The Mousetrap and Other Plays

by Agatha Christie

  MIDGE. (Crossing to Left of the coffee table) Good morning. (She kneels, takes the vase from the coffee table and starts filling it with the dahlias.)

  JOHN. Good morning.

  MIDGE. Gerda up yet?

  JOHN. No, she had breakfast in bed. She had a headache. I told her to lie in for once.

  MIDGE. I meant to spend the whole morning in bed, but it was so lovely outside that I couldn’t.

  JOHN. Where’s Henrietta?

  MIDGE. I don’t know. She was with me just now. She may be in the rose garden.

  (JOHN exits up Centre to Right. LADY ANGKATELL enters Left. She carries a basket of eggs.)

  LADY ANGKATELL. Music? (She moves to the radio.) Oh no, dear, oh no—no. (She switches off the radio.) Stop! We can’t be swinging so early in the day.

  MIDGE. I wish you’d do these dahlias, Lucy. They defeat me.

  LADY ANGKATELL. (Crossing to the drinks table) Do they, darling? (She puts the basket on the floor Left of the drinks table.) What a shame—never mind. (She moves dreamily to the writing table.) Now then, what did I want? Ah, I know. (She lifts the telephone receiver.) Now let me see—ah yes, this thing. (She cradles the receiver first in one arm and then in the other.)

  (MIDGE stares amazed at LADY ANGKATELL.)

  (With satisfaction) Ah! I see what it is. (She replaces the receiver.)

  MIDGE. What are you doing. Lucy?

  LADY ANGKATELL. Doing?

  MIDGE. You seemed to be having a kind of game with the telephone receiver.

  LADY ANGKATELL. Oh, that was Mrs. Bagshaw’s baby. (She looks at MIDGE.) You’ve got the wrong vase, darling.

  MIDGE. (Rising) What did you say?

  LADY ANGKATELL. I said you’d got the wrong vase. It’s the white vase for dahlias.

  MIDGE. No, I meant what did you say about somebody’s baby?

  LADY ANGKATELL. Oh, that was the telephone receiver, my pet.

  MIDGE. (Moving to the drinks table) I don’t wonder that Gerda Cristow nearly has a nervous breakdown every time you talk to her. (She picks up the white vase and jug of water from the drinks table, moves and puts them on the coffee table.) What has Mrs. Bagshaw’s baby got to do with the telephone receiver? (She pours some water into the vase and fills it with the dahlias, during the ensuing speeches.)

  LADY ANGKATELL. She seemed to be holding it—the baby, I mean—upside down. So I was trying this way and that way. And of course I see what it is—she’s left-handed. That’s why it looked all wrong. Is John Cristow down yet?

  MIDGE. Yes, he went into the garden to look for Henrietta.

  LADY ANGKATELL. (Sitting on the sofa at the Right end of it) Oh! Do you think that was very wise of him?

  MIDGE. What do you mean?

  LADY ANGKATELL. Well, I don’t want to say anything . . .

  MIDGE. Come on, Lucy. Give.

  LADY ANGKATELL. Well, you know, darling, that I don’t sleep very well. And when I can’t sleep I’m inclined to prowl around the house.

  MIDGE. I know, half the guests think it’s burglars, the other half think it’s ghosts.

  LADY ANGKATELL. Well, I happened to be looking through the passage window. John was just coming back to the house, and it was close on three o’clock.

  (There is a pause. MIDGE and LADY ANGKATELL look at each other.)

  MIDGE. (Picking up the jug and vase of dahlias and crossing with them to the drinks table) Even for old friends who have a lot to say to each other, three in the morning is a little excessive. (She puts the jug and vase on the drinks table.) One wonders what Gerda thinks about it.

  LADY ANGKATELL. One wonders if Gerda thinks.

  MIDGE. (Easing above the sofa) Even the meekest of wives may turn.

  LADY ANGKATELL. I don’t think Henrietta was sleeping very well either last night. The light was on in her room, and I thought I saw her curtains move.

  MIDGE. Really, John is a fool.

  LADY ANGKATELL. He’s a man who’s always taken risks—and usually got away with them.

  MIDGE. One day he’ll go too far. This was a bit blatant, even for him.

  LADY ANGKATELL. My dear child, he couldn’t help himself. That woman just sailed in last night and—grabbed him. I must say I admired her performance. It was so beautifully timed and planned.

  MIDGE. Do you think it was planned?

  LADY ANGKATELL. (Rising) Well, darling, come, come. (She smiles, picks up the Daily Mirror and crosses to the fireplace.)

