Agatha Christie - And Then There Were None

In that minute, they knew - knew without being told...

As by common accord, they all rose to their feet. They stood looking towards the door.

Dr. Armstrong appeared, his breath coming fast.

He said:

"General Macarthur -"

"Dead!" The voice burst from Vera explosively.

Armstrong said:

"Yes, he's dead..."

There was a pause - a long pause.

Seven people looked at each other and could find no words to say.

The storm broke just as the old man's body was borne in through the door.

The others were standing in the hall.

There was a sudden hiss and roar as the rain came down.

As Blore and Armstrong passed up the stairs with their burden, Vera Claythorne turned suddenly and went into the deserted dining-room.

It was as they had left it. The sweet course stood ready on the sideboard untasted,

Vera went up to the table. She was there a minute or two later when Rogers came softly into the room.

He started when he saw her. Then his eyes asked a question.

He said:

"Oh, Miss, I - I just came to see..."

In a loud harsh voice that surprised herself Vera said:

"You're quite right, Rogers. Look for yourself. There are only seven..."

General Macarthur had been laid on his bed.

After making a last examination Armstrong left the room and came downstairs. He found the others assembled in the drawing-room.

Miss Brent was knitting. Vera Claythorne was standing by the window looking out at the hissing rain, Blore was sitting squarely in a chair, his hands on his knees. Lombard was walking restlessly up and down. At the far end of the room Mr. Justice Wargrave was sitting in a grandfather chair. His eyes were half closed.

They opened as the doctor came into the room. He said in a clear penetrating voice:

"Well, doctor?"

Armstrong was very pale. He said:

"No question of heart failure or anything like that. Macarthur was hit with a life preserver or some such thing on the back of the head."

A little murmur went round, but the clear voice of the judge was raised once more.

"Did you find the actual weapon used?"

"No."

"Nevertheless you are sure of your facts?"

"I am quite sure."

Mr. Justice Wargrave said quietly:

"We know now exactly where we are."

There was no doubt now who was in charge of the situation. This morning Wargrave had sat huddled in his chair on the terrace refraining from any overt activity. Now he assumed command with the ease born of a long habit of authority. He definitely presided over the court.

Clearing his throat, he once more spoke.

"This morning, gentlemen, whilst I was sitting on the terrace. I was an observer of your activities. There could be little doubt of your purpose. You were searching the island for an unknown murderer?"

"Quite right, sir," said Philip Lombard.

The judge went on.

"You had come, doubtless, to the same conclusion that I had - namely that the deaths of Anthony Marston and Mrs. Rogers were neither accidental nor were they suicides. No doubt you also reached a certain conclusion as to the purpose of Mr. Owen in enticing us to this island?"

Blore said hoarsely:

"He's a madman! A loony."

The judge coughed.

"That almost certainly. But it hardly affects the issue. Our main preoccupation is this - to save our lives."

Armstrong said in a trembling voice:

"There's no one on the island, I tell you. No one!"

The judge stroked his jaw.

He said gently:

"In the sense you mean, no. I came to that conclusion early this morning. I could have told you that your search would be fruitless. Nevertheless I am strongly of the opinion that 'Mr. Owen' (to give him the name he himself has adopted) is on the island. Very much so. Given the scheme in question which is neither more nor less than the execution of justice upon certain individuals for offences which the law cannot touch, there is only one way in which that scheme could be accomplished. Mr. Owen could only come to the island in one way.

"It is perfectly clear. Mr. Owen is one of us..."

"Oh, no, no, no..."

It was Vera who burst out - almost in a moan. The judge turned a keen eye on her.

He said:

"My dear young lady, this is no time for refusing to look facts in the face. We are all in grave danger. One of us is U.N. Owen. And we do not know which of us. Of the ten people who came to this island three are definitely cleared. Anthony Marston, Mrs. Rogers, and General Macarthur have gone beyond suspicion. There are seven of us left. Of those seven, one is, if I may so express myself, a bogus little Indian boy."

He paused - and looked round.

"Do I take it that you all agree?"

Armstrong said:

"It's fantastic - but I suppose you're right."

Blore said:

"Not a doubt of it. And if you ask me, I've a very good idea -"

A quick gesture of Mr. Justice Wargrave's hand stopped him. The judge said quietly:

"We will come to that presently. At the moment all I wish to establish is that we are in agreement on the facts."

Emily Brent, still knitting, said:

"Your argument seems logical. I agree that one of us is possessed by a devil."

Vera murmured:

"I can't believe it... I can't..."

Wargrave said:

"Lombard?"

"I agree, sir, absolutely."

The judge nodded his head in a satisfied manner. He said:

"Now let us examine the evidence. To begin with, is there any reason for suspecting one particular person? Mr. Blore, you have, I think, something to say."

Blore was breathing hard. He said:

"Lombard's got a revolver. He didn't tell the truth - last night. He admits it."

Philip Lombard smiled scornfully.

He said:

"I suppose I'd better explain again."

He did so, telling the story briefly and succinctly.

Blore said sharply:

"What's to prove it? There's nothing to corroborate your story."

The judge coughed.

"Unfortunately," he said, "we are all in that position. There is only our own word to go upon."

He leaned forward.

"You have none of you yet grasped what a very peculiar situation this is. To my mind there is only one course of procedure to adopt. Is there any one whom we can definitely eliminate from suspicion on the evidence which is in our possession?"

Dr. Armstrong said quickly:

"I am a well-known professional man. The mere idea that I can be suspected of -"

Again a gesture of the judge's hand arrested a speaker before he finished his speech. Mr. Justice Wargrave said in his small clear voice:

"I, too, am a well-known person! But, my dear sir, that proves less than nothing! Doctors have gone mad before now. Judges have gone mad. So," he added, looking at Blore, "have policemen!"

Lombard said:

"At any rate, I suppose you'll leave the women out of it."

The judge's eyebrows rose. He said in the famous "acid" tone that Counsel knew so well:

"Do I understand you to assert that women are not subject to homicidal mania?"

Lombard said irritably:

"Of course not. But all the same, it hardly seems possible -"

He stopped. Mr. Justice Wargrave still in the same thin sour voice addressed Armstrong.

"I take it, Dr. Armstrong, that a woman would have been physically capable of striking the blow that killed poor Macarthur?"

The doctor said calmly:

"Perfectly capable - given a suitable instrument, such as a rubber truncheon or cosh."

"It would require no undue exertion of force?"

"Not at all."

Mr. Justice Wargrave wriggled his tortoiselike neck. He said:

"The other two deaths have resulted from the administration of drugs. That, no one will dispute, is easily compassed by a person of the smallest physical strength."