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TROTTER. You say you were writing letters when you heard Mrs. Ralston scream?

MISSCASEWELL. Yes.

TROTTER. And got up from the writing table hurriedly and came in here?

MISSCASEWELL. Yes.

TROTTER. And yet there doesn’t seem to be any unfinished letter on the writing desk in the library.

MISSCASEWELL. (Rising) I brought it with me. (She opens her handbag, takes out a letter, moves up to Left ofTROTTERand hands it to him.)

TROTTER. (Looking at it and handing it back) Dearest Jessie—h’m—a friend of yours, or a relation?

MISSCASEWELL. That’s none of your damned business. (She turns away.)

TROTTER. Perhaps not. (He moves round the Right end of the refectory table to behind it Centre.) You know if I were to hear someone screaming blue murder when I was writing a letter, I don’t believe I’d take the time to pick up my unfinished letter, fold it and put it in my handbag before going to see what was the matter.

MISSCASEWELL. You wouldn’t? How interesting. (She moves up the stairs and sits on the stool.)

TROTTER. (Moving to left ofMAJORMETCALF) Now, Major Metcalf, what about you? You say you were in the cellar. Why?

MAJORMETCALF. (Pleasantly) Looking around. Just looking around. I looked into that cupboard place under the stairs near the kitchen. Lot of junk and sports tackle. And I noticed there was another door inside it, and I opened it and saw a flight of steps. I was curious and I went down. Nice cellars you’ve got.

MOLLIE. Glad you like them.

MAJORMETCALF. Not at all. Crypt of an old monastery, I should say. Probably why this place is called “Monkswell.”

TROTTER. We’re not engaged in antiquarian research, Major Metcalf. We’re investigating a murder. Mrs. Ralston has told us that she heard a door shut with a faint creak. (He moves to Right of the sofa.) That particular door shuts with a creak. It could be, you know, that after killing Mrs. Boyle, the murderer heard Mrs. Ralston (Moving to Left of the armchair Centre) coming from the kitchen and slipped into the cupboard pulling the door to after him.

MAJORMETCALF. A lot of things could be.

(MOLLIE rises, moves down to the small armchair and sits. There is a pause.)

CHRISTOPHER. (Rising) There would be fingerprints on the inside of the cupboard.

MAJORMETCALF. Mine are there all right. But most criminals are careful to wear gloves, aren’t they?

TROTTER. It’s usual. But all criminals slip up sooner or later.

PARAVICINI. I wonder, Sergeant, if that’s really true?

GILES. (Moving to Left ofTROTTER) Look here, aren’t we wasting time? There’s one person who . . .

TROTTER. Please, Mr. Ralston, I’m in charge of this investigation.

GILES. Oh, very well, but . . .

(GILES exits by the door down Left.)

TROTTER. (Calling authoritatively) Mr. Ralston!

(GILES reenters grudgingly and stands by the door.)

Thank you. (Moving behind the refectory table) We’ve got to establish opportunity, you know, as well as motive. And now let me tell you this—you all had opportunity.

(There are several murmured protests.)

(He holds up his hand.) There are two staircases—anyone could go up by one and come down by the other. Anyone could go down to the cellars by the door near the kitchen and come up by a flight of steps that leads up through a trapdoor to the foot of the stairs over there. (He points off Right.) The vital fact was that every one of you was alone at the time the murder was committed.

GILES. But look here, Sergeant, you speak as though we were all under suspicion. That’s absurd!

TROTTER. In a murder case, everyone is under suspicion.

GILES. But you know pretty well who killed that woman in Culver Street. You think it’s the eldest of those three children at the farm. A mentally abnormal young man who is now twenty-three years of age. Well, damn it all, there’s only one person here who fits the bill. (He points to CHRISTOPHER and moves slightly towards him.)