  MIDGE. You may say, in your detached way, she gave a beautiful performance—but it remains to be seen whether Gerda and Henrietta agree with you.

  (SIR HENRY enters Left. He carries two revolvers.)

  SIR HENRY. (Crossing to Right) Just going to have a little practice down at the targets. Like to come along and try your hand, Midge?

  MIDGE. I’ve never shot with a pistol or a revolver in my life. I shall probably drill a hole in you, Cousin Henry.

  SIR HENRY. I’ll take jolly good care that you don’t.

  MIDGE. Well, it would be nice to think that I might some day be able to turn the tables on a burglar.

  SIR HENRY. Every woman ought to learn to shoot with a revolver.

  LADY ANGKATELL. (Moving and sitting in the armchair Left Centre.) Now you’re on Henry’s hobby. He has a whole collection of pistols and revolvers, including a lovely pair of French duelling pistols. (She starts to read the paper.)

  MIDGE. Don’t you have to have licences for them?

  SIR HENRY. Of course.

  MIDGE. Have you ever had a burglar?

  SIR HENRY. Not yet, but we live in hopes. If he does come, Lucy will probably shoot him dead.

  MIDGE. (Surprised) Lucy?

  SIR HENRY. Lucy’s a far better shot than I am. Lucy always gets her man.

  MIDGE. I shall be simply terrified.

  (She exits Right. SIR HENRY follows her off. HENRIETTA enters up Centre from Left.)

  HENRIETTA. (Easing above the sofa) Hullo, are the Angkatells going to exterminate each other?

  LADY ANGKATELL. They’ve gone down to the targets. Why don’t you join them, Henrietta?

  HENRIETTA. Yes, I will. I was rather good last spring. Are you going, Lucy?

  LADY ANGKATELL. Yes. No. I must do something about my eggs first. (She looks around.)

  HENRIETTA. Eggs?

  LADY ANGKATELL. Yes, they are over there in the basket, darling.

  (HENRIETTA moves to the drinks table, picks up the basket of eggs and takes it to LADY ANGKATELL.)

  Oh! Thank you, my pet. (She puts the basket on the floor Right of her chair, then resumes reading.)

  HENRIETTA. (Moving down Centre) Where’s Edward?

  LADY ANGKATELL. I think he took his gun and went up to the woods. Henry was going with him—but someone came to see him about something.

  HENRIETTA. I see. (She stands lost in thought.)

  (Two revolver SHOTS are heard off Right.)

  LADY ANGKATELL. Doing any work this morning?

  HENRIETTA. (Sitting on the sofa) No. It’s gone stale on me.

  (A revolver SHOT is heard off Right.)

  LADY ANGKATELL. I think it’s so clever of you, darling—doing all these odd abstract things.

  HENRIETTA. I thought you didn’t like them, Lucy.

  LADY ANGKATELL. No, I’ve always thought them rather silly. But I think it’s so clever of you to know they’re not.

  (GERDA enters hurriedly Left. She looks alarmed.)

  GERDA. I heard shots—quite near the house.

  LADY ANGKATELL. Nothing, darling—Henry—target practice—they’ve got targets in what used to be the bowling alley.

  HENRIETTA. (Rising) Come and have a try, Gerda.

  GERDA. Is it difficult? (She crosses to HENRIETTA.)

  HENRIETTA. No, of course not. You just close your eyes and press the trigger and the bullet goes somewhere.

  (Two SHOTS are heard off Right. HENRIETTA and GERDA exit Right. A SHOT is heard off Right. LADY ANGKATELL rises, crosses to the coff
ee table, puts the newspaper on it, and picks up the vase and odd leaves. Two SHOTS are heard off Right. LADY ANGKATELL crosses to the wastepaper basket, drops the leaves in it, then moves to the drinks table and puts the vase on it. Two SHOTS are heard off Right. JOHN enters up Centre from Right. He is smoking a cigarette.)

  JOHN. Has the war started?

  LADY ANGKATELL. Yes, dear—no, dear. Henry. Target practice.

  JOHN. He’s very keen. I remember.

  LADY ANGKATELL. Why don’t you join them?

  JOHN. (Crossing to the fireplace) I ought to write some letters. (He stubs out his cigarette in the ashtray on the mantelpiece.) I wonder if you’d mind if I wrote them in here?

  LADY ANGKATELL. (Easing above the sofa) Of course. You’ll find stamps in the little drawer. If you put the letters on the hall table, Gudgeon will see that they go.

