SCENE II
_The music plays in darkness for a few bars, then the curtain rises again. The music fades away.
Late afternoon, two days later._ OLIVIA is seated above the table
snipping long cuttings from newspapers and pasting them into a ledger.
A knock at the front door. She starts nervously. Another knock.
MRS. TERENCE comes in from the kitchen carrying a smoothing-iron.
MRS. TERENCE: If it's them police again, I'll bash their helmets in with this. If it lands me three months, I will.
OLIVIA: They're from Scotland Yard, and they don't wear helmets.
MRS. TERENCE: Then they're going to get 'urt…. (Going into the hall) I can tell by their looks what they think. And they better not think it, neither.
OLIVIA: And what do they think?
MRS. TERENCE (over her shoulder): They think it's me. I know they think it's me.
She goes into the hall and opens the front door.
HUBERT (outside): Good afternoon, Mrs. Terence.
MRS. TERENCE: Oh … come in, sir. (Coming back into the room)
It's a civilian for a change.
She is followed by HUBERT.
HUBERT (to OLIVIA): I say, this is all getting pretty terrible, isn't it?
OLIVIA: Yes, terrible.
MRS. TERENCE: Oh, terrible, terrible. There's one word for it; it's terrible. Forty-eight hours since they found 'er. They'll never get 'im now.
HUBERT: Terrible….
MRS. TERENCE: There was another charabanc load just after two o'clock. All standin' round the rubbish-'cap eatin' sandwiches. Sensation, that's what it is.
OLIVIA: Would you like some food, Hubert?
HUBERT: Well, I—
MRS. TERENCE: They're still looking for the 'ead.
HUBERT (to OLIVIA, with a slight grimace): No, thanks. I had lunch.
MRS. TERENCE: Mangled, she was, mangled…. Did you see your name in the Express, sir?
HUBERT: I—er—did catch a glimpse of it, yes.
MRS. TERENCE: Little did you think, sir, when you was digging that pit for my rubbish, eh? 'E may 'ave been watchin' you digging it … ooh! I have to sit in my kitchen and think about it.
HUBERT: Then why don't you leave?
MRS. TERENCE (indignantly): How can I leave, with the whole village waitin' on me to tell 'em the latest? (Going towards the kitchen) I 'eard 'er 'ead must have been off at one stroke. One stroke….
HUBERT: Really.
MRS. TERENCE (turning at the door): She wasn't interfered with, though.
She goes into the kitchen.
HUBERT: How they all love it…. How's the old lady bearing up in the old invalid chair, eh?
OLIVIA: She's bursting out of it with health. And loving it more than anybody. This is my latest job—a press-cutting book. There was a picture of her in the Chronicle yesterday; she bought twenty-six copies.
HUBERT (taking his pipe out): She'll get to believe she did it herself in the end…. Is she in?
OLIVIA: She's gone over to Breakerly to interview a local paper.
HUBERT: The lad pushing the go-cart?… He's the devoted son all right, isn't he?
OLIVIA (after a pause): I don't talk to him much.
HUBERT: Nice fellow. I've thought a lot about that prying into his things—pretty bad show, really, you know. (Going to the left window) I wonder if they'll ever nab him?
OLIVIA (with a start): What do you mean?
HUBERT: The fellow who did it…. Wonder what he's doing now.
OLIVIA: I wonder.
HUBERT: Damn clever job, you know, quietly…. That was a rum touch, finding that broken lipstick in the rubbish-heap…. You know, the fact they still have no idea where this woman's head is——
OLIVIA (convulsively): Don't….
HUBERT: Sorry.
OLIVIA (after a pause): It's a bit of a strain.
HUBERT (earnestly): Then why don't you leave?
OLIVIA: I—I couldn't afford it.
HUBERT: But you could, if you married me! Now, look here—— (Going to her) You said you'd tell me to-day. So here I am—er— popping the question again. There's nothing much to add, except to go over the old ground again, and say that I'm not what you'd call a terribly brainy chap, but I am straight.
OLIVIA: Yes, I know.
HUBERT: Though, again, I'm not the sort that gets into corners with a pipe and never opens his mouth from one blessed year's end to the other. I can talk.
OLIVIA: Yes, you can.
HUBERT: An all-round chap, really—that's me.
OLIVIA: Yes.
HUBERT: Well?
OLIVIA: I'm sorry, Hubert, but I can't.
