The Mousetrap and Other Plays

  LIFT BOY

  John Glennon

  ALDERMAN HIGGS

  Percy Walsh

  Anthony Dorset

  LADY WESTHOLME

  Janet Burnell

  MISS PRYCE

  Joan Hickson

  DR. GERARD

  Gerard Hinze

  SARAH KING

  Carla Lehmann

  JEFFERSON COPE

  Alan Sedgwick

  RAYMOND BOYNTON,

  Lennox’s younger brother

  John Wynn

  DRAGOMAN

  Harold Berens

  COLONEL CARBERY

  Owen Reynolds

  LADY VISITOR

  Cherry Herbert

  HOTEL VISITORS

  The play directed by Terence de Marney

  SYNOPSIS OF SCENES

  ACT I

  The lounge of the King Solomon Hotel, Jerusalem. Afternoon

  ACT II

  SCENE 1 The Travellers’ Camp at Petra. Early afternoon. A week later

  SCENE 2 The same. Three hours later

  ACT III

  SCENE 1 The same. The following morning

  SCENE 2 The same. The same afternoon

  Time: the present

  AUTHOR’S NOTE

  The effect of the lift ascending and descending can be easily obtained by having a gauze window in the lift door, behind which is a shutter which can be raised as the lift descends and lowered as the lift ascends. There should be a domed light which is always alight, suspended in the lift in sight of the audience.

  Characters should wear semitropical clothes suitable to character and nationality. It will be found effective if all characters wear costume light in colour, except MRS. BOYNTON, who should dress throughout in unrelieved black. The Hotel CLERK wears a grey frock coat and tarboosh. The DRAGOMAN wears a white Arab dress and red tarboosh in the hotel, but changes into brown garments for the camp scenes, as also does the ARAB BOY. COLONEL CARBERY wears the khaki uniform of the Palestine Police, i.e. tunic and shorts with a blue service peaked cap.

  ACT ONE

  SCENE: The lounge of the King Solomon Hotel, Jerusalem. Afternoon.

  Back Centre are three open arches, the centre one giving access to a terrace with a balcony rail with a wide expanse of blue sky beyond. An arch up Right leads to the main entrance, and arches down Right and up Left lead to other parts of the hotel. There is a lift behind a sliding door down Left. A quadrant counter for the reception clerk is up Left. A small table stands Centre with five chairs around it. There is a low table with a chair above it, down Right. Other small tables are set against the walls. On the terrace there are two chairs and a table with a sunshade.

  When Curtain rises, MRS. BOYNTON is seated above the table Centre. She is a vast obese woman, rather like an idol, with an expressionless face. She moves her head and eyes, but not her body. A stick is beside her chair. Her family are grouped round her like courtiers round a queen. GINEVRA BOYNTON, her daughter, sits Right of MRS. BOYNTON. She is a pretty girl of nineteen with a lost, vacant expression. She sits staring into space: occasionally her lips move as though she is talking to herself. Her fingers are picking at a handkerchief which she is tearing in little bits. This is partly masked by the table. NADINE BOYNTON, the daughter-in-law, sits Left of MRS. BOYNTON. She is a quiet woman of twenty-eight. She is sewing. LENNOX BOYNTON, MRS. BOYNTON’s elder son and NADINE’s husband, sits Left of NADINE. He is holding a book upside down and appears to be reading. The HOTEL CLERK is behind his desk. A glamorous ITALIAN GIRL enters up Right and crosses to the desk.

  GIRL. (To the CLERK) La mia chiave, per favore.

  CLERK. (Puzzled) I beg your pardon?

  GIRL. (Emphasizing) Chiave. Ah, you do not understand. My—key—please.

  CLERK. Oh. Certainly, signorina. (He hands her a key.)

  GIRL. Grazie, signor. (She moves towards the lift.)

  (The lift door opens. ALDERMAN HIGGS enters from the lift. He is a portly, middle-aged man and has a broad Lancashire accent. He stands aside to let the GIRL pass, half-raising his hat.)

  (She acknowledges HIGGS’ courtesy with a smile) Signor.

  (The GIRL exits to the lift. The door closes and the lift ascends. HIGGS glances curiously at the BOYNTONS, as though slightly fascinated by their static quality, crosses hurriedly towards the arch up Right, then stops, turns and moves to the desk.)

  HIGGS. (To the CLERK) Any letters for me? Name of ’Iggs.

  CLERK. Letters are at the concierge’s office in the hall, sir.

  HIGGS. Conciurge? Moost you call ’im by these fancy names? What’s wrong with “porter”?

  CLERK. (Indifferently) Just as you please, sir.

