by Ayn Rand
[INGALLS makes a step forward]
HASTINGS: Ah. . . . What did you think of, Miss Knowland?
ADRIENNE: I thought . . . [Looks at INGALLS. He is watching her]
INGALLS: [Slowly] What did you think of, Adrienne?
ADRIENNE: I thought . . . I thought that Steve would take advantage of Walter’s absence and . . . and that Steve would be upstairs with Helen, and I wanted to tell Walter about it.
HASTINGS: I see. And what did you do?
ADRIENNE: I went out into the garden—to find Walter.
HASTINGS: And then?
BILLY: Then the fireworks stopped.
HASTINGS: How soon after Miss Knowland left did the fireworks stop?
FLASH: Almost immediately. Almost before she could’ve been a step away.
HASTINGS: And then?
FLASH: Then we waited, but nothing happened. We just talked and—[Stops. Gasps:] Jesus Christ!
HASTINGS: What is it?
FLASH: Jesus Christ, I think we heard it when Mr. Breckenridge was murdered!
HASTINGS: When?
FLASH: Bill, do you remember the dud? Remember there was a kind of crack outside and I thought the fireworks were starting again, but nothing happened and I said it was a dud?
BILLY: Yes.
CURTISS: I heard it too, Mr. Hastings. But there had been so many rockets outside that I thought nothing of it at the time.
HASTINGS: Now that’s interesting. You heard it after the fireworks had stopped?
FLASH: Yes. Quite a bit after. Five minutes or more.
HASTINGS: What happened after that?
BILLY: Nothing. Then Steve came back from the garden, and we talked, and then Flash took me to my room.
HASTINGS: You didn’t see Mrs. Breckenridge or Mr. Fleming come back down these stairs while you were here?
BILLY: No.
HASTINGS: Now, Curtiss, you were in the pantry all that time?
CURTISS: Yes, sir. I was polishing the silver.
HASTINGS: Could you see the back stairway from the second floor all the time you were there?
CURTISS: Yes, sir. The pantry door was open.
HASTINGS: Did you see anyone coming down the stairs?
CURTISS: No, sir.
HASTINGS: [To FLEMING] Well, I guess that lets you out.
FLEMING: [Shrugging] Not necessarily. There’s a window in my room.
HASTINGS: What were you doing in your room? Getting drunk?
FLEMING: Staying drunk.
HASTINGS: And you, Mrs. Breckenridge, were you in your room?
HELEN: Yes.
HASTINGS: Since I can’t see you climbing out of a window, I presume at least that it lets you out.
HELEN: Not necessarily. There’s a balcony outside my room with a perfectly functional stairway leading to the garden.
HASTINGS: Oh. . . . What were you doing in your room?
HELEN: Packing.
HASTINGS: What?
HELEN: My suitcase. I wanted to go back to New York.
HASTINGS: Tonight?
HELEN: Yes.
HASTINGS: Why?
HELEN: Because I felt that I couldn’t stay in this house. [HASTINGS looks at her. She continues quietly:] Don’t you see? I had always wanted a house of my own. I wanted a small, very modern house, simple and healthy, with huge windows and glass brick and clean walls. I wanted to hunt for the latest refrigerators and colored washstands and plastic floor tiles and . . . I wanted to work on it for months, to plan every bit of it. . . . But I was never allowed to plan anything in my life. . . . [Controls herself. Continues in a matter-of-fact voice:] I was ready to leave. I came downstairs. Steve and Tony were here. I was about to go when we heard Adrienne scream . . . and . . . [Finishes with a gesture of her hand, as if to say: “And that was that”]
HASTINGS: I see. . . . Now, Miss Knowland. What were you doing in the garden?
ADRIENNE: I was looking for Walter. But I went in the wrong direction. I went toward the lake. I got lost in the dark. Then I came back and—I found him. Dead. [Looks at HASTINGS, adds:] Of course, I could have been doing anything.
HASTINGS: Is that what you want me to think?
ADRIENNE: I don’t care what you think.
HASTINGS: You know, I would think it—if it weren’t for one fact. The fireworks stopped too soon after you left. You wouldn’t have had the time to get from here to the spot where Mr. Breckenridge was found. And I think it was the murderer who stopped those fireworks—or interrupted Mr. Breckenridge and caused him to stop. Because there’s nothing wrong with the machine it-self. I think the murderer got there when the fire-works stopped. Perhaps earlier. But not later. [Turns to INGALLS] Now, Steve. What were you doing in the garden?
