The Mousetrap and Other Plays

by Agatha Christie

  LATIMER. Why?

  KAY. I don’t know—to cause trouble probably.

  LATIMER. (Moving to Kay and touching her arm.) What you want is a drink, my girl.

  KAY. (Moving his hand from her arm, irritably.) I don’t want a drink and I’m not your girl.

  LATIMER. You would have been if Nevile hadn’t come along. (He moves to the butler’s tray and pours two glasses of whisky and soda.) Where is Nevile, by the way?

  KAY. I’ve no idea.

  LATIMER. They’re not a very sociable crowd, are they? Audrey’s out on the terrace talking to old Treves, and that fellow Royde’s strolling about the garden all by himself, puffing at that eternal pipe of his. Nice, cheery lot.

  KAY. (Crossly.) I wouldn’t care a damn if they were all at the bottom of the sea—except Nevile.

  LATIMER. I should have felt much happier, darling, if you’d included Nevile. (He picks up the drinks and takes one to Kay.) You drink that, my sweet. You’ll feel much better. (Kay takes her drink and sips it.)

  KAY. God, it’s strong.

  LATIMER. More soda?

  KAY. No, thanks. I wish you wouldn’t make it so clear you don’t like Nevile.

  LATIMER. Why should I like him? He’s not my sort. (Bitterly.) The ideal Englishman—good at sport, modest, good-looking, always the little pukka sahbit. Getting everything he wants all along the line—even pinched my girl.

  KAY. I wasn’t your girl.

  LATIMER. (Moving above the coffee table.) Yes, you were. If I’d been as well off as Nevile . . .

  KAY. I didn’t marry Nevile for his money.

  LATIMER. Oh, I know, and I understand—Mediterranean nights and dewy-eyed romance . . .

  KAY. I married Nevile because I fell in love with him.

  LATIMER. I’m not saying you didn’t, my sweet, but his money helped you to fall.

  KAY. Do you really think that?

  LATIMER. (Moving up C.) I try to—it helps soothe my injured vanity.

  KAY. (Rising and moving to L. of him.) You’re rather a dear, Ted—I don’t know what I should do without you, sometimes.

  LATIMER. Why try? I’m always around. You should know that by this time. The faithful swain—or should it be swine? Probably depends which you happen to be—the wife or the husband. (He kisses Kay’s shoulder. Mary enters L. She wears a plain dinner frock. Kay moves hastily on to the rostrum up L.)

  MARY. (Pointedly.) Have either of you seen Mr. Treves? Lady Tressilian wants him.

  LATIMER. He’s out on the terrace, Miss Aldin.

  MARY. Thank you, Mr. Latimer. (She closes the door.) Isn’t it stifling? I’m sure there’s going to be a storm. (She crosses to the French windows.)

  LATIMER. I hope it holds off until I get back to the hotel. (He moves to L. of Mary and glances off.) I didn’t bring a coat. I’ll get soaked to the skin going over in the ferry if it rains.

  MARY. I daresay we could find you an umbrella if necessary, or Nevile could lend you his raincoat. (Mary exits by the French windows.)

  LATIMER. (Moving up C.) Interesting woman, that—bit of a dark horse.

  KAY. I feel rather sorry for her. (She moves to the armchair L. C., sits and sips her drink.) Slaving for that unpleasant old woman—and she won’t get anything for it, either. All the money comes to me and Nevile.

  LATIMER. (Moving to R. of Kay.) Perhaps she doesn’t know that.

  KAY. That would be rather funny. (They laugh. Audrey and Treves enter by the French windows. Treves is wearing an old-fashioned dinner suit. Audrey is in evening dress. She notices Latimer and Kay together, then moves below the chaise. Treves stops in the doorway and speaks over his shoulder.)

  TREVES. I shall enjoy a little gossip with Lady Tressilian, Miss Aldin. With, perhaps, the remembering of a few old scandals. A touch of malice, you know, adds a certain savour to conversation. (He crosses to the door L.) Doesn’t it, Audrey?

  AUDREY. She chooses the person she wants and summons them by a kind of Royal Command.

  TREVES. Very aptly put, Audrey. I am always sensible of the royal touch in Lady Tressilian’s manner. (Treves exits L.)

  AUDREY. (Listlessly.) It’s terribly hot, isn’t it? (She sits on the chaise.)

  LATIMER. (With a step towards the butler’s tray.) Would you—like a drink?

  AUDREY. (Shaking her head.) No, thank you. I think I shall go to bed very soon. (There is a short silence. Nevile enters L. He is wearing a dinner suit and is carrying a magazine.)

