Night Must Fall : a Play in Three Acts Part 4

DORA: Shall I--(_Eagerly_) As a matter of fact, ma'am, he's gone on a message on his bicycle to Payley Hill this morning, and he said he might pop in to see me on the way back--

MRS. BRAMSON: That's right; nothing like visitors to brighten your mornings, eh? I'll deal with him.

DORA: Yes.... (_Going, and turning at the kitchen door--in impulsive relief_) Oh, ma'am--

MRS. BRAMSON: And I'll stop the Crown Derby out of your wages.

DORA (_crestfallen_): Oh!

MRS. BRAMSON: What were you going to say?

DORA: Well, ma'am, I _was_ going to say I don't know how to thank you for your generosity....

_She goes into the kitchen. The clock chimes_.

MRS. BRAMSON: Olivia!

OLIVIA: Yes, auntie?

MRS. BRAMSON: You've forgotten again. Medicine's overdue. Most important.

OLIVIA _crosses to the medicine cupboard and fetches the medicine._ MRS. TERENCE _comes in from the kitchen with a vase of flowers and barges between the sofa and the wheelchair_.

MRS. TERENCE (_muttering_): All this furniture ...

MRS. BRAMSON (_to her_): Did _you_ know she's having a baby?

MRS. TERENCE (_coldly_): She did mention it in conversation.

MRS. BRAMSON: Playing with fire, that's the game nowadays.

MRS. TERENCE (_arranging flowers as_ OLIVIA _ gives_ MRS.

BRAMSON _her medicine_): Playing with fiddlesticks. We're only young once; that 'ot summer too. She's been a fool, but she's no criminal. And, talking of criminals, there's a p'liceman at the kitchen door.

MRS. BRAMSON: A what?

MRS. TERENCE: A p'liceman. A bobby.

MRS. BRAMSON: What does he want?

MRS. TERENCE: Better ask 'im. I know _my_ conscience is clear; I don't know about other people's.

MRS. BRAMSON: But I've never had a policeman coming to see me before!

DORA _runs in from the kitchen_.

DORA (_terrified_): There's a man there! From the p'lice! 'E said something about the Tallboys! 'E--'e 'asn't come about me, 'as 'e?

MRS. TERENCE: Of course he 'asn't--

MRS. BRAMSON: He may have.

MRS. TERENCE: Don't frighten the girl; she's simple enough now.

MRS. BRAMSON (_sharply_); It's against the law, what she's done, isn't it? (_To_ DORA) Go back in there till he sends for you.

DORA _creeps back into the kitchen_.

OLIVIA (_at the left window_): He isn't a policeman, as a matter of fact. He must be a plain-clothes man.

MRS. TERENCE (_sardonically_): Scotland Yard, I should think.

_BELSIZE is seen outside, crossing the left window to the front door._

MRS. BRAMSON: That place in those detective books? Don't be so silly.

MRS. TERENCE: He says he wants to see you very particular--

_A sharp rat-tat at the front door.

(Going to the hall_) On a very particular matter.... (_Turning on_ MRS. BRAMSON) And don't you start callin' _me_ silly!

_Going to the front door, and opening it._

This way, sir....

BELSIZE _enters, followed by_ MRS. TERENCE. _He is an entirely inconspicuous man of fifty, dressed in tweeds: his suavity hides any amount of strength._

BELSIZE: Mrs. Bramson? I'm sorry to break in on you like this. My card ....

MRS. BRAMSON (_taking it, sarcastically_): I suppose you're going to tell me you're from Scotland Ya--(_She sees the name on the card._)

BELSIZE: I see you've all your wits about you!

MRS. BRAMSON: Oh. (_Reading incredulously_) Criminal Investigation Department!

BELSIZE (_smiling_): A purely informal visit, I a.s.sure you.

MRS. BRAMSON: I don't like having people in my house that I don't know.

BELSIZE (_the velvet glove_): I'm afraid the law sometimes makes it necessary.

MRS. TERENCE _gives him a chair next the table. He sits_. MRS.

TERENCE _stands behind the table._

MRS. BRAMSON (_to her_): You can go.

MRS. TERENCE: I don't want to go. I might 'ave to be arrested for stealing sugar.