INGALLS: I have no alibi at all, Greg.
HASTINGS: None?
INGALLS: None. I just went for a walk through the grounds. I saw no one and no one saw me.
HASTINGS: Hm. . . . Now, Mr. Goddard. You were playing the piano in the library?
TONY: Yes.
HASTINGS: [To BILLY and FLASH] How long did you hear him playing? Till after the fireworks stopped?
BILLY: Yes, till quite a bit after.
FLASH: Yes.
HASTINGS: [To TONY] Well, that lets you out.
TONY: Not necessarily. If you look through the phonograph records, you will see that there is one of Rachmaninoff’s Prelude in G Minor.
HASTINGS: [Leans back in his chair, disgusted] Is there anyone here who does not want to be the murderer?
FLASH: Oh, I don’t.
SERGE: I think it is horrible! It is horrible that these people should act like this after the death of their benefactor!
HASTINGS: [Turns to look at him with curiosity. Then, to HELEN:] Who is this gentleman?
HELEN: Mr. Serge Sookin. A friend of my husband’s.
HASTINGS: Mr. Sookin, we seem to have forgotten you. Where were you all that time?
SERGE: I was not here at all.
HASTINGS: You weren’t?
BILLY: That’s right. I forgot him. Mr. Sookin left long before everybody else. He went to Stamford.
HASTINGS: [Interested, to SERGE:] You drove to Stamford?
SERGE: Yes. To get the evening newspaper.
HASTINGS: What newspaper?
SERGE: The Courier.
HASTINGS: What time did you leave?
SERGE: I am not certain, I think it was—
INGALLS: A quarter to ten. I looked at my watch. Remember?
SERGE: That is right. You did.
HASTINGS: When did you get back?
SERGE: Just a few minutes before you arrived here. HASTINGS: Which was at ten-thirty. Well, you made pretty good time. You couldn’t have gotten to Stamford and back any faster than that. I presume you didn’t stop anywhere on your way?
SERGE: No.
HASTINGS: Did anyone see you buying that newspaper?
SERGE: No. It was the drugstore, you know, with the newspapers on the box outside the door, and I just took the newspaper and left the five cents. HASTINGS: What drugstore was it?
SERGE: It was . . . yes, it was called Lawton’s.
HASTINGS: You didn’t speak to anybody at Lawton’s?
SERGE: No. [Begins to understand, looks startled for a second, then laughs suddenly] Oh, but it is funny! HASTINGS: What is?
SERGE: [Very pleased] You see, there is no place between here and the Lawton’s drugstore where I could buy a newspaper.
HASTINGS: No, there isn’t.
SERGE: And Mr. Ingalls he said that the Lawton’s drugstore they do not get the last edition of the Courier until ten o’clock, so I could not have had it with me earlier. And I left here at one quarter to ten. And I came back with the last edition of the Courier. And I could not have waited somewhere till four minutes past ten and killed Mr. Breckenridge, because then I could have only twenty-six minutes to get to Stamford and back, and you say that this would not be possible. And it is funny, because it was Mr. Ingalls who gave me the real
alibi like that.
INGALLS: I sincerely regret it.
HASTINGS: Where is the paper you brought, Mr. Sookin?
SERGE: Why, right here . . . right . . . [Looks around. Others look also] But that is strange. It was right here. They were reading it.
TONY: That’s true. I saw the paper. I read the comic strips.
HASTINGS: It was the Courier?
TONY: Yes.
HASTINGS: Who else saw it here?
INGALLS: I did.
HELEN: I did.
FLEMING: I did, too.
HASTINGS: Did any of you notice whether it was the last edition?
INGALLS: No, I didn’t. [The others shake their heads]
HASTINGS: And Mr. Sookin did not seem to mind your reading that paper he brought? He did not seem in a hurry to take it away from you?
HELEN: Why, no.
[INGALLS, TONY, and FLEMING shake their heads]
HASTINGS: No. What I’m thinking wouldn’t be like Mr. Sookin at all.
SERGE: [Still looking for it] But where is it? It was right here.
HASTINGS: Did anyone take that paper?
[They all answer “No” or shake their heads]
SERGE: But this is ridicable!
HASTINGS: Oh, I guess we’ll find it. Sit down, Mr. Sookin. So you have a perfect alibi . . . unless, of course, you telephoned to some accomplice to get that paper for you.
SERGE: What?!