  KAY. What have you been doing all this time, Nevile?

  NEVILE. I had a couple of letters to write—thought I might as well get ’em off my chest.

  KAY. (Rising.) You might have chosen some other time. (She moves to the butler’s tray and puts her glass on it.)

  NEVILE. (Crossing and standing above the coffee table.) Better the hour, better the deed. By the way, here’s the Illustrated News. Somebody wanted it.

  KAY. (Holding out her hand.) Thank you, Nevile.

  AUDREY. (At almost the same moment.) Oh! Thank you, Nevile. (She holds out her hand. Nevile hesitates between them, smiling.)

  KAY. (With a slight note of hysteria.) I want it. Give it to me.

  AUDREY. (Withdrawing her hand, slightly confused.) Oh, sorry. I thought you were speaking to me, Nevile. (Nevile hesitates for a moment, then holds out the magazine to Audrey.)

  NEVILE. (Quietly.) Here you are, Audrey.

  AUDREY. Oh, but I . . .

  KAY. (In suppressed fury, and almost crying.) It is stifling in here. (She moves quickly to the coffee table, picks up her evening bag and rushes below the chaise to the French windows.) Let’s go out in the air, Ted. I can’t stand being cooped up in this lousy hole any longer. (Kay almost stumbles as she exits by the French windows. Latimer, with an angry look at Nevile, follows Kay off. Nevile tosses the magazine on to the coffee table.)

  AUDREY. (Rising, reproachfully.) You shouldn’t have done that, Nevile.

  NEVILE. Why not?

  AUDREY. (Crossing below the coffee table and standing down L.) It was stupid. You’d better go after Kay and apologize.

  NEVILE. I don’t see why I should apologize.

  AUDREY. I think you’d better. You were very rude to your wife. (Mary enters by the French windows and stands above the chaise.)

  NEVILE. (In a low voice.) You’re my wife, Audrey. You always will be. (He sees Mary.) Ah—Miss Aldin—are you going up to Lady Tressilian? (Audrey moves on to the L. end of the rostrum.)

  MARY. (Crossing to L. C.) Yes—when Mr. Treves comes down. (Royde enters by the French windows and stands R. of the chaise. Nevile stares for a moment at Royde, then exits by the French windows. Wearily.) Oh, dear! I don’t think I’ve ever felt so tired in my life. If Lady Tressilian’s bell rings tonight, I’m quite certain I shall never hear it. (She sits in the armchair L. C.)

  AUDREY. (Turning and moving to the downstage edge of the rostrum.) What bell?

  MARY. It rings in my room—in case Lady Tressilian should want anything in the night. It’s one of those old-fashioned bells—on a spring and worked with a wire. It makes a ghastly jangle, but Lady Tressilian insists that it’s more reliable than electricity. (She yawns.) Excuse me—it’s this dreadful sultry weather, I think.

  AUDREY. You ought to go to bed, Mary. You look worn out.

  MARY. I shall—as soon as Mr. Treves has finished talking to Lady Tressilian. Then I shall tuck her up for the night and go to bed myself. Oh, dear. It’s been a very trying day. (Latimer enters by the French windows and moves down R.)

  ROYDE. It certainly has.

  AUDREY. (After a look at Latimer.) Thomas! Let’s go on to the terrace. (She crosses to the French windows.)

  ROYDE. (Moving to Audrey.) Yes—I want to tell you about a detective story I’ve been reading . . . (Audrey and Royde exit by the French windows. There is a pause, as Latimer looks after Royde and Audrey for a moment.)

  LATIMER. You and I, Miss Aldin, seem to be the odd men out. We must console each other. (He moves to the
butler’s tray.) Can I get you a drink?

  MARY. No, thank you.

  LATIMER. (Pouring a drink for himself.) One conjugal reconciliation in the rose garden, one faithful swain nerving himself to pop the question. Where do we come in? Nowhere. We’re the outsiders. (He moves to the downstage edge of the rostrum and raises his glass.) Here’s to the outsiders—and to hell with all those inside the ringed fence. (He drinks.)

  MARY. How bitter you are.

  LATIMER. So are you.

  MARY. (After a pause.) Not really.

  LATIMER. (Moving below the coffee table to R. of it.) What’s it like, fetching and carrying, running up and down stairs, endlessly waiting on an old woman?

  MARY. There are worse things.

  LATIMER. I wonder. (He turns and looks towards the terrace.)

  MARY. (After a pause.) You’re very unhappy.

  LATIMER. Who isn’t?

  MARY. Have—(She pauses.) you always been in love with Kay?

  LATIMER. More or less.