  HIGGS. Five quid a day you’re charging me ’ere, and I don’t think so mooch of this place. (He looks around) Give me the Midland at Manchester even if it ’asn’t got so many fancy columns. (He moves to the arch up Right, then stops and returns a step or two) See ’ere, if one of them Dragomen chaps turn oop from Cook’s, askin’ for me, you tell ’im to wait till I coom back. See?

  (HIGGS turns and exits up Right. There is silence. You expect the BOYNTONS to speak, but they do not. NADINE drops her scissors. As she picks them up, MRS. BOYNTON’s head turns to look at her, but she does not speak. GINEVRA’s lips move. She smiles. Her fingers work. A faint whispering sound comes from her. MRS. BOYNTON transfers her attention to GINEVRA, contemplates her in silence for a moment, then speaks in a deep voice.)

  MRS. BOYNTON. Jinny!

  (GINEVRA starts, looks at MRS. BOYNTON, opens her mouth to speak but says nothing. The sound of a bus arriving outside and the murmur of native voices is heard off up Right. MRS. BOYNTON and NADINE look towards the arch up Right. GINEVRA and LENNOX have no reaction. An ARAB BOY, carrying some baggage, enters up Right and crosses to the desk. He gets some directions from the CLERK and exits with the baggage up Left. LADY WESTHOLME, MISS AMABEL PRYCE and DOCTOR GERARD enter up Right and cross to the desk. LADY WESTHOLME is a large important-looking woman in tweeds, very British and country. MISS PRYCE is a typical spinster with a large terai hat and many bead chains and scarves. DOCTOR GERARD is a good-looking, middle-aged Frenchman. He carries a newspaper.)

  LADY WESTHOLME. (Announcing the fact) I am Lady Westholme.

  CLERK. (Indicating a pile of registration forms) You will register, please.

  LADY WESTHOLME. You received my wire from Cairo?

  CLERK. Certainly, Lady Westholme. Your rooms are reserved. One-one-eight and one-one-nine on the second floor.

  LADY WESTHOLME. I prefer the first floor.

  CLERK. I am afraid we have nothing vacant on the first floor.

  (The ARAB BOY enters up Left.)

  LADY WESTHOLME. (Overpoweringly) I have chosen to stay here instead of at the High Commissioner’s and I expect to be treated properly. If there are no rooms vacant on the first floor, somebody must be moved. You understand?

  CLERK. (Defeated) If your ladyship will go temporarily to the second floor we will arrange something before tonight. Can I have your passport, please? (He indicates the form) Surname, Christian names and nationality, please.

  (LADY WESTHOLME fills up the form.)

  LADY WESTHOLME. (As she writes; loudly) British.

  GERARD. (Softly) Very definitely.

  CLERK. (To the ARAB BOY) Boy. (He hands a key to the ARAB BOY.)

  (The ARAB BOY moves to the lift. LADY WESTHOLME follows him. MRS. BOYNTON follows LADY WESTHOLME with her eyes. MISS PRYCE struggles with her form.)

  MISS PRYCE. Oh, dear, I hope I’ve filled this in right. I always find these forms so confusing.

  GERARD. (Helping MISS PRYCE) The nationality here. You, too, are British.

  (The ARAB BOY rings the lift bell and returns to the desk. LADY WESTHOLME waits impatiently.)

  MISS PRYCE. Oh, well—yes, certainly—at least—really, you know—(Confidentially) I’m Welsh—but still, it’s all the same. (She drops her handbag.)

  GERARD. (Picking up the handbag) A
llow me.

  MISS PRYCE. (Taking the bag) Oh, thank you. (To the CLERK) Have you—is there—I believe you have a room booked for me—one with a view towards the Dead Sea, I asked for.

  CLERK. The name?

  MISS PRYCE. Oh, dear me—how stupid of me. Pryce. Miss Pryce. Miss Amabel Pryce.

  (The lift descends and the door opens. LADY WESTHOLME exits to the lift.)

  CLERK. (To the ARAB BOY) Number four-eighty-four. (He hands him a key.)

  (The ARAB BOY moves to the lift. MISS PRYCE drops her handbag. GERARD picks up the bag.)

  MISS PRYCE. So stupid of me. (She takes the bag.) Thank you so much.

  (The ARAB BOY exits to the lift.)

  (She hurries to the lift. Wait for me! Wait for me!

  (MISS PRYCE exits to the lift. The door closes and the lift ascends.)

  GERARD. (To the CLERK) Doctor Theodore Gerard. (He fills in a form.)

  CLERK. Oh, yes, Doctor Gerard. Number one-eight-four. (He hands him a key.)

