'Act 2 Flashcards
T: Now Mrs. Ralston, try and think- think…
I can’t think, my heads numbed
T: Mrs. Boyle had only just been killed when you got ot her. You came from the kitchen. Are you sure you didn’t see or hear anybody as you came along the hallway?
No- no, I don’t think so. Just the radio blaring out in here. I couldn’t think who’d turned it on so loud. I wouldn’t hear anything else with that, would I?
T: That was clearly the murderer’s idea- or murderess.
How could I hear anything else?
T:.. He might have slipped up the back stairs- or into the dining room…
I think- I’m not sure- I heard a door creak- and shut- just as I came out of the kitchen.
T: Which door?
I don’t know.
T: Think Mrs. Ralston- try and think. Upstairs? Downstairs? CLose at hand? Right? Left?
(tearful) I don’t know, I tell you. I’m not even sure I heard anything.
T:… You switched the light on, say Mrs. Boyle, and screamed.
Yes. I screamed and screamed. And at last- people came.
P: I do not expect so. I was playing very very softly- with one finger- so
You were playing Three Blind Mice
P: Yes. It is a very catchy little tune. It is- how shall I say?- a haunting little tune? Don’t you all agree?
I think it’s horrible
M:… Nice cellars you’ve got.
Glad you like them
M: Steady lad, steady
It’s all right Chris, no one is against you. Tell him it’s all right.
T: We don’t frame people
Tell him you’re not going to arrest him
G:… It’s only fair to the rest of us.
Wait Giles- Wait. Sergeant Trotter can I- can I speak to you for a minute?
G: I’m staying.
No Giles, you too, please.
G: I’m staying. I don’t know what’s come over you Mollie.
Please
T: Yes, Mrs. Ralston, what is it you want to say to me?
Sergeant Trotter, You think that this- This crazy killer must be the eldest of those three boys at the Farm- but you don’t know that, do you?
T:…The telephone wire that links me with the police headquarters has been cut…
You don’t even know that. It may have been the snow.
T: No, Mrs. Ralston, the line was deliberately cut. It was cut just outside by the front door. I found the place.
I see.
T: Sit down Mrs. Ralston.
But all the same, you don’t know…
T: I’m going by probability. It all points one way; mental instability, childish mentality, desertion from the army and the psychiatrist’s report.
Oh I know. And therefore it all seems to point to Christopher. But I don’t believe it is Christopher. There must be other possibilities.
T: Such as?
Well- hadn’t those children any relations at all?
T: The mother was a drunk. She died soon after the children were taken away from her.
What about their father?
T: He was an army sergeant, serving abroad. If he’s alive, he’s probably discharged from the army by now.
You don’t know where he is now?
T:… That the police take every eventuality into account.
But you don’t know where he may be at this minute. And if the son is mentally unstable, the father may have been unstable too.
T: Well, It’s a possibility.
If he came home, after being a prisoner with the Japs, perhaps, and having suffered terribly- if he came home and found his wife dead and that his children had gone through some terrible experience and one of them had died through it, he might go off his head a bit and want- revenge!
T: That’s only surmise.
But it’s possible?
T: Oh yes Mrs. Ralston, it’s quite possible.
So the murderer may be middle-aged, or even old. (pause) When I said the police had rung up, Major Metcalf was frightfully upset. He really was. I saw his face.
T: Major Metcalf?
Middle-aged. A solider. He seems quite nice and perfectly normal- but it mightn’t show, might it?
T: No, often it doesn’t show at all.
So it’s not only Christopher who’s a suspect. There’s Major Metcalf as well.
T: Any other suggestions?
Well, Mr. Parivicini did drop the poker when I said the police had rung up.
T: Mr. Parivicini.
I know he seems quite old- and foreign and everything, but he mightn’t really be as old as he looks. He moves like a much younger man, and He has definitely got makeup on his face. Miss Casewell noticed it oo. He might be- Oh i know it sounds very melodramatic- but he might be disguised.
T: You’re very anxious, aren’t you, that it shouldn’t be young Mr. Wren?
He seems so- helpless somehow. And so unhappy.
T:… There’s a sister, you remember.
Oh- the sister?
T:… Yes, it might have been a woman.
MIss Casewell?
T:… There’s yourself, for instance.
Me?
T:… And then there’s your husband.
Giles, how ridiculous!
T:.. How much do you know about your husband, Mrs. Ralston?
How much do I know about Giles? Oh, don’t be silly.
T: You’ve been married- how long?
Just a year.
T: And you met him- where?
At a dance in London. We went in a party.
