The Mousetrap

BLORE. Davis, Davis is the name. May I take your case? (Up toEMILY, then goes behind her to Right.)

LOMBARD. Do let me give you a drink? A dry Martini? A glass of sherry? Whisky and soda?

EMILY. (Coldly) I never touch alcohol.

LOMBARD. You never touch alcohol!

EMILY. (She picks up case; goes below sofa to Left) I suppose you know, young man, that you left us standing there on the wharf?

VERA. I’m afraid, Miss Brent, I was to blame for that. I wanted to—

EMILY. It seems to me most extraordinary that Mrs. Owen should not be here to receive her guests.

VERA. (Smiling) Perhaps she’s the kind of person who just can’t help missing trains.

BLORE. (Laughs) That’s what I reckon she is.

EMILY. Not at all. Mrs. Owen isn’t the least like that.

LOMBARD. (Lightly) Perhaps it was her husband’s fault.

EMILY. (Sharply) She hasn’t got a husband. (VERA stares. Enter ROGERS Left 2.) I should like to go to my room.

VERA. Of course. I’ll take you there.

ROGERS. (ToVERA) You’ll find Mrs. Rogers upstairs, Miss. She will show you the room.

(Exit VERA and EMILY Left 1. ROGERS exits Left 1. WARGRAVE enters Centre from Left; comes Centre.)

LOMBARD. (Comes forward) I’m afraid our host and hostess haven’t arrived, sir. My name’s Lombard.

WARGRAVE. Mine’s Wargrave. How do you do?

LOMBARD. How do you do? Have a drink, sir?

WARGRAVE. Yes, please. A whisky.

BLORE. (Crosses toWARGRAVE) How are you? Davis, Davis is the name. (LOMBARDgets his drink. Affably toWARGRAVE) I say, wonderful place you’ve got here. Quite unique.

WARGRAVE. As you say—Quite unique.

BLORE. Your drink, sir.

(WARGRAVE puts coat on sofa Left, takes his drink and sits up Left. Watches proceedings from there.)

MARSTON. (ToLOMBARD) Old Badger Berkeley rolled up yet?

LOMBARD. Who did you say?

MARSTON. Badger Berkeley. He roped me in for this show. When’s he coming?

LOMBARD. I don’t think he is coming. Nobody of the name of Berkeley.

MARSTON. (Faw drops) The dirty old double-crosser! He’s let me down. Well, it’s a pretty wizard island. Rather a wizard girl, that secretary. She ought to liven things up a bit. I say, old man, what about dressing for dinner if there’s time?

LOMBARD. Let’s go and explore.

MARSTON. Oh, wizard!

LOMBARD. Things are a bit at sixes and sevens with the Owens not turning up.

MARSTON. Tricky, what? I say, wizard place for a holiday, what?

(Exit MARSTON and LOMBARD Left 1. BLORE wanders out on balcony, looks sharply into room and presently exits Right on balcony as GENERAL MACKENZIE and WARGRAVE talk. WARGRAVE continues to sit like a Buddha. He observes MACKENZIE, who is Right Centre, standing looking rather lost, absentmindedly pulling his moustache. MACKENZIE is carrying a shooting stick. He looks at it wistfully, half opens and closes it.)

WARGRAVE. Aren’t you going to sit down?

MACKENZIE. Well, to tell you the truth, you seem to be in my chair.

WARGRAVE. I am sorry. I didn’t realize you were one of the family.

MACKENZIE. Well, it’s not that exactly. To tell you the truth, I’ve never been here before. But you see I live at the Benton Club—have for the last ten years. And my seat is just about there. Can’t get used to sitting anywhere else.

WARGRAVE. It becomes a bit of a habit. (He rises; breaks to Right.)

MACKENZIE. Yes, it certainly does. Thank you—(Sits up Left.) Well, it’s not quite as good as the Club’s but it’s a nice chair. (Confidentially) To tell you the truth, I was a bit surprised when I got this invitation. Haven’t had anything of the kind for well over four years. Very nice of them, I thought.

ROGERS. (Enters Left 1. Picks upWARGRAVE’s coat from sofa.) Can I have your keys, sir?

WARGRAVE. Is Lady Constance Culmington expected here, can you tell me? (Gives him keys.)

ROGERS. (Surprised) Lady Constance Culmington? I don’t think so, sir. Unless she’s coming down with Mr. and Mrs. Owen.

WARGRAVE. Oh.