HUBERT: You can't? But you told me that day we might make a go of it, or words to that effect——
OLIVIA: I've thought it over since then, and I'm afraid I can't.
A pause.
HUBERT: What's changed you?
OLIVIA: Nothing's changed me, Hubert. I've just thought the matter over, that's all.
A pause. He crosses towards the fireplace.
HUBERT: Is it another man?
OLIVIA (startled): Don't be silly. (Collecting herself)
What man could I possibly meet, cooped up here?
HUBERT: Sorry. Can't be helped. Sorry.
DAN (in the garden): There we are.—Nice outing, eh—
OLIVIA: So am I.
The front door opens and DAN wheels in MRS. BRAMSON. He is as serene as ever, but more animated than before. He is dressed the same as in the previous scene, and is smoking his usual cigarette. HUBERT sits at the table.
DAN (hanging up her rug in the hall): Back home again.—I put your gloves away——
MRS. BRAMSON (as he wheels her in): I feel dead. (To
HUBERT) Oh, it's you…. I feel dead.
DAN (sitting beside her on the sofa, full of high spirits): Don't you be a silly old 'oman, you look as pretty as a picture— strawberries and cream in your face, and not a day over forty; and when I've made you a nice cup of tea you'll be twenty-five in the sun and eighteen with your back to the light, so you think yourself lucky!
MRS. BRAMSON (as he digs her in the side): Oh, Danny, you are a terror! (To the others) He's been at me like this all the way. I must say it keeps me alive.
DAN (as she hands him her hat and cape): But you feel dead. I get you.
MRS. BRAMSON (kittenish): Oh, you caution! You'll be the death of me!
DAN (wagging his finger at her): Ah-ha! (Hanging up her things in the hall) Now what'd you like a drop of in your tea—gin, whisky, liqueur, brandy, or a nice dollop of sailor's rum, eh?
MRS. BRAMSON: Just listen to him! Now don't make me laugh, dear, because there's always my heart.
DAN (sitting beside her again): You've lost your heart, you know you have, to the little feller that pushes your pram—you know you have!
MRS. BRAMSON (laughing shrilly): Pram! Well! (Her laugh cut short) It's wicked to laugh, with this—this thing all round us.
DAN (sobering portentously): I forgot. (As she shivers) Not in a draught, are you? (Shutting the front door and coming down to HUBERT) D'you remember, Mr. Laurie, me pulling your leg about you havin' done it? Funniest thing out!… Talk about laugh!
MRS. BRAMSON (fondly): Tttt!…
DAN (a glint of mischief in his eyes): I think I better get the tea before I get into hot water.
He goes towards the kitchen.
OLIVIA: Mrs. Terence is getting the tea.
DAN (at the door): She don't make tea like me. I'm an old sailor, Miss Grayne. Don't you forget that.
He goes into the kitchen.
OLIVIA: I'm not interested, I'm afraid.
MRS. BRAMSON (wheeling herself to the front of the table): Look here, Olivia, you're downright rude to that boy, and if there's one thing that never gets a woman anywhere, it's rudeness. What have you got against him?
HUBERT: Surely he's got more to say for himself to-day than when I met him before?
MRS. BRAMSON: Oh, he's been in rare spirits all day.
HUBERT: Johnny Walker, judging by the whiff of breath I got just now.
MRS. BRAMSON: Meaning whisky?
HUBERT: Yes.
OLIVIA: I've never heard you make a joke before, Hubert.
HUBERT: Didn't realise it was one till I'd said it. Sorry.
MRS. BRAMSON: It's not a joke; it's a libel.
A knock at the front door.
Come in.
NURSE LIBBY enters from the front door.
The boy's a teetotaller.
HUBERT: Sorry; my mistake.
NURSE: Good afternoon. Shall I wait for you in your bedroom?
MRS. BRAMSON: Yes. I feel absolutely dead.
NURSE (turning at the bedroom, eagerly): Anything new re the murder?
HUBERT: I believe her head was cut off at one stroke.
NURSE (brightly): Oh, poor thing….
She goes into the bedroom. DAN returns from the kitchen, carrying a tray of tea and cakes.
DAN: There you are, fresh as a daisy.—Three lumps, as per usual, and some of the cakes you like——
MRS. BRAMSON (as he pours out her tea): Thank you, dear…. Let me smell your breath. (After smelling it) Clean as a whistle. Smells of peppermints.
OLIVIA: Yes. There were some in the kitchen.
HUBERT: Oh.
