Mousetrap-Mrs. Boyle Lines (Mariana)

MOLLIE: Could you stoke up the hot water boiler?

(off) This is Monkswell Manor, I presume?

GILES: Yes...

I am Mrs. Boyle.

GILES: I'm Giles Ralston. Come in to the fire, Mrs. Boyle, and get warm. Awful weather, isn't it? Is this your only luggage?

A Major - Metcalf, is it? - Is seeing to it.

GILES: I'll leave the door for him.

The taxi wouldn't risk coming up the drive. It stopped at the gate. We had to share a taxi from the station - and there was great difficulty in getting that. Nothing ordered to meet us, it seems.

GILES: I'm so sorry. We didn't know what train you would be coming by, you see, otherwise of course, we'd have seen that someone was - er - standing by.

All trains should have been met.

GILES: Let me take your coat. My wife will be here in a moment. I'll just go along and give Metcalf a hand with the bags.

The drive might at least have been cleared of snow. Most offhand and casual, I must say.

MOLLIE: I'm so sorry I...

Mrs. Ralston?

MOLLIE: Yes. I...

You're very young.

MOLLIE: Young?

To be running an establishment of this kind. You can't have had much experience.

MOLLIE: There has to be a beginning for everything, hasn't there?

I see. Quite inexperienced. An old house. I hope you haven't got dry rot.

MOLLIE: Certainly not!

A lot of people don't know they have got dry rot until it's too late to do anything about it.

MOLLIE: The house is in perfect condition.

H'm - it could do with a coat of paint. You know, you've got worm in this oak.

MAJOR METCALF: Sir!

Do you have much servant difficulty here?

MOLLIE: We have quite a good local woman who comes in from the village.

And what indoor staff?

MOLLIE: No indoor staff. Just us.

Indeed. I understood this was a guest house in full running order.

MOLLIE: We're only just starting.

I would have said that a proper staff of servants was essential before opening this kind of establishment. I consider your advertisement was most misleading. May I ask if I am the only guest - with Major Metcalf, that is?

MOLLIE: Oh no, there are several here.

This weather, too. A blizzard - no less - all very unfortunate.

MOLLIE: May I introduce, Mr. Wren - Mrs. Boyle.

How d'you do?

CHRISTOPHER: This is a very beautiful house. Don't you think so?

I have come to the time of life when the amenities of an establishment are more important than it's appearance. If I had not believed this was a running concern I should never have come here. I understood it was fully equipped with every home comfort.

GILES: There is no obligation for you to remain here if you are not satisfied, Mrs. Boyle.

No, indeed, I should not think of doing so.

GILES: If there as been any misapprehension it would perhaps be better if you went elsewhere. I could ring up for the taxi to return. The roads are not yet blocked. We have had so many applications for rooms that we shall be able to to fill your place quite easily. In any case we are raising our terms next month.

I am certainly not going to leave before I have tried what the place is like. You needn't think you can turn me out now. Perhaps you will take me up to my bedroom, Mrs. Ralston?

ACT 1 SCENE 2

I consider it most dishonest not to have told me they were only just starting this place.

MAJOR METCALF: Well, everything's got to have a beginning, you know. Excellent breakfast this morning. Good coffee. Scrambled eggs, home-made marmalade. And all nicely serviced, too. Little woman does it all herself.

Amateurs - there should be a proper staff.

MAJOR METCALF: Excellent lunch, too.

Cornbeef.

MAJOR METCALF: But very well disguised cornbeef. Red wine in it. Mrs. Ralston promised to make a pie for us tonight.

These radiators are not really hot. I shall speak about it.

MAJOR METCALF: Very comfortable beds, too. At least mine was. Hope yours was, too.

It was quite adequate. I don't quite see why the best bedroom should have been given to that very peculiar young man.

MAJOR METCALF: Got here ahead of us. First come, first served.

From the advertisement I got quite a different impression of what this place would be like. A comfortable writing-room, and a much larger place altogether - with bridge and other amenities.

MAJOR METCALF: Regular old tabbies' delight.

I beg your pardon.

MAJOR METCALF: Er - I mean, yes, I quite see what you mean.