  JOHN. This is the best run house in England.

  LADY ANGKATELL. Bless you, darling. Now let me see—(She looks around) where did I lay my eggs? Ah, there, by the chair. (She picks up the basket of eggs and moves to the door Left.)

  JOHN. I didn’t quite understand what you meant.

  (LADY ANGKATELL exits Left. JOHN crosses to the writing table, and takes a note from his pocket. He reads it, then crumples it and throws it into the wastepaper basket. He sits, sighs heavily and starts to write. VERONICA enters up Centre from Left. She carries a large, very flamboyant, red suède handbag.)

  VERONICA. (Standing at the French window up Centre; imperiously) John.

  JOHN. (Turning; startled) Veronica. (He rises.)

  VERONICA. (Moving down Centre) I sent you a note asking you to come over at once. Didn’t you get it?

  JOHN. (Pleasantly, but with reserve) Yes, I got it.

  VERONICA. Well, why didn’t you come? I’ve been waiting.

  JOHN. I’m afraid it wasn’t convenient for me to come over this morning.

  VERONICA. (Crossing to Left of JOHN) Can I have a cigarette, please?

  JOHN. Yes, of course. (He offers her a cigarette from his case.)

  (Before he can give her a light, VERONICA takes her own lighter from her handbag and lights the cigarette herself.)

  VERONICA. I sent for you because we’ve got to talk. We’ve got to make arrangements. For our future, I mean.

  JOHN. Have we a future?

  VERONICA. Of course we’ve got a future. We’ve wasted ten years. There’s no need to waste any more time. (She sits on the sofa, Centre of it, and puts her handbag on the Right end of the sofa.)

  JOHN. (Easing to Right of the sofa) I’m sorry, Veronica. I’m afraid you’ve got this worked out the wrong way. I’ve—enjoyed meeting you again very much, but you know we don’t really belong together—we’re worlds apart.

  VERONICA. Nonsense, John. I love you and you love me. We’ve always loved each other. You were very obstinate in the past. But never mind that now.

  (JOHN crosses above the sofa to Left of it.)

  Look, our lives needn’t clash. I don’t mean to go back to the States for quite a while. When I’ve finished the picture I’m working on now, I’m going to play a straight part on the London stage. I’ve got a new play—Elderton’s written it for me. It’ll be a terrific success.

  JOHN. (Politely) I’m sure it will.

  VERONICA. (Condescendingly) And you can go on being a doctor. You’re quite well-known, they tell me.

  JOHN. (Moving down Left Centre; irritably) I am a fairly well-known consultant on certain diseases—if it interests you—but I imagine it doesn’t.

  VERONICA. What I mean is we can both get on with our own jobs. It couldn’t have worked out better.

  JOHN. (Surveying her dispassionately) You really are the most interesting character. Don’t you realize that I’m a married man—I have children?

  VERONICA. (Rising and crossing to Right of JOHN) Well, I’m married myself at the moment. But these things are easily arranged. A good lawyer can fix anything. (Softly) I always did mean to marry you, darling. I can’t think why I have this terrible passion for you—(She puts her arms around JOHN’s neck) but there it is.

  JOHN. (Shaking her off; brusquely) I’m sorry, Veronica. (He moves to the fireplace.) It’s out of the question.

  VERONICA. But I tell you a good lawyer can easily fix . . .

  JOHN. No good lawyer is going to fix anything. Your life and mine have nothing in common.

  VERONICA. (Moving to Right of JOHN and facing him) Not after last night?

  JOHN. You’re not a child, Veronica. You’ve had two husbands and, I’ve no doubt, a good many lovers. What does “last night” mean exactly? Nothing at all, and you know it.

  VERONICA. If you’d seen your face, yesterday evening—when I came through that window—we might have been back in the South of France all those years ago.

  JOHN. I was back in the South of France. (Gently) Try to understand, Veronica. You came to me last night straight out of the past. I’d been thinking about you. Wondering whether I’d been as wise a young man as I’d thought myself—or whether I’d simply been a coward. And suddenly—there you were—like a dream come to life. But you were a dream. Today I’m back in the present, a man ten years older. (He crosses to Left of the sofa.) A man you don’t know and probably wouldn’t like very much if you did know him.

  VERONICA. Are you telling me that you prefer your wife to me?