T: Did you meet his people?
He hasn’t any people. They’re all dead.
T: They’re all dead.
Yes but- oh you make it sound all wrong. His father was a barrister and his mother died when he was a baby.
T: You’re only telling me what he told you
Yes- but… (turns away)
T: You don’t know it of your own knowledge.
(turning back quickly) It’s outrageous that…
T:… How long had you known Giles Ralston when you married him?
Just three weeks but….
T: And you don’t know anything about him?
That’s not true. I know everything about him! I know exactly the sort of person he is. He’s Giles. (turn to the fire) And it’s absolutely absurd to suggest that hes some horrible crazy homicidal maniac. Why, he wasn’t even in London Yesterday when the murder took place
T: Where was he? Here?
He went across country to a sale to get some wire netting for our chickens.
T: Bring it back with him?
No, it turned out to be the wrong kind.
T: Only thirty miles from London, aren’t you? Oh, you got an ABC? Only an hour by train- a little longer by car.
I tell you Giles wasn’t in London.
T: Just a minute Mrs. Ralston. This your husband’s coat?
Yes
T: Evening news. Yesterday’s. Sold on the streets about three-thirty yesterday afternoon.
I don’t believe it!
W: Mollie!
Oh, you startled me
W: Where is he? Where has he gone?
Who?
W: The sergeant.
Oh, he went out that way.
W: If only I could get away. Somehow- some way. Is there anywhere I could hide- in the house?
Hide?
W: Yes, from him
Why?
W: But darling, they’re all so frightfully against me. They’re going to say I committed these murders- particularly your husband.
Never mind him. Listen Christopher you can’t go on running away from things- all your life.
W: Why do you say that?
Well, it’s true, itsn’t it?
W: Oh yes, it’s quite true.
You’ve got to grow up sometime Chris.
W: I wish I hadn’t
Your name isn’t really Christopher Wren, is it?
W: No.
And you’re not really training to be an architect?
W: No (2nd)
Why did you…
W:… It was awful being at school.
What’s your real name?
W:… You see my mother- my mother…
Yes, your mother?
W: Everything would be all right if she hadn’t died. She would have taken care of me- and looked after me…
You can’t go on being looked after all your life. Things happen to you. And you’ve got to bear them- you’ve got to go on just as usual.
W: One can’t do that.
Yes, one can.
W: You mean, you have?
Yes.
W: What was it? Something very bad?
Something I’ve never forgotten.
W: Was it to do with Giles.
No, it was long before I met Giles.
W: You must have been very young. Almost a child.
Perhaps that’s why it was so- awful. It was horrible.. horrible. I try to put it out of my mind. I never try to think about it.
W: So- you’re running away too. Running away from things- instead of facing them.
Yes, perhaps in a way I am.
(wait for two seconds)
Considering I never saw you until yesterday, we seem to know each other rather well.
W: Yes, it’s odd, isn’t it?
I don’t know. I suppose there’s a sort of sympathy between us.
W: Anyway, you think I ought to stick it out?
Well frankly, what else can you do?
W: I might pinch the sergeant’s ski’s. I can ski quite well.
That would be frightfully stupid. It would almost be like admitting you’re guilty.
W: Sergeant Trotter thinks I’m guilty.
No he doesn’t. At least- I don’t he thinks. (looking at newspaper) I hate him- I hate him- I hate him
W: Who?
Sergeant Trotter. He puts things into your head. Things aren’t true, that can’t possibly be true.
W: What is all this?
I can’t believe it, I won’t believe it
W: What won’t you believe- Come on, out with it!
You see that?
W: Yes.
What is it? Yesterday’s evening paper- a London paper. And it was in Giles’ pocket. But didn’t go to London yesterday.
W: Well if he was here all day…
But he wasn’t. He went off in the car to look for chicken wire, but he couldn’t find any.
W: Well that’s all right. Probably he did go to London after all.
Then why shouldn’t he tell me he did? Why pretend he’d been driving all round the countryside?
W: Perhaps with the news of this murder…
He didn’t know about the murder. Or did he… Did he?
W: Good lord Mollie. Surely you don’t think… The Sergeant doesn’t think.
I don’t know what the Sergeant thinks. And he make you think things about people. You ask yourself questions and you begin. You feel that somebody you love and know well might be - a stranger (move to sofa) That’s what happens in a nightmare. You’re somewhere in the middle of friends and then suddenly look at their faces and they’re not your friends any longer- they’re different people- just pretending. Perhaps you can’t trust anybody. Perhaps everybody’s a stranger.
G: I seem to be interrupting something.
