The Mousetrap

VERA. Aren’t you being a little unkind?

EMILY. (Spitefully) Young people nowadays behave in the most disgusting fashion.

VERA. Disgusting?

EMILY. (Carried away) Yes. Low-backed evening dresses. Lying half naked on beaches. All this so-called sunbathing. An excuse for immodest conduct, nothing more. Familiarity! Christian names—drinking cocktails! And look at the young men nowadays. Decadent! Look at that young Marston. What good is he? And that Captain Lombard!

VERA. What do you object to in Captain Lombard? I should say he was a man who’d led a very varied and interesting life.

EMILY. The man’s an adventurer. All this younger generation is no good—no good at all.

VERA. (Breaks to Right) You don’t like youth—I see.

EMILY. (Sharply) What do you mean?

VERA. I was just remarking that you don’t like young people.

EMILY. (Rises; moves up Left) And is there any reason why I should, pray?

VERA. Oh, no—(Pauses) but it seems to me that you must miss an awful lot.

EMILY. You’re very impertinent.

VERA. (Quietly) I’m sorry, but that’s just what I think.

EMILY. The world will never improve until we stamp out immodesty.

VERA. (To herself) Quite pathological. (Goes down Right.)

EMILY. (Sharply) What did you say?

VERA. Nothing.

(EMILY sits up Left. Enter ARMSTRONG and LOMBARD Left 1, talking. They cross up Right.)

LOMBARD. What about the old boy—

ARMSTRONG. He looks rather like a tortoise, don’t you think so?

LOMBARD. All judges look like tortoises. They have that venomous way of darting their heads in and out. Mr. Justice Wargrave is no exception.

ARMSTRONG. I hadn’t realized he was a judge.

LOMBARD. Oh, yes. (Cheerfully) He’s probably been responsible for sending more innocent people to their death than anyone in England. (WARGRAVE enters and looks at him.) Hullo, you. (To VERA) Do you two know each other? Mr. Armstrong—Miss Claythorne. Armstrong and I have just decided that the old boy—

VERA. Yes, I heard you and so did he, I think.

(WARGRAVE moves over to EMILY. EMILY rises as she sees WARGRAVE approaching.)

EMILY. Oh, Sir Lawrence.

WARGRAVE. Miss Brent, isn’t it?

EMILY. There’s something I want to ask you. (EMILY indicating she wants to talk to him on the balcony) Will you come out here?

WARGRAVE. (As they go) A remarkably fine night! (They go out Centre.)

(LOMBARD up Centre. MARSTON enters Left 1 with BLORE. They are in conversation.)

MARSTON. Absolutely wizard car—a super-charged Sports Mulatti Carlotta. You don’t see many of them on the road. I can get over a hundred out of her.

(VERA sits on Right sofa.)

BLORE. Did you come from London?

MARSTON. Yes, two hundred and eight miles and I did it in a bit over four hours. (ARMSTRONGturns and looks at him.) Too many cars on the road, though, to keep it up. Touched ninety going over Salisbury Plain. Not too bad, eh?

ARMSTRONG. I think you passed me on the road.

MARSTON. Oh, yes?

ARMSTRONG. You nearly drove me into the ditch.

MARSTON. (Unmoved) Did I? Sorry. (To above Left sofa.)

ARMSTRONG. If I’d seen your number, I’d have reported you.

MARSTON. But you were footling along in the middle of the road.

ARMSTRONG. Footling? Me footling?

BLORE. (To relieve atmosphere) Oh, well, what about a drink?

MARSTON. Good idea. (They move towards the drinks down Right.) Will you have one, Miss Claythorne?

(LOMBARD drops down towards VERA.)

VERA. No, thank you.

LOMBARD. (Sitting besideVERAon sofa) Good evening, Mrs. Owen.

VERA. Why Mrs. Owen?

LOMBARD. You’d make the most attractive wife for any wealthy businessman.

VERA. Do you always flirt so outrageously?

LOMBARD. Always.

VERA. Oh! Well, now we know. (She turns half away, smiling.)

LOMBARD. Tell me, what’s old Miss Brent talking to the Judge about? She tried to buttonhole him upstairs.

VERA. I don’t know. Funny—she seemed so definite that there wasn’t a Mr. Owen.

LOMBARD. You don’t think that Mrs. Owen—I mean that there isn’t—that they aren’t—

VERA. What, married, you mean?