Do Not Go Gentle into that Good Night By Dylan Thomas

Do Not Go Gentle into that Good Night By Dylan Thomas Do not go gentle into that good night Old age should burn and rave at close of day; Rage, rage against the dying of the light Thought wise men at their end know dark is right, Because their words had forked no lightning they Do not go gentle into that good night Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright There frail deeds might have danced in a green bay, Rage, rage against the dying of the light Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight, And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way, Do not go gentle into that good night Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay, Rage, rage against the dying of the light And you, my father, there on that sad height, Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray Do not go gentle into that good night Rage, rage against the dying of the light

Poem in October By Dylan Thomas

Poem in October By Dylan Thomas It was my thirtieth year to heaven Woke to my hearing from harbour and neighbour wood And the mussle pooled and the heron Pristed shore The morning beckon With water praying and call of seagull and rook And the knock pf sailing boats on the net webbed wall Myself to set foot That second In the still sleeping town and set forth My birthday began with the water – Birds and the birds of the winged trees flying my name Above the farms and the white horses And I rose In rainy auntumn And walked abroad in a shower of all my days High tide and the heron dived when I took the road Over the border And the gates Of the town closed as the town awoke A springful of larks in a rolling Cloud and the roadside bushes brimming with whistling Blackbirds and the sun of October summery on the hill’s shoulder, Here were fond climates and sweet singers suddenly Come in the morning where I wandered and listened To the rain wringing Wind blow cold In the wood faraway under me Pale rain over the dwindling harbour And over the sea wet church the size of a snail With its horns throught mist and the castle Brown as owls But all the gardens Of spring and summer werw blooming in the tall tales Beyond the border and under the lark full cloud There could I marvel My birthday Away but the weather turned around It turned away from the blithe country And down the other air and the blue altered sky Steamed again a wonder of summer With apples Pears and red currants And I saw in the turning so clearly a child’s Forgotten mornings when he walked with his mother Through the parables Of sun light And the legends of the green chapels And the twice told fields of infancy That his tears burned my cheecks and his heart moved in mine These were the woods the river and sea Where a boy In the listening Summertime of the dead whispered the truth of his joy To the trees and the stones and the fish in the tide And the mystery Sang alive Still in the water and singingbirds And there could I marvel my birthday Away but the weather turned around. And the true Joy of the long dead child sang burning In the sun It was my thirtieth Year to heaven stood there then in the summer noon Though the town below lay leaved with October blood O may my heart’s truth Still be sung On this high hill in a year’s turning

After The Funeral by Dylan Thomas

After The Funeral By Dylan Thomas After the funeral, mule praises, brays, Windshake of sailshaped ears, muffle-toed tap Tap happily of one peg in the thig Grave’s foot, blinds down the lids, the teeth in black, The splitted eyes, thee salt ponds in the sleeves, Morning smack of the spade that wakes up sleep Shakes a desolate boy who slits his throat In the dark of the coffin and sheds dry leaves, That breaks one bone to light with a judgement clout’ After the feast of tear-stuffed time and thistless In a room with a stuffed fox and stale fern, I stand, for this memorial’s sake, alone In the snivelling hours with dead, humped Ann Whose hodded, fountain heart once fell in puddles Round the parched worlds of Wales and drowned each sun (Thought this for her is a monstrous image blindly Magnified out of praise; her death was a still drop; She would not have me sinking in the holy Flood of her heart’s fame; she would lie dumb and deep And need no druld of her broken body). But I, Ann’s bard on a raised hearth, call all The seas to service that her wood-tongud virtue Babble like a bellbuoy over the hymning heads, Bow down the walls of the ferned and foxy woods That her love sing and swing through a brown chapel, Blees her bent spirit with four, crossing birds, Her flesh was meek as milk, but this skyward statue With the wild breast and blessed and giant skull Is carved from her in a room with a wet window In a flercely mourning house in a crooked year. I know her scrubbed and sour humble hands Lie with religion in their cramp, her threadbare Whisper in a damp word, her wits drilled hollow, Her fist of a face died clenched on a round pain; And sculptured Ann is seventy years of stone. These cloud-sopped, marble hands, this monumental Argument of the hewn voice, gesture and psalm Storm me forever over her grave until Athe stuffed lung of the fox twitch and cry Love And the strutting fern lay seeds on the black sill.

Araby by James Joyce

Araby James Joyce North Richmond Street, being blind, was a quiet street except at the hour when the Christian Brothers' School set the boys free. An uninhabited house of two storeys stood at the blind end, detached from its neighbours in a square ground. The other houses of the street, conscious of decent lives within them, gazed at one another with brown imperturbable faces. The former tenant of our house, a priest, had died in the back drawing-room. Air, musty from having been long enclosed, hung in all the rooms, and the waste room behind the kitchen was littered with old useless papers. Among these I found a few paper-covered books, the pages of which were curled and damp: The Abbot, by Walter Scott, The Devout Communicant, and The Memoirs of Vidocq. I liked the last best because its leaves were yellow. The wild garden behind the house contained a central apple-tree and a few straggling bushes, under one of which I found the late tenant's rusty bicycle-pump. He had been a very charitable priest; in his will he had left all his money to institutions and the furniture of his house to his sister. When the short days of winter came, dusk fell before we had well eaten our dinners. When we met in the street the houses had grown sombre. The space of sky above us was the colour of ever-changing violet and towards it the lamps of the street lifted their feeble lanterns. The cold air stung us and we played till our bodies glowed. Our shouts echoed in the silent street. The career of our play brought us through the dark muddy lanes behind the houses, where we ran the gauntlet of the rough tribes from the cottages, to the back doors of the dark dripping gardens where odours arose from the ashpits, to the dark odorous stables where a coachman smoothed and combed the horse or shook music from the buckled harness. When we returned to the street, light from the kitchen windows had filled the areas. If my uncle was seen turning the corner, we hid in the shadow until we had seen him safely housed. Or if Mangan's sister came out on the doorstep to call her brother in to his tea, we watched her from our shadow peer up and down the street. We waited to see whether she would remain or go in and, if she remained, we left our shadow and walked up to Mangan's steps resignedly. She was waiting for us, her figure defined by the light from the half-opened door. Her brother always teased her before he obeyed, and I stood by the railings looking at her. Her dress swung as she moved her body, and the soft rope of her hair tossed from side to side. Every morning I lay on the floor in the front parlour watching her door. The blind was pulled down to within an inch of the sash so that I could not be seen. When she came out on the doorstep my heart leaped. I ran to the hall, seized my books and followed her. I kept her brown figure always in my eye and, when we came near the point at which our ways diverged, I quickened my pace and passed her. This happened morning after morning. I had never spoken to her, except for a few casual words, and yet her name was like a summons to all my foolish blood. Her image accompanied me even in places the most hostile to romance. On Saturday evenings when my aunt went marketing I had to go to carry some of the parcels. We walked through the flaring streets, jostled by drunken men and bargaining women, amid the curses of labourers, the shrill litanies of shop-boys who stood on guard by the barrels of pigs' cheeks, the nasal chanting of street-singers, who sang a come-all-you about O'Donovan Rossa, or a ballad about the troubles in our native land. These noises converged in a single sensation of life for me: I imagined that I bore my chalice safely through a throng of foes. Her name sprang to my lips at moments in strange prayers and praises which I myself did not understand. My eyes were often full of tears (I could not tell why) and at times a flood from my heart seemed to pour itself out into my bosom. I thought little of the future. I did not know whether I would ever speak to her or not or, if I spoke to her, how I could tell her of my confused adoration. But my body was like a harp and her words and gestures were like fingers running upon the wires. One evening I went into the back drawing-room in which the priest had died. It was a dark rainy evening and there was no sound in the house. Through one of the broken panes I heard the rain impinge upon the earth, the fine incessant needles of water playing in the sodden beds. Some distant lamp or lighted window gleamed below me. I was thankful that I could see so little. All my senses seemed to desire to veil themselves and, feeling that I was about to slip from them, I pressed the palms of my hands together until they trembled, murmuring: `O love! O love!' many times. At last she spoke to me. When