HASTINGS: Did anyone see Mr. Sookin using the telephone? [They ad-lib denials] And, of course, there’s no other place to phone from, closer than Lawton’s. No, I don’t really think you phoned, Mr. Sookin. I just mentioned it. . . . How long have you been in this country, Mr. Sookin?
SERGE: I escaped from Russia during the World War Number Two.
HASTINGS: How long have you known Mr. Breckenridge?
SERGE: About three months.
HASTINGS: What do you do for a living?
SERGE: In my country I was a physicist. That is why Mr. Breckenridge he took an interest in me. Now I am unemployed.
HASTINGS: What do you live on?
SERGE: I get from the Refugees’ Committee the fifteen dollars each week. It is quite sufficient for me.
HASTINGS: And Mr. Breckenridge didn’t help you?
SERGE: Ah, Mr. Breckenridge he offered many times to help me. But money I would not take from him. I wanted to get work. And Mr. Breckenridge wanted to give me the job in his laboratories. But Mr. Ingalls refused.
HASTINGS: Oh? [To INGALLS] Is that right, Steve?
INGALLS: That’s right.
HASTINGS: Why did you refuse?
INGALLS: Well, I’ll tell you: I don’t like people who talk too much about their love for humanity.
HASTINGS: But how could you override Mr. Breckenridge’s wish?
INGALLS: That was a condition of our partnership. Walter received seventy-five percent of the profits and he had sole authority over the disposition to be made of our products. But I had sole authority over the work in the laboratory.
HASTINGS: I see. . . . Now tell me, Steve, how many hours a day did you usually spend in the laboratory?
INGALLS: I don’t know. About twelve, I guess, on the average.
HASTINGS: Perhaps nearer to sixteen—on the average?
INGALLS: Yes, I guess so.
HASTINGS: And how many hours a day did Mr. Breckenridge spend in the laboratory?
INGALLS: He didn’t come to the laboratory every day.
HASTINGS: Well, average it for the year. What would it make per day?
INGALLS: About an hour and a half.
HASTINGS: I see. . . . [Leans back] Well, it’s very interesting. Any of you could have committed the murder. Most of you have halfway alibis, the kind that make it possible, but not probable. You’re worse off than the rest, Steve. You have no alibi at all. At the other end—there’s Mr. Sookin. He has a perfect alibi. [Pauses, then:] Here’s what makes it interesting: someone deliberately smashed Mr. Breckenridge’s watch. Someone was anxious that there should be no doubt about the time of the murder. Yet the only person who has a good alibi for that particular time is Mr. Sookin—who was, at four minutes past ten, just about driving into Stamford.
SERGE: Well?
HASTINGS: I’m just thinking aloud, Mr. Sookin.
[DIXON enters Right, carrying some papers in his hand. He is an energetic, efficient young man who does not waste much time. He walks to HASTINGS, and puts one paper on the table before him]
DIXON: The statements of the cook and the chauffeur, Chief.
HASTINGS: [With a brief glance at the paper] What do they say?
DIXON: They went to bed at nine o’clock. Saw nothing. Heard nothing—except Curtiss in the pantry.
HASTINGS: Okay.
DIXON: [Handing him the other papers. His voice a little less casual:] And here are the fingerprints off the gun—and another set.
HASTINGS: [Looks carefully at two cards of fingerprints. Then puts them on the table, facedown. Then raises his head and looks slowly at all the people in the room, from face to face. Then says slowly:] Yes. The fingerprints on that gun are those of someone in this room. [Silence. He turns to DIXON] Dixon.
DIXON: Yes, Chief?
HASTINGS: Have the boys examine the shrubbery and the ground under Mr. Fleming’s window. Have them examine the balcony and the stairs leading down from it. Look through the phonograph records and see if you find one of Rachmaninoff’s Prelude in G Minor. Search the house and bring me all the newspapers you find. Look particularly for a copy of today’s Courier.
DIXON: Okay, Chief. [Exits Right]
SERGE: [Jumping up suddenly] Mr. Hastings! I know who did it! [They all look at him] I know! And I will tell you! You are wasting the time when it is so clear! I know who did it! It was Mr. Ingalls!
INGALLS: By us in America, Serge, when you say a thing like that—you’re expected to prove it.
HASTINGS: Now, Mr. Sookin, why do you think that Mr. Ingalls did it?
SERGE: Mr. Ingalls hated Mr. Breckenridge, because Mr. Breckenridge was fine and noble, and Mr. Ingalls is cold and cruel and without principles.
