Night Must Fall | Page 7

a robbery or something?
BELSIZE: There's a lady missing.
MRS. TERENCE: Where from?
BELSIZE: The Tallboys.
MRS. BRAMSON: That Tallboys again--
BELSIZE: A Mrs. Chalfont.
MRS. TERENCE: Chalfont? Oh, yes! Dyed platinum blonde--widow of a colonel, so she says, livin' alone, so she says, always wearin' them faldalaldy openwork stockings. Fond of a drop too. That's 'er.
HUBERT: Why, d'you know her?
MRS. TERENCE: Never set eyes on 'er. But you know how people talk. Partial to that there, too, I'm told.
MRS. BRAMSON: What's that there?
MRS. TERENCE: Ask me no questions, I'll tell you no lies.
BELSIZE (_quickly_): Well, anyway ... Mrs. Chalfont left the Tallboys last Friday afternoon, without a hat, went for a walk through the woods in this direction, and has never been seen since.
He makes his effect.
MRS. BRAMSON: I expect she was so drunk she fell flat and never came to.
BELSIZE: We've had the woods pretty well thrashed. (_To OLIVIA_) Those would be the men you saw. Now she was ... HUBERT (_taking the floor_): She may have had a brain-storm, you know, and taken a train somewhere. That's not uncommon, you know, among people of her sort. (_Airing knowledge_) And if what we gather from our friend here's true--and she's both a dipsomaniac and a nymphomaniac--
MRS. BRAMSON: Hark at the walking dictionary!
BELSIZE: We found her bag in her room; and maniacs can't get far without cash ... however dipso or nympho they may be....
HUBERT: Oh.
BELSIZE: She was a very flashy type of wo--she is a flashy type, I should say. At least I hope I should say ...
MRS. BRAMSON: What d'you mean? Why d'you hope?
BELSIZE: Well ...
OLIVIA: You don't mean she may be ... she mayn't be alive?
BELSIZE: It's possible.
MRS. BRAMSON: You'll be saying she's been murdered next!
BELSIZE: That's been known.
MRS. BRAMSON: Lot of stuff and nonsense. From a policeman too. Anybody'd think you'd been brought up on penny dreadfuls.
OLIVIA _turns and goes to the window._
BELSIZE (to MRS. BRAMSON): Did you see about the fellow being hanged for the Ipswich murder? In last night's papers?
MRS. BRAMSON: I've lived long enough not to believe the papers.
BELSIZE: They occasionally print facts. And murder's occasionally a fact.
HUBERT: Everybody likes a good murder, as the saying goes! Remember those trials in the Evening Standard last year? Jolly interesting. I followed--
BELSIZE (_rising_): I'd be very grateful if you'd all keep your eyes and ears open, just in case ... (_Shaking hands_) Good morning ... good morning ... good morning, Mrs. Bramson. I must apologise again for intruding--
He turns to OLIVIA, _who is still looking out of the window._
Good morning, Miss ... er ...
_A pause._
OLIVIA (_starting_): I'm so sorry.
BELSIZE: Had you remembered something? OLIVIA: Oh, no....
MRS. BRAMSON: What were you thinking, then?
OLIVIA: Only how ... strange it is.
BELSIZE: What?
OLIVIA: Well, here we all are, perfectly ordinary English people. We woke up ... no, it's silly.
MRS. BRAMSON: Of course it's silly.
BELSIZE (giving MRS. BRAMSON _an impatient look_): No, go on. OLIVIA: Well, we woke up this morning, thinking, "Here's another day." We got up, looked at the weather, and talked; and here we all are, still talking.... And all that time----
MRS. BRAMSON: My dear girl, who are you to expect a policeman----
BELSIZE (_quelling her sternly_): If you please! I want to hear what she's got to say. (To OLIVIA) Well?
OLIVIA: All that time ... there may be something ... lying in the woods. Hidden under a bush, with two feet just showing. Perhaps one high heel catching the sunlight, with a bird perched on the end of it; and the other--a stockinged foot, with blood ... that's dried into the openwork stocking. And there's a man walking about somewhere, and talking, like us; and he woke up this morning, and looked at the weather. ... And he killed her.... (_Smiling, looking out of the window_) The cat doesn't believe a word of it, anyhow. It's just walking away.
MRS. BRAMSON: Well!
MRS. TERENCE: Ooh, Miss Grayne, you give me the creeps! I'm glad it is morning, that's all I can say....
BELSIZE: I don't think the lady can quite describe herself as ordinary, after that little flight of fancy!
MRS. BRAMSON: Oh, that's nothing; she writes poetry. Jingle jingle--
BELSIZE: I can only hope she's wrong, or it'll mean a nice job of work for us! ... Well, if anything funny happens, nip along to Shepperley police station. Pity you're not on the 'phone. Good morning.... Good morning....
MRS. TERENCE: This way....
She follows BELSIZE into the hall.
BELSIZE: No, don't bother.... Good morning.
_He goes out._ MRS. TERENCE shuts the door after him.
MRS. BRAMSON (to HUBERT): What are you staring at?
HUBERT (_crossing to the fireplace_): Funny, I can't get out of my mind what Olivia said about the man being somewhere who's done it.
MRS. TERENCE (_coming into the room_): Why, Mr. Laurie, it might be you! After all, there's nothing in your face that proves it isn't!
HUBERT: Oh, come,