she addressed the first words to me I was so confused that I did not know what to answer. She asked me was I going to Araby. I forgot whether I answered yes or no. It would be a splendid bazaar; she said she would love to go. `And why can't you?' I asked. While she spoke she turned a silver bracelet round and round her wrist. She could not go, she said, because there would be a retreat that week in her convent. Her brother and two other boys were fighting for their caps, and I was alone at the railings. She held one of the spikes, bowing her head towards me. The light from the lamp opposite our door caught the white curve of her neck, lit up her hair that rested there and, falling, lit up the hand upon the railing. It fell over one side of her dress and caught the white border of a petticoat, just visible as she stood at ease. `It's well for you,' she said. `If I go,' I said, `I will bring you something.' What innumerable follies laid waste my waking and sleeping thoughts after that evening! I wished to annihilate the tedious intervening days. I chafed against the work of school. At night in my bedroom and by day in the classroom her image came between me and the page I strove to read. The syllables of the word Araby were called to me through the silence in which my soul luxuriated and cast an Eastern enchantment over me. I asked for leave to go to the bazaar on Saturday night. My aunt was surprised, and hoped it was not some Freemason affair. I answered few questions in class. I watched my master's face pass from amiability to sternness; he hoped I was not beginning to idle. I could not call my wandering thoughts together. I had hardly any patience with the serious work of life which, now that it stood between me and my desire, seemed to me child's play, ugly monotonous child's play. On Saturday morning I reminded my uncle that I wished to go to the bazaar in the evening. He was fussing at the hallstand, looking for the hat-brush, and answered me curtly: `Yes, boy, I know.' As he was in the hall I could not go into the front parlour and lie at the window. I felt the house in bad humour and walked slowly towards the school. The air was pitilessly raw and already my heart misgave me. When I came home to dinner my uncle had not yet been home. Still it was early. I sat staring at the clock for some time and, when its ticking began to irritate me, I left the room. I mounted the staircase and gained the upper part of the house. The high, cold, empty, gloomy rooms liberated me and I went from room to room singing. From the front window I saw my companions playing below in the street. Their cries reached me weakened and indistinct and, leaning my forehead against the cool glass, I looked over at the dark house where she lived. I may have stood there for an hour, seeing nothing but the brown-clad figure cast by my imagination, touched discreetly by the lamplight at the curved neck, at the hand upon the railings and at the border below the dress. When I came downstairs again I found Mrs Mercer sitting at the fire. She was an old, garrulous woman, a pawnbroker's widow, who collected used stamps for some pious purpose. I had to endure the gossip of the tea-table. The meal was prolonged beyond an hour and still my uncle did not come. Mrs Mercer stood up to go: she was sorry she couldn't wait any longer, but it was after eight o'clock and she did not like to be out late, as the night air was bad for her. When she had gone I began to walk up and down the room, clenching my fists. My aunt said: `I'm afraid you may put off your bazaar for this night of Our Lord.' At nine o'clock I heard my uncle's latchkey in the hall door. I heard him talking to himself and heard the hallstand rocking when it had received the weight of his overcoat. I could interpret these signs. When he was midway through his dinner I asked him to give me the money to go to the bazaar. He had forgotten. `The people are in bed and after their first sleep now,' he said. I did not smile. My aunt said to him energetically: `Can't you give him the money and let him go? You've kept him late enough as it is.' My uncle said he was very sorry he had forgotten. He said he believed in the old saying: `All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy.' He asked me where I was going and, when I told him a second time, he asked me did I know The Arab's Farewell to his Steed. When I left the kitchen he was about to recite the opening lines of the piece to my aunt. I held a florin tightly in my hand as I strode down Buckingham Street towards the station. The sight of the streets thronged with buyers and glaring with gas recalled to me the purpose of my journey. I took my seat in a third-class carriage of a deserted train. After an intolerable delay the train moved out of the station slowly. It crept onward among ruinous houses and over the twinkling river. At Westland Row Station a crowd of people pressed to the carriage doors; but the porters moved them back, saying that it was a special train for the bazaar. I remained alone in the bare carriage. In a few minutes the train drew up beside an improvised wooden platform. I passed out on to the road and saw by the lighted dial of a clock that it was ten minutes to ten. In front of me was a large building which displayed the magical name. I could not find any sixpenny entrance and, fearing that the bazaar would be closed, I passed in quickly through a turnstile, handing a shilling to a weary-looking man. I found myself in a big hall girded at half its height by a gallery. Nearly all the stalls were closed and the greater part of the hall was in darkness. I recognized a silence like that which pervades a church after a service. I walked into the centre of the bazaar timidly. A few people were gathered about the stalls which were still open. Before a curtain, over which the words Café Chantant were written in coloured lamps, two men were counting money on a salver. I listened to the fall of the coins. Remembering with difficulty why I had come, I went over to one of the stalls and examined porcelain vases and flowered tea-sets. At the door of the stall a young lady was talking and laughing with two young gentlemen. I remarked their English accents and listened vaguely to their conversation. `O, I never said such a thing!' `O, but you did!' `O, but I didn't!' `Didn't she say that?' `Yes. I heard her.' `O, there's a... fib!' Observing me, the young lady came over and asked me did I wish to buy anything. The tone of her voice was not encouraging; she seemed to have spoken to me out of a sense of duty. I looked humbly at the great jars that stood like eastern guards at either side of the dark entrance to the stall and murmured: `No, thank you.' The young lady changed the position of one of the vases and went back to the two young men. They began to talk of the same subject. Once or twice the young lady glanced at me over her shoulder. I lingered before her stall, though I knew my stay was useless, to make my interest in her wares seem the more real. Then I turned away slowly and walked down the middle of the bazaar. I allowed the two pennies to fall against the sixpence in my pocket. I heard a voice call from one end of the gallery that the light was out. The upper part of the hall was now completely dark. Gazing up into the darkness I saw myself as a creature driven and derided by vanity; and my eyes burned with anguish and anger.

No second troy – William Buttler Yeats

No second troy – William Buttler Yeats Why should I blame her that she filled my days With misery, or that she would of late Have taught to ignorant men most violent ways, Or hurled the little streets upon the great. Had they but courage equal to desire? What could have made her peaceful with a mind That nobleness made simple as a fire, With beauty like a tightened bow, a kind That is not natural in an age like this, Being high and solitary and most stern? Why, what could she have done, being what she is? Was there another Troy for her to burn?

The Real Inspector Hound by Tom Stoppard

________________________________________ The Real Inspector Hound ________________________________________ The first thing that the audience appear to be confronted by their own reflection in a huge mirror. Impossible. However, back there in the gloom – not at the footlights- a blank of plush seats and pale smudges of faces, The total effect having been established, it can be progressively faded out as the play goes on, until the front row remains to remind us of the rest and then, finally, merely two seats in that row – one of which is now occupied by MOON. Between MOON and the auditorium is an acting area which represents, in as realistic an idiom as possible, the drawing-room of Muldoon Manor. French windows at one side. A telephone fairly well upstage. (i.e. towards MOON). The BODY of a man lies sprawled face The body of a man lies sprawled face down on the floor in front of a large settee. This settee must be of a size and design to allow it to be wheeled over the body, hiding it completely. silence. The room. The body. MOON. MOON stares blankly ahead. He turns his head to one side then the other, then up, then down--waiting. He picks up his programme and reads the front cover. He turns over the page and reads. He turns over the page and reads. He turns over the page and reads. He turns over the page and reads. He looks at the back cover and reads. He puts it down and crosses his leg and looks about. He starts front. Behind him and to one side, barely visible, a man enters and sit down: BIRDBOOT. Pause. MOON picks up his prograjmme, glances at the front cover and puts it down impatiently. Pause.... Behind him there is a crackle of chocolate-box, absurdly loud. MOON looks round. He and BIRDBOOT see each other. They are clearly known each other. They acknowledge each other with constrained waves. MOON looks straight ahead. BIRDBOOT comes down to join him. Note: Almost always, MOON and BIRDBOOT converse in tones suitable for an auditorium, sometimes a whisper. However good the acoustics might be, they will have to have microphones where they are sitting. The effect must be not of sound picked up, amplified and flung out at the audience, but of sound picked up, carried, and gently dispersed around the auditorium. Anyway, BIRDBOOT, with a box of Black Magic, makes his way down to join MOON and plumps himself down next to him, plumpish middle-aged BIRDBOOT and younger taller, less-relaxed MOON. BIRDBOOT [Sitting down; conspiratorially.] The other critics and I have had a meeting in the bar and decided it's first-class family entertainment but if it goes on beyond ten-thirty it's self indulgent--pass it on...