Chapter III: Act II: Scene I

_An afternoon twelve days later. The weather is a little duller._

MRS. BRAMSON _is sitting on the right of the table in her invalid chair, puzzling out a game of patience. She has smartened up her appearance in the interval and is wearing purple, and earrings._ OLIVIA _is sitting opposite her, smoking a cigarette, a pencil and pad on the table in front of her; she is pondering and writing. A portable gramophone on a small table next the desk is playing the H.M.V. dance record of "Dames."

A pause_. MRS. BRAMSON _coughs. She coughs again, and looks at_ OLIVIA, _waving her hand before her, clearing away billows of imaginary smoke_.

OLIVIA: I'm sorry. Is my cigarette worrying you?

MRS. BRAMSON (_temper_): Not at all. I like it!

OLIVIA _stubs out her cigarette with a resigned look and goes on making notes_. DAN _enters from the kitchen, keeping time to the music, carrying a bunch of roses, wearing overalls over flannel trousers and a brown golf jacket, and smoking. He goes to the fireplace and clumps the roses into a vase on the mantelpiece, humming the tune. He crosses to the gramophone, still in rhythm,_ MRS. BRAMSON _keeping time skittishly with her hands. He turns off the gramophone and looks over_ OLIVIA'S _shoulder at what she is writing._

DAN (_singing_): "Their home addresses ... and their caresses ... linger in my memory of ... those beautiful dames" ... (_His hand to his forehead_) That's me!

OLIVIA _looks at him coldly and continues her notes._

MRS. BRAMSON: It won't come out....

DAN _shrugs his shoulders, stands behind_ MRS. BRAMSON'S _chair, and studies her play._ OLIVIA _follows his example from her side._

OLIVIA (_pointing to two cards_): Look.

MRS. BRAMSON (_infuriated_): I saw that! Leave me alone, and don't interfere.

_A pause._ DAN _makes a quick movement and puts one card on another.

(Pleased and interested, quite unconscious to the difference in her attitude_) Oh, yes, dear, of course....

OLIVIA (_as_ MRS. BRAMSON _makes a move_): No, that's a spade.

MRS. BRAMSON (_sharply_): No such thing; it's a club. It's got a wiggle on it.

DAN: They both got wiggles on 'em. (_Pointing to another card_) This is a club.

MRS. BRAMSON: Oh yes, dear, so it is! OLIVIA (_writing_): The ironmonger says there _were_ two extra gallons of paraffin not paid for.

MRS. BRAMSON: And they _won't_ be paid for either--not if I have to go to law about it.

_A pause. She coughs absently_.

DAN: I'm sorry. Is my cigarette worrying you?

MRS. BRAMSON: No, no, dear.

_This has its effect on_ OLIVIA. DAN _sits on the left of the table, where "East Lynne" is open on the table_.

I'm sick of patience.

DAN (_reading laboriously_): "You old-fashioned child--"

MRS. BRAMSON: What?

DAN: _East Lynne_.

MRS. BRAMSON: Oh....

DAN (_reading_): "'You old-fashioned child!' retorted Mrs. Vane. 'Why did you not put on your diamonds?' 'I-did-put on my diamonds,' stammered Lady Isabel. 'But I--took them off again.' 'What on earth for?'" That's the other lady speaking there--

MRS. BRAMSON: Yes, dear....

DAN: "'What on earth for?' ... 'I did not like to be too fine,' answered Lady Isabel, with a laugh--" (_turning over_) "--and a blush. 'They glittered so! I feared it might be thought I had put them on to look fine.'"

MRS. BRAMSON (_absently_): Good, isn't it?

DAN (_flicking ash_): Oh, yes, reelistic.... (_Reading_) "'I see you mean to set up among that class of people who pree-tend to dee-spise ornyment,' scornfully ree-marked Mrs. Vane. 'It is the ree-finement of aff-affectation, Lady Isabel----'"

_An excited knock at the kitchen door._ DORA _enters._ DAN _turns back the page and surveys what he has been reading, scratching his head._

MRS. BRAMSON (_the old edge to her voice_): What is it?

DORA: Them men's in the wood again.

MRS. BRAMSON: What men?

DORA: The men lookin' for that Mrs. Chalfont.

_A pause._ DAN _hums "Dames" under his breath._

MRS. BRAMSON: You don't mean to tell me they're still at it? But they've been pottering about since ... when was that day Mr. Dan left the Tallboys?

