The Mousetrap

WARGRAVE. Have you got that letter, Miss Brent?

EMILY. Yes. I will fetch it for you. (Goes out Left 1.)

WARGRAVE. (To Left ofVERA) Miss Claythorne?

VERA. (Rises) I never actually met Mrs. Owen. I wanted a holiday post and I applied to a Secretarial Agency, Miss Grenfell’s in London. I was offered this post and accepted.

WARGRAVE. And you were never interviewed by your prospective employer?

VERA. No. This is the letter. (Hands it to him. Sits again chair Right Centre.)

WARGRAVE. (Reading) “Indian Island, Sticklehaven, Devon. I have received your name from Miss Grenfell’s Agency. I understand she knows you personally. I shall be glad to pay you the salary you ask, and shall expect you to take up your duties on August 8th. The train is the 12:10 from Paddington and you will be met at Oakbridge Station. I enclose five pounds for expenses.

Yours truly,

Una Nancy Owen.”

(MARSTON starts to go up Right) Mr. Marston?

MARSTON. Don’t actually know the Owens. Got a wire from a pal of mine, Badger Berkeley. Told me to roll up here. Surprised me a bit because I had an idea the old horse had gone to Norway. I haven’t got the wire. (To Right window.)

WARGRAVE. Thank you. Doctor Armstrong?

ARMSTRONG. (After a pause, rising and coming Left Centre) In the circumstances, I think I may admit that my visit here was professional. Mr. Owen wrote me that he was worried about his wife’s health—her nerves, to be precise. He wanted a report without her being alarmed. He therefore suggested that my visit should be regarded as that of an ordinary guest.

WARGRAVE. You had no previous acquaintance with the family?

ARMSTRONG. No.

WARGRAVE. But you had no hesitation in obeying the summons?

ARMSTRONG. A colleague of mine was mentioned and a very handsome fee suggested. I was due for a holiday, anyway. (Rises; crosses to Right to mantelpiece for cigarette.)

WARGRAVE. (EMILYreenters and hands letter toWARGRAVE, who unfolds it and reads.EMILYsits down Left.) “Dear Miss Brent: I do hope you remember me. We were together at Bell Haven guest house in August some years ago and we seemed to have so much in common. I am starting a guest house of my own on an island off the coast of Devon. I think there is really an opening for a place where there is good plain English cooking, and a nice old-fashioned type of person. None of this nudity and gramophones half the night. I shall be very glad if you could see your way to spending your summer holiday on Indian Island—as my guest, of course. I suggest August 8th, 12:40 from Paddington to Oakbridge.

Yours sincerely,

U.N.”

H’m, yes, the signature is slightly ambiguous.

LOMBARD. (Rises; crosses toVERA. Aside to her) I like the nudity touch!

WARGRAVE. (To above sofas. Takes letter from pocket.) Here is my own decoy letter. From an old friend of mine, Lady Constance Culmington. She writes in her usual vague, incoherent way, urges me to join her here and refers to her host and hostess in the vaguest of terms.

(ARMSTRONG Right of WARGRAVE, MARSTON to Right of ARMSTRONG to look at letter. MACKENZIE to Left of WARGRAVE.)

LOMBARD. (With sudden excitement, staring atBLORE) Look here, I’ve just thought of something—

WARGRAVE. In a minute.

LOMBARD. But I—

WARGRAVE. We will take one thing at a time, if you don’t mind, Captain Lombard. General MacKenzie?

(BLORE sits Right end of Left sofa.)

MACKENZIE. (Rather incoherently, pulling at moustache) Got a letter—from this fellow Owen—thought I must have met sometime at the Club—mentioned some old cronies of mine who were to be here—hoped I’d excuse informal invitation. Haven’t kept the letter, I’m afraid. (Sits up Left.)

WARGRAVE. And you, Captain Lombard?

LOMBARD. Same sort of thing. Invitation mentioning mutual friends. I haven’t kept the letter either.

(Pause. WARGRAVE turns his attention to BLORE. He looks at him for some minutes. When he speaks, his voice is silky and dangerous.)