The Mousetrap

WARGRAVE. Just now we had a somewhat disturbing experience. An apparently disembodied voice spoke to us all by name, uttering certain definite accusations against us. We will deal with those accusations presently. At the moment I am interested in a minor point. Amongst the names received was that of William Henry Blore. But as far as we know, there is no one named Blore amongst us. The name of Davis was not mentioned. What have you to say about that, Mr. Davis?

BLORE. (Rises) Cat’s out of the bag, it seems. I suppose I’d better admit my name isn’t Davis.

WARGRAVE. You are William Henry Blore?

BLORE. That’s right.

LOMBARD. (To Right ofBLORE.) I will add something to that. Not only are you here under a false name, Mr. Blore, but in addition I’ve noticed this evening that you’re a first-class liar. You claim to have come from Natal, South Africa. I know South Africa and Natal well, and I’m prepared to swear that you’ve never set foot there in your life.

(ALL turn towards BLORE. ARMSTRONG goes up to Right window.)

BLORE. You gentlemen have got me wrong. I’m an ex-CID man.

LOMBARD. Oh, a copper!

BLORE. I’ve got my credentials and I can prove it. I run a detective agency in Plymouth. I was put on to this job.

WARGRAVE. By whom?

BLORE. Why, Mr. Owen. Sent a very nice money order for expenses, and said I was to join the house party, posing as a guest. He also sent a list of all your names and said I was to keep an eye on you all.

WARGRAVE. Any reason given?

BLORE. Said Mrs. Owen had got some valuable jewels. (Pause) Mrs. Owen, my foot! I don’t believe there’s any such person. (Goes down Right to cabinet.)

WARGRAVE. (Sits Left sofa.) Your conclusions are, I think, justified. (Looks down at letters.) Ulick Norman Owen. Una Nancy Owen. Each time, that is to say, U.N. Owen. Or, by a slight stretch of fancy, Unknown.

VERA. But it’s fantastic! Mad!

WARGRAVE. (Rises. Quietly) Oh, yes, I’ve no doubt in my own mind that we have been invited here by a madman—probably a dangerous homicidal lunatic.

(There is an appalled silence.)

ROGERS. Oh, my gawd!

WARGRAVE. (To back of Left sofa) Whoever it is who has enticed us here, that person has taken the trouble to find out a great deal about us. (Pause) A very great deal. And out of his knowledge concerning us, he has made certain definite accusations.

BLORE. It’s all very well to make accusations.

MACKENZIE. A pack of damn lies! Slander!

VERA. It’s iniquitous! Wicked!

ROGERS. A lie—a wicked lie—we never did, neither of us—

MARSTON. Don’t know what the damned fool was getting at—

(EVERYBODY more or less speaks at once)

WARGRAVE. (Raises a hand for silence. Sits Left sofa.) I wish to say this. Our unknown friend accuses me of the murder of one Edward Seton. I remember Seton perfectly well. He came up before me for trial in June 1930. He was charged with the murder of an elderly woman. He was very ably defended and made a good impression on the jury in the witness box. Nevertheless, on the evidence he was certainly guilty. I summed up accordingly and the jury brought in a verdict of Guilty. In passing sentence of death, I fully concurred with this verdict. The appeal was lodged on the grounds of misdirection. The appeal was dismissed and the man was duly executed. (Pause) I wish to say before you all that my conscience is perfectly clear on the matter. I did my duty and nothing more. I passed sentence on a rightly convicted murderer.

(There is a pause.)

ARMSTRONG. (To aboveWARGRAVE) Did you know Seton at all? I mean, personally.

WARGRAVE. (Looks at him. He hesitates a moment.) I knew nothing of Seton previous to the trial.

LOMBARD. (Low toVERA) The old boy’s lying. I’ll swear he’s lying.

(ARMSTRONG to down Right.)

MACKENZIE. (Rises) Fellow’s a madman. Absolute madman. Got a bee in his bonnet. Got hold of the wrong end of the stick all round. (To WARGRAVE) Best really to leave this sort of thing unanswered. However, feel I ought to say—no truth—no truth whatever in what he said about—er—young Arthur Richmond. Richmond was one of my officers. I sent him on reconnaisance in 1917. He was killed. Also like to say—resent very much—slur on my wife. Been dead a long time. Best woman in the world. Absolutely—Caesar’s wife. (He sits down again.)

MARSTON. (Right Centre) I’ve just been thinking—John and Lucy Combes. Must have been a couple of kids I ran over near Cambridge. Beastly bad luck.