HASTINGS: Is he?
SERGE: But is it not clear? Mr. Ingalls he seduced the wife of Mr. Breckenridge. Mr. Breckenridge discovered it this afternoon.
HASTINGS: Now there, Mr. Sookin, you have an interesting point. Very interesting. There’s never been any trouble between Mr. Ingalls and Mr. Breckenridge—until this afternoon. This evening, Mr. Breckenridge is found murdered. Convenient. A bit too convenient, don’t you think? If Mr. Ingalls murdered Mr. Breckenridge—wouldn’t it be dangerous for him to do it tonight? On the other hand, if someone else murdered Mr. Breckenridge—wouldn’t he choose precisely tonight, when suspicion could be thrown so easily on Mr. Ingalls?
SERGE: But that is not all! Mr. Breckenridge he wanted to give this great invention to all the poor humanity. But Mr. Ingalls wanted to make the money for himself. Is it not to his advantage to kill Mr. Breckenridge?
HASTINGS: Sure. Except that Steve never cared for money.
SERGE: No? When he said so himself? When he shouted so? When I heard him?
HASTINGS: Sure. I heard him, too. Many times. Except that Steve never shouts.
SERGE: But then, if you heard it, too—
HASTINGS: Come on, Mr. Sookin, you can’t be as stupid as you’re trying to appear. Who doesn’t care for money? You name one. But here’s the difference: the man who admits that he cares for money is all right. He’s usually worth the money he makes. He won’t kill for it. He doesn’t have to. But watch out for the man who yells too loudly how much he scorns money. Watch out particularly for the one who yells that others must scorn it. He’s after something much worse than money.
INGALLS: Thanks, Greg.
HASTINGS: Don’t thank me too soon. [Picks up the fingerprint cards] You see, the fingerprints on that gun are yours. [The others gasp]
ADRIENNE: [Jumping up] That’s horrible! It’s horrible! It’s u
nfair! Of course they’re Steve’s. Steve handled that gun today! Everybody saw him do it!
HASTINGS: Oh? . . . Tell me about that, Miss Knowland.
ADRIENNE: It was . . . it was this afternoon. We were talking about Walter being afraid of guns. Walter said he wasn’t, said he had a gun and he told Steve to look in that drawer. Steve took the gun out, and looked at it, and then put it back. And we all saw it. And someone . . . someone got the horrible idea . . .
HASTINGS: Yes, Miss Knowland, I think so, too. [Walks to cabinet, opens the drawer, looks in, then closes it] Yes, it’s gone. . . . Sit down, Miss Knowland. There’s no need to be upset about this. Nobody who’s ever seen a movie would commit murder holding a gun with his bare hand. Now, if Steve did it, he would certainly think of wiping off the fingerprints that he’d left on that gun earlier. But if somebody else did it, he’d certainly be damn glad to leave Steve’s fingerprints where they were. Convenient, isn’t it? . . . Now, who saw Steve handling that gun today? All of you here?
ADRIENNE: All—except Billy and Flash and Curtiss.
HASTINGS: [Nods] Interesting. . . . You see, Steve, that was one of the reasons why I said I thought certain things let you out. I saw that there were prints on that gun and I didn’t think you’d be stupid enough to leave them there. I didn’t think you’d drop the gun like that, either. Not with a deep lake close by. . . . The other reason was that I don’t think you’d shoot a man in the back.
TONY: [Gasps at a sudden thought] Mr. Hastings! . . . I just thought of something!
HASTINGS: Yes?
TONY: What if Serge is a Communist spy? [SERGE gasps and leaps to his feet]
HASTINGS: [Shakes his head at TONY reproachfully] Why, Tony. You didn’t really think that I hadn’t thought of that already?
SERGE: [To TONY] You swine! I—a Communist? I who go to church? I who have suffered—
HASTINGS: Look, Mr. Sookin, be sensible about it. If you’re not a Communist spy—you’d be angry. But if you are a Communist spy—you’d be much angrier, so where does it get you?
SERGE: But it is the insult! I, who have faith in the Holy Mother Russia—
HASTINGS: All right. Drop it. [To TONY] You see, Mr. Goddard, it’s possible, but it doesn’t jell. If Mr. Sookin were a Soviet agent, he’d be after the invention, of course. But nobody touched that machine. Besides, I understand that Mr. Sookin heartily supported Mr. Breckenridge in his decision to give this invention away to the world.