DORA (_stressing a little bitterly_): _Mister_ Dan?

DAN (_smiling_): Ahem!...

DORA: _Mister_ Dan first came to work for you, mum, a week last Monday....

MRS. BRAMSON: Well, I think it's a disgrace----

DORA: _I_'ve found something!

DAN'S _humming stops abruptly; he swivels round and looks at_ DORA, _his face unseen by the audience._ OLIVIA _and_ MRS. BRAMSON _stare at_ DORA; _a pause._

MRS. BRAMSON: _You've_ found something?

OLIVIA: What?

DORA (_excited_): This!

_She holds out her left arm and lets jail from her fist the length of a soiled belt. A pause._ OLIVIA _puts down her pencil and pad, goes to her, and looks at the belt._

OLIVIA: Yes, of course, it's mine! I missed it last week....

MRS. BRAMSON (_baulked of excitement_): Oh yes, I thought I recognised it.... What nonsense!...

DAN _looks at her; chuckling._

DORA (_going, dolefully_): I'm ever so disappointed....

_She goes into the kitchen._ OLIVIA _goes to the armchair by the fireplace._

MRS. BRAMSON: She'll be joining Scotland Yard next.... Go on, dear.

DAN (_reading_): "'It is the ree-finement of affectation, Lady Isabel----'"

_The clock chimes.

(Clapping his hands, to_ MRS. BRAMSON) Ah!

MRS. BRAMSON (_pleased_): Oh, Danny ...

_He hurries to the medicine cupboard and pours medicine into a spoon._ HUBERT _comes in from the front door._

HUBERT (_eagerly_): Have you heard?

MRS. BRAMSON (_eagerly_): What?

HUBERT: Dora's found a belt!

MRS. BRAMSON (_disappointed again_): Oh ... it was Olivia's.

HUBERT: I say, what a shame!...

MRS. BRAMSON: Tch, tch!... All this sensation-mong----

DAN _drowns her speech by deftly pouring the spoonful of medicine down her throat. He pushes her chocolate-box towards her, and strides briskly into the hall._

Horrid....

DAN (_taking a soft hat from the rack and putting it on_): Good for you, though, the way you are....

MRS. BRAMSON: Yes, dear.

DAN (_coming into the room, and beginning to take off his overalls_): And now it's time for your walk.... (_Smiling at_ OLIVIA) It's all right, I got trousers on.... (_Peeling the overalls over his feet, and tossing them on to the left window-seat_) Listen to me talking about your walk, when you'll be in a chair all the time.... (_Chuckling, to_ HUBERT) That's funny, isn't it!... (_Going to_ MRS. BRAMSON) Come on, I got your shawl and your rug in the hall....

MRS. BRAMSON (_as he wheels her into the hall_): Have you got my pills?

DAN: I got them in my pocket.

MRS. BRAMSON: And my chocolates?

DAN: I got them in my pocket too. Here's your hat--better put it on yourself.

MRS. BRAMSON: Yes, dear.

DAN: And here's your shawl.

MRS. BRAMSON: It isn't a shawl, it's a cape.

DAN: Well, I don't know, do I? And I carry your rug on my shoulder.... (_To the others_) See you later! Be good!

_Shutting the front door, his voice dying as the chair passes the left window._

Down this way to-day....

_A pause. HUBERT and OLIVIA look at each other._

OLIVIA (_suddenly_): What do _you_ think of him?

HUBERT (_a little taken aback_): Him? Grannie's white-headed boy, you mean? Oh, he's all right. (_Heavily_.) A bit slow on the uptake, of course. I wish he'd occasionally take that fag-end out of his mouth.

OLIVIA: He does. For _her_.

HUBERT: That's true. That's why he's made such a hit with her. Funny I haven't been able to manage it. In two weeks, too ... it's uncanny.

OLIVIA: Uncanny?... I think it's clever.

HUBERT: You don't think he's a wrong 'un, do you?

OLIVIA: What do we know about him?

HUBERT: Why ... his Christian name?

OLIVIA: And that's all.

HUBERT: He looks pretty honest.

OLIVIA: Looks? (_After a pause_.) It's rather frightening to think what a face can hide.... I sometimes catch sight of one looking at me. Careful lips, and blank eyes.... And then I find I'm staring at myself in the glass ... and I realise how successfully I'm hiding the thoughts I know so well ... and then I know we're all ... strangers. Windows, with blinds, and behind them ... secrets. What's behind _his_ eyes? (_After a pause, with a smile_) You're quite right, it _is_ morbid.