MRS. BRAMSON (to HUBERT, as DAN pours out two more cups): So you won't stay to tea, Mr.—er——
HUBERT: Er—(rising)—no, thank you….
DAN sits in HUBERT's chair.
I think I'll get off before it's dark. Good-bye, Mrs. Bramson. Good-bye,
Mr.—er——
DAN (grinning and saluting): Dan. Just Dan.
He opens the press-cutting ledger.
HUBERT (to OLIVIA): Good-bye.
OLIVIA (rises): Good-bye, Hubert. I'm sorry.
DAN raises his cup as if drinking a toast to MRS. BRAMSON. She follows suit.
HUBERT: Can't be helped…. It'll get dark early to-day, I think. Funny how the evenings draw in this time of year. Good night.
DAN: Good night.
HUBERT (to OLIVIA): Good-bye.
OLIVIA: Good-bye.
She goes to the right window-seat.
MRS. BRAMSON: Johnny Walker, indeed! Impertinence!
DAN (drinking tea and scanning press-cuttings): Johnny Walker?
MRS. BRAMSON: Never you mind, dear…. Any more of those terrible people called? Reporters? Police?
DAN (gaily): There's a definite fallin' off in attendance to-day.
Sunday, I expect.
MRS. BRAMSON: Hush, don't talk like that, dear.
DAN: Sorry, mum.
MRS. BRAMSON: And don't call me "mum"!
DAN: Well, if I can't call you Mrs. Bramson, what can I call you?
MRS. BRAMSON: If you were very good, I might let you call me … mother!
DAN (mischievously, his hand to his forehead): O.K., mother.
MRS. BRAMSON (joining in his laughter): Oh, you are in a mood to-day! (Suddenly, imperiously) I want to be read to now.
DAN (crossing to the desk, in mock resignation): Your servant, mother o' mine…. What'll you have? The Channings? The Red Court Farm?
MRS. BRAMSON: I'm tired of them.
DAN: Well … oh! (Taking a large Bible from the top of the desk) What about the Bible?
MRS. BRAMSON: The Bible?
DAN: It's Sunday, you know. I was brought up on it!
MRS. BRAMSON: So was I … East Lynne's nice, though.
DAN: Not as nice as the Bible.
MRS. BRAMSON (doubtfully): All right, dear; makes a nice change…. Not that I don't often dip into it.
DAN: I'm sure you do. (Blowing the dust off the book) Now where'll I read?
MRS. BRAMSON (unenthusiastic): At random's nice, don't you think, dear?
DAN: At random…. Yes….
MRS. BRAMSON: The Old Testament.
DAN (turning over leaves thoughtfully): At random in the Old
Testament's a bit risky, don't you think so?
MRS. TERENCE comes in from the kitchen.
MRS. TERENCE (to MRS. BRAMSON): The paperboy's at the back door and says you're in the News of the World again.
MRS. BRAMSON (interested): Oh!… (Simulating indifference) That horrible boy again, when the one thing I want is to blot the whole thing out of my mind.
MRS. TERENCE: 'Ow many copies d'you want?
MRS. BRAMSON: Get three.
MRS. TERENCE: And 'e says there's a placard in Shepperley with your name on it.
MRS. BRAMSON: What does it say?
MRS. TERENCE: "Mrs. Bramson Talks."
She goes back towards the kitchen.
MRS. BRAMSON: Oh. (As MRS. TERENCE reaches the kitchen door) Go at once into Shepperley and order some. At once!
MRS. TERENCE: Can't be done.
MRS. BRAMSON: Can't be done? What d'you mean, can't be done? It's a scandal. What are you paid for?
MRS. TERENCE (coming back, furious): I'm not paid! And 'aven't been for two weeks! And I'm not coming to-morrow unless I am! Put that in your copybook and blot it.
She goes back into the kitchen, banging the door.
MRS. BRAMSON: Isn't paid? Is she mad? (To OLIVIA) Are you mad?
Why don't you pay her?
OLIVIA (coming down): Because you don't give me the money to do it with.
MRS. BRAMSON: I—(fumbling at her bodice)—wheel me over to that cupboard.
OLIVIA is about to do so, when she catches DAN'S eye.
OLIVIA (to DAN, pointedly): Perhaps you'd go into the kitchen and get the paper from Mrs. Terence?
DAN (after a second's pause, with a laugh): Of course I will, madam! Anythin' you say! Anythin' you say!
