and then there were none, chapter 7

CHAPTER 7
AftER BREAKFAST, Emily Brent had suggested to Vera Claythome that they
should walk up to the summit again and watch for the boat. Vera had
acquiesced. The wind had freshened. Small white crests were appearing on
the sea. There were Do fishing boats out-and no sign of the motor boat.
The actual village of Sticklehaven could not be seen, only the hill above
it, a jutting out cliff of red rock concealed the actual little bay.
Emily Brent said:
"The man who brought us out yesterday seemed a dependable sort of person.
It is really very odd that he should be so late this morning."
Vera did not answer. She was fighting down a rising feeling of panic. She
said to herself angrily:
"You must keep cool. This isn't like you. You've always had excellent
nerves." Aloud she said after a minute or two:
"I wish he would come. I-I want to get away."
Emily Brent said drily:
"I've no doubt we all do."
Vera said:
"It's all so extraordinary. all.))
The elderly woman beside her said briskly:
"I'm very annoyed with myself for being so easily taken in. Really that
letter is absurd when one comes to examine it. But I had no doubts at the
time-none at all."
Vera murmured mechanically:
"I suppose not."
"One takes things for granted too much," said Emily Brent.
Vera drew a deep shuddering breath.
She said:
"Do you really think-what you said at breakfast?"
"Be a little more precise, my dear. To what in particular are you
referring?" Vera said in a low voice:
. . There seems no-no meaning in it
"Do you really think that Rogers and his wife did away with that old lady?"
Emily Brent gazed thoughtfully out to sea. Then she said: "Personally, I am
quite sure of it. What do you think?" "I don't know what to think." Emily
Brent said: "Everything goes to support the idea. The way the woman fainted.
And the man dropped the coffee tray, remember. Then the way he spoke about
it-it didn't ring true. Oh, yes, I'm afraid they did it." Vera said: "The
way she looked-scared of her own shadow! I've never seen a woman look so
frightened. by it . . . . 11 Miss Brent murmured:
. . She must have been always haunted
"I remember a text that hung in my nursery as a child. 'Be sure thy sin
will find thee out.' It's very true, that. 'Be sure thy sin will find thee
out."' Vera scrambled to her feet. She said:
"But, Miss Brent-Miss Brent-in that case-"
"Yes, my dear?"
"The others? What about the others?"
"I don't quite understand you."
"All the other accusations-they-they weren't true? But if it's true about
the Rogerses-" She stopped, unable to make her chaotic thought clear.
Emily Brent's brow, which had been frowning perplexedly, cleared.
She said:
"Ali, I understand you now. Well, there is that Mr. Lombard. He admits to
having abandoned twenty men to their deaths."
Vera said:
"They were only natives. . . .
Emily Brent said sharply:
"Black or white, they are our brothers."
Vera thought:
"Our black brothers-our black brothers. Oh, I'm going to laugh. I'm
hysterical. I'm not myself. . . ."
Emily Brent continued thoughtfully:
"Of course, some of the other accusations were very far-fetched and
ridiculous. Against the judge, for instance, who was only doing
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252 MASTERPIECES OF MURDER
his duty in his public capacity. And the ex-Scotland Yard man. My own case,
too." She paused and then went on:
"Naturally, considering the circumstances, I was not going to say anything
last night. It was not a fit subject to discuss before gentlemen. "
"No?"
Vera listened with interest. Miss Brent continued serenely:
"Beatrice Taylor was in service with me. Not a nice girl-as I found out too
late. I was very much deceived in her. She had nice manners and was very
clean and willing. I was very pleased with her. Of course all that was the
sheerest hypocrisy! She was a loose girl with no morals. Disgusting! It was
some time before I found out that she was what they call 'in trouble."' She
paused, her delicate nose wrinkling itself in distaste. "It was a great
shock to me. Her parents were decent folk, too, who had brought her up very
strictly. I'm glad to say they did not condone her behaviour."
Vera said, staring at Miss Brent:
"What happened?"
"Naturally I did not keep her an hour under my roof. No one shall ever say
that I condoned immorality."
Vera said in a lower voice:
"What happened-to her?"