  JOHN. Yes—yes, I am. (He sits on the sofa at the Left end of it.) I’ve suddenly realized how very much fonder I am of her than I knew. When I got back to this house last night—or in the early hours of the morning—I suddenly saw how stupidly I’d risked losing everything in the world I need. Fortunately, Gerda was asleep. She’d no idea what time I got back. She believes I left you quite early.

  VERONICA. Your wife must be a very credulous woman.

  JOHN. She loves me—and she trusts me.

  VERONICA. She’s a fool! (She crosses to Left of the sofa.) And anyway, I don’t believe a word of what you say. You love me.

  JOHN. I’m sorry, Veronica.

  VERONICA. (Breaking down Centre; incredulously) You don’t love me?

  JOHN. I’ve been perfectly frank with you. You are a very beautiful and very seductive woman, Veronica—(He rises and moves up Right of the sofa) but I don’t love you.

  VERONICA. (Furiously) You belong to me, John. (She moves below the sofa.) You always have. Ever since I got to England, I’ve been thinking about you, planning how best to meet you again. (She kneels on the sofa.) Why do you think I took this idiotic cottage down here? Simply because I found out that you often came down for weekends with the Angkatells.

  JOHN. So it was all planned last night. (He crosses above the sofa to Right of the armchair Left Centre.) I noticed your lighter was working this morning.

  VERONICA. (Rising and turning) You belong to me.

  JOHN. (Coldly angry) I don’t belong to anyone. Where do you get this idea that you can own another human being? I loved you once and I wanted you to marry me and share my life. (He moves to the fireplace and stands with his back to it.) You wouldn’t.

  VERONICA. My life and my career were much more important than yours. Anyone can be a doctor. (She stubs out her cigarette in the ashtray on the coffee table.)

  JOHN. Are you really quite as important as you think?

  VERONICA. (Crossing to Right of JOHN) If I’m not right at the top yet, I will be.

  JOHN. I wonder. I rather doubt it. There’s something lacking in you, Veronica—what is it? Warmth—generosity—you give nothing. You take—take—take all the time.

  VERONICA. (Speaking in a low voice convulsed with rage) You turned me down ten years ago. You’ve turned me down today. My God, I’ll make you suffer for it!

  JOHN. I’m sorry if I’ve hurt you, Veronica. You’re very lovely, my dear, and I once cared for you very much. Can’t we leave it at that?

  VERONICA. No. (She crosses to the French windows up Centre, turns and stands in the window.) You be careful of yourself, John Cristow
. I hate you more than I ever thought it possible to hate anyone.

  JOHN. (Annoyed) Oh!

  VERONICA. And don’t fool yourself that I believe you’re turning me down because of your wife. It’s that other woman.

  JOHN. What other woman?

  VERONICA. The one who came through that door last night and stood looking at you. If I can’t have you, nobody else shall have you, John. Understand that.

  (She exits angrily up Centre to Left, leaving her handbag on the sofa. JOHN stands looking after her for a moment, then crosses to the writing table, picks up the letter he has been writing, tears it up and puts it in the wastepaper basket. GUDGEON enters Right, crosses to Left of the sofa, turns and sees JOHN.)

  GUDGEON. I beg your pardon, sir, do you know where her ladyship is?

  JOHN. They’re all down in the target alley, I believe.

  GUDGEON. They finished shooting some time ago, sir.

  (JOHN takes VERONICA’s note from his pocket, screws it up, drops it in the direction of the wastepaper basket, but it misses and falls alongside.)

  JOHN. (Moving to the bookshelves above the drinks table) Then they must be in the garden somewhere.

  (GUDGEON crosses below the sofa, picks up the crumpled note, puts it in the wastepaper basket, then picks up the wastepaper basket, crosses and exits Left. JOHN selects a book from the bookshelves, moves above the sofa and glances at the opening pages. There is a noise off from the Left end of the terrace up Centre. JOHN drops the book on the sofa, goes on to the terrace faces Left, and gives a sudden start of alarm.

  Why! What are you doing? Put that down. Why you . . .

  (The sound of a revolver SHOT is heard up Centre. JOHN staggers down the steps, tries to cross to the door Left, then collapses on the floor down Left Centre. A revolver is tossed on to the terrace up from Left. There is a pause, then GERDA enters quickly down Left. She carries her leathercraft bag. She runs to Left of JOHN.)

  GERDA. John—oh, John! (She crosses up Centre, goes on to the terrace, picks up the revolver, looks off Left, then stands at the top of the steps, facing front.)

  (GUDGEON enters hurriedly Left. A moment later SIR HENRY enters Right. He is followed on by MIDGE.)