He careers into the kitchen, still carrying the Bible. MRS. BRAMSON has fished up two keys on the end of a long black tape. OLIVIA wheels her over to the cupboard above the fireplace.
OLIVIA: If you give me the key, I'll get it for you.
MRS. BRAMSON: No fear! _She unlocks the cupboard; it turns out to be a small but very substantial safe.
(Unlocking the safe, muttering to herself_)
Won't go into Shepperley, indeed … never heard of such impertinence….
She takes out a cash-box from among some deeds, unlocks it with the smaller key, and takes out a mass of five-pound and pound notes.
The way these servants—what are you staring at? OLIVIA: Isn't it rather a lot of money to have in the house?
MRS. BRAMSON: "Put not your trust in banks" is my motto, and always will be.
OLIVIA: But that's hundreds of pounds! It——
MRS. BRAMSON (handing her two notes): D'you wonder I wouldn't let you have the key?
OLIVIA: Has … anybody else asked you for it?
MRS. BRAMSON (locking the cash-box and putting it back in the safe): I wouldn't let a soul touch it. Not a soul. Not even Danny.
She snaps the safe, locks it, and slips the keys back into her bosom.
OLIVIA: Has he asked you for it?
MRS. BRAMSON: It's enough to have those policemen prying, you forward girl, without——
OLIVIA (urgently): Please! Has he?
MRS. BRAMSON: Well, he did offer to fetch some money yesterday for the dairy. But I wouldn't give him the key! Oh, no!
OLIVIA: Why?
MRS. BRAMSON: Do I want to see him waylaid and attacked, and my key stolen? Oh, no, I told him, that key stays on me—
OLIVIA: Did he—know how much money there is in there?
MRS. BRAMSON: I told him! Do you wonder I stick to the key, I said— what is the matter with you, all these questions?
OLIVIA: Oh, it's no use—
She goes to the armchair below the fireplace and sits in it. DAN returns from the kitchen, with a copy of the "News of the World," the Bible tucked under his arm, a cigarette stub between his lips.
DAN: He says they're sellin' like hot cakes! (Handing the paper to MRS. BRAMSON) There you are, I've found the place for you—whole page, headlines an' all….
MRS. BRAMSON: Oh, yes….
DAN _stands with one knee on the sofa, and turns over the pages of his Bible.
(Reading breathlessly, her back to the fireplace_)
"… The Victim's Past" … with another picture of me underneath! (Looking closer, dashed) Oh, taken at Tonbridge the year before the war; really it isn't right…. (To OLIVIA, savouring it) "The Bungalow of Death!… Gruesome finds…. Fiendish murderer still at large…. The enigma of the missing head … where is it buried?" … Oh, yes! (She goes on reading silently to herself.)
DAN (suddenly, in a clear voice): "… Blessed is the man … that walketh not in the counsel of the ungodly … nor standeth in the way of sinners … nor sitteth in the seat of the scornful…."
MRS. BRAMSON (impatiently): Oh, the print's too small….
DAN (firmly): Shall I read it to you?
MRS. BRAMSON: Yes, dear, do….
He shuts the Bible with a bang, throws it on the sofa, and takes the paper from her. OLIVIA watches him intently; he smiles at her slowly and brazenly as he shakes out the paper.
DAN (reading laboriously): "… The murderer committed the crime in the forest most—in the forest, most likely strippin' beforehand—-"
_DORA comes in from the kitchen, and stands at the door, arrested by his reading. She is dressed, in Sunday best.
(reading_) "… and cleansin' himself afterwards in the forest lake——"
MRS. BRAMSON: Tch! tch!
DAN (reading): "… He buried the body shallow in the open pit, cunnin'ly chancin' it bein' filled, which it was next day, the eleventh——" (Nodding at OLIVIA) That was the day 'fore I come here….
MRS. BRAMSON: So it was …
DAN (reading): "The body was nude. Attempts had been made to … turn to foot of next column…." (Doing so) "Attempts had been made to … era—eradicate fingerprints with a knife…."
(Far away, the tolling of village bells. Reading)
"… The head was severed by a skilled person, possibly a butcher. The murderer—" (He stops suddenly, raises his head, smiles, takes the cigarette stub, puts it behind his ear, and listens.)
OLIVIA: What's the matter?
MRS. BRAMSON: Can you hear something? Oh, I'm scared….
DAN: I forgot it was Sunday…. They're goin' to church in the villages. All got up in their Sunday best, with prayer-books, and the organ playin', and the windows shinin'. Shinin' on holy things, because holy things isn't afraid of the daylight.