[And laughs jovially.] I'm on my own tonight, don't mind if I join you? MOON Hello, BIRDBOOT. BIRDBOOT Where's Higgs? MOON I replace him tonight. MOON AND BIRDBOOT Where's Higgs? MOON Every time. BIRDBOOT What? MOON It is as if we only existed one at a time, never appearing together but combining to achieve continuity. I keep space warm for Higgs. My presence defines his absence, his absence explains my presence, his presence excludes mine....When Higgs and I walk down this aisle together to claim our common seat, the oceans will fall into the sky and the trees will hang with fishes. BIRDBOOT [He has not been paying attention, looking around vaguely, now catches up] Where's Higgs? MOON Seeing me with a critic's ticket is enough. The streets are impassable tonight, you know why? It's because the country is rising and the cry goes up from hill to hill --Where--is--Higgs? [Small pause] Perhaps he's dead at last, or trapped in an elevator somewhere, or succumbed to amnesia, wandering the land with his pockets stuffed with ticket. [BIRDBOOT regards him doubtfully for a moment.] BIRDBOOT Yes....Yes, well I didn't bring my wife Myrtle tonight--not exactly of her taste, I thought, tonight. MOON Over her head, you mean? BIRDBOOT Well, no-I mean it's a sort of a thriller, isn't it? MOON Is it? BIRDBOOT That's what I heard. Who killed thing?--no one will leave the house. MOON I suppose so. Underneath. BIRDBOOT Underneath?!? It's a detective drama, man!--Look at it! [They look at it. The room. The BODY. Silence.] Has it started yet? MOON Yes. [Pause. They look at it.] BIRDBOOT Are you sure? MOON It's a pause. BIRDBOOT You can't start with a pause! If you want my opinion there's total panic back there. [Laughs and subsides.] Where's Higgs tonight then? MOON "Where's Higgs," this will follow me to the grave and become my epitaph--Here lies MOON the second best: where's Higgs? ...Sometimes I dream of revolution, a bloody one by the second rank--teachers killed by their students, magicians chopped in half by smiling girl assistants beside him--I dream of brides turn and rape the bridegrooms and parliamentary private secretaries plant bombs in the Minister's car. An army of assistants and deputies, the second-in command, all the stands-ins of the world stand up!--[short pause] Sometimes I dream of Higgs. [Pause. BIRDBOOT regards him doubtfully. He is at a loss, and grasps reality in the form of his box of chocolates.] BIRDBOOT [Chewing into mike.] Have a chocolate! MOON What kind? BIRDBOOT [Chewing into mike.] Black Magic. MOON No thanks. [Chewing stops dead.] [of such tiny victories and defeats....] BIRDBOOT I'll give you a tip, then. Watch the girl. MOON You think she did it? BIRDBOOT No, no--the girl, watch her. MOON What girl? BIRDBOOT You won't know her, I'll give you a hint. MOON You know her, don't you? BIRDBOOT [Suspiciously, bridling.] What's that supposed to mean? MOON I beg your pardon? BIRDBOOT I'm trying to give you a wink--give you a nudge as good as a tip--for God's sake, MOON, what's the matter with you? Please concentrate on what we are doing, ok? She's new in this area, but our words can make her a bid star. MOON I suppose you've made dozens of big stars like that. BIRDBOOT [Instantly outraged.] I'll have you know I'm a family man devoted to my homely but good-natured wife, and if you're suggesting-- MOON No, no-- BIRDBOOT --A man of my scrupulous morality-- MOON I'm sorry-- BIRDBOOT What a falsely insult! MOON Is that her? [For MRS DRUDGE has entered..] BIRDBOOT --don't be absurd, wouldn't be seen dead with the old--ah. [MRS DRUDGE is the char, middle-aged, turbanned. She heads straight for the radio, dusting on the trot.] MOON [Reading his programme.] MRS DRUDGE the maid. RADIO [Without preamble, having been switched on by MRS DRUDGE. News opening music] Here is Essex Broadcast Service. We interrupt our programme for the breaking news from the police. [MRS DRUDGE stops to listen.] The search still goes on for the escaped madman who is on the run in Essex. MRS DRUDGE [Fear and dismay.] Essex! The madman is in our neighborhood! RADIO County police led by Inspector Hound have received a report that the man has been seen in the desolate marshes around Muldoon Manor. [Fearful gasp from MRS DRUDGE.] The man is wearing a darkish suit with a lightish shirt. He is of medium height and build and youngish. Anyone seeing a man with this description and acting suspiciously, please phone the nearest police station. [A man answering this description has appeared behind MRS DRUDGE. He is acting suspiciously. He creeps in. he creeps out. MRS DRUDGE does not see him. He does not see the body.] That is the end of the police message. [MRS DRUDGE turns off the radio and resumes her cleaning. She does not see the body. Quite fortuitously, her view of the body is always blocked, and when it isn't she has her back to it. However, she is dusting and polishing her way towards it. ] BIRDBOOT So that's what they say about me, is it? MOON What? BIRDBOOT Oh, I know what goes on behind my back--sniggers--slanders.... What have you heard? MOON Nothing. BIRDBOOT [Urbanely.] Tittle tattle. Tittle, me dear fellow, tattle. I take no notice of it--the sly envy of scandal mongers--I can afford to ignore them, I'm a respectable married man-- MOON Incidentally-- BIRDBOOT Water off a duke's back, I assure you. MOON Who was that lady I saw you with last night? BIRDBOOT [Unexpectedly stung into fury.] How dare you! [More quietly.] How dare you. Don't you come here with your slimy allusions! My wife Myrtle understands perfectly well that a man of my critical standing is obliged occasionally to mingle with the world of the footlights, simply by way of keeping in touch with the latest-- MOON I'm sorry-- BIRDBOOT How could a critic of my honor be slandered and insulted by common gossip-- MOON Well.... BIRDBOOT I have nothing to hide!--why, if this should reach the ears of me beloved Myrtle-- MOON Can I have a chocolate? BIRDBOOT What? Oh--[Mollified.] Oh yes--my dear fellow--yes, let's have a chocolate--No point in--yes, good show. [Pops chocolate into his mouth and chews.] Which one do you want? Cherry? Strawberry? Coffee cream? Turkish delight? MOON I'll have peppermint. [Chewing stops.] BIRDBOOT Ah. Sorry. [Just missed that one.] MOON Gooseberry? BIRDBOOT [He gives MOON a chocolate. Pause.] Incidentally, old chap, I'd be grateful if you didn't mention--I mean, you know how these misunderstandings get about.... MOON What? BIRDBOOT That fact is, Myrtle simply doesn't like the theatre.... [He tails off hopelessly. MRS DRUDGE, whose discovery of the body has been imminent, now--by way of tiding the room--slides the couch over the corpse, hiding it completely. She resumes dusting and humming.] MOON By the way, congratulations, BIRDBOOT. BIRDBOOT What? MOON At the Theatre Royal. Your last critic review was printed as large as a tall-man and posted at the entrance. BIRDBOOT [Pleased.] Oh...that old thing. MOON You've seen it of course. BIRDBOOT [Vaguely.] Well, I was passing.... MOON I definitely intend to take a second look when it has settled down. BIRDBOOT as a matter of fact I have a few colour transparencies-I don't know if you'd like to...? MOON Please, please-love to, love to.... [BIRDBOOT hands over a few colour slides and a battery-powered viewer which MOON holds up to his eyes as he speaks.] Yes...yes...lovely...perfectly right. It has scope, it has colour, it is, in the best sense of the word, touching. Large as it is, it is a small masterpiece-I would go so far as to say-attractive without being too popular, and I think it must be said that here we have a perfect review that brightens the field of critic. I suggest you to go quickly to the Royal Theatre, for this critic review is so nice and genuine. [Handing back the slides, morosely.] All I ever got was "Unforgettable" on the posters for... What was it? BIRDBOOT Oh-yes-I know....Was that you? I thought it was Higgs. [The phone rings. MRS DRUDGE seems to have been waiting for it do so and for the last few seconds has been dusting it with an intense concentration. She snatches it up] MRS DRUDGE [Into the phone.] Hello, the drawing-room of Lady Muldoon's country residence one morning in early spring? ... Hello!--the draw----Who? Who did you wish to speak to? I'm afraid there is no one of that name here, this is all very mysterious and I am sure it's leading up to something, I hope nothing is wrong for us. Lady Muldoon and her houseguests, are here cut off from the world, including MAGNUS, the wheelchair-ridden half-brother of her ladyship's husband Lord Albert Muldoon. Ten years ago, he went out for a walk on the cliffs and was never seen again--and all alone, for they had no children. MOON Derivative, of course. BIRDBOOT But quite sound. MRS DRUDGE Could that be possible a stranger enter our midst, which I very much doubt, I will tell him you called. Good-bye. [She puts down the phone and catches sight of the previously seen suspicious character who has now entered again, more suspiciously than ever, through the French windows. He senses her stare, freezes, and straightens up.] SIMON Ah!