Agatha Christie - And Then There Were None

How very quiet the house was. And yet - it didn't seem like an empty house...

Hugo, upstairs, waiting for her...

"One little Indian boy left all alone... What was the last line again? Something about being married - or was it something else?

She had come now to the door of her room. Hugo was waiting for her inside - she was quite sure of it.

She opened the door...

She gave a gasp...

What was that - hanging from the hook in the ceiling? A rope with a noose all ready? And a chair to stand upon - a chair that could be kicked away...

That was what Hugo wanted...

And of course that was the last line of the rhyme.

"He went and hanged himself and then there were none...

The little china figure fell from her hand. It rolled unheeded and broke against the fender.

Like an automaton Vera moved forward. This was the end - here where the cold wet hand (Cyril's hand, of course) had touched her throat...

"You can go to the rock, Cyril..."

That was what murder was - as easy as that!

But afterwards you went on remembering...

She climbed up on the chair, her eyes staring in front of her like a sleepwalker's... She adjusted the noose round her neck.

Hugo was there to see she did what she had to do.

She kicked away the chair...

Epilogue

Sir Thomas Legge, Assistant Commissioner at Scotland Yard, said irritably:

"But the whole thing's incredible!"

Inspector Maine said respectfully:

"I know, sir."

The A.C. went on:

"Ten people dead on an island and not a living soul on it. It doesn't make sense!"

Inspector Maine said stolidly:

"Nevertheless, it happened, sir."

Sir Thomas Legge said:

"Damn it all, Maine, somebody must have killed 'em."

"That's just our problem, sir."

"Nothing helpful in the doctor's report?"

"No, sir. Wargrave and Lombard were shot, the first through the head, the second through the heart. Miss Brent and Marston died of cyanide poisoning, Mrs. Rogers died of an overdose of chloral. Rogers' head was split open. Blore's head was crushed in. Armstrong died of drowning. Macarthur's skull was fractured by a blow on the back of the head and Vera Claythorne was hanged."

The A.C. winced. He said:

"Nasty business - all of it."

He considered for a minute or two. He said irritably:

"Do you mean to say that you haven't been able to get anything helpful out of the Sticklehaven people. Dash it, they must know something."

Inspector Maine shrugged his shoulders.

"They're ordinary decent seafaring folk. They know that the island was bought by a man called Owen - and that's about all they do know."

"Who provisioned the island and made all the necessary arrangements?"

"Man called Morris. Isaac Morris."

"And what does he say about it all?"

"He can't say anything, sir, he's dead."

The A.C. frowned.

"Do we know anything abut this Morris?"

"Oh, yes, sir, we know about him. He wasn't a very savoury gentleman, Mr. Morris. He was implicated in that share-pushing fraud of Bennito's three years ago - we're sure of that though we can't prove it. And he was mixed up in the dope business. And again we can't prove it. He was a very careful man, Morris."

"And he was behind this island business?"

"Yes, sir, he put through the sale - though he made it clear that he was buying Indian Island for a third party, unnamed."

"Surely there's something to be found out on the financial angle, there?"

Inspector Maine smiled.

"Not if you knew Morris! He can wangle figures until the best chartered accountant in the country wouldn't know if he was on his head or his heels! We've had a taste of that in the Bennito business. No, he covered his employer's tracks all right. "

The other man sighed. Inspector Maine went on:

"It was Morris who made all the arrangements down at Sticklehaven, Represented himself as acting for 'Mr. Owen.' And it was he who explained to the people down there that there was some experiment on - some bet about living on a 'desert island' for a week - and that no notice was to be taken of any appeal for help from out there."

Sir Thomas Legge stirred uneasily. He said:

"And you're telling me that those people didn't smell a rat? Not even then?"

Maine shrugged his shoulders. He said:

"You're forgetting, sir, that Indian Island previously belonged to young Elmer Robson, the American. He had the most extraordinary parties down there. I've no doubt the local people's eyes fairly popped out over them. But they got used to it and they'd begun to feel that anything to do with Indian Island would necessarily be incredible. It's natural, that, sir, when you come to think of it."

The Assistant Commissioner admitted gloomily that he supposed it was.

Maine said:

"Fred Narracott - that's the man who took the party out there - did say one thing that was illuminating. He said he was surprised to see what sort of people these were. 'Not at all like Mr. Robson's parties.' I think it was the fact that they were all so normal and so quiet that made him override Morris' orders and take out a boat to the island after he'd heard about the SOS signals."

"When did he and the other men go?"

"The signals were seen by a party of boy scouts on the morning of the 11th. There was no possibility of getting out there that day. The men got there on the afternoon of the 12th at the first moment possible to run a boat ashore there. They're all quite positive that nobody could have left the island before they got there. There was a big sea on after the storm."

"Couldn't some one have swum ashore?"

"It's over a mile to the coast and there were heavy seas and big breakers inshore. And there were a lot of people, boy scouts and others on the cliffs looking out towards the island and watching."

The A.C. sighed. He said:

"What about the gramophone record you found in the house? Couldn't you get hold of anything there that might help?"

Inspector Maine said:

"I've been into that. It was supplied by a firm that do a lot of theatrical stuff and film effects. It was sent to U.N. Owen, Esq. c/o Isaac Morris, and was understood to be required for the amateur performance of a hitherto unacted play. The typescript of it was returned with the record."

Legge said:

"And what about the subject matter, eh?"

Inspector Maine said gravely:

"I'm coming to that, sir."

He cleared his throat.

"I've investigated those accusations as thoroughly as I can.

"Starting with the Rogerses who were the first to arrive on the island. They were in service with a Miss Brady who died suddenly. Can't get anything definite out of the doctor who attended her. He says they certainly didn't poison her, or anything like that, but his personal belief if that there was some funny business - that she died as the result of neglect on their part. Says it's the sort of thing that's quite impossible to prove.

"Then there is Mr. Justice Wargrave. That's O.K. He was the judge who sentenced Seton.

"By the way, Seton was guilty - unmistakably guilty. Evidence turned up later after he was hanged which proved that beyond any shadow of doubt. But there was a good deal of comment at the time - nine people out of ten thought Seton was innocent and that the judge's summing up had been vindictive.

"The Claythorne girl, I find, was governess in a family where a death occurred by drowning. However, she doesn't seem to have had anything to do with it, and as a matter of fact she behaved very well, swam out to the rescue and was actually carried out to sea and only just rescued in time."

"Go on," said the A.C. with a sigh.

Maine took a deep breath.

"Dr. Armstrong now. Well-known man. Had a consulting room in Harley Street. Absolutely straight and aboveboard in his profession. Haven't been able to trace any record of an illegal operation or anything of that kind. It's true that there was a woman called Clees who was operated on by him way back in 1925 at Leithmore, when he was attached to the hospital there. Peritonitis and she died on the operating table. Maybe he wasn't very skillful over the op. - after all he hadn't much experience - but after all clumsiness isn't a criminal offence. There was certainly no motive.