Lights up where we were – Hutter coming down the stairs to meet Nat on her way up, the man brandishing a knife. Nat turns to see him, backing away now. She’s nervous, but seems practiced at dealing with this.
NAT: Jean? Jean, please put down the knife. You’re scaring me, Jean. It’s me, Nat. Natassja. Your wife. Jean?
Hutter lunges forward, just as Philip pulls Nat away. Hutter grabs him instead, and they struggle over the knife.
PHILIP: Run, Natassja! Professor! I can’t-
Hutter wrenches the knife out of his grip and stabs Philip in the neck. Philip clamps his hand over the wound, and it comes away dripping blood.
PHILIP: Oh, oh my…
Hutter pushes him aside and walks after the now-running Professor and Nat. Philip continues to stagger around the room for a while, really hamming it up.
PHILIP: Is this truly the end? At the end of the blade of a man possessed? My life cut short – my work forever left unfinished – my loved ones deprived of my light! Oh! Oh!
He dies. While all this has been going on, Hutter has been pounding on the door to the sitting room, which Nat and the Professor are holding shut.
PROF: Hutter! For God’s sake, man! What has possessed you? Ehm… The power of Christ compels you! No? Well, it was worth a try.
NAT: Jean! Jean, please, no more!
They’re fighting a losing battle. The door is open now, enough for Hutter to get his arm through and beat at them. They lose control of the door and Hutter throws it aside, Nat and the Prof backing away to the other side of the room. Hutter crosses towards them slowly.
NAT: Jean! Please! You’re scaring me!
He stops. Seems almost confused for a moment. Nat starts to approach him, but the professor pulls her back.
PROF: No, Natassja!
NAT: Let me take the knife away from him! Then he’ll-
Hutter comes back to life and raises the knife again. Nat pulls back. They run out through the other door into the kitchen and slam it closed. The professor pulls a large bolt and sighs, relieved.
PROF: That should hold him.
Hutter starts pounding on the door. It shakes and rattles unsettlingly.
PROF: Perhaps. Perhaps we had better start looking for another exit.
NAT: Isn’t there usually another door out of these kinds of house in the kitchens? For servants to go through and things like that.
PROF: It’s been bricked up. I noticed it when I was making tea. Try those windows, Natassja, and I’ll see if there are any other routes we’ve neglected.
Nat stands on the counter and tries a window.
NAT: It’s no use, Professor. They’re locked or stuck or something. I can’t budge them!
PROF: Oh, dear. That is troubling. Yes, I’ve scoured the room for alternative exits, my dear.
NAT: And?
PROF: There aren’t any. No, we’re quite stuck.
Nat goes to the door and leans against it.
NAT: Jean? Are you there?
PROF: I think he’s pretty obviously-
NAT: Quiet! Jean, can you hear me?
The hammering stops. Nat begins to hum a tune.
NAT: You remember that?
PROF: Natassja, come away from the door – he’s obviously deranged. You’re not helping anything by getting yourself hurt.
NAT: Get back! I can help him. Calm him down.
PROF: The best way you can help him is to get away and alert the proper authorities. You don’t even know if this is really calming him down-
Hutter answers Nat’s tune, mirroring it with his own in a guttural tone. Nat presses herself against the door as if it were her husband, lovingly.
NAT: Our first dance… it always calms him down.
PROF: Always… then this isn’t the first time?
Nat turns as if caught out.
NAT: It started out small, he would just forget where he was. He’s never done anything like this before though. God… first Judith, now Philip… two dead bodies. Do you think he might have killed Judith?
PROF: Impossible. He was right there with us, remember?
Hutter begins banging on the door again. The professor runs to the door and holds it with Nat. NAT: But there’s nobody else in the house! He poisoned her, or, or attacked her somehow, and then he sneaked back in! Who else could have killed her?
PROF: It doesn’t matter who could have killed her, because she’s not dead!
Beat.
PROF: Oh dear. I didn’t mean to say that.
NAT: What do you mean, not dead?
PROF: I mean… I mean just that. Philip and I laid her out on the table, but the first moment I turn my back… she disappears. I don’t know where she went.
