Agatha Christie - And Then There Were None

"They're going mad... they're all go mad... Afraid of death... we're all afraid of death... I'm afraid of death... Yes, but that doesn't stop death coming... 'The hearse is at the door, sir.' Where did I read that? The girl... I'll watch the girl. Yes, I'll watch the girl..."

"Twenty to four... only twenty to four... perhaps the clock has stopped... I don't understand - no, I don't understand... This sort of thing can't happen... it is happening... Why don't we wake up? Wake up - Judgement Day - not that! If I could only think... My head - something's happening in my head - it's going to burst - it's going to split... This sort of thing can't happen... What's the time? Oh, God! it's only a quarter to four."

"I must keep my head... I must keep my head... If only I keep my head... It's all perfectly clear - all worked out. But nobody must suspect. It may do the trick. It must! Which one? That's the question - which one? I think - yes, I rather think - yes - him."

When the clock struck five they all jumped.

Vera said:

"Does any one - want tea?"

There was a moment's silence. Blore said:

"I'd like a cup."

Vera rose. She said:

"I'll go and make it. You can all stay here."

Mr. Justice Wargrave said gently:

"I think, my dear young lady, we would all prefer to come and watch you make it."

Vera stared, then gave a short rather hysterical laugh.

She said:

"Of course! You would!"

Five people went into the kitchen. Tea was made and drunk by Vera and Blore. The other three had whiskey - opening a fresh bottle and using a siphon from a nailed up case.

The judge murmured with a reptilian smile:

"We must be very careful..."

They went back again to the drawing-room. Although it was summer the room was dark. Lombard switched on the lights but they did not come on. He said:

"Of course! The engine's not been run today since Rogers hasn't been there to see to it."

He hesitated and said:

"We could go out and get it going, I suppose."

Mr. Justice Wargrave said:

"There are packets of candles in the larder, I saw them, better use those."

Lombard went out. The other four sat watching each other.

He came back with a box of candles and a pile of saucers. Five candles were lit and placed about the room.

The time was a quarter to six.

At twenty past six, Vera felt that to sit there longer was unbearable. She would go to her room and bathe her aching head and temples in cold water.

She got up and went towards the door. Then she remembered and came back and got a candle out of the box. She lighted it, let a little wax pour into a saucer and stuck the candle firmly to it. Then she went out of the room, shutting the door behind her and leaving the four men inside.

She went up the stairs and along the passage to her room.

As she opened her door, she suddenly halted and stood stock still.

Her nostrils quivered.

The sea... The smell of the sea at St. Tredennick...

That was it. She could not be mistaken. Of course one smelt the sea on an island anyway, but this was different. It was the smell there had been on the beach that day - with the tide out and the rocks covered with seaweed drying in the sun.

"Can I swim out to the island, Miss Claythorne?"

"Why can't I swim out to the island?..."

Horrid whiny spoilt little brat! If it weren't for him, Hugo would be rich... able to marry the girl he loved...

Hugo...

Surely - surely - Hugo was beside her? No, waiting for her in the room...

She made a step forward. The draught from the window caught the flame of the candle. It flickered and went out...

Tn the dark she was suddenly afraid...

"Don't be a fool," Vera Claythorne urged herself. "It's all right. The others are downstairs. All four of them. There's no one in the room. There can't be. You're imagining things, my girl."

But that smell - that smell of the beach at St. Tredennick... That wasn't imagined. It was true...

And there was some one in the room... She had heard something - surely she had heard something...

And then, as she stood there, listening - a cold, clammy hand touched her throat - a wet hand, smelling of the sea...

Vera screamed. She screamed and screamed - screams of the utmost terror - wild desperate cries for help.

She did not hear the sounds from below, of a chair being overturned, of a door opening, of men's feet running up the stairs. She was conscious only of supreme terror.

Then, restoring her sanity, lights flickered in the doorway - candles - men hurrying into the room.

"What the devil?" "What's happened?" "Good God, what is it?"

She shuddered, took a step forward, collapsed on the floor.

She was only half aware of some one bending over her, of some one forcing her head down between her knees.

Then a sudden exclamation, a quick "My God, look at that!" her senses returned. She opened her eyes and raised her head. She saw what it was the men with the candles were looking at.

A broad ribbon of wet seaweed was hanging down from the ceiling. It was that which in the darkness had swayed against her throat. It was that which she had taken for a clammy hand, a drowned hand come back from the dead to squeeze the life out of her!...

She began to laugh hysterically. She said:

"It was seaweed - only seaweed - and that's what the smell was..."

And then the faintness came over her once more - waves upon waves of sickness. Again some one took her head and forced it between her knees.

Aeons of time seemed to pass. They were offering her something to drink - pressing the glass against her lips. She smelt brandy.

She was just about to gulp the spirit gratefully down when, suddenly, a warning note - like an alarm bell - sounded in her brain. She sat up, pushing the glass away.

She said sharply:

"Where did this come from?"

Blore's voice answered. He stared a minute before speaking.

He said:

"I got it from downstairs."

Vera cried:

"I won't drink it..."

There was a moment's silence, then Lombard laughed.

He said with appreciation:

"Good for you, Vera! You've got your wits about you - even if you have been scared half out of your life. I'll get a fresh bottle that hasn't been opened."

He went swiftly out.

Vera said uncertainly:

"I'm all right now. I'll have some water."

Armstrong supported her as she struggled to her feet. She went over to the basin, swaying and clutching at him for support. She let the cold tap run and then filled the glass.

Blore said resentfully:

"That brandy's all right."

Armstrong said:

"How do you know?"

Blore said angrily:

"I didn't put anything in it. That's what you're getting at, I suppose."

Armstrong said:

"I'm not saying you did. You might have done it, or some one might have tampered with the bottle for just this emergency."

Lombard came swiftly back into the room.

He had a new bottle of brandy in his hands and a corkscrew.

He thrust the sealed bottle under Vera's nose.

"There you are, my girl. Absolutely no deception." He peeled off the tin foil and drew the cork. "Lucky there's a good supply of spirits in the house. Thoughtful of U.N. Owen."

Vera shuddered violently.

Armstrong held the glass while Philip poured the brandy into it. He said:

"You'd better drink this, Miss Claythorne. You've had a nasty shock."

Vera drank a little of the spirit. The colour came back to her face.

Philip Lombard said with a laugh:

"Well, here's one murder that hasn't gone according to plan!"

Vera said almost in a whisper:

"You think - that was what was meant?"

Lombard nodded.

"Expected you to pass out through fright! Some people would have, wouldn't they, doctor?"