MRS. BRAMSON: But, Danny, what on earth are you—
DAN (quelling her): But all the time the daylight's movin' over the floor, and by the end of the sermon the air in the church is turnin' grey…. And people isn't able to think of holy things so much no more, only of the terrible things that's goin' on outside, that everybody's readin' about in the papers! (Looking at OLIVIA) Because they know that though it's still daylight, and everythin's or'nary and quiet … to-day will be the same as all the other days, and come to an end, and it'll be night…. (After a pause, coming to earth again with a laugh at the others, throwing the newspaper on the sofa) I forgot it was Sunday!
MRS. BRAMSON (overawed) Good gracious … what's come over you,
Danny?
DAN (with exaggerated animation): Oh, I speechify like anything when I'm roused! I used to go to Sunday school, see, and the thoughts sort of come into my head. Like as if I was readin' off a book! (Slapping his Bible.)
MRS. BRAMSON: Dear, dear…. You should have been a preacher. You should!
DAN laughs loudly and opens the Bible.
DORA (going to the table and collecting the tea-tray): I never knew 'e 'ad so many words in 'is 'ead….
MRS. BRAMSON (suddenly): I want to lie down now, and be examined.
DAN (rising): Anything you say, mother o' mine…. Will you have your medicine in your room as well, eh?
MRS. BRAMSON: Yes, dear…. Olivia, you never got a new bottle yesterday!
DAN (as he wheels her into her bedroom): I got it to-day while you were with the chap…. Popped in at the chemist's.
MRS. BRAMSON: Oh, thank you, dear. The one by the mortuary?… Oh, my back…. Nurse!…
Her voice is lost in the bedroom. The daylight begins to fade. The church bells die away.
DORA: My sister says all this is wearin' me to a shadow.
OLIVIA: It is trying, isn't it?
DORA: You look that worried, too, Miss Grayne.
OLIVIA: Do I?
DORA: As if you was waiting for something to 'appen.
OLIVIA: Oh?
DORA: Like an explosion. A bomb, or something.
OLIVIA (smiling): I don't think that's very likely…. (Lowering her voice) Have you talked to Dan at all this week?
DORA: Never get the chance. 'E's too busy dancin' attendance on Madame
Crocodile….
DAN _comes back from the bedroom, his cigarette stub between his lips.
(Going towards the kitchen_) I'm off. You don't catch me 'ere after dark.
DAN: Why, will ye be late for courting?
DORA: If I was, they'd wait for me. Good afternoon, Miss Grayne. Good afternoon … sir.
DAN (winking at OLIVIA): Are you sure they'd wait?
DORA: You ought to know.
She goes into the kitchen. DAN and OLIVIA are alone. DAN crosses to the sofa with a laugh, humming gaily.
DAN: "Their home addresses … and their caresses …"
He sits on the end of the sofa.
OLIVIA: You've been drinking, haven't you?
DAN (after a pause, quizzically): You don't miss much, do you?
OLIVIA (significantly): No.
DAN (rubbing his hands): I've been drinking, and I feel fine! … (Brandishing the Bible) You wouldn't like another dose of reading?
OLIVIA: I prefer talking.
DAN (putting down the Bible): Carry on.
OLIVIA: Asking questions.
DAN (catching her eye): Carry on!
He studies his outspread hands.
OLIVIA (crisply): Are you sure you were ever a sailor? Are you sure you weren't a butcher?
A pause. He looks at her, slowly, then breaks the look abruptly.
DAN (rising with a smile and standing against the mantelpiece):
Aw, talkin's daft! Doin's the thing!
OLIVIA: You can talk too.
DAN: Aw, yes! D'you hear me just now? She's right, you know, I should ha' been a preacher. I remember, when I was a kid, sittin' in Sunday school—catching my mother's eye where she was sitting by the door, with the sea behind her; and she pointed to the pulpit, and then to me, as if to say, that's the place for you…. (Far away, pensive) I never forgot that.
A pause.
OLIVIA: I don't believe a word of it.
DAN: Neither do I, but it sounds wonderful. (Leaning over her, confidentially) I never saw my mam, and I never had a dad, and the first thing I remember is … Cardiff Docks. And you're the first 'oman I ever told that, so you can compliment yourself. Or the drink. (Laughing) I think it's the drink.
OLIVIA: You do live in your imagination, don't you?
DAN (reassuringly): Yes…. It's the only way to bear with the awful things you have to do.