  MARY. And she?

  LATIMER. (Moving up R. C.) I thought so—until Nevile came along. Nevile with his money and his sporting record. (He moves to L. of the chaise.) I could go climbing in the Himalayas if I’d ever had the cash.

  MARY. You wouldn’t want to.

  LATIMER. Perhaps not. (Sharply.) What do you want out of life?

  MARY. (Rising, after a pause.) It’s almost too late.

  LATIMER. But not quite.

  MARY. No—not quite. (She moves on to the rostrum.) All I want is a little money—not very much—just enough.

  LATIMER. Enough for what?

  MARY. Enough to have some sort of life of my own before it’s too late. I’ve never had anything.

  LATIMER. (Moving to R. of Mary.) Do you hate them, too, those inside the fence?

  MARY. (Violently.) Hate them—I . . . (She yawns.) No—no—I’m too tired to hate anybody. (Treves enters L.)

  TREVES. Ah, Miss Aldin, Lady Tressilian would like you to go to her now if you will be so kind. I think she’s feeling sleepy.

  MARY. That’s a blessing. Thank you, Mr. Treves. I’ll go up at once. (She crosses to the door L.) I shan’t come down again so I’ll say good night now. Good night, Mr. Latimer. Good night, Mr. Treves.

  LATIMER. Good night. (Mary exits L. Treves moves on to the L. end of the rostrum.) I must be running along myself. With luck I shall get across the ferry and back to the hotel before the storm breaks. (He moves above the chaise. Royde enters by the French windows.)

  ROYDE. Are you going, Latimer? Would you like a raincoat?

  LATIMER. No, thanks, I’ll chance it.

  ROYDE. (Moving on to the rostrum.) Hell of a storm coming.

  TREVES. Is Audrey on the terrace?

  ROYDE. I haven’t the faintest idea. (He crosses to the door L.) I’m for bed. Good night. (Royde exits L. There is a flash of lightning and a low rumble of thunder is heard off.)

  LATIMER. (With malice.) It would seem that the course of true love has not run smoothly. Was that thunder? Some way away still—(He moves to the French windows.) but I think I’ll make it.

  TREVES. I’ll come with you and bolt the garden gate. (He crosses to the French windows. Latimer and Treves exit by the French windows.)

  AUDREY. (Off, to Latimer.) Good night. (Audrey enters rather quickly by the French windows. There is a flash of lightning and a rumble of thunder. Audrey stands for a moment looking around the room, then moves slowly on to the rostrum, sits on the window-seat and looks out at the night. Nevile enters by the French windows and moves above the chaise.)

  NEVILE. Audrey.

  AUDREY. (Rising quickly and moving to the L. end of the rostrum.) I’m going to bed, Nevile. Good night.

  NEVILE. (Moving on to the rostrum.) Don’t go yet. I want to talk to you.

  AUDREY. (Nervously.) I think you’d better not.

  NEVILE. (Moving to R. of her.) I must. I’ve got to. Please listen to me, Audrey.

  AUDREY. (Backing to the L. wall of the window bay.) I’d rather you didn’t.

  NEVILE. That means you know what I’m going to say. (Audrey does not reply.) Audrey, can’t we go back to where we were? Forget everything that has happened?

  AUDREY. (Turning a little.) Including—Kay?

  NEVILE. Kay will be sensible.

  AUDREY. What do you mean by—sensible?

  NEVILE. (Eagerly.) I shall tell her the truth—that you are the only woman I’ve ever loved. That is the truth, Audrey. You’ve got to believe that.

  AUDREY. (Desperately.) You loved Kay when you married her.

  NEVILE. My marriage to Kay was the biggest mistake I ever made. I realize now what a damned fool I’ve been. I . . . (Kay enters by the French windows.)

  KAY. (Moving to R. C.) Sorry to interrupt this touching scene, but I think it’s about time I did.

  NEVILE. (Moving to C. of the rostrum.) Kay, listen . . .

  KAY. (Furiously.) Listen! I’ve heard all I want to hear—too much.

  AUDREY. (With relief.) I’m going to bed. (She moves to the door L.) Good night.

  KAY. (Crossing to R. of Audrey.) That’s right. Go to bed! You’ve done all the mischief you wanted to do, haven’t you? But you’re not going to get out of it as easily as all that. I’ll deal with you after I’ve had it out with Nevile.

  AUDREY. (Coldly.) It’s no concern of mine. Good night. (Audrey exits L. There is a flash of lightning and a peal of thunder off.)

  KAY. (Looking after Audrey.) Of all the damned, cool . . .