Miss Brent said:
"The abandoned creature, not content with having one sin on her conscience,
committed a still graver sin. She took her own life."
Vera whispered, horror-struck:
"She killed herself?"
"Yes, she threw herself into the river."
Vera shivered.
She stared at the calm delicate profile of Miss Brent. She said:
"What did you feel like when you knew she'd done that? Weren't you sorry?
Didn't you blame yourself?"
Emily Brent drew herself up.
"I? I had nothing with which to reproach myself."
Vera said:
"But if your-hardness-drove her to
Emily Brent said sharply:
"Her own action-her own sin-that was what drove her to it. If she had
behaved like a decent modest young woman none of this would have happened."
it.1)
AND THEN THERE WERE NONE
253
She turned her face to Vera. There was no self-reproach, no uneasiness in
those eyes. They were hard and self-righteous. Emily Brent sat on the summit
of Indian Island, encased in her own armour of virtue. The little elderly
spinster was no longer slightly ridiculous to Vera. Suddenly-she was
terrible.
2
Dr. Armstrong came out of the dining-room and once more came out on the
terrace. The judge was sitting in a chair now, gazing placidly out to sea.
Lombard and Blore were over to the left, smoking but not talking. As before,
the doctor hesitated for a moment. His eye rested speculatively on Mr.
Justice Wargrave. He wanted to consult with some one. He was conscious of
the judge's acute logical brain. But nevertheless he wavered. Mr. Justice
Wargrave might have a good brain but he was an elderly man. At this
juncture, Armstrong felt what was needed was a man of action.
He made up his mind.
"Lombard, can I speak to you for a minute?" Philip started.
"Of course."
The two men left the terrace. They strolled down the slope towards the
water. When they were out of earshot, Armstrong said:
"I want a consultation."
Lombard's eyebrows went up. He said:
"My dear fellow, I've no medical knowledge." "No, no, I mean as to the
general situation."
"Oh, that's different."
Armstrong said:
"Frankly, what do you think of the position?" Lombard reflected a minute.
Then he said:
"It's rather suggestive, isn't it?"
"What are your ideas on the subject of that woman? Do you accept Blore's
theory?" Philip puffed smoke into the air. He said: "It's perfectly
feasible-taken alone." "Exactly."
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MASTERPIECES OF MURDER
Armstrong's tone sounded relieved. Philip Lombard was no fool. 'Me
latterwent on: "That is, accepting the premise that Mr. and Mrs. Rogers
have successfully got away with murder in their time. And I don't see why
they shouldn't. What do you think they did exactly? Poisoned the old lady?"
Armstrong said slowly:
"It might be simpler than that. I asked Rogers this morning what this Miss
Brady had suffered from. His answer was enlightening. I don't need to go
into medical details, but in a certain form of cardiac trouble, amyl
nitrite is used. When an attack comes on an ampoule of amyl nitrite is
broken and it is inhaled. If amyl nitrite were withheldwell, the
consequences might easily be fatal." Philip Lombard said thoughtfully:
"As simple as that. It must have been-rather tempting."
The doctor nodded.
"Yes, no positive action. No arsenic to obtain and administernothing
definite-just-negation! And Rogers hurried through the night to fetch a
doctor and they both felt confident that no one could ever know."
"And, even if any one knew, nothing could ever be proved against them,"
added Philip Lombard.
He frowned suddenly.
"Of course-that explains a good deal."
Armstrong said, puzzled:
"I beg your pardon."
Lombard said:
"I mean-it explains Indian Island. There are crimes that cannot be brought
home to their perpetrators. Instance, the Rogerses'. Another instance, old
Wargrave, who committed his murder strictly within the law."
Armstrong said sharply:
"You believe that story?"
Philip Lombard smiled.
"Oh, yes, I believe it. Wargrave murdered Edward Seton all right, murdered
him as surely as if he'd stuck a stiletto through him! But he was clever
enough to do it from the judge's seat in wig and gown. So in the ordinary
way you can't bring his little crime home to him."
A sudden flash passed like lightning through Armstrong's mind.
"Murder in Hospital. Murder on the Operating Table. Safe-yes, safe as
houses!"
AND THEN THERE WERE NONE
4
a
I
Philip Lombard was saying:