--hello there! I'm SIMON Gascoyne, I hope you don't mind, the door was open so I wandered in. I'm a friend of Lady Muldoon, the lady of the house. I have made her acquaintance through a mutual friend, FECILITY Cunningham, shortly after moving into this neighborhood just the other day. MRS DRUDGE I'm MRS DRUDGE. I don't live in but I pop in on my bicycle when the weather allows to help in the running of charming through somewhat isolated Muldoon Manor. Judging by the time [she glances at the clock] you did well to get here before high water cut us off for all practical purposes from the outside world. SIMON I took the short cut over the cliffs and followed one of the old smuggler's paths through the unsafe swamps that surround this strangely inaccessible house. MRS DRUDGE Yes, many visitors have complained that there are no roads leading from the Manor, though there are ways of getting to it, if weather allows. SIMON Yes, well I must say it's a lovely day so far. MRS DRUDGE Ah, but now that the cherry tree is in bud there'll be fog before the sun hits Foster's Ridge. SIMON I say, it's wonderful how you country people really know weather. MRS DRUDGE [Suspiciously.] Know whether what? SIMON [Glancing out of the window.] Yes, it does seem to be coming on a bit foggy. MRS DRUDGE The fog is very dangerous around here--it rolls off the sea without warning, covering the cliffs like a deadly mantle, and it blinds everybody's sight. SIMON Yes, I've heard it said. MRS DRUDGE Ten years ago, Lord Muldoon brought back his beautiful wife CYNTHIA to the home of his ancestors'. Soon after that, he walked out one day in a bid fog and never came back. His body was never found. SIMON Yes, indeed, poor CYNTHIA. MRS DRUDGE His name was Albert! SIMON Yes indeed, poor Albert. But tell me, is Lady Muldoon here? MRS DRUDGE I believe she is playing tennis on the lawn with FECILITY Cunningham. SIMON [Startled.] FECILITY Cunningham? MRS DRUDGE A mutual friend, I believe you said. A happy chance. I will tell them you are here. SIMON Well, I can't really stay as a matter of fact--please don't disturb them--I really should go. MRS DRUDGE They would be very disappointed. It is some time since we played card games at the Manor, and I don't play cards myself. SIMON There is another guest, then? MRS DRUDGE Major MAGNUS, the crippled half-brother of Lord Muldoon who turned up from Canada just the other day. He makes the house-party complete. [MRS DRUDGE leaves on this, SIMON is undecided. ] MOON [Ruminating quietly.] I think I must be waiting for Higgs to die. BIRDBOOT What? MOON I'm afraid that I will vanish when he dies. [The phone rings. SIMON picks it up.] SIMON Hello? MOON I wonder if it's the same for Pucjeridge? BIRDBOOT AND SIMON [Together.] Who? MOON Third string. BIRDBOOT Your substitute? MOON Does he wait for Higgs and I to die--does he dream--? SIMON To whom did you wish to speak? BIRDBOOT What's he like? MOON Bitter. SIMON There is no one of that name here. BIRDBOOT No--as a critic, what's Puckeridge like as a critic? MOON [Laughs poisonously.] Nobody knows-- SIMON You must have got the wrong number! MOON --there's always been me and Higgs. [SIMON replaces the phone and paces nervously. Pause. BIRDBOOT consults his programme.] BIRDBOOT SIMON Gascoyne. It's not him, of course. MOON What? BIRDBOOT I said it's not him. MOON Who is it, then? BIRDBOOT My guess is MAGNUS. MOON In disguise, you mean? BIRDBOOT What? MOON You think he's MAGNUS in disguise? BIRDBOOT I don't think you're concentrating, MOON. MOON I thought you said-- BIRDBOOT You keep chattering on about Higgs and Puckeridge--what's the matter with you? MOON [Thoughtfully.] I wonder if they talk about me...? [A strange impulse makes SIMON turn on the radio.] RADIO Here is the news updated. Essex county police are still searching in vain for the madman who is at large in the deadly marshes of the coastal region. Inspector Hound who is masterminding the operation, is not avoidable for comment but it is widely believed that he has a secret plan.... Meanwhile police and volunteers are combing the swamps with loud-hailers, shouting, "Don't be a madman, give yourself up." That is the end of the police message. [SIMON turns off the radio. He is clearly nervous. MOON and BIRDBOOT are on separate tracks.] BIRDBOOT [Knowingly.] Oh yes.... MOON Yes, I should think my name is never off Puckeridge's lip, like Higgs' name never off my lip.... Sad, really. I mean, it's not life at all, a stand-in's stand-in, a substitute's substitute. BIRDBOOT Yes... yes.... MOON Higgs never gives me a second thought. I can tell by the way he nods. BIRDBOOT Revenge, of course. MOON What? BIRDBOOT Jealously. MOON Nonsense--there's nothing personal in it-- BIRDBOOT The paranoid malice-- MOON [Sharply first, then starting to career...] It is merely that it is not enough to be held in reserve, to be on hand, on call, to step in or not at all, the substitute but I am what I am, continuous MOON, in my own shoes, I don't want to be someone's substitute. BIRDBOOT Quite mad, of course. MOON What? BIRDBOOT The answer lies out there in the swamps. MOON Oh. BIRDBOOT The skeleton in the cupboard is coming home to roost. MOON Oh yes. [He clears his throat... for both he and BIRDBOOT have a "public" voice, a critic voice which they turn on for sustained pronouncements of opinions.] Already in the opening stages we note the classic impact of the outsider-SIMON-plunging through to the centre of an ordered world and setting up the disruptions... BIRDBOOT I agree-keep your eye on MAGNUS. [A tennis ball bounces through the french windows, closely followed by FECILITY , who is in her twenties. She wears a pretty tennis outfit, and carries a racket. ] FECILITY [Calling behind her.] Out! [It takes her a moment to notice SIMON who is standing shiftily to one side. MOON is stirred by a memory.] MOON I say, BIRDBOOT.... BIRDBOOT That's the one. FECILITY [Catching sight of SIMON.] You! [FACILITY's manner at the moment is one of great surprise but some pleasure.] SIMON [Nervously.] Er, yes-hello again. FECILITY What are you doing here? SIMON Well, I.... MOON She's- BIRDBOOT Sssh.... SIMON No doubt you're surprised to see me. FECILITY Honestly, darling, you really are extraordinary. SIMON Yes, well, here I am. FECILITY You must have been desperate to see me-I mean, I'm flattered, but couldn't it wait till I got back? SIMON [Bravely.] There is something you don't know. FECILITY What is it? SIMON Look, about the things I said-it may be that I got carried away a little-we both did- FECILITY [Stiffly.] What are you trying to say? SIMON I love another! FECILITY I see. SIMON I didn't make any promises-I merely- FECILITY You don't have to say any more! SIMON Oh, I didn't want to hurt you- FECILITY Of all the nerve! SIMON Well, I- FECILITY You philandering coward- SIMON Let me explain- FECILITY This is hardly the time and place-you think you can stay anywhere, whatever I happen to be doing- SIMON But I want you to know that my admiration for you is sincere-I don't want you to think that I didn't mean those things I said- FECILITY I'll kill you for this, SIMON Gascoyne! [She leaves in tears, passing MRS DRUDGE who has entered in time to overhear her last remark.] MOON It was her. BIRDBOOT I told you-straight to the top- MOON No, no- BIRDBOOT Sssh.... SIMON [To MRS DRUDGE.] Yes, what is it? MRS DRUDGE I have come to set up the card table, sir. SIMON I don't think I can stay. MRS DRUDGE Oh, Lady Muldoon will be disappointed. SIMON Does she know I'm here? MRS DRUDGE Oh yes, sir, I just told her and she was quite excited about it. SIMON Really?...Well, I suppose now that I've cleared the air.... Quite excited, you say... really... really.... [He and MRS DRUDGE start setting up for card game. MRS DRUDGE leaves when this is done.] MOON FECILITY !-she's the one. BIRDBOOT Nonsense. MOON I mean, it was her! BIRDBOOT [Exasperated.] What was? MOON That lady I saw you with last night! BIRDBOOT [Inhales with fury.] Are you suggesting that a man of my honorable personality would trade his pen for bowl of soup? Simply because in the course of my profession I happen to have made friend with a hard worker, or if you like, you can say, "have a warm regard" to the hard worker. It is simply intolerable to be insulted like this! MOON I never implied- BIRDBOOT -to find myself the object of uninformed malice, the petty slanders of little men- MOON I'm sorry- BIRDBOOT -to suggest that my good opinion in a journal of honorable.... MOON Sssssh- BIRDBOOT A lady's man! ... Why, Myrtle and I have been together now for-Christ! -who's that? [Enter LADY CYNTHIA MULDOON through french windows. A beautiful woman in her thirties. She wears a cocktail dress, is formally coiffured, and carries a tennis racket.] [Her effect on BIRDBOOT is also impressive. He half rises and sinks back agape.] CYNTHIA [Entering.] SIMON! [A dramatic freeze between her and SIMON.] MOON Lady Muldoon. BIRDBOOT No, I mean-who is she? SIMON [Coming forward.] CYNTHIA! CYNTHIA Don't say anything for a moment-just hold me. [He seizes her and glues his lips to hers, as they say. While their lips are glued-] BIRDBOOT She's beautiful-a vision of eternal grace, a poem.... MOON I think she's got her mouth open. [CINTHIA breaks away dramatically.] CINTHIA We can't go on meeting like this! SIMON We have nothing to be ashamed of! CYNTHIA But darling, this is madness! SIMON Yes!-I am mad with love for you! CYNTHIA Please-remember where we are! SIMON CYNTHIA, I love you! CYNTHIA Don't-I love Albert! SIMON He's dead! [Shaking her.] Do you understand me-Albert's dead! CYNTHIA No-I'll never give up hope! Let me go! We are not free! SIMON I don't care, we were meant for each other-had we but met in time. CYNTHIA You're not a gentleman, SIMON! You will use me and cast me aside as you have cast aside so many others. SIMON No, CYNTHIA!