  (GERARD moves to the lift and waits. GENEVRA looks at GERARD. The lift descends and the door opens. SARAH KING enters from the lift. She is an attractive, decided-looking girl of twenty-three. She passes GERARD, hesitates, then smiles at him. GERARD bows.)

  GERARD. How do you do?

  SARAH. I’m so pleased to see you. I never thanked you for helping me the other night at the station in Cairo.

  GERARD. That was nothing—a pleasure. You are enjoying Jerusalem, Miss—er . . . ?

  SARAH. King—Doctor Sarah King.

  GERARD. (Gaily) Ah, we are colleagues. (He takes a card from his pocket and hands it to her.) Doctor Gerard.

  SARAH. Colleagues? (She looks at the card.) Doctor Theodore Gerard. Oh. (Reverently) Are you the Doctor Gerard? But yes, you must be.

  GERARD. I am Doctor Theodore Gerard. So, as I say, we are colleagues.

  SARAH. Yes, but you’re distinguished and I am only starting.

  GERARD. (Smiling) Oh, well, I hope it will not be like your English proverb—wait a minute so that I get it right. (Slowly) “Doctors differ and patients die.”

  SARAH. Fancy your knowing that! Just as well we haven’t any patients. Have you just come in on the afternoon train?

  GERARD. Yes. With a very important English lady. (He grimaces) Lady Westholme. Since God is not in Jerusalem, she is forced to put up with the King Solomon Hotel.

  SARAH. (Laughing) Lady Westholme is a political big bug. In her own eyes at any rate. She’s always heckling the Government about housing or equal pay for women. She was an undersecretary or something—but she lost her seat at the last election.

  GERARD. Not the type that interests you?

  SARAH. No—but—(She drops her voice and draws GERARD up Left) there’s someone over there who does. Don’t look at once. It’s an American family. They were on the train with me yesterday. I talked to the son.

  (GERARD looks at LENNOX)

  Not that one—a younger one. He was rather nice. Extraordinary-looking old woman, isn’t she? Her family seem absolutely devoted to her.

  GERARD. (In a low voice) Possibly because they know she will not long be with them. You recognized the signs?

  SARAH. How long would you give her?

  GERARD. Perhaps six months—who knows? You will have a drink?

  SARAH. Not now. (She glances at her watch.) I’ve got to call for a parcel at one of the shops. I must hurry. (She gives him a friendly nod.) Another time.

  (SARAH crosses and exits quickly up Right. GERARD looks after her a moment, then turns to the CLERK.)

  GERARD. Cinzano à l’eau, please. (He moves down Left, then crosses slowly below the table Centre to Right, glancing as he passes at the book LENNOX is holding. He sits in the chair down Right, and opens his newspaper, covertly studying the BOYNTONS.)

  (The CLERK claps his hands. The ARAB BOY enters up Left. The CLERK gives him GERARD’s order. The ARAB BOY exits up Left. GINEVRA raises her head and watches GERARD. Her fingers twist and tear her handkerchief.)

  MRS. BOYNTON. (Her voice sudden and deep) Ginevra you’re tired.

  (GINEVRA jumps.)

  You’d better go and rest.

  GINEVRA. I’m not tired, Mother. I’m not really.

  MRS. BOYNTON. Yes, you are. I always know. I don’t think—(She pauses) I don’t think you’ll be able to do any sightseeing tomorrow.

  (The lift door closes and the lift ascends.)

  GINEVRA. Oh, but I shall. (Vehemently) I’m quite all right.

  MRS. BOYNTON. No, you’re not. (With slow relish) You’re going to be ill.

  GINEVRA. (Rising; hysterically) I’m not. I’m not.

  MRS. BOYNTON. Go up and lie down.

  GINEVRA. I’m not going to be ill. I don’t want to be ill.

  MRS. BOYNTON. I always know.

  NADINE. I’ll come up with you, Jinny.

  MRS. BOYNTON. No, let her go up alone.

  GINEVRA. I want Nadine to come. (Her handkerchief slips from her fingers to the floor.)

  NADINE. (Putting her sewing on the table) Then, of course, I will. (She rises.)

  MRS. BOYNTON. The child prefers to go by herself. (She fixes GINEVRA with her eye) Don’t you, Jinny?

  GINEVRA. (After a pause; mechanically) Yes—I’d rather go alone. Thank you, Nadine. (She crosses slowly to the lift.)

  (MRS. BOYNTON follows GINEVRA with her eyes. NADINE resumes her seat and picks up her sewing. The lift descends and the door opens. The ITALIAN GIRL enters from the lift. She has changed into a very revealing sunsuit, and carries a magazine and an unlighted cigarette in a long holder.