HUBERT: D'you think he's a thief or something? By Jove, I left my links on the washstand before lunch!

OLIVIA: He's acting ... every minute of the time. I know he is! But he's acting pretty well, because I don't know _how_ I know.... He's walking about here all day, and talking a little, and smiling, and smoking cigarettes.... Impenetrable ... that's what it is! What's going on--in his mind? What's he thinking of? (_Vehemently_ ) He _is_ thinking of something! All the time! What is it?

_DAN enters from the front door and smiles broadly at them._

DAN: Anybody seen my lady's pills? It's a matter of life and death.... I thought _I_ had 'em.

_HUBERT chuckles._

OLIVIA (_after a pause, in a level voice_): Oh, yes. They're in the top drawer of the desk. I'm so sorry.

DAN: Thank you.

_He salutes her, goes to the desk, and takes out the pills. They watch him._

MRS. BRAMSON (_off_) Danny!

DAN: Oh, yes, here they are....

HUBERT (_to say something_): Is she feeling off colour again?

DAN (_on his way to the front door_): Off colour? She's never been on it, man! To hear her go on you'd think the only thing left is artificial respiration, And chocolates.... (_Laughing, and calling_) Coming!

_He goes, shutting the front door behind him._

HUBERT: No, really you have to laugh!

OLIVIA: But what you've just seen ... that's exactly what I mean! It's acting! He's not being himself for a minute--it's all put on for our benefit ... don't you see?

HUBERT (_banteringly_): D'you know, I think you're in love with him.

OLIVIA (_with rather more impatience than is necessary_): Don't be ridiculous.

HUBERT: I was only joking.

OLIVIA: He's common and insolent, and I dislike him intensely.

MRS. TERENCE _comes in from the kitchen._

MRS. TERENCE: What'll you 'ave for tea, scones or crumpets? Can't make both.

OLIVIA: What d'_you_ think of Dan?

MRS. TERENCE: Dan? Oh, 'e's all right. Bit of a mystery.

HUBERT: Oh.

MRS. TERENCE (_shutting the kitchen door and coming into the middle of the room_): Terrible liar, o' course. But then a lot of us are. Told me he used to 'unt to 'ounds and 'ave 'is own pack. Before 'e went up in the world and went as a page-boy, I suppose.

OLIVIA (_to_ HUBERT): You see? He wouldn't try that on with us, but couldn't resist it with her.

HUBERT: I wonder how soon the old girl'll get his number?... Oh, but fair play, we're talking about the chap as if he were the most terrible----

MRS. TERENCE: Why, what's 'e done?

HUBERT: Exactly.

OLIVIA: I don't know, but I feel so strongly ... Is Dora there?... (_Calling cautiously_) Dora!

MRS. TERENCE: Oh, she won't know anything. She's as 'alf-witted as she's lazy, and that's sayin' a lot. She'd cut 'er nose off to stop the dust-bin smelling sooner than empty it, she would.

DORA _comes in from the kitchen, wiping her hands on her apron._

DORA: Did somebody say Dora?

OLIVIA: Has Dan said any more about marrying you?

DORA: No. _She_ 'asn't brought it up again, either.

OLIVIA: Does he talk to you at all?

DORA (_perplexed_): Oh ... only how-do-you-do and beg-your-pardon. I've never really spent any time in 'is company, you see. Except, o' course--

HUBERT: Quite. What's your idea of him?

DORA: Oh.... (_Moving to the centre of the room_) 'E's all right. Takes 'is fun where 'e finds it. And leaves it.... Cracks 'imself up, you know. Pretends 'e doesn't care a twopenny, but always got 'is eye on what you're thinking of 'im ... if you know what I mean.

OLIVIA: Yes, I do. That incredible vanity ... they always have it. Always.

HUBERT: Who?

_A pause._

OLIVIA: Murderers.

_A pause. They stare at her._

HUBERT: Good God!...

MRS. TERENCE: D'you mean ... this woman they're looking for?

OLIVIA: I'm sure of it.