-you can make me a better person! CYNTHIA You're heartless-so strong, so cruel- [Ruthlessly he kissed her.] MOON For this scene, we can say, "The son she never had, projected in this handsome stranger and transformed into lover-youth, vigour-breaking down the berries at the deepest level of desire. BIRDBOOT In the name of the God, I think you are right. Her mouth is open. [CYNTHIA breaks away. MRS DRUDGE has entered.] CYNTHIA Stop-can't you see you're making a fool of yourself! SIMON I'll kill anyone who comes between us! CYNTHIA Yes, what is it, MRS DRUDGE? MRS DRUDGE Should I close the windows, my lady? The fog if beginning to roll off the sea like a deadly- CYNTHIA Yes, you'd better. It looks as if we're in for one of those days. Are the cards ready? MRS DRUDGE Yes, my lady? CYNTHIA Would you tell Miss Cunningham we are waiting. MRS DRUDGE Yes, my lady. CYNTHIA And fetch the Major down. MRS DRUDGE I think I hear him coming downstairs now. [As she leaves.] [She does: the sound of a wheelchair approaching down several flights of stairs with landing in between. It arrives bearing MAGNUS at about 15m.p.h., knocking SIMON over violently.] CYNTHIA SIMON! MAGNUS [Roaring.] Never had a chance! Ran under the wheels! CYNTHIA Darling, are you all right? MAGNUS I have witnesses! CYNTHIA Oh, SIMON---say something! SIMON [Sitting up suddenly.] I'm most frightfully sorry. MAGNUS What's he doing here? CYNTHIA He just turned up. MAGNUS Really? How do you like it here? SIMON [To CYNTHIA.] I could stay for ever. [FECILITY enters.] FECILITY So—you're still here. CYNTHIA Of course he's still here. We're going to play cards. There's no need to introduce you two, is there, for I recall now that you, SIMON, met me through FECILITY , our mutual friend. FECILITY Yes, SIMON is an old friend, though not as old as you, CYNTHIA dear. SIMON Yes, I haven't seen FECILITY since----- FECILITY Last night. CYNTHIA Indeed? Well, you deal, FECILITY . SIMON, you help me with the sofa. MAGNUS [Aside.] Will SIMON and you always be partnered against me, CYNTHIA? CYNTHIA What do you mean, MAGNUS? MAGNUS You are a damned attractive woman, CYNTHIA. CYNTHIA Please! Please! Remember Albert! MAGNUS Albert's dead, CYNTHIA-and you are still young. I'm sure he would have wished that you and I- CYNTHIA No, MAGNUS, this is not to be! MAGNUS It's Gascoyne, isn't it? I'll kill him if he comes between us! CYNTHIA [Calling.] SIMON! [The sofa is shoved towards the card table, once more revealing the corpse, though not to the players.] BIRDBOOT SIMON is going to be killed. CYNTHIA Right! Who starts? MAGNUS I do. No bid. CYNTHIA Did I hear you say you saw FECILITY last night, SIMON? SIMON Did I-Ah yes, yes, quite-your turn, FECILITY . FECILITY I've had my turn, haven't I, SIMON?-now, it seems, it's CYNTHIA's turn. CYNTHIA That's my trick, FECILITY dear. FECILITY Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned, SIMON. SIMON Yes, I've heard it said. FECILITY So I hope you have not been cheating, SIMON. SIMON [Standing up and throwing down his cards.] No, FECILITY , it's just that I have the advantage! CYNTHIA Well done, SIMON! [MAGNUS pays SIMON, while CYNTHIA deals.] FECILITY Strange how SIMON appeared in the neighbourhood from nowhere. We know so little about him. SIMON It doesn't always pay to show your hand! CYNTHIA Right! SIMON, it's your opening on the minor bid. [SIMON plays.] CYNTHIA Hm, let's see.... [Plays.l FECILITY I hear there's a dangerous madman around. CYNTHIA SIMON? SIMON Yes-yes-sorry. [Plays.] CYNTHIA I meld. FECILITY Yes-personally, I think he's been hiding out in the deserted cottage [Plays.] on the cliffs. SIMON Flush! CYNTHIA No! SIMON-you are lucky tonight! FECILITY We shall see-the night is not over yet, SIMON Gascoyne! [She exits.] [MAGNUS pay SIMON again.] SIMON [To MAGNUS.] So you're the crippled half-brother of Lord Muldoon from Canada, are you? It's taken you a long time to get here. What did you do-walk? Oh, I say, I'm most frightfully sorry! MAGNUS Would you like to take a walk in the rose garden, CYNTHIA? CYNTHIA No, MAGNUS, I must talk to SIMON. SIMON My round, I think, Major. MAGNUS You think so? SIMON Yes, Major-I do. MAGNUS There's an old Canadian proverb handed down from the Indians, which says: He who laughs last laughs longest. SIMON Yes, I've heard it said. [SIMON turns away to CYNTHIA.] MAGNUS Well, I think I'11 go and oil my gun.[He exits.] CYNTHIA I think MAGNUS suspects something. And FECILITY ...SIMON, was there anything between you and FECILITY ? SIMON No, no-it's over between her and me, CYNTHIA-it has been the past, since I have found you now- CYNTHIA If I find that you have been untrue to me-if I find that you have falsely seduced me from my dear husband Albert-I will kill you, SIMON Gascoyne! [MRS DRUDGE has entered silently to witness this. On this tableau, pregnant with significance, the act ends, the body still undiscovered. Perfunctory applause.] [MOON and BIRDBOOT seem to be completely preoccupied, becoming audible, as it were.] BIRDBOOT Do you believe in love at first sight? MOON It's not that I think I'm a better critic- BIRDBOOT I feel my whole life changing- MOON I am, but it's not that. BIRDBOOT Oh, the world will laugh at me, I know, ... MOON It is not that they are much in the way of shoes to step into.... BIRDBOOT ... call me an infatuated old fool.... MOON .... They are not. BIRDBOOT ,...condemn me..., MOON He is standing in my light, that is all. BIRDBOOT ...betrayer of my class . . . MOON ... an almost continuous eclipse, interrupted by the phenomenon of MOONlight. BIRDBOOT I don't care, I'm a goner. MOON And I dream. ... BIRDBOOT Ah, the sweet madness of love....Myrtle, farewell... MOON ... dreaming of the stair he'll never reach- BIRDBOOT ... for I only live but once. ... MOON Sometimes I dream that I've killed him.... BIRDBOOT What? MOON What? [They pull themselves together.] BIRDBOOT Yes ..., yes.... A beautiful performance, a collector's piece. I shall say so. MOON Excellent for her first time. I'11 put in a good word. BTRDBOOT It would be as hypocritical of me to withhold praise on grounds of personal feelings, as to withhold censure. MOON You're right. Courageous. BIRDBOOT Oh, I know what people will say-There goes BIRDBOOT flattering his latest----- MOON Ignore them- BIRDBOOT But I rise above that-The fact is I genuinely believe her performance to be one of the best in the range of contemporary theatre . MOON Lovely, that's the word for her. BIRDBOOT -the radiance, the inner sadness- She successfully made CYNTHIA a real person- MOON That's her job! BIRDBOOT [He imagines himself talking to CYNTHIA.] As a result, would you like to meet me over a drink, simply for er--thanking me, as it were.... MOON Well, you old bastard! BIRDBOOT [Aggressively.] Are you suggesting...? [BIRDBOOT shudders to a halt and clears his throat.] BIRDBOOT Well now---shaping up quite nicely, wouldn't you say? MOON Oh yes, yes. A nice division into two parts. One must reserve Judgement of course, until the confrontation, but I think it's pretty clear where we're heading. BIRDBOOT I agree. It's MAGNUS a mile off. [Small pause.] MOON What's MAGNUS a mile off? BIRDBOOT If we knew that we wouldn't be here. MOON [Clears throat.] Let me at once say that it has brilliance while at the same time avoiding over-liveliness. Having said that, and I think it must be said, I have to ask-does this play know where it is going? BIRDBOOT Well, it seems open and shut to me, MOON. MAGNUS is not what he pretends to be and he's got his next victim shoot down----- MOON What exactly is this play concerned with? It is my belief that here we are concerned with what I have referred to elsewhere as the nature of identity. I think we have to ask, where is God? BIRDBOOT [Stunned.] Who? MOON Go-od. BIRDBOOT [Peeping furtively into his programme.] God? MOON I think we are entitled to ask. [The phone rings.] [The set re-illumines to reveal CYNTHIA, FECILITY , and MAGNUS about to take coffee, which is being taken round by MRS DRUDGE. SIMON is missing. The body lies in position.] MRS DRUDGE [Into phone.] The same, half an hour later? ...No, I'm sorry--there s no one of that name here. [She replaces phone and goes round with coffee. To CYNTHIA.] Black or white, my lady? CYNTHIA White please. [MRS DRUDGE pours.] MRS DRUDGE [To FECILITY .] Black or white, miss? FECILITY White please. [MRS DRUDGE pours.] MRS DRUDGE [To MAGNUS.] Black or white, Major? MAGNUS White please. [Ditto.] MRS DRUDGE [To CYNTHIA.] Sugar, my lady? CYNTHIA Yes please. [Puts sugar in.] MRS DRUDGE [To FECILITY .] Sugar, miss? FECILITY Yes please. [Ditto.] MRS DRUDGE [To MAGNUS.] Sugar, Major? MAGNUS Yes please. [Ditto.] MRS DRUDGE [To CYNTHIA.] Biscuit, my lady? CYNTHIA No thank you. BIRDBOOT [Writing elaborately in his notebook.] The second act, however, fails to fulfil the promise.... CYNTHIA No thank you. FECILITY If you ask me, there's something funny going on. [MRS DRUDGE's approach to FECILITY makes FECILITY jump to her feet in impatience. She goes to the radio while MAGNUS declines his biscuit, and MRS DRUDGE Leaves.] [News opening music.] RADIO We interrupt our programme for the breaking news. The search for the dangerous madman who is on the loose in Essex has now been near to the neighborhood of Muldoon Manor. Police are hampered by the deadly swamps and the fog, but believe that the madman spent last night in a deserted cottage on the cliffs. The public is advised to stick together and make sure none of their number is missing. That is the end of the police message. [FECILITY turns off the radio nervously. Pause.] CYNTHIA Where's SIMON? FECILITY Who? CYNTHIA SIMON. Have you seen him? FECILITY No. CYNTHIA Have you, MAGNUS? MAGNUS No. CYNTHIA Oh. FECILITY Yes, there's something warning in the air, it is as if one of us------- CYNTHIA Oh, FECILITY , the house is locked up tight---no one can get in--and the police are practically on the doorstep. FECILITY I don't know---it's just a feeling. CYNTHIA It's only the fog. MAGNUS HOUND will never get through on a day like this. CYNTHIA [Shouting at him.] Fog! FECILITY He means the Inspector. CYNTHIA Is he bringing a dog? FECILITY Not that I know of. MAGNUS --never get through the swamps. Yes, I'm afraid the madman can show his hand in safety now. [A mournful baying hooting is heard in the distance, scary.] CYNTHIA What's that? FECILITY [Tensely.] It sounded like the cry of a gigantic hound! MAGNUS Poor devil! CYNTHIA Ssssh! [They listen. The sound is repeated, nearer.] FECILITY There it is again! CYNTHIA It's coming this way-it's right outside the house! [MRS DRUDGE enters.] MRS DRUDGE Inspector Hound! CYNTHIA A police dog? [Enter INSPECTOR HOUND. On his feet are his swamp boots. These are two inflatable--and inflated-pontoons with flat bottoms about two feet across. He carries a foghorn.] HOUND Lady Muldoon? CYNTHIA Yes. HOUND I came as soon as I could. Where shall I put my foghorn and my swamp boots? CYNTHIA MRS DRUDGE will take them out. HOUND [Divesting himself of boots and foghorn.] It takes more than a bit of weather to keep a policeman from his duty. [IL1RS DRUDGE leaves with chattels. A pause.] CYNTHIA Oh-er, Inspector Hound-FECILITY Cunningham, Major MAGNUS Muldoon. HOUND Good evening. [He and CYNTHIA continue to look expectantly at each other.] CYNTHIA AND HOUND [Together.] Well?