. I appreciate your point of view, but I am not so insensitive as you may think. I quite realize it isn’t just a question of money. But in my belief, Professor Hendryk—and I’m a business man—every man has his price.

  KARL shrugs his shoulders and sits in the armchair.

  KARL. You are entitled to your opinion.

  ROLLANDER. Your wife is, I believe, suffe
ring from disseminated sclerosis.

  KARL. (surprised) That is quite true. But how—did you . . . ?

  ROLLANDER. (interrupting) When I approach a proposition I find out all about it beforehand. That disease, Professor Hendryk, is one about which very little is known. It responds to palliatives but there is no known cure, and although the subject of it may live for many years, complete recovery is unknown. That, I think, speaking in non-medical terms, is fairly correct?

  KARL. Yes, that is correct.

  ROLLANDER. But you may have heard or read of a sensational new treatment started in America, of which there are great hopes. I don’t pretend to speak with any kind of medical knowledge or accuracy, but I believe that a new expensively produced antibiotic has been discovered which has an appreciable effect upon the course of the disease. It is at present unprocurable in England, but a small quantity of the drug—or whatever you call it—has been sent to this country and will be used on a few specially selected cases. I have influence in that direction, Professor Hendryk. The Franklin Institute, where this work is going on, will accept your wife as a patient if I exert my influence there.

  LISA rises and moves to L of KARL.

  KARL. (quietly) Bribery and corruption.

  ROLLANDER. (unoffended) Oh, yes, just as you say. Bribery and corruption. Not personal bribery, it wouldn’t work in your case. You would turn down any financial offer I made you. But can you afford to turn down a chance of your wife’s recovering her health?

  There is a pause, then KARL rises and goes to the double doors up C. He stands there for quite a while, then turns and comes down C.

  KARL. You are quite right, Sir William. I will accept your daughter as a pupil. I will give her private tutition and as much care and attention as I would my best pupil. Does that satisfy you?

  ROLLANDER. It will satisfy her. She is the kind of girl who doesn’t take no for an answer. (He rises and faces KARL C) Well, you have my word for it that when they are ready at the Franklin Institute, your wife will be accepted as a patient. (He shakes hands with KARL) That will probably be in about two months’ time.

  LISA moves to the doors C, opens them, then stands to one side.

  It only remains for me to hope the treatment will be as successful as these cases in the United States seem to have been, and that I may congratulate you in a year’s time on your wife’s being restored to health and strength. Good night, Professor Hendryk. (He starts to go then stops and turns) By the way my daughter is waiting in the car downstairs to hear the result of my embassy. Do you mind if she comes up for a moment or two? I know she’d like to thank you.