MRS. TERENCE: But 'es's such a--such a ordinary boy--

OLIVIA: That's just it--and then he's suddenly so ... extraordinary. I've felt it ever since I heard him sing that song--I told you--

HUBERT: That "mighty-lak-a-rose" thing, you mean? Oh, but it's a pretty well-known one--

OLIVIA: It's more than that. I've kept on saying to myself: No, murder's a thing we read about in the papers; it isn't real life; it can't touch us. ... But it can. And it's here. All round us. In the forest ... in this house. We're ... living with it. (_After a pause, rising decisively_) Bring his luggage in here, will you, Mrs. Terence?

MRS. TERENCE (_staggered_): 'Is luggage? (_Recovering, to_ DORA) Give me a 'and.

_Wide-eyed, she goes into the kitchen, followed by_ DORA.

HUBERT: I say, this is a bit thick, you know--spying--

OLIVIA (_urgently_): We may never have the house to ourselves again.

_She runs to each window and looks out across the forest._ MRS. TERENCE _returns carrying luggage: one large and one small suitcase_. DORA _follows, lugging an old-fashioned thick leather hat-box_. MRS. TERENCE _places the suitcases on the table_; DORA _plants the hat-box in the middle of the floor._

MRS. TERENCE (_in a conspiratorial tone_): This is all.

HUBERT: But look here, we can't do this--

OLIVIA _snaps open the lid of the larger suitcase with a jerk. A pause. They look, almost afraid_. DORA _moves to the back of the table._

MRS. TERENCE (_as_ OLIVIA _lifts it gingerly_): A dirty shirt ...

HUBERT: That's all right.

OLIVIA: A clean pair of socks ... packet of razor-blades ...

HUBERT: We shouldn't be doing this--I feel as if I were at school again--

MRS. TERENCE: Singlet ...

OLIVIA: Half ticket to Shepperley Palais de Danse ...

MRS. TERENCE: Oh, it's a proper 'aunt!

DORA: Oh, 'ere's a pocket-book. With a letter.

(_She gives the letter to_ MRS. TERENCE _and the pocket-book to_ OLIVIA.)

HUBERT: Look here, this is going a bit too far--you can't do this to a chap--

MRS. TERENCE (_taking the letter from the envelope_): Don't be silly, dear, your wife'll do it to you 'undreds of times.... (_Sniffing the note-paper_) Pooh.... (_Reading, as they crane over her shoulder_) "Dear Baby-Face my own ..." Signed Lil....

OLIVIA: What awful writing....

MRS. TERENCE (_reading, heavily_): "... Next time you strike Newcastle, O.K. by me, baby...." Ooh!

HUBERT: Just another servant-girl.... Sorry, Dora....

DORA (_lugubriously_): O.K.

OLIVIA (_rummaging in the pocket-book_): Bus ticket to Thorburton, some snaps ...

MRS. TERENCE: Look at 'er _bust_!

OLIVIA: Here's a group.... Look, Hubert....

HUBERT _joins her in front of the table._

HUBERT: This wench is rather fetching.

MRS. TERENCE (_crowding between them_): Look at _'er_!... The impudence, 'er being taken in a bathing-suit!...

DORA: He's not in this one, is 'e?

HUBERT (_impressed_): Oh, I say ... there _she_ is!

MRS. TERENCE and DORA: who?

HUBERT: The missing female! In front of the tall man.... You remember the photograph of her in the _Mirror_?

DORA: It's awful to think she may be dead. Awful....

MRS. TERENCE: Looks ever so sexy, doesn't she?

DORA: 'Ere's one of a little boy--

OLIVIA: How extraordinary....

HUBERT: What?

OLIVIA: It's himself.

DORA: The little Eton collar.... Oh, dear ... ever so sweet, isn't it? MRS. TERENCE: Now that's what I call a real innocent face....

HUBERT (_going to the centre of the room_): Well, that's that....

OLIVIA: Wait a minute, wasn't there another one? (_Seeing the hat-box_) Oh, yes....

HUBERT (_lifting it on to a chair_): Oh, this; yes....

DORA: Old-fashioned, isn't it?

MRS. TERENCE: I should think he got it from a box-room at the Tallboys--

OLIVIA (_puzzled_): But it looks so extraordinary--(_She gives a sudden gasp.)

They look at her. She is staring at the box. A pause._

HUBERT: What is it?

OLIVIA: I don't know.... Suppose there is something ... inside it?