OLIVIA: What awful things?
DAN: Well … (Grinning like a child and going back to the sofa) Ah-ha!… I haven't had as much to drink as all that! (Sitting on the sofa) Ah-ha!…
OLIVIA: You haven't a very high opinion of women, have you?
DAN makes a gesture with his hands, pointing the thumbs downwards with a decisive movement.
DAN: Women don't have to be drunk to talk…. You don't talk that much, though; fair play. (Looking her up and down, insolently) You're a dark horse, you are.
A pause. She rises abruptly and stands at the fireplace, her back to him. She takes off her spectacles.
Ye know, this isn't the life for you. What is there to it? Tell me that!
OLIVIA (sombrely): What is there to it …?
DAN: Yes….
OLIVIA: Getting up at seven, mending my stockings or washing them, having breakfast with a vixenish old woman and spending the rest of the day with her, in a dreary house in the middle of a wood, and going to bed at eleven…. I'm plain, I haven't got any money, I'm shy, and I haven't got any friends.
DAN (teasing): Don't you like the old lady?
OLIVIA: I could kill her.
A pause. She realises what she has said.
DAN (with a laugh): Oh, no, you couldn't!… Not many people have it in them to kill people…. Oh, no!
She looks at him. A pause. He studies the palms of his hands, chuckling to himself.
OLIVIA: And what was there to your life at the Tallboys?
DAN: My life? Well…. The day don't start so good, with a lot of stuck-up boots to clean, and a lot of silly high heels all along the passage waitin' for a polish, and a lot of spoons to clean that's been in the mouths of gapin' fools that looks through me as if I was a dirty window hadn't been cleaned for years…. (Throwing his stub into the fire in a sudden crescendo of fury) Orders, orders, orders; go here, do this, don't do that, you idiot, open the door for me, get a move on—I was never meant to take orders, never!… Down in the tea-place there's an old white beard wigglin'. "Waiter, my tea's stone cold." (Furiously) I'm not a waiter, I'm a millionaire, and everybody's under me!… And just when I think I got a bit o' peace…. (His head in his hands) … there's somebody … lockin' the bedroom door … (raising his head) … won't let me get out; talk, talk, talk, won't fork out with no more money, at me, at me, at me, won't put no clothes on, calls me everythin', lie on the floor and screams and screams, so nothin' keeps that mouth shut only … (A pause.) It's rainin' out of the window, and the leaves is off the trees … oh, Lord … I wish I could hear a bit o' music … (smiling, slowly) … And I do, inside o' myself! And I have a drop of drink … and everything's fine (Excited) And when it's the night …
OLIVIA (with a cry): Go on!
A pause. He realises she is there, and turns slowly and looks at her.
DAN (wagging his finger with a sly smile): Aha! I'm too fly for you! You'd like to know, wouldn't you? Aha! Why would you like to know? (Insistently, mischievously) Why d'you lie awake … all night?
OLIVIA: Don't!… I'm frightened of you!…
DAN (triumphantly, rising and facing her, his back half to the audience): Why?
OLIVIA (desperate): How do you know I lie awake at night? Shall I tell you why? Because you're awake yourself! You can't sleep, can you?… (Triumphantly, in her turn) You can't sleep! There's one thing that keeps you awake … isn't there? One thing you've pushed into the back of your mind, and you can't do any more about it, and you never will…. And do you know what it is?… It's a little thing. A box. Only a box. But it's … rather heavy….
DAN looks at her. A long pause. He jerks away with a laugh and sits at the sofa again. DAN (quietly, prosaically): The way you was going through my letters the other day—that had to make me smile…. _His voice dies away. Without warning, as if seeing something in his mind which makes him lose control, he shrieks loudly, clapping his hands over his eyes: then is silent. He recovers slowly and stares at her.
(After a pause, in a measured voice_) It's the only thing that keeps me awake, mind you! The only thing! (Earnestly) But I don't know what to do…. You see, nothing worries me, nothing in the world, only … I don't like a pair of eyes staring at me … (his voice trailing away) … with no look in them. I don't know what to do … I don't know …
_Without warning he bursts into tears. She sits beside him and seems almost about to put her arms about him. He feels she is there, looks into her eyes, grasps her arm, then pulls himself together abruptly.
(Rising_) But it's the only thing! I live by myself … (clapping his chest) … inside here—and all the rest of you can go hang! After I've made a use of you, though! Nothing's going to stop me! I feel fine! I—
BELSIZE _crosses outside. A sharp knock at the front door. She half rises. He motions her to sit again.