  NEVILE. (Moving to R. of the coffee table.) Look here, Kay, Audrey had absolutely nothing to do with this. It’s not her fault. Blame me if you like . . .

  KAY. (Working herself up.) And I do like. What sort of man do you think you are? (She turns to Nevile. Her voice rises.) You leave your wife, come bald-headed after me, get your wife to divorce you. Crazy about me one minute, tired of me the next. Now I suppose you want to go back to that—(She looks towards the door L.) whey-faced, mewling, double-crossing little cat . . .

  NEVILE. (Angrily.) Stop that, Kay.

  KAY. (Moving on to the rostrum.) That’s what she is. A crafty, cunning, scheming, little . . .

  NEVILE. (Moving to Kay and gripping her arms.) Stop it!

  KAY. (Releasing herself.) Leave me alone! (She moves slowly to L. of the chaise.) What the hell do you want?

  NEVILE. (Turning and facing upstage.) I can’t go on. I’m every kind of worm you like to call me. But it’s no good, Kay. I can’t go on. (Kay sits on the chaise. He turns.) I think—really—I must have loved Audrey all the time. I’ve only just realized it. My love for you was—was a kind of madness. But it’s no good—you and I don’t belong. It’s better to cut our losses. (He moves above the chaise to R. of it.)

  KAY. (In a deceptively quiet voice.) What exactly are you suggesting, Nevile?

  NEVILE. We can get a divorce. You can divorce me for desertion.

  KAY. You’d have to wait three years for it.

  NEVILE. I’ll wait.

  KAY. And then, I suppose, you’ll ask dear, sweet, darling Audrey to marry you all over again? Is that the idea?

  NEVILE. If she’ll have me.

  KAY. She’ll have you all right. And where do I come in?

  NEVILE. Naturally, I’ll see you’re well provided for.

  KAY. (Losing control of herself.) Cut out the bribes. (She rises and moves to Nevile.) Listen to me, Nevile. I’ll not divorce you. (She beats her hands against his chest.) You fell in love with me and you married me and I’m not going to let you go back to the sly little bitch who’s got her hooks into you again.

  NEVILE. (Throwing Kay on to the chaise.) Shut up, Kay. For God’s sake. You can’t make this kind of scene here.

  KAY. She meant this to happen. It’s what she’s been playing for. She’s probably gloating over her success now. But she’s not going to bring it off. You’ll see what I can do. (She flings herself on the chaise in a paroxysm of hysterical sobbing. Nevile gives a despairing
gesture. Treves enters by the French windows and stands watching. At the same moment there is a brilliant flash of lightning, a rolling peal of thunder and the storm bursts as—the curtain falls.)

  CURTAIN

  ACT TWO

  Scene I

  SCENE: The same. Early the following morning.

  When the curtain rises, it is a fine morning with the sun streaming in through the bay window. The French windows are open. The butler’s tray has been removed. The room is empty. Royde enters by the French windows. He is sucking at his pipe which appears to have become stopped up. He looks around for an ashtray, sees one on the coffee table, moves to it and knocks out the ashes from his pipe. Finding it is still stopped up, he takes a penknife from his pocket and gently probes the bowl. Treves enters down L.

  TREVES. Good morning, Thomas.

  ROYDE. (Moving above the coffee table.) ’Morning. Going to be another lovely day by the look of it.

  TREVES. Yes. (He goes on to the L. end of the rostrum and looks out of the window.) I thought possibly the storm might have broken up the spell of fine weather, but it has only removed that oppressive heat—which is all to the good. (He moves to the R. end of the rostrum.) You’ve been up for hours as usual, I presume?

  ROYDE. Since just after six. Been for a walk along the cliffs. Only just got back, as a matter of fact.

  TREVES. Nobody else appears to be about yet. Not even Miss Aldin.

  ROYDE. Um.

  TREVES. Possibly she is fully occupied attending to Lady Tressilian. I should imagine she may be rather upset after that unfortunate incident last night. (He moves to L. of the chaise.)

  ROYDE. (Blowing down his pipe.) Bit of a rumpus, wasn’t there?

  TREVES. (Moving down R.) You have a positive genius for understatement, Thomas. That unpleasant scene between Nevile and Kay . . .

  ROYDE. (Surprised.) Nevile and Kay? The row I heard was between Nevile and Lady Tressilian.

  TREVES. (Moving R. of the chaise.) When was this?

  ROYDE. Must have been about twenty past ten. They were going at it hammer and tongs. Couldn’t help hearing. My room’s practically opposite hers, you know.

  TREVES. (Moving above the chaise, troubled.) Dear, dear, this is news to me.