_A pause. They stare at her, fascinated by her thought. The front door bangs. They are electrified into action: but it is too late. It is_ DAN. _He goes briskly to the table._

DAN: She wants to sit in the sun now and have a bit of _East Lynne_. Talk about changin' your mind--

_He sees the suitcases on the table before him, and is motionless and silent. A pause. The others dare not move. He finally breaks the situation, takes up "East Lynne" from the table, and walks slowly back to the front door. He stops, looks round at_ HUBERT, _smiles, and comes down to him. His manner is normal--too normal._

Could I have it back, please? It's the only one I got....

HUBERT: Oh ... yes, of course.... (_Handing him the pocket-book._)

DAN (_taking it_): Thank you very much.

HUBERT: Not at all ... I ... (_To_ OLIVIA) Here, you deal with this. It's beyond me.

DAN (_to him_): Did you see the picture of me when I was a little fellow?

HUBERT: Yes.... Very jolly.

DAN (_turning to_ MRS. TERENCE): Did _you?_ It was in the inside of my wallet.

MRS. TERENCE: Oh ... was it?

DAN: Yes. Where I should be keeping my money, only any bit of money I have I always keep _on_ me. (_Turning to_ HUBERT) Safer, don't you think?

HUBERT (_smiling weakly_): Ye-es....

DAN: I only keep one ten-bob note in this wallet, for emergencies.... (_Looking_) That's funny. It's gone.

_He looks at_ HUBERT. _The others look blankly at one another._ ... I expect I dropped it somewhere.... What did you think of the letter?

HUBERT: Letter?

DAN: You got in your hand.

HUBERT: Well, I didn't--er--

DAN: Means well, does Lil; but we had a row. (_Taking back the letter_) She would spy on me. And if there's anythin' I hate, it's spyin'. Don't you agree?

HUBERT: Ye-es.

DAN: I'd sooner have anythin' than a spy. (_To_ MRS. TERENCE) Bar a murderer, o' course.

_A pause. He is arranging his property in his wallet._

HUBERT (_incredulous_): What--what did you say?

DAN (_turning to him casually_): Bar a murderer, o' course!

OLIVIA _steps forward_. MRS. TERENCE _steps back from the chair on which the hat-box has been placed_.

OLIVIA (_incisively_): Talking of murder, do you know anything about Mrs. Chalfont's whereabouts at the moment?

DAN _turns to her, and for the first time sees the hat-box. He stands motionless. A pause._

DAN: Mrs. Who? OLIVIA: You can't pretend you've never heard of her.

DAN (_turning to_ HUBERT, _recovering himself_): Oh, Mrs. _Chalfont's_ whereabouts! I thought she said her name was Mrs. Chalfontswear. (_Profusely_) Silly.... Swear--about--couldn't think----

OLIVIA: Well?

DAN (_still looking at_ HUBERT, _brightly, after a pause_): I've nothin' to go on, but I think she's been ... murdered.

HUBERT: Oh, you do?

DAN: Yes, I do.

MRS. TERENCE: Who by?

DAN: They say she had several chaps on a string, and----(_Suddenly_) There was one fellow, a London chap, a bachelor, very citified--with a fair moust----(_He stares at_ HUBERT.)

HUBERT (_touching his moustache, unconsciously_): What are you looking at me for?

DAN: Well ... you wasn't round these parts the day she bunked, was you?

HUBERT: Yes, I was, as a matter of fact.

DAN (_significantly_): Oh....

MRS. BRAMSON'S VOICE (_calling in the garden_): Danny!

HUBERT (_flustered_): What in God's name are you getting at?

DAN _smiles and shrugs his shoulders regretfully at him, and goes out through the front door._ OLIVIA _sits at the table._

MRS. TERENCE (_to_ HUBERT, _perplexed_): Are you sure you didn't do it, sir?

HUBERT: I'm going out for a breath of air.

_He takes his hat and stick as he goes through the hall, and goes out through the front door._

MRS. TERENCE (_to_ OLIVIA): You don't still think--

OLIVIA: I won't say any more. I know how silly it sounds.

DORA _runs into the kitchen, snivelling._

MRS. TERENCE (_to_ OLIVIA): The way you worked us all up! Doesn't it all go to show--

_She hears_ DAN _return, and looks round apprehensively. He goes to the table slowly and looks at the two suitcases._

DAN (_smiling, to_ MRS. TERENCE): Would you mind please givin' me a hand with the tidyin' up?... (_Taking up the suitcases_) And carryin' the other one?... (_Going into the kitchen, followed by_ MRS. TERENCE _carrying the hat-box_) Looks as if we're goin' on our holidays, doesn't it?...