(With his old swagger_) All right! Anybody's there, I'll deal with 'em—I'll manage myself all right! You watch me!
He goes to the front door and opens it.
BELSIZE (at the door, jovially): Hello, Dan! How's things?
DAN (letting him in and shutting the door): Not so bad….
He brings BELSIZE into the room.
BELSIZE (as OLIVIA goes): Afternoon, Miss Grayne!
OLIVIA (putting on her spectacles): How do you do….
She makes an effort to compose herself and hurries across to the sun-room. BELSIZE'S attitude is one of slightly exaggerated breeziness: DAN'S is one of cheerful naivete almost as limpid as on his first appearance.
BELSIZE: Bearing up, eh?
DAN: Yes, sir, bearin' up, you know….
BELSIZE: We haven't scared you all out of the house yet, I see!
DAN: No chance!
BELSIZE: All these blood-curdlers, eh?
DAN: I should say so!
BELSIZE: No more news for me, I suppose?
DAN: No chance!
BELSIZE: Ah … too bad! Mind if I sit down?
DAN: (pointing to the sofa): Well, this is the nearest you get to comfort in this house, sir.
BELSIZE: No, thanks, this'll do…. (Sitting on a chair at the table, and indicating the cuttings) I see you keep apace of the news?
DAN: I should say so! They can't hardly wait for the latest on the case in this house, sir.
BELSIZE: Ah, well, it's only natural…. I got a bit of a funny feeling bottom of my spine myself crossing by the rubbish-heap.
DAN: Well, will you have a cigarette, sir?… (His hand to his jacket pocket) Only a Woodbine——
BELSIZE: No, thanks.
DAN (after a pause): Would you like to see Mrs. Bramson, sir?
BELSIZE: Oh, plenty of time. How's she bearing up?
DAN: Well, it's been a bit of a shock for her, them finding the remains of the lady at the bottom of her garden, you know.
BELSIZE: The remains of the lady! I wish you wouldn't talk like that.
I've seen 'em.
DAN (looking over his shoulder at the cuttings): Well, you see,
I haven't.
BELSIZE: You know, I don't mind telling you, they reckon the fellow that did this job was a bloodstained clever chap.
DAN (smiling): You don't say?
BELSIZE (casually): He was blackmailing her, you know.
DAN: Tch! tch! Was he?
BELSIZE: Whoever he was.
DAN: She had a lot of fellows on a string, though, didn't she?
BELSIZE (guardedly): That's true.
DAN: Though this one seems to have made a bit more stir than any of the others, don't he?
BELSIZE: Yes. (Indicating the cuttings) Regular film star. Made his name.
DAN (abstractedly): If you can make your name withou nobody knowin' what it is, o' course.
BELSIZE (slightly piqued): Yes, of course…. But I don't reckon he's been as bright as all that.
DAN (after a slight pause): Oh, you don't?
BELSIZE: No! They'll nab him in no time.
DAN: Oh … Mrs. Bramson'll be that relieved. And the whole country besides….
BELSIZE: Look here, Dan, any self-respecting murderer would have taken care to mutilate the body to such a degree that nobody could recognise it—and here we come and identify it first go! (DAN folds his arms and looks thoughtful.) Call that clever?… What d'you think?
DAN catches his eye and crosses to the sofa.
DAN: Well, sir, I'm a slow thinker, I am, but though it might be clever to leave the lady unide—unide——
BELSIZE: Unidentified.
DAN (sitting on the edge of the sofa): Thank you, sir…. (Laboriously) Well, though it be clever to leave the lady unidentified and not be caught … hasn't it been more clever to leave her _i_dentified … and still not be caught?
BELSIZE: Why didn't you sleep in your bed on the night of the tenth?
A pause. DAN stiffens almost imperceptibly.
DAN: What you say?
BELSIZE: Why didn't you sleep in your bed on the night of the murder?
DAN: I did.
BELSIZE (lighting his pipe): You didn't.
DAN: Yes I did. Oh—except for about half an hour—that's right. I couldn't sleep for toffee and I went up the fire-escape—I remember thinkin' about it next day when the woman was missing, and trying to remember if I could think of anything funny——
BELSIZE: What time was that? (He rises, crosses to the fireplace, and throws his match into it.)
DAN: Oh, about … oh, you know how you wake up in the night and don't know what time it is….