—Sorry- CYNTHIA No, please go on. HOUND Thank you. Well, tell me about it in your own words-take your time, begin at the beginning and don't leave anything out. CYNTHIA I beg your pardon? HOUND Fear nothing. You are in safe hands now. I hope you haven't touched anything. CYNTHIA I'm afraid I don't understand. HOUND I'm Inspector Hound. CYNTHIA Yes. HOUND Well, what's it all about'? CYNTHIA I really have no idea. HOUND How did it begin? CYNTHIA What? HOUND The... thing. CYNTHIA What thing? HOUND [Rapidly losing confidence but exasperated.] The trouble! CYNTHIA There hasn't been any trouble! I don't know what you're talking about! HOUND Didn't you phone the police? CYNTHIA No. FECILITY I didn't. MAGNUS What for? HOUND I see. [Pause.] This puts me in a very difficult position. [A steady peruse.] Well, I'll leave then. [He moves towards the door.] CYNTHIA I'm terribly sorry. HOUND [Stiffly.] That's perfectly all right. CYNTHIA Thank you so much for coming, HOUND Not at all. You never know, there might have been a serious matter. CYNTHIA Drink? HOUND More serious than that, even. CYNTHIA [Correcting.] Drink before you go? HOUND No thank you. [Leaves.] CYNTHIA [Through the door.] I do hope you find him. HOUND [Reappearing at once.] Find who, Madam? CYNTHIA I thought you were looking for the lunatic. HOUND And what do you know about that? CYNTHIA It was on the radio. HOUND Was it, indeed? Well, that's what I'm here about, really. I didn't want to mention it because I didn't know how much you knew. No point in causing unnecessary panic, even with a murderer among us. FECILITY Murderer, did you say? HOUND Ah-so that was not on the radio? CYNTHIA Whom has he murdered, Inspector? HOUND Perhaps no one-yet. Let us hope we are in time MAGNUS You believe he is in our midst, Inspector? HOUND I do. If anyone of you have recently encountered a youngish good-looking fellow in a smart suit, white shirt, hatless, well-spoken-someone possibly claiming to have just moved into the neighbourhood, someone who on the surface seems as normal as you or I, then now is the time to speak! FECILITY I- HOUND Don't interrupt! FECILITY Inspector- HOUND Very well. CYNTHIA No. FECILITY ! HOUND Please, Lady CYNTHIA, we are all in this together. I must ask you to put yourself completely in my hands. CYNTHIA Don't, Inspector! I love Albert. HOUND I don't think you quite get my meaning. MAGNUS Is one of us in danger, Inspector? HOUND Didn't it strike you as strange that on his escape the madman came close to Muldoon Manor? It is my guess that he bears a deep-rooted hatred against someone in this very house! Lady Muldoon-where is your husband? CYNTHIA My husband?-you don't mean-? HOUND I don't know-but I have a reason to believe that one of you is the real McCoy! FECILITY The real what? HOUND William Herbert McCoy who as a young man, meeting the madman in the street and being begged for sixpence for a cup of tea, replied, "Why don't you do a good deed, you witty horse shit," in Canada all those many years ago and went on to make his fortune. [He starts to pace intensely.] The madman was a mere boy at the time but he never forgot that moment, and thenceforth carried in his heart the promise of revenge! [At which point he finds himself standing on top of the corpse. He looks down carefully.] HOUND Is there anything you have forgotten to tell me? [They all see the corpse for the first time.] FECILITY So the madman has attacked! CYNTHIA Oh-it's horrible-horrible- HOUND Yes, just as I feared. Now you see the sort of man you are protecting. CYNTHIA I can't believe it! FECILITY I'll have to tell him, CYNTHIA-Inspector, a stranger of that description has indeed appeared in our midst-SIMON Gascoyne. Oh, he had charm, I'll give you that, and he charmed me completely. I'm afraid I made a fool of myself over him, and so did CYNTHIA. HOUND Where is he now'! MAGNUS He must be around the house-he couldn't get away in these conditions. HOUND You're right. Don't be afraid, Lady Muldoon-I shall arrest the man who killed your husband. CYNTHIA My husband? I don't understand. I don't understand. HOUND Everything points to Gascoyne. CYNTHIA But who's that? [The corpse.] HOUND Your husband, CYNTHIA No, it's not. HOUND Yes, it is. CYNTHIA I tell you it's not. HOUND I'm in charge of this case! CYNTHIA But that's not my husband. HOUND Are you sure? CYNTHIA For God's sake! HOUND Then who is it? CYNTHIA I don't know. HOUND Anybody? FECILITY I've never seen him before. MAGNUS Quite unlike anybody I've ever met. HOUND This case is becoming even more complicated. CYNTHIA But what are we going to do? HOUND [Snatching the phone.] I'll phone the police! CYNTHIA But you are the police! HOUND Thank God I'm here-the lines have been cut! CYNTHIA You mean-? HOUND Yes!-we're on our own, cut off from the world and in grave danger! FECILITY You mean-? HOUND Yes!-I think the killer will strike again! MAGNUS You mean-? HOUND Yes! One of us ordinary mortals thrown together by fate and cut off by the elements, is the murderer! He must be found-search the house! [All depart speedily in different directions leaving a momentarily empty stage. SIMON strolls on.] SIMON [Entering, calling.] Anyone about-funny.... [He notices the corpse and is surprised. He approaches it and turns it over. He stands up and looks about in alarm.] BIRDBOOT This is where SIMON gets shot. [There is a shot. SIMON falls dead. ] [INSPECTOR HOUND runs on and crouches down by SIMON's body. CYNTHIA appears at the french windows. She stops there and stares. ] CYNTHIA What happened, Inspector?! [HOUND turns to face her.] HOUND He's dead.... SIMON Gascoyne, I suppose. Rough justice even for a killer-unless-unless-We assumed that the body could not have been lying there before SIMON Gascoyne entered the house..., but... [he slides the sofa over the body] there's your answer. And now who killed SIMON Gascoyne? And why? ["Curtain," freeze, applause, exeunt.] [Intermission.] MOON Why not? BIRDBOOT Exactly. Good riddance. MOON Yes, and the murder's motive is absolutely amazing. BIRDBOOT Fickle young bastard! He was deceiving her right, left and centre. MOON [Thoughtfully.] Of course. I'd still have Puckeridge behind me- BTRDBOOT She needs someone steadier, more mature- MOON -And if I could, so could he- BIRDBOOT Yes, I know of this rather nice hotel, very discreet, run by a man of the world- MOON Uneasy lies the head that wears the crown. BIRDBOOT Breakfast served in one's room and no questions asked. MOON Does Puckeridge dream of me? BIRDBOOT [Pause.] Hello-what's happened? MOON What? Oh yes-what do you make of it, so far? BIRDBOOT [Clears throat.] It is at this point that the play for me comes alive. The groundwork has been well and truly laid, and the author has taken the trouble to learn from the masters of the genre. He has created a real situation, and few will doubt his ability to resolve it with a startling ending. Certainly that is what it lacks so far, but it has a beginning, a middle and I have no doubt it will prove to have an end. For this let us give thanks, and double thanks for a good clean show without a fault. But perhaps even all this would be for nothing were it not for a performance which I consider to be one of the best in the range of contemporary theatre. In what is possibly the finest CYNTHIA since the war- MOON If we examine this more closely, and I think close examination is the least tribute that this play deserves, I think we will find that within the strict framework of what is seen to be on one level a country-house weekend, and what a useful symbol that is, the author has given us the human condition- BIRDBOOT Even her little finger is full of talent.... MOON Strange- [The phone starts to ring on the empty stage. MOON tries to ignore it.] BIRDBOOT Others taking part included-MOON! I am always wondering about how good it can be if.... [For M00N has lost patience and is rushing on to the ringing phone. He is frankly irritated.] MOON [Picking up phone, barks.] Hel-lo! [Pause, turns to BIRDBOOT, quietly.] It's for you. [Pause.] [BIRDBOOT gets up. He approaches cautiously. MOON gives him the phone and moves back to his seat. BIRDBOOT watches him go. He looks round and smiles weakly, expiating himself.] B1RDBOOT [Into phone.] Hello.... [Explosion.] Oh, for God's sake, Myrtle!-I've told you never to phone me at work! [E-le is naturally embarrassed, looking about with surreptitious fury.] What? Last night? Good God, woman, this is hardly the time to-I assure you, Myrtle, there is absolutely nothing going on between me and-I took her to dinner simply by way of keeping in touch with the world-Yes, I promises, yes, I do-Yes, I said yes-I do-and you are mine too, Myrtle-darling-I can't-[Whispers.] I'm not alone-[Up.] No, she's not!