OLIVIA _is alone for a moment. She stares before her, perplexed._ DAN _returns. She looks away. He looks at her, his eyes narrowed. A pause. Studying her, he takes from a pocket of his jacket a formidable-looking clasp-knife, unclasps it, and tests the blade casually with his fingers. He glances at the mantelpiece, crosses to it, takes down a stick, and begins to sharpen the end of it._ OLIVIA _watches him. A pause._ OLIVIA: _Did_ you do it?

_He whittles at the stick._

DAN: You wouldn't be bad-lookin' without them glasses.

OLIVIA: It doesn't interest me very much what I look like.

DAN: Don't you believe it.... (_Surveying the shavings in the hearth_) Tch!... Clumsy.... (_Looking round, and seeing a newspaper lying on the table_) Ah....

_He crosses to the table.

(Smiling, with the suspicion of a mock-bow_) Excuse me.... (_He unfolds the newspaper on the table and begins to whittle the stick over it_.)

OLIVIA: You're very conceited, aren't you?

DAN (_reassuringly_): Yes....

OLIVIA: And you _are_ acting all the time, aren't you?

DAN (_staring at her, as if astonished_): Actin'? Actin' what? (_Leaning over the table, on both arms_) Look at the way I can look you in the eyes. I'll stare you out....

OLIVIA (_staring into his eyes_): I have a theory it's the criminals who _can_ look you in the eyes, and the honest people who blush and look away.

DAN (_smiling_): Oh....

OLIVIA (_after a pause, challenging_): It's a very blank look, though, isn't it?

DAN (_smiling_): Is it?

OLIVIA: You are acting, aren't you?

DAN (_after a pause, in a whisper, almost joyfully_): Yes!

OLIVIA (_fascinated_): And what are you like when you stop acting?

DAN: I dunno, it's so long since I stopped.

OLIVIA: But when you're alone?

DAN: Then I act more than ever I do.

OLIVIA: Why?

DAN: I dunno; 'cause I like it.... (_Breaking the scene, pulling a chair round to the table_) Now what d'ye say if _I_ ask a question or two for a change? (_Sitting in the chair facing her_) Just for a change.... Why can't you take a bit of an interest in some other body but me?

OLIVIA (_taken aback_): I'm not interested in you. Only you don't talk. That's bound to make people wonder.

DAN: I can talk a lot sometimes. A drop o' drink makes a power o' difference to me. (_Chuckling_) You'd be surprised.... Ah....

_He returns to his work._

OLIVIA: I wonder if I would....

DAN: I know you would....

OLIVIA: I think I can diagnose you all right.

DAN: Carry on.

OLIVIA: You haven't any feelings ... at all....

_He looks slowly up at her. She has struck home._

But you live in a world of your own.... A world of your own imagination.

DAN: I don't understand so very well, not bein' so very liter-er-airy.

OLIVIA: You follow me perfectly well.

_He shrugs his shoulders, laughs, and goes on whittling._

DAN: D'you still think there's been a bit o' dirty work?

OLIVIA: I don't know what to think now. I suppose not.

DAN (_intent on his work, his back to the audience_): Disappointed?

OLIVIA: What on earth do you mean?

DAN: Disappointed?

OLIVIA (_laughing, in spite of herself_): Yes, I suppose I am.

DAN: Why?

OLIVIA (_the tension at last relaxed_): Oh, I don't know.... Because nothing much has ever happened to me, and it's a dull day, and it's the depths of the country.... I don't know....

_A piercing scream from the bottom of the garden. A pause._

MRS. BRAMSON (_shrieking from the other side of the house_): Danny!... Danny!

_The clatter of footsteps in the garden_. DORA _runs in from the hall, breathless and terrified._

DORA: They're diggin' ... in the rubbish-pit ...

OLIVIA: Well?

DORA: There's something sticking out....

OLIVIA: What?

DORA: A hand ... Somebody's hand!... Oh, Miss Grayne ... somebody's hand....

_She runs whimpering into the kitchen, as_ OLIVIA _rises and runs to the left window and looks out._

MRS. BRAMSON'S VOICE (_calling off_): Danny!

DAN _rises slowly, his back to the audience._

OLIVIA _turns and suddenly sees him. Horror grows in her face.

The blare of music. The lights dim out._

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._

QUICK CURTAIN