BELSIZE (staring at him doubtfully): Mmm …
DAN: I could never sleep when I was at sea, neither, sir.
BELSIZE: Mmm. (Suddenly) Are you feeling hot?
DAN: No.
BELSIZE: Your shirt's wet through.
DAN (after a pause): I've been sawin' some wood.
BELSIZE: Why didn't you tell us you were having an affair with the deceased woman?
DAN: Affair? What's that?
BELSIZE: Come along, old chap, I'll use a straighter word if it'll help you. But you're stalling. She was seen by two of the maids talking to you in the shrubbery. Well?
A pause. DAN bursts into tears, but with a difference. His breakdown a few minutes ago was genuine; this is a good performance, very slightly exaggerated. BELSIZE watches him dispassionately, his brows knit.
DAN: Oh, sir … it's been on my conscience … ever since …
BELSIZE: So you did have an affair with her?
DAN: Oh, no, sir, not that! I avoided her ever after that day she stopped me, sir!… You see, sir, a lady stayin' where I was workin', and for all I knew married, and all the other fellers she'd been after, and the brazen way she went on at me…. You're only human, aren't you, sir, and when they asked me about her, I got frightened to tell about her stopping me…. But now you know about it, sir, it's a weight off my mind, you wouldn't believe!… (Rising, after seeming to pull himself together) As a matter of fact, sir, it was the disgust-like of nearly gettin' mixed up with her that was keepin' me awake at nights.
BELSIZE: I see…. You're a bit of a milk-sop, aren't you?
DAN (apparently puzzled): Am I, sir?
BELSIZE: Yes…. That'll be all for to-day. I'll let you off this once.
DAN: I'm that relieved, sir!
BELSIZE (crossing to the table for his hat): But don't try and keep things from the police another time.
DAN: No chance!
BELSIZE: They always find you out, you know.
DAN: Yes, sir. Would you like a cup o' tea, sir?
BELSIZE: No, thanks. I've got another inquiry in the village…. (Turning back, with an afterthought) Oh, just one thing—might as well just do it, we're supposed to with all the chaps we're questioning, matter of form—if you don't mind. I'll have a quick look through your luggage. Matter of form….
DAN: Oh, yes.
BELSIZE: Where d' you hang out?
DAN (tonelessly): Through the kitchen … here, sir…. First door facin' …
BELSIZE: First door facing——
DAN: You can't miss it.
BELSIZE: I'll find it.
DAN: It's open, I think.
BELSIZE goes into the kitchen. A pause, DAN _looks slowly round the room.
(Turning mechanically to the kitchen door_) You can't miss it….
A pause. The noise of something being moved beyond the kitchen. Dan sits on the sofa with a jerk, looking before him. His fingers beat a rapid tattoo on the sides of the sofa. He looks at them, rises convulsively and walks round the room, grasping chairs and furniture as he goes round. He returns to the sofa, sits, and begins the tattoo again. With a sudden wild automatic movement he beats his closed fists in rapid succession against the sides of his head. BELSIZE returns, carrying the hat-box.
BELSIZE (crossing and placing the hat-box on the table): This one's locked. Have you got the key?
DAN rises, and takes a step into the middle of the room. He looks at the hat-box at last.
DAN (in a dead voice): It isn't mine.
BELSIZE: Not yours?
DAN: No.
BELSIZE: Oh?… Whose is it, then?
DAN: I dunno. It isn't mine.
OLIVIA stands at the sun-room door.
OLIVIA: I'm sorry, I thought … Why, inspector, what are you doing with my box?
BELSIZE: Yours?
OLIVIA: Yes! It's got all my letters in it!
BELSIZE: But it was in …
OLIVIA: Oh, Dan's room used to be the box-room.
BELSIZE: Oh, I see….
OLIVIA: I'll keep it in my wardrobe; it'll be safer there…. With sudden feverish resolution, she picks up the box and carries it into the kitchen. DAN looks the other way as she passes him.
BELSIZE: I'm very sorry, miss. (Scratching his head) I'm afraid
I've offended her….
DAN (smiling): She'll be all right, sir….
BELSIZE: Well, young feller, I'll be off. You might tell the old lady I popped in, and hope she's better.
DAN (smiling and nodding): Thank you, sir…. Good day, sir.
BELSIZE: Good day.
He goes out through the front door into the twilight, closing it behind him.
DAN: Good day sir….
A pause, DAN crumples to the floor in a dead faint.