Читаем The Mousetrap полностью

MARY. You wouldn’t talk so flippantly about murder if . . .

LATIMER. If what, Miss Aldin? (He moves toR. of Mary.)

MARY. If you had been as close to murder as I have.

LATIMER. This time it is better to be an outsider. (Kay and Nevile enter by the French windows. Kay looks a little annoyed.)

KAY. (As she enters.) It’s no good, Ted. (She goes on to the R. end of the rostrum.) Nevile won’t come so we can’t go.

NEVILE. (Moving downR.) I don’t see very well how we can. It’s awfully nice of you, Latimer, but it would hardly be the thing, would it, after what’s happened?

LATIMER. (Moving above the chaise.) I don’t see what harm it would do to go out to lunch—you’ve got to eat.

NEVILE. We can eat here. (He crosses toR. of Kay.) Hang it all, Kay, we can’t go joy-riding about the country. The inquest hasn’t been held yet.

LATIMER. If you feel like that about it, Strange, I suppose we’d better call it off. (He picks up his jacket and moves to the French windows.)

MARY. (Rising.) Perhaps you would care to stay and lunch with us, Mr. Latimer?

LATIMER. Well, that’s very nice of you, Miss Aldin . . .

NEVILE. (Moving above the chaise.) Yes, do, Latimer.

KAY. (Moving toL. of the rostrum.) Will you, Ted?

LATIMER. (Moving toR. of the chaise.) Thanks, I’d like to.

MARY. You’ll have to take pot luck. I’m afraid the domestic arrangements are just a little disorganized with the police popping in and out of the kitchen every two minutes.

LATIMER. If it’s going to be any trouble . . .

MARY. (Moving to the doorL.) Oh, no—it’ll be no trouble at all. (Audrey enters L. Kay looks at the magazines on the coffee table.)

AUDREY. Has anyone seen Mr. Treves this morning?

NEVILE. I haven’t seen him since breakfast. (Latimer moves down R.)

MARY. He was talking to the Inspector in the garden about half an hour ago. Do you want him particularly?

AUDREY. (Crossing toL. C.) Oh, no—I just wondered where he was.

NEVILE. (Looking offR.) They’re coming now. Not Mr. Treves. Superintendent Battle and Inspector Leach.

MARY. (Nervously.) What do you think they want now? (They all wait nervously. Battle and Leach enter by the French windows. Leach carries a long brown-paper parcel. He standsR. of the chaise.)

BATTLE. (Crossing toR. C.) Hope we’re not disturbing you all. There are one or two things we’d like to know about.

NEVILE. I should have thought you’d exhausted everything by now, Superintendent.

BATTLE. Not quite, Mr. Strange. (He takes a small chamois leather glove from his pocket.) There’s this glove, for instance—who does it belong to? (They all stare at the glove without answering. To Audrey.) Is it yours, Mrs. Strange?

AUDREY. (Shaking her head.) No, no, it isn’t mine. (She sits in the armchair L. C.)

BATTLE. (Holding the glove out towards Mary.) Miss Aldin?

MARY. I don’t think so. I have none of that color. (She sits in the easy chair down L.)

BATTLE. (To Kay.) What about you?

KAY. No. I’m sure it doesn’t belong to me.

BATTLE. (Moving to Kay.) Perhaps you’d just slip it on? It’s the left hand glove. (Kay tries on the glove but it is too small. He crosses to Mary.) Will you try, Miss Aldin? (Mary tries on the glove but it is too small. He moves to L. of Audrey.) I think you’ll find it fits you all right. Your hand is smaller than the other two ladies’. (Audrey reluctantly takes the glove.)

NEVILE. (MovingR. C. sharply.) She’s already told you that it isn’t her glove.

BATTLE. (Blandly.) Perhaps she made a mistake—or forgot.

AUDREY. It may be mine—gloves are so alike, aren’t they?

BATTLE. Try it on, Mrs. Strange. (Audrey slips the glove on her left hand. It fits perfectly.) It seems as if it is yours—at any rate it was found outside your window, pushed down into the ivy—with the other one that goes with it.