The Mousetrap полностью

MOLLIE. Perhaps.

MISS CASEWELL. (Forcefully) I know. (She moves down Centre.)

MOLLIE. I expect you’re right . . . (She sighs.) But sometimes things happen—to make you remember . . .

MISS CASEWELL. Don’t give in. Turn your back on them.

MOLLIE. Is that really the right way? I wonder. Perhaps that’s all wrong. Perhaps one ought really to face them.

MISS CASEWELL. Depends what you’re talking about.

MOLLIE. (With a slight laugh) Sometimes, I hardly know what I am talking about. (She sits on the sofa.)

MISS CASEWELL. (Moving toMOLLIE) Nothing from the past is going to affect me—except in the way I want it to.

(GILES and TROTTER enter from the stairs Left.)

TROTTER. Well, everything’s all right upstairs. (He looks at the open dining room door, crosses and exits into the dining room. He reappears in the archway up Right.)

(MISS CASEWELL exits into the dining room, leaving the door open. MOLLIE rises and begins to tidy up, rearranging the cushions, then moves up to the curtains. GILES moves up to Left of MOLLIE. TROTTER crosses down Left.)

(Opening the door down Left) What’s in here, drawing room?

(The sound of the piano is heard much louder while the door is open. TROTTER exits into the drawing room and shuts the door. Presently he reappears at the door up Left.)

MRS. BOYLE. (Off) Would you mind shutting that door. This place is full of draughts.

TROTTER. Sorry, madam, but I’ve got to get the lay of the land.

(TROTTER closes the door and exits up the stairs. MOLLIE moves above the armchair Centre.)

GILES. (Coming down to Left of mollie) Mollie, what’s all this . . . ?

(TROTTER reappears down the stairs.)

TROTTER. Well, that completes the tour. Nothing suspicious. I think I’ll make my report now to Superintendent Hogben. (He goes to the telephone.)

MOLLIE. (Moving to Left of the refectory table) But you can’t telephone. The line’s dead . . .

TROTTER. (Swinging round sharply) What? (He picks up the receiver.) Since when?

MOLLIE. Major Metcalf tried it just after you arrived.

TROTTER. But it was all right earlier. Superintendent Hogben got through all right.

MOLLIE. Oh yes. I suppose, since then, the lines are down with the snow.

TROTTER. I wonder. It may have been cut. (He puts the receiver down and turns to them.)

GILES. Cut? But who could cut it?

TROTTER. Mr. Ralston . . . Just how much do you know about these people who are staying in your guest house?

GILES. I—we—we don’t really know anything about them.

TROTTER. Ah. (He moves above the sofa table.)

GILES. (Moving to Right ofTROTTER) Mrs. Boyle wrote from a Bournemouth hotel, Major Metcalf from an address in—where was it?

MOLLIE. Leamington. (She moves to Left ofTROTTER.)

GILES. Wren wrote from Hampstead and the Casewell woman from a private hotel in Kensington. Paravicini, as we’ve told you, turned up out of the blue last night. Still, I suppose they’ve all got ration books—that sort of thing.

TROTTER. I shall go into all that, of course. But there’s not much reliance to be placed on that sort of evidence.

MOLLIE. But even if this—this maniac is trying to get here and kill us all—or one of us, we’re quite safe now. Because of the snow. No one can get here till it melts.

TROTTER. Unless he’s here already.

GILES. Here already?

TROTTER. Why not, Mr. Ralston? All these people arrived here yesterday evening. Some hours after the murder of Mrs. Stanning. Plenty of time to get here.

GILES. But except for Mr. Paravicini, they’d all booked beforehand.

TROTTER. Well, why not? These crimes were planned.

GILES. Crimes? There’s only been one crime. In Culver Street. Why are you sure there will be another here?

TROTTER. That it will happen here, no—I hope to prevent that. That it will be attempted, yes.