The Real Inspector Hound and Other Plays (9 page)

MOON
: Perhaps you, Major Magnus!

MAGNUS
: Why should I want to kill him?

MOON
: Because he was on to you—yes, he tumbled 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
: Subsequent to that reported remark, I also happened to be in earshot of a remark made by Lady Muldoon to the deceased, 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 fancy, 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
: Prior to 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 jigsaw! 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 solicited for sixpence for a toffee apple, smacked him across the ear, with the cry, “How’s that for a grudge to harbour, you sniffling little workshy!” all those many years ago. Gascoyne bided his time, but in due course tracked 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, I have no doubt, that she would go straight to the top—and she, flattered by his sophistication, taken in 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, Felicity 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——

FELICITY
: 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?

FELICITY
: 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 implausible tale of the insult inflicted in the Canadian streets? Or is there something else, something quite unknown to us, behind all this? Suppose for a moment that the madman, having killed this unknown stranger for private and inscrutable reasons of his own, 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, masquerading 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-seated grudge … !

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 as much.

MOON
: I only dreamed... sometimes I dreamed——

CYNTHIA
: So it was you!

MRS. DRUDGE
: The madman!

FELICITY
: The killer!

CYNTHIA
: Oh, it’s horrible, horrible.

MRS. DRUDGE
: The stranger in our midst!

MAGNUS
: Yes, we had a shrewd suspicion 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 subterfuge!—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 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.

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 merit to the rank of Inspector, his past blotted out—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 END

CHARACTERS

The first performance of
After Magritte
was given at the Ambiance Lunch-hour Theatre Club on 9 April 1970. The cast was as follows:

Directed by Geoffrey Reeves

SCENE

A room. Early evening
.

The only light is that which comes through the large window which is facing the audience. The street door is in the same upstage wall. There is another door on each side of the stage, leading to the rest of the flat
.

The central ceiling light hangs from a long flex which disappears up into the flies. The lampshade itself is a heavy metal hemisphere, opaque, poised about eight feet from the floor
.

A yard or more to one side
(
Stage
L
),
and similarly hanging from the flies, is a fruit basket attractively overflowing with apples, oranges, bananas, pineapple, and grapes. The cord or flex is tied round the handle of the basket
.

It will become apparent that the light fixture is on a counterweight system; it can be raised or lowered, or kept in any vertical position, by means of the counterbalance, which in this case is a basket of fruit
.

Most of the furniture is stacked up against the street door in a sort of barricade. An essential item is a long low bench-type table, about eight feet long, but the pile also includes a settee, two comfortable chairs, a TV set, a cupboard and a wind-up gramophone with an old-fashioned horn. The cupboard is probably the item on which stand the telephone and a deep-shaded table lamp, unlit but connected to a wall plug
.

Directly under the central light is a wooden chair. Hanging over the back of the chair is a black tail-coat, a white dress shirt and a white bow-tie. Towards Stage
R
,
in profile, is an ironing board with its iron upended on the asbestos mat at the centre-stage end of the board
.

There is no other furniture
.

There are three people in the room
.

MOTHER
is lying on her back on the ironing board, her head to Stage
R
,
her downstage foot up against the flat of the iron. A white bath towel covers her from ankle to chin. Her head and part of her face are concealed in a tight-fitting black rubber bathing cap. A black bowler hat reposes on her stomach. She could be dead; but is not
.

THELMA HARRIS
is dressed in a full-length ballgown and her hair
is expensively ‘up’. She looks as though she is ready to go out to a dance, which she is. Her silver shoes, however, are not on her feet: they have been discarded somewhere on the floor
.
THELMA
is discovered on her hands and knees, in profile to the audience, staring at the floor ahead and giving vent to an occasional sniff
.

REGINALD HARRIS
is standing on the wooden chair. His torso is bare, but underneath his thigh-length green rubber fishing waders he wears his black evening dress trousers. His hands are at his sides. His head is tilted back directly below the lampshade, which hangs a foot or two above him, and he is blowing slowly and deliberately up into the recess of the shade
.

Gazing at this scene through the window is a uniformed Police Constable
(
HOLMES
).
Only his shoulders, his face and his helmet are visible above the silt. He stands absolutely motionless, and might be a cut-out figure; but is not
.

For several seconds there is no movement, and no sound save the occasional sniffing from
THELMA
.
THELMA
pads forward a couple of paces, still scanning the floor ahead and around
.
HARRIS
blows into the lampshade
.