No we were- just talking. I must go to the kitchen- there’s the pie and potatoes- and I must do- do the spinach.
G: No, you won’t.
Giles.
G: What the heck…
Please go, Chris.
W: I’m not going.
Please go Christopher. Please, I mean it.
G: What is all of this? Mollie, you must be crazy. Perfectly prepared to shut yourself up in the kitchen with a homicidal maniac.
He isn’t.
G: You’ve only got to look at him to see he’s barmy.
He isn’t. He’s just unhappy. I tell you, Giles, He isn’t dangerous. I’d know if he was dangerous. And anyway, I can look after myself.
G: That’s what Mrs. Boyle said!
Oh, Giles- don’t.
G: Look here, what is there between you and that wretched boy?
What do you mean by between us? I’m sorry for him, that’s all.
G: Perhaps you’d met him before. Perhaps you suggested to him to come here and that you’d both pretend to meet for the first time. All cooked up between you, was it?
Giles, have you gone out of your mind? How dare you suggest these things?
G: Rather odd, isn’t it, that he should come and stay at an out-of-the-way place like this?
No odder than that Miss Casewell and Major Metcalf and Mrs. Boyle should.
G: I read once in a paper that these homicidal cases were able to attract women. Looks as though it were true. Where did you first know him? How long has this been going on?
You’re being absolutely ridiculous. I never set eyes on Christopher Wren until he arrived yesterday.
G: That’s what you say. Perhaps you’ve been running up to London to meet him on the sly.
You know perfectly well that I haven’t been up to London for weeks.
G: You haven’t been up to London for weeks. Is- that- so?
What on earth do you mean? It’s quite true.
G:… You see what’s inside it- a London bus ticket!
(guilty) Oh- that…
G: So it seems that you didn’t only go to village yesterday, you went to London as well.
All right, I went to…
G: Whilst I was safely away racing round the countryside
Whilst you were racing round the countryside…
G: Come on now- admit it. You went to London.
All right. I went to London. So did you!
G: What?
So did you. You brought back an evening paper.
G: Where did you get a hold of that?
It was in your overcoat pocket
G: Anyone could have put it there.
Did they? No, you were in London.
G: All right. Yes I was in London. I didn’t go to meet a woman there.
Didn’t you- are you sure you didn’t?
G: Eh? What d’you mean?
Go away. Don’t near me.
G: What’s the matter?
Don’t touch me.
G: Did you go to London yesterday to meet Christopher Wren?
Don’t be a fool. Of course I didn’t.
G: Then why did you go?
I- shan’t tell you that. Perhaps- now- I’ve forgotten why I went…
G: Mollie what’s come over you? You’re different all of a sudden. I feel as though I don’t know you any more.
Perhaps you never did know me. We’ve been married how long- a year? But you don’t really know anything about me. What I’d done or thought or felt or suffered before you knew me.
G: Mollie you’re crazy…
All right then, I’m crazy! Why not? Perhaps it’s fun to be crazy!
P: No, no, no business at all. But I just came in to say that the Sergeant cannot find his skis and I’m afraid he is very annoyed.
Christopher!
G; What did you mean when you said “Christopher” just now?
Nothing.
T: Is this true Mrs. Ralston? (Christopher enters)
Oh, thank goodness. You haven’t gone after all.
T: Mrs. Ralston seemed to think…
Mr. Wren if very fond of ski-ing. I thought he might have taken them to get a little exercise.
P: I think Miss Casewell’s gone upstairs
I’ll get her
P:.. Alas, what an inconvenience the husband always is… a riverlada
I’m sure Giles doesn’t think…
P:.. So difficult to prove a negative. And suppose instead I am really… (hums three blind mice)
Oh don’t.
G: Stop frightening my wife at once
It’s silly of me but you see- I found her. Her face was all purple. I can’t forget it…
P: I know, it’s difficult to forget things isn’t it. You aren’t really the forgetting kind.
I must go- the food- dinner- prepare the spinach- and the potatoes all going to pieces- please, Giles.
T: Sit down, Major, Mrs. Ralston…
Must I come now? It’s very inconvenient.
T:… She went up to her room. Tell her it will only be a few minutes. (Giles exits)
Have your skis been found Sergeant?
T: Yes, Mr. Ralston, I do.
It’s a trap.
T: What do you mean, it’s a trap?
It is a trap, I know it is.
T: Do you Mr. Wren?
Well you can count me out. I’m too busy in the kitchen.
G: Of course, what you say goes, Sergeant. We’ll all co-operate. Eh, Mollie?
Very well.