-[He looks around furtively, licks his lips and mumbles.] All right! I love your little pink ears and you are my own fluffy bunny-boo-Now for God's sake-Good-bye, Myrtle-[Puts down phone.] [BIRDBOOT mops his brow with his handkerchief. As he turns, a tennis ball bounces in through the french windows, followed by FECILITY , as before, in tennis outfit. The lighting is as it was. Everything is as it was. It is, let us say, the same moment of time. ] FECILITY [Calling.] Out! [She catches sight of BIRDBOOT and is amazed.] You! BIRDBOOT Er, yes-hello again. FECILITY What are you doing here?! BIRDBOOT Well, I.... FECILITY Honestly, darling, you really are extraordinary- BIRDBOOT Yes, well, here I am. [He looks round sheepishly.] FECILITY You must have been desperate to see me-I mean, I'm flattered, but couldn't it wait till I got back? BIROBOOT No, no, you've got it all wrong- FECILITY What is it? BIRDBOOT And about last night-perhaps I gave you the wrong impression-got carried away a bit, perhaps- FECILITY [Stiffly.] What are you trying to say? BIRDBOOT Well...Can we pretend that nothing had happened between us last night? FECILITY I see. BIRDBOOT I didn't promise anything-and the fact is, I have my reputation-people do talk- FECILITY You don't have to say any more- BIRDBOOT And my wife, too-I don't know how she got to hear of it, but- FECILITY Of all the nerve! To step in here and- BIRDBOOT I'm sorry you had to find out like this-the fact is I didn't mean it this way- FECILITY You philandering coward! BIRDBOOT I'm sorry-but I want you to know that I meant those things I said-oh yes-shows brilliant promise-I shall say so- FECILITY I'll kill you for this, SIMON Gascoyne! [She leaves in tears, passing MRS DRUDGE who has entered in time to overhear her last remark.] BIRDBOOT [Wide-eyed.] Good God.... MRS DRUDGE I have come to set up the card table, sir. BIRDBOOT [Wildly.] I can't stay for a game of cards! MRS DRUDGE Oh, Lady Muldoon will be disappointed. BIRDBOOT You mean ... you mean, she wants to meet me...? MRS DRUDGE Oh yes, sir, I just told her and she was quite excited about it. BIRDBOOT Really? Yes, well, a man of my influence is not to be sneezed at-I think I have some small name for the making of reputations-mmm, yes, quite excited, you say? [MRS DRUDGE is busied with the card table. BIRDBOOT stands marooned and bemused for a moment.] MOON [From his seat.] BIRDBOOT!-[A tense whisper.] BIRDBOOT! [BIRDBOOT looks round vaguely.] What the hell are you doing? BIRDBOOT Nothing. MOON Stop making an ass of yourself! Come back. BIRDBOOT Oh, I know what you're thinking-but the fact is I genuinely consider her performance to be one of the best- [CYNTHIA enters as before. MRS DRUDGE has gone. ] CYNTHIA Darling! BIRDBOOT Ah, good evening-may I say that I genuinely consider- CYNTHIA Don't say anything for a moment-just hold me. [She falls into his arms.] BIRDBOOT All right! [They kiss.] My God!-she does have her mouth open! Dear lady, from the first moment I saw you, I felt my whole life changing- CYNTHIA [Breaking free.] We can't go on meeting like this! BIRDBOOT I am not ashamed to proclaim nightly my love for you!-but fortunately that will not be necessary-I know of a very good hotel, discreet-run by a man of the world- CYNTHIA But darling, this is madness! BIRDBOOT Yes! I am mad with love. CYNTHIA Please!-remember where we are! BIRDBOOT I don't care! Let them think what they like, I love you! CYNTHIA Don't-I love Albert! BIRDBOOT He's dead. [Shaking her.] Do you understand me-Albert's dead! CYNTHIA No-I'll never give up hope! Let me go! We are not free! BIRDBOOT You mean Myrtle? She means nothing to me-nothing!-not a spark of creative genius in her whole body, dry and skinny- CYNTHIA You're not a gentleman, SIMON! You will use me and cast me aside as you have cast aside so many others! BIRDBOOT No, CYNTHIA-now that I have found you- CYNTHIA You're heartless-so strong-so cruel- [BIRDBOOT seizes her in an embrace, during which MRS DRUDGE enters, and MOON'S fevered voice is heard.] MOON Have you taken leave of your tiny mind? [CYNTHIA breaks free.] CYNTHIA Stop-can't you see you're making a fool of yourself! MOON She's right. BIRDBOOT [To MOON.] You keep out of this! CYNTHIA Yes, what is it, MRS DRUDGE? MRS DRUDGE Should I close the windows, my lady? The fog- CYNTHIA Yes, you'd better. MOON Look, they've got your number- BIRDBOOT I'll leave in my own time, thank you very much. MOON It's the finish of you, I suppose you know that- BIRDBOOT I don't need your prophesy-I have found something bigger and finer- MOON [Bemused, to himself.] If only it were Higgs. ... CYNTHIA ...And fetch the Major down. MRS DRUDGE I think I hear him coming down stairs now. [She leaves. The sound of a wheelchair's approach as before. BIRDBOOT prudently keeps out of the chair's former path but it enters from the next wing down and knocks him flying. A babble of anguish and protestation.] CYNTHIA SIMON-say something! BIRDBOOT That reckless bastard [as he sits up]. CYNTHIA Thank God!- MAG NUS What's he doing here? CYNTHIA He just turned up. MAGNUS Really? How do you like it here? BIRDBOOT I couldn't take it night after night. [FECILITY enters.] FECILITY So-you're still here. CYNTHIA Of course he's still here. We're going to play cards. There is no need to introduce you two, is there, for I recall now that you, SIMON, met me through FECILITY , our mutual friend. FECILITY Yes, SIMON is an old friend- BIRDBOOT Ah-yes-well, I like to give young up and comers the benefit of my-er-Of course, she lacks technique as yet- FECILITY Last night. BIRDBOOT I'm not talking about last night! CYNTHIA Indeed-Well, you deal, FECILITY . SIMON, you help me with the sofa. RIRDBOOT [To MOON.] Did you see that? Tried to kill me. I told you it was MAGNUS-not that it is MAGNUS. MOON Who did it, you mean? BIRDBOOT What? MOON You think it's not MAGNUS who did it? BIRDBOOT Get a grip on yourself, MOON-the facts are staring you in the face. He's after CYNTHIA for one thing. MAGNUS It's Gascoyne, isn't it? BIRDBOOT Over my dead body! MAGNUS If he comes between us.... MOON [Angrily.] For God's sake get down from there! CYNTHIA SIMON! BIRDBOOT She needs me, MOON. I've got to make up a four. [CYNTHIA and BIRDBOOT move the sofa as before, and they all sit at the table.] CYNTHIA Right! Miho starts? MAGNUS I do. No-bid. [While he moves cards.] CYNTHIA Did I hear you say you saw FECILITY last night, SIMON? BIRDBOOT Er-er- FECILITY Pay twenty-ones or trump my contract. [Discards.] CYNTHIA's turn- CYNTHIA I'll trump your contract with five dummy no-trumps there [discards], and I'll move West's rook for the re-bid with a banker ruff on his second trick there. [Discards.] SIMON? BIRDBOOT Would you mind doing that again? CYNTHIA And I'll ruff your dummy with five no-bid trumps there, [discards] and I support your re-bid with a banker for the solo ruff in the dummy trick there. [Discards.] BIRDBOOT [Standing up and throwing dawn his cards.] And I call your bluff! CYNTHIA Well done, SIMON! [MAGNUS pays BIRDBOOT while CYNTHIA deals.] FECILITY Strange how SIMON appeared in the neighbourhood from nowhere, we know so little about him. CYNTHIA Right, SIMON, it's your opening on the minor bid. SIMON? BIRDBOOT [Triumphant, leaping to his feet.] And I call your bluff! CYNTHIA [Imperturbably.] I meld. FECILITY I huff. MAGNUS I ruff. BIRDBOOT I bluff. CYNTHIA Twist. FECILITY Bust. MAGNUS Check. BIRDBOOT Snap. CYNTHIA How's that? FECILITY Not out. MAGNUS Double top. BIRDBOOT Binge! CYNTHIA No! SIMON-your are lucky tonight. FECILITY We shall see-the night is not over yet, SIMON Gascoyne! [She quickly exits.] BIRDBOOT [Looking after FECILITY .] Red herring-smell it a mile off: [To MAGNUS.] Oh, yes, she's as clean as a whistle, I've seen it a thousand times. And I've seen you before too, haven't I? Strange-there's something about you- MAGNUS Would you like to take a walk in the rose garden, CYNTHIA? CYNTHIA No, MAGNUS, I must talk to SIMON. BIRDBOOT There's nothing for you there, you know. MAGNUS You think so? BIRDBOOT Oh, yes, she knows which side her bread is buttered. I am a man with a certain influence among those who would reap the spotlight-she's not going to throw me over for a heavily disguised cripple. MAGNUS There's an old Canadian proverb- BIRDBOOT Don't give me that I tumbled to you right from the start-oh, yes, you chaps are not as clever as you think. ... Sooner or later you make your mistake. ... Incidentally, where was it I saw you?... I've definitely- MAGNUS [Leaving.] Well, I think I'll go and oil my gun. [Exits.] RDBOOT [After MAGNUS.] Double bluff!-[To CYNTHIA.] I've seen it a thousand times. CYNTHIA I think MAGNUS suspects something. And FECILITY ? SIMON, was there anything between you and FECILITY ? BIRDBOOT No, no-that's all over now. I merely flattered her a little over a drink, told her she'd go far, that sort of thing. Dear me, the fuss that's been made over a simple flirtation- CYNTHIA [As MRS DRUDGE enters behind.] If I find you have falsely seduced me from my dear husband Albert, I will kill you, SIMON Gascoyne! [The "CURTAIN" as before. MRS DRUDGE and CYNTHIA leave. BIRDBOOT starts to follow them.] MOON BIRDBOOT! [BIRDBOOT stops.] MOON For God's sake pull yourself together. BIRDBOOT I can't help it. MOON What do you think you're doing? You're turning it into a complete farce! BIRDBOOT I know, I know-but I can't live without her. [He is making erratic neurotic journeys about the stage.] I shall resign my position, of course. I don't care I'm a gonner, I tell you-[He has arrived at the body. He looks at it in surprise, hesitates, bends and turns it over.] MOON BIRDBOOT, think of your family, your friends-your high standing the world of letters-I say, what are you doing? [BIRDBOOT is staring at the body's face.] BIRDBOOT ... leave it alone. Come and sit down-what's the matter with you'? BIRDBOOT [Dead-voiced.] It's Higgs. MOON What? BIRDBOOT It's Higgs. [Pause.] MOON Don't be silly. BIRDBOOT I tell you it's Higgs! [MOON half rises. Bewildered.] I don't understand....He's dead. MOON Dead? BIRDBOOT Who would want to...? MOON He must have been lying there all the time.... BIRDBOOT ... kill Higgs? MOON But what's he doing here? I was standing in tonight.... BIRDBOOT [Turning.] MOON?... MOON [In wonder, quietly.] So it's me and Puckeridge now. BIRDBOOT MOON...? MOON [Faltering.] But I swear I.... BIRDBOOT I've got it- MOON But I didn't- BIRDBOOT [Quietly.] My God.... so that was it.... [Up.] MOON-now I see- MOON -I swear I didn't- BIRDBOOT Now-finally-I see it all- [There is a shot and BIROBOOT falls dead.] MOON BIRDBOOT! [He runs on, to BIRDBOOT's body.] [CYNTHIA appears at the french windows. She stops and stares. All as before.] CYNTHIA Oh my God-what happened, Inspector? MOON [Almost to himself.] He's dead.... [He rises.] That's a bit rough, isn't it?-A bit extreme!-He may have had his faults-I admit he was a fickle old ...Who did this, and why? [MOON turns to face her. He stands up and makes swiftly for his seat. Before he gets there he is stopped by the sound of voices.] [SIMON and HOUND are occupying the critics' seats.] [MOON freezes.] SIMON To say that it is without pace, point, focus, interest, drama, wit or originality is to say simply that it does not happen to be my taste. One has only to compare this with the masters of the genre to see that here we have a trifle that is not my taste at all. HOUND I'm sorry to be rude but there is no getting away from it. It lacks pace. A complete mess. SIMON I will go further. Those of you who were fortunate enough to be at the Comedie Francaise on Wednesday last, will not need to be reminded that hysterics are no substitute for eclat. HOUND It lacks enthusiasm. SIMON Some of the cast seem to have given up acting altogether, apparently amased, with every reason, at finding themselves involved in an evening that would, and indeed will, make the angels weep. HOUND I am not a prude but I fail to see any reason for the shower of filth and sexual allusion foisted on to an unsuspecting public in the guise of modernity at all costs, ... [Behind MOON, FECILITY , MAGNUS, and MRS DRUDGE have made their entrances, so that he turns to face their semicircle.] MAGNUS [Pointing to BIRDBOOT's body.] Well, Inspector, is this your man? MOON [Warily.]... Yes.... Yes.... it's SIMON... CYNTHIA it's SIMON... MOON Yes ... yes .,. poor. ... [Up.] Is this some kind of a joke? MAGNUS If it is, Inspector, it's in very poor taste. [MOON pulls himself together and becomes galvanic, a little wild, in grief for B1RDBOOT.] MOON All right! I'm going to find out who did this! I want everyone to go to the positions they occupied when the shot was fired-[They move; hysterically.] No one shall leave the house! [They move back.] MAGNUS I think we all had the opportunity to fire the shot, Inspector- MOON [Furious.] I am not- MAGNUS -but which of us would want to! MOON Perhaps you, Major MAGNUS! MAGNUS Why should I want to kill him? MOON Because he was on to you-yes, he suspected you right from the start-and you shot him just when he was about to reveal that you killed-[MOON points, pauses and then crosses to Higgs's body and falters]-killed-[He turns Higgs over.]-this ... chap. MAGNUS But what motive would there be for killing him? [Pause.] Who is this chap? [Pause.] Inspector? MOON [Rising.] I don't know. Quite unlike anyone I've ever met. [Long pause.] Well ... now.... MRS DRUDGE Inspector? MOON [Eagerly.] Yes? Yes, what is it, dear lady? MRS DRUDGE Happening to enter this room earlier in the day to close the windows, I chanced to overhear a remark made by the deceased SIMON Gascoyne to her ladyship, viz.-"I will kill anyone who comes between us." MOON Ah-yes-well, that's it, then. This...chap.... [Pointing.] was obviously killed by [Pointing.] er ... by [Pause.] SIMON. CYNTHIA But he didn't come between us! MAGNUS And who, then, killed SIMON? MRS DRUDGE After that remark, I also happened to be in earshot of a remark made by Lady Muldoon to the dead, to the effect, "I will kill you, SIMON Gascoyne!" I hope you don't mind my mentioning it. MOON Not at all. I'm glad you did. It is from these chance remarks that we in the force build up our complete picture before moving in to make the arrest. It will not be long now, I guess, and I must warn you, Lady Muldoon that anything you say- CYNTHIA Yes!-I hated SIMON Gascoyne, for he had me in his power!-But I didn't kill him! MRS DRUDGE Before that, Inspector, I also chanced to overhear a remark made by Miss Cunningham, no doubt in the heat of the moment, but it stuck in my mind as these things do, viz., "I will kill you for this, SIMON Gascoyne!" MOON Ah! The final piece of the puzzle! I think I am now in a position to reveal the mystery. This man [The corpse.] was, of course, McCoy, the Canadian who, as we heard, meeting Gascoyne in the street and being begged for sixpence for an apple, smacked him across the ear; with the cry, "How's that for a hatred to harbour, you sniffling little workshy!" all those many years ago. Gascoyne waited for this, but in due course followed McCoy down to this house, having, on the way, met, in the neighbourhood, a simple ambitious girl from the provinces. He was charming, persuasive-told her that she would go straight to the top-and she, flattered by his sophistication, charmed by his promises to see her all right on the night, gave in to his simple desires. Perhaps she loved him. We shall never know. But in the very hour of her promised triumph, his eye fell on another-yes, I refer to Lady CYNTHIA Muldoon. From the moment he caught sight of her, there was no other woman for him-he was in her spell, willing to sacrifice anything, even you, FECILITY Cunningham. It was only today-unexpectedly finding him here-that you learned the truth. There was a bitter argument which ended with your promise to kill him-a promise that you carried out in this very room at your first opportunity! And I must warn you that anything you say- FECILITY But it doesn't make sense! MOON Not at first glance, perhaps. MAGNUS Could not SIMON have been killed by the same person who killed McCoy? FECILITY But why should any of us want to kill a perfect stranger? MAGNUS Perhaps he was not a stranger to one of us. MOON [Faltering.] But SIMON was the madman, wasn't he? MAGNUS We only have your word for that, Inspector. We only have your word for a lot of things. For instance-McCoy. Who is he? Is his name McCoy? Is there any truth in that fantastic and incredible tale of the insult in the Canadian streets? Or is there something else, something quite unknown to us, behind all this? Suppose for a moment that the madman, killed this unknown stranger for private reasons of his own. And he was disturbed before he could dispose of the body, so having cut the telephone wires he decided to return to the scene of the crime, pretending as-Police Inspector Hound! MOON But ... I'm not mad ... I'm almost sure I'm not mad.,.. MAGNUS ...only to discover that in the house was a man, SIMON Gascoyne, who recognized the corpse as a man against whom you had held a deep-rooted hatred-! MOON But I didn't kill-I'm almost sure I- MAGNUS I put it to you!-are you the real Inspector Hound?! MOON You know damn well I'm not! What's it all about? MAGNUS I thought so, too. MOON I only dreamed ... sometimes I dreamed- CYNTHIA So it was you! MRS DRUDGE The madman! FECILITY The killer! CYNTHIA Oh, it's horrible, horrible. MRS DRUDGE The stranger in our midst! MAGNUS Yes, we had suspected he would turn up here-and he walked into the trap! MOON What trap? MAGNUS I am not the real MAGNUS Muldoon!-It was a mere disguise!-and [Standing up and removing his moustaches.] I now reveal myself as- CYNTHIA You mean? MAGNUS Yes!-I am the real Inspector Hound! MOON [Pause.] Puckeridge! MAGNUS [With pistol.] Stand where you are, or I'll shoot! MOON [Backing.] Puckeridge! You killed Higgs-and BIRDBOOT tried to tell me- MAGNUS Stop in the name of the law! [MOON turns to run. MAGNUS fires. MOON drops to his Knees.] I have waited a long time for this moment. [MRS DRUDGE faints, and falling to the ground.] CYNTHIA So you are the real Inspector Hound. MAGNUS Not only that!-I have been leading a double life-at least! CYNTHIA You mean-? MAGNUS Yes!-It's been ten long years, but don't you know me? CYNTHIA You mean-? MAGNUS Yes!-it is me, Albert!-who lost his memory and joined the force, rising by advantage to the rank of Inspector, his past has gone-until fate cast him back into the home he left behind, back to the beautiful woman he had brought here as his girlish bride-in short, my darling, my memory has returned and your long wait is over! CYNTHIA Oh, Albert! [They embrace.] MOON [With a trace of admiration.] Puckeridge... you cunning bastard. [MOON dies.] [The lights is slowing turned out. There is a little applause from the audience on the stage, so the play seems to end here. However, before the lights are totally snuffed out, the screen on the B stage is suddenly turned on. At first, the sound and the image are both unclear because of the interference, then, then the news on the radio is heard, though not very clearly.] RADIO The madman in Essex broke into a local manor house, shooting the landlord and his wife. Further damages are still waited to be confirmed, according to the police source. [The light on stage B faints, while it is lighted on stage C and D, then it is also lighted on stage A.] FECILITY [She is stunned to find that the Higgs' body is moving, so she tries to warn MAGNUS and CYNTHIA.] Ah...ah...he's.... [HIGGS stands up swiftly and shoots FECILITY in her chest.] [MAGNUS and CYNTHIA turn and find they are the next targets of HIGGS'.] [CYNTHIA screams and thus she's shot dead.] MAGNUS [Frightened.] I...I ...I thought I killed you.... HIGGS No, you didn't. What you saw was an illusion. [MAGNUS turns and run, but he is shot immediately. He falls down slowly. When he almost hit the ground, all the things on this stage freeze.] [Sitting on stage A, HOUND and SIMON turn the pages of the programs.] SIMON [He turns to the page of the part which has been changed.] Oh, they've changed the end! HOUND [He tries to find this part too.] What? SIMON [Reading the program.] At the last scene, Higgs gets up suddenly and kills all the other characters on the stage. [He's amazed and doesn't know what to say, so he sits there with his mouth open.] HOUND Wow! Bravo! What a good end! A big surprise!! So post-modernism!! SIMON [A reluctant agreement.] Yeah.... but why? Why does Higgs kill them all? HOUND Well, probably he just hates this play, so.... Who knows? SIMON Oh....[Wandering.] Can a critic do that? HOUND Why not? [The audience on stage A leave their seats, complaining the ridiculous and illogical drama. SIMON and HOUND is left there alone, criticizing the play with their public voice.] [The light on stage C and D faints, and that of stage A follows. The two characters' voices fade out gradually. After the stage is in complete darkness, the real curtain falls.] THE END ________________________________________