Agatha Christie - And Then There Were None

"My dear lady, in my experience of ill-doing, Providence leaves the work of conviction and chastisement to us mortals - and the process is often fraught with difficulties. There are no short cuts."

Emily Brent shrugged her shoulders.

Blore said sharply:

"What did she have to eat and drink last night after she went up to bed?"

Armstrong said:

"Nothing."

"She didn't take anything? A cup of tea? A drink of water? I'll bet you she had a cup of tea. That sort always does."

"Rogers assures me she had nothing whatsoever."

"Ah," said Blore. "But he might say so!"

His tone was so significant that the doctor looked at him sharply.

Philip Lombard said:

"So that's your idea?"

Blore said aggressively:

"Well, why not? We all heard that accusation last night. May be sheer moonshine - just plain lunacy! On the other hand, it may not. Allow for the moment that it's true. Rogers and his missus polished off that old lady. Well, where does that get you? They've been feeling quite safe and happy about it -"

Vera interrupted. In a low voice she said:

"No, I don't think Mrs. Rogers ever felt safe."

Blore looked slightly annoyed at the interruption. "Just like a woman," his glance said.

He resumed:

"That's as may be. Anyway there's no active danger to them as far as they know. Then, last night, some unknown lunatic spills the beans. What happens? The woman cracks - she goes to pieces. Notice how her husband hung over her as she was coming round. Not all husbandly solicitude! Not on your life! He was like a cat on hot bricks. Scared out of his life as to what she might say.

"And there's the position for you! They've done a murder and got away with it. But if the whole thing's going to be raked up, what's going to happen? Ten to one, the woman will give the show away. She hasn't got the nerve to stand up and brazen it out. She's a living danger to her husband, that's what she is. He's all right. He'll lie with a straight face till kingdom comes - but he can't be sure of her! And if she goes to pieces, his neck's in danger! So he slips something into a cup of tea and makes sure that her mouth is shut permanently."

Armstrong said slowly:

"There was no empty cup by her bedside - there was nothing there at all. I looked."

Blore snorted.

"Of course there wouldn't be! First thing he'd do when she'd drunk it would be to take that cup and saucer away and wash it up carefully."

There was a pause. Then General Macarthur said doubtfully:

"It may be so. But I should hardly think it possible that a man would do that - to his wife."

Blore gave a short laugh.

He said:

"When a man's neck's in danger, he doesn't stop to think too much about sentiment."

There was a pause. Before any one could speak, the door opened and Rogers came in.

He said, looking from one to the other:

"Is there anything more I can get you? I'm sorry there was so little toast, but we've run right out of bread. The new bread hasn't come over from the mainland yet."

Mr. Justice Wargrave stirred a little in his chair. He asked:

"What time does the motor boat usually come over?"

"Between seven and eight, sir. Sometimes it's a bit after eight. Don't know what Fred Narracott can be doing this morning. If he's ill he'd send his brother."

Philip Lombard said:

"What's the time now?"

"Ten minutes to ten, sir."

Lombard's eyebrows rose. He nodded slowly to himself.

Rogers waited a minute or two.

General Macarthur spoke suddenly and explosively.

"Sorry to hear about your wife, Rogers. Doctor's just been telling us."

Rogers inclined his head.

"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir."

He took up the empty bacon dish and went out.

Again there was silence.

On the terrace outside Philip Lombard said:

"About this motor boat -"

Blore looked at him.

Blore nodded his head.

He said:

"I know what you're thinking, Mr. Lombard. I've asked myself the same question. Motor boat ought to have been here nigh on two hours ago. It hasn't come? Why?"

"Found the answer?" asked Lombard.

"It's not an accident - that's what I say. It's part and parcel of the whole business. It's all bound up together."

Philip Lombard said:

"It won't come, you think?"

A voice spoke behind him - a testy impatient voice.

"The motor boat's not coming," he said.

Blore turned his square shoulder slightly and viewed the last speaker thoughtfully.

"You think not too, General?"

General Macarthur said sharply:

"Of course it won't come. We're counting on the motor boat to take us off the island. That's the meaning of the whole business. We're not going to leave the island... None of us will ever leave... Il's the end, you see - the end of everything..."

He hesitated, then he said in a low strange voice:

"That's peace - real peace. To come to the end - not to have to go on... Yes, peace..."

He turned abruptly and walked away. Along the terrace, then down the slope towards the sea - obliquely - to the end of the island where loose rocks went out into the water.

He walked a little unsteadily, like a man who was only half awake.

Blore said:

"There goes another one who's balmy! Looks as though it'll end with the whole lot going that way."

Philip Lombard said:

"I don't fancy you will, Blore."

The ex-Inspector laughed.

"It would take a lot to send me off my head." He added drily: "And I don't think you'll be going that way either, Mr. Lombard."

Philip Lombard said:

"I feel quite sane at the minute, thank you."

Dr. Armstrong came out onto the terrace. He stood there hesitating. To his left were Blore and Lombard. To his right was Wargrave, slowly pacing up and down, his head bent down.

Armstrong, after a moment of indecision, turned towards the latter.

But at that moment Rogers came quickly out of the house.

"Could I have a word with you, sir, please?"

Armstrong turned.

He was startled at what he saw.

Rogers' face was working. Its colour was greyish green. His hands shook.

It was such a contrast to his restraint of a few minutes ago that Armstrong was quite taken aback.

"Please, sir, if I could have a word with you. Inside, sir."

The doctor turned back and re-entered the house with the frenzied butler. He said:

"What's the matter, man? Pull yourself together."

"In here, sir, come in here."

He opened the dining-room door. The doctor passed in. Rogers followed him and shut the door behind him.

"Well," said Armstrong, "what is it?"

The muscles of Rogers' throat were working. He was swallowing. He jerked out

"There's things going on, sir, that I don't understand."

Armstrong said sharply: "Things? What things?"

"You'll think I'm crazy, sir. You'll say it isn't anything. But it's got to be explained, sir. It's got to be explained. Because it doesn't make any sense."

"Well, man, tell me what it is? Don't go on talking in riddles."

Rogers swallowed again.

He said:

"It's those little figures, sir. In the middle of the table. The little china figures. Ten of them, there were. I'll swear to that, ten of them."

Armstrong said:

"Yes, ten. We counted them last night at dinner."

Rogers came nearer.

"That's just it, sir. Last night, when I was clearing up, there wasn't but nine, sir. I noticed it and thought it queer. But that's all I thought. And now, sir, this morning. I didn't notice when I laid the breakfast. I was upset and all that.

"But now, sir, when I came to clear away. See for yourself if you don't believe me.

"There's only eight, sir! Only eight! It doesn't make sense, does it? Only eight..."