  GINEVRA passes the GIRL, and exits into the lift. The door closes and the lift ascends. The GIRL goes to the CLERK, who lights her cigarette for her.)

  GIRL. (To the CLERK) I would like a Martini on the terrace, please. (She goes on to the terrace and sits Right of the table under the sunshade.)

  (The ARAB BOY enters up Left, with GERARD’s drink on a tray. He crosses above the table Centre and puts the glass on the table beside GERARD. He then returns to the desk, takes the GIRL’s order from the CLERK and exits up Left.

  JEFFERSON COPE enters breezily up Right. He is about forty-five; a pleasant, normal, rather old-fashioned American.)

  COPE. (Moving to Right of the table Centre) I was looking around for you all. (He shakes hands all round, then stands Right of the table.) How do you find yourself, Mrs. Boynton? Not too tired by the journey from Cairo?

  MRS. BOYNTON. (Suddenly very gracious) No, thank you. My health’s never good, as you know . . .

  COPE. Why, of course. (Sympathetically) Too bad, too bad.

  MRS. BOYNTON. But I’m certainly no worse. (She looks at NADINE.) Nadine takes good care of me, don’t you, Nadine?

  NADINE. (Without expression) I do my best.

  COPE. (Heartily) Why, I bet you do. Well, Lennox, and what do you think of King David’s city?

  (LENNOX continues to look at his book and does not answer.)

  MRS. BOYNTON. Lennox!

  LENNOX. (As from the very far away) Sorry—what did you say, Cope?

  COPE. (Crossing above the table to Left Centre) I asked what you thought of King David’s city.

  LENNOX. Oh—I don’t know.

  COPE. Find it kind of disappointing, do you? I’ll confess it struck me that way at first. But perhaps you haven’t been around much yet?

  LENNOX. We can’t do much because of Mother.

  MRS. BOYNTON. A couple of hours’ sightseeing is about all I can do.

  COPE. I think it’s wonderful you manage to do all you do, Mrs. Boynton.

  MRS. BOYNTON. I don’t give in to my body. It’s the mind that matters—(With secret zest) yes, the mind.

  (RAYMOND BOYNTON enters up Right and moves to Right of the table. He is a good-looking young man of twenty-four. He is smiling and looking happy. He carries a wrapped bottle of medicine.)

  COPE. Hullo, Ray, caught sight of you just now as I came in—but you were too busy to see me. (He laughs.)
>
  MRS. BOYNTON. Busy? (She turns her head slowly to look at RAYMOND.)

  (RAYMOND’s smile vanishes)

  Did you get my medicine at the chemist?

  RAYMOND. Yes, Mother, here it is. (He hands her the package, avoiding her eye.)

  COPE. That was a nice-looking girl you were talking to, Ray.

  MRS. BOYNTON. A girl? What girl? (She puts the package on the table.)

  RAYMOND. (Nervously) She was on the train last night. I helped her with some of her cases—they were a bit heavy.

  MRS. BOYNTON. (Intent on RAYMOND) I see.

  RAYMOND. (Turning desperately to COPE) I suppose you’ve seen all there is to see by this time.

  (The ARAB BOY enters up Left. He carries a tray with the GIRL’s drink. He goes on to the terrace, puts the glass on the table, then exits up Left.)

  COPE. Well, I hope to have done Jerusalem pretty thoroughly in another couple of days and then I’m going to have a look at Petra, the rose-red city of Petra—a most remarkable natural phenomenon, right off the beaten track.

  MRS. BOYNTON. “A rose-red city—half as old as time.”

  RAYMOND. It sounds marvellous.

  COPE. It’s certainly worth seeing. (He hesitates, moves Left, then returns to Left of MRS. BOYNTON.) I wonder if I couldn’t persuade some of you people to come along with me? I know you couldn’t manage it, Mrs. Boynton, and naturally some of your family would want to remain with you—but if you were to divide forces, so to speak . . . (He looks from one to the other of them, finally at MRS. BOYNTON.)

  MRS. BOYNTON. (Expressionless) I don’t think that we’d care to divide up. We’re a very united family. (She pauses) What do you say, children?

  MRS. BOYNTON. You see. They won’t leave me. What about you, Nadine? You didn’t say anything.

  NADINE. No, thank you, not unless Lennox cares about it.

  MRS. BOYNTON. Well, Lennox, what about it? Why don’t you and Nadine go? She seems to want to.

  LENNOX. (Nervously) I—well—no—I—I—think we’d better all stay together.