NAT: But if she isn’t dead… how?
PROF: I don’t know! Dead bodies don’t hide themselves, and nobody else could have possibly gotten in there! She must have figured out a way to… yes… She induced a death-like catalepsy. Once she was away from the rest of us she could hide. Old houses like this are rife with secret passages and priest-holes – built as curiosities, not out of necessity – she could have slipped into one.
NAT: Professor… are you suggesting what I think you’re suggesting?
PROF: That this has all been a deadly game, a trap designed to snare a very specific target? That everything that has occurred under this roof is suspect? I’m afraid I am. Your husband may have been hypnotised, an induced psychosis. It may have happened a long time ago, to prepare you for this day.
NAT: Almost too terrible to imagine, the idea of someone preparing a sick trap like this.
PROF: Yes, terrible. And yet, strangely alluring. The crafting of a perfect scenario, the careful placement of the pieces. The introduction of the brilliant decoy – the murder-that-wasn’t. Imagine the satisfaction of execution. So many moving parts. Like a clock made out of smaller clocks.
NAT: Professor, you’re scaring me.
PROF: Am I? Oh, I am sorry, my dear.
The door bursts open, sending the two of them sprawling to the floor. Hutter lurches in, knife raised.
NAT: Jean, no!
PROF: My God, Natassja!
Nat scrambles to her feet and looks for something to defend herself. She pauses over a frying pan, and then shakes her head. Hutter is looming, walking with a slow, zombie-like gait towards the Professor.
NAT: I’m sorry, Jean.
She lifts a chair and BASHES Hutter with it. Maybe it breaks over his head, but don’t lose too much sleep over that.
PROF: Hutter!
He stands up quickly and runs over to Nat, who throws herself into his arms, sobbing.
PROF: There, there. It’s… it’s alright… something had to be done.
NAT: Is he…?
The professor kneels and checks Hutter’s vitals. He shakes his head.
PROF: He’ll be alright after a few days to recover from the shock. That was some quick thinking, my dear. Very well done.
NAT: It was horrible. I hope I never have to hurt a person again.
PROF: Yes, well, sometimes these things are unavoidable. But not entirely unprofitable.
NAT: Professor?
The professor walks back to where he fell and points at the floor, concealed behind a counter.
PROF: You see there? That little marking, small enough as to be insignificant to the casual observer? Well, Natassja, observe this!
He steps on a hidden switch and a section of the wall recedes and reveals a secret area.
PROF: Secret tunnel. I noticed it when I fell down. What did I say?
NAT: Professor, this is madness… I’m not going in there!
PROF: Would you rather wait for Judith and whoever her next unwitting accomplice would be? Come on, my dear!
NAT: Oh, damn this!
She draws closer to the entryway.
NAT: It’s so dark down there. We shan’t be able to see a thing.
PROF: It’s alright. Just hold onto my hand, and you won’t get lost.
NAT: Wait, just one second.
She runs back to Hutter and kneels beside him. The Professor looks nervous.
NAT: See you soon, Jean.
She kisses him gently on the forehead, then stands up and hurries back to the professor.
NAT: Let’s go.
They enter the darkness, and disappear from view. Blackout.
The two of them walk across the front of the stage, hand in hand.
NAT: I can hardly see my hand in front of my face, Professor!
PROF: Yes, yes. Careful!
NAT: What is that, Professor? Some sort of machine…
PROF: A wireless transmitter, Natassja. I imagine that was how Judith broadcast her secret signal to your husband… A devious plot, but she failed to reckon on one key factor.
NAT: What’s that?
PROF: Us. Look at us, eh? We’ve found her secret passages, escaped her assassin. I think that we’ve made quite a team, to be honest with you.
NAT: Hm, yes…
The professor lets go of her hand.
NAT: Professor? Hello? Where are you?
PROF: Which makes it so tragic that our partnership has reached its end! Goodbye, my dear!
He SLAMS a heavy steel door, and leaves as she pounds on it.
NAT: Professor! Let me out! Let me out!