No, indeed, I shan't stay here long.

CHRISTOPHER: No. No, I don't suppose you will.

Really that is a very peculiar young man. Unbalanced mentally, I shouldn't wonder.

MAJOR METCALF: Think he's escaped from a lunatic asylum.

I shouldn't be at all surprised.

MISS CASEWELL: That's all right.

Really! What an incredible young woman. Doesn't she know anything about housework? Carrying a carpet sweeper through the front hall. Aren't there any back stairs?

MISS CASEWELL: Oh yes - nice back stairs. Very convenient if there was a fire.

Then why not use them? Anyway, all the housework should have been done in the morning before lunch.

MISS CASEWELL: I gather our hostess had to cook the lunch.

All very haphazard and amateurish. There should be a proper staff.

MISS CASEWELL: Not very easy to get nowadays, is it?

No, indeed, the lower classes seem to have no idea of their responsibilities.

MISS CASEWELL: Poor old lower classes. Got the bit between their teeth haven't they?

I gather you are a Socialist.

MISS CASEWELL: Oh, I wouldn't say that. I'm not a Red - just pale pink. But I don't take much interest in politics - I live abroad.

I suppose conditions are much easier abroad.

MISS CASEWELL: I don't have to cook and clean - as I gather most people have to do in this country.

This country has gone sadly downhill. Not what it used to be. I sold my house last year. Everything was too difficult.

MISS CASEWELL: Hotels and guest houses are easier.

They certainly solve some of one's problems. Are you over in England for long?

MISS CASEWELL: Depends. I've got some business to see to. When it's done - I shall go back.

To France?

MISS CASEWELL: No.

Italy?

MISS CASEWELL: No.

Would you mind not having that on quite so loud? I always find the radio rather distracting when one is trying to write letters.

MISS CASEWELL: Do you?

If you don't particularly want to listen just now...

MISS CASEWELL: It's my favourite music. There's a writing table in there.

I know. But it's much warmer here.

GILES: Cheer up, darling, everything's going all right at the moment. I've filled up all the coalscuttles, and brought in the wood, and stoked the Aga and done the hens. I'll go and do the boiler next, and chop some kindling... You know, Mollie, come to think ofit, it must be something pretty serious to send a police sergeant trekking out in all this. It must be something really urgent...

Ah, there you are, Mr. Ralston. Did you know the central heating in the library is practically stone cold?

GILES: Sorry, Mrs. Boyle we're a bit short of coke and...

I am paying seven guineas a week here - seven guineas and I do not want to freeze.

GILES: I'll go and stoke it up.

Mrs. Ralston, if you don't mind my saying so, that is a very extraordinary young man you have staying here. His manners - and his ties - and does he ever brush his hair?

MOLLIE: He's an extremely brilliant young architect.

I beg your pardon?

MOLLIE: Christopher Wren is an architect...

My dear young woman. I have naturally heard of Sir Christopher Wren. Of course, he was an architect. He built St. Paul's. You young people seem to think that no-one is educated but yourselves.

MOLLIE: I meant this Wren. His name is Christopher. His parents called him that because they hoped he'd be an architect. And he is - or nearly one - so it turned out all right.

Humph. Sounds a fishy story to me. I should make some inquiries about him if I were you. What do you know of him?

MOLLIE: Just as much as I know about you, Mrs. Boyle - which is that you are both paying us seven guineas a week. That is really all I need to know, isn't it? And all that concerns me. It doesn't matter to me whether I like my guests, or whether I don't.

You are young and inexperienced and should welcome advice from someone more knowledgeable than yourself. And what about this foreigner?

MOLLIE: What about him?

You weren't expecting him, were you?

MOLLIE: To turn away a bona fide traveller is against the law, Mrs. Boyle. You should know that.

Why do you say that?

MOLLIE: Weren't you a magistrate, sitting on the bench, Mrs. Boyle?

All I say is that this Paravicini, or whatever he calls himself, seems to me...

PARAVICINI: Beware, dear lady. You talk of the devil and here he is. Ha, ha.

I didn't hear you come in.

