A Murder is Announced Edmund 2t3
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Mrs Swettenham: Well, I don't like policemen turning up on my doorstep and asking me to accompany them. My neighbours will be tittle-tattling for weeks.
Edmund: I shall be writing to the newspapers about this.
Miss Blacklock: Me? Oh Mitzi . . .
Edmund: That's absurd, she couldn't possibly have seen Miss Blacklock . . .
Craddock: If Miss Blacklock dies before Belle Goedler two people stand to beneit. Emma stamfordis . . .
Edmund: And you think I'm Pip? That's too fantastic for words.
Craddock: Isn't there? Mr Swettenham's a struggling young writer--not yet published--who would very much like to marry a rich woman.
Edmund: It's not true!
Craddock: You're in debt up to your eyeballs.
Craddock: And I can prove it. The bank--the bookmaker . . .
Edmund: So what! Does that . . .
Mrs Swettenham: You've no idea what a terrible time I've been through. I shall never forgive you--never.
Edmund: I'm sorry, Mother. I could hardly tell you what we were up to. You would never hae agreed to my doing it.
Mrs Swettenham: How could you have deceived me like that?
Edmund: I said I'd help the Inspector on the condition that I'd be the first to get all the facts. I'm convinced somewhere in all this there is a fascinating novel to be written and if I don't write it, someone else will.
What would you like to do?
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