PARAVICINI: I came in on tiptoe - like this. Nobody ever hears me if I do not want them to. I find that very amusing.

Indeed?

PARAVICINI: Now there was a young lady...

Well, I must get on with my letters. I'll see if it's a little warmer in the drawing-room.

MOLLIE: Well, as far as Mrs. Boyle goes...

The drawing-room is far to cold to sit in. I shall write my letters in here.

MOLLIE: Oh dear. What an awful day. First the police then the pipes.

Police?

TROTTER: Thank you, sir.

I suppose that's what we pay our policeforce for, nowadays, to go around enjoying themselves at winter sports.

CHRISTOPHER: Who's that man? Where did he come from? He passed the drawing-room window on skis. All over snow and looking terribly hearty.

You may believe it or not, but that man is a policeman. A policeman - ski-ing!

TROTTER: Good afternoon.

You can't be a sergeant. You're too young.

CHRISTOPHER: He's very attractive, don't you think so? I always think that policemen are very attractive.

No brains. You can see that at a glance.

MAJOR METCALF: I don't see anything to laugh at.

No, indeed.

Yes, sir. It's because it's crazy that it's dangerous.

Nonsense!

TROTTER: That's quite all right, Mrs. Ralston. Now can I have all your names, please?

This is quite ridiculous. We are merely staying in a kind of hotel. We only arrived yesterday. We've nothing to do with this place.

TROTTER: You'd planned to come here in advance, though. You'd booked your rooms here ahead.

Well, yes. All except Mr-?

TROTTER: Mrs-?

Boyle. I don't see - really I consider it an impertinence... Why on earth should I have anything to do with such - this distressing business?

CHRISTOPHER: My dears, how melodramatic. He's very attractive, isn't he? I do admire the police. So stern and hardboiled. Quite a thrill, this whole business. Three Blind Mice. How does the tune go?

Really, Mr. Wren!

CHRISTOPHER: Don't you like it? But it's a signature tune - the signature of the murderer. Just fancy what a kick he must be getting out of it.

Melodramatic rubbish. I don't believe a word of it.

CHRISTOPHER: But just wait, Mrs. Boyle. Till I creep up behind you, and you feel my hands on your throat.

Stop...

CHRISTOPHER: Oh, but it is! That's just what it is. a madman's joke. That's just what makes it so deliciously macabre. If you could just see your faces!

A singularly ill-mannered and neurotic young man.

MISS CASEWELL: Taking our policeman on a conducted tour of the house.

Your friend, the architect, has been behaving in a most abnormal manner.

MAJOR METCALF: Young fellows seem nervy nowadays. Daresay he'll grow out of it.

Nerves? I've no patience with people who say they have nerves. I haven't any nerves.

MAJOR METCALF: No? Perhaps that's just as well for you, Mrs. Boyle.

What do you mean?

MAJOR METCALF: I think you were actually one of the magistrates on the bench at the time. In fact, you were responsible for sending those three children to Longridge Farm.

Really, Major Metcalf. I can hardly be held responsible.
We had reports from welfare workers.
The farm people seemed very nice and were most anxious to have the children.
It seemed most satisfactory.
Eggs and fresh milk and a healthy out-of-doors life.

MAJOR METCALF: Kicks, blow, starvation, and a thoroughly vicious couple.

But how was I to know? They were very civilly spoken.

MOLLIE: Yes, I was right. It was you...

One tries to do a public duty and all one gets is abuse.

PARAVICINI: You must forgive me, but indeed I find all this most amusing. I enjoy myself greatly.

I never did like that man!

MOLLIE: It's almost dark and yet it's only four in the afternoon. I'll turn the lights on. That's better.

Now where did I leave my pen?

TROTTER: Well, everything's all right upstairs. What's in here, drawing-room?

(off) Would you mind shutting that door? This place is full of draughts.

TROTTER: Go and try it up there for me, will you?

Who's left this window open?

RADIO: ...A door opens softly behind you...

(turn off radio, 3blind mice)
Oh, it's you. I can't find any programme worth listening to.

(turn radio back on, go to center)
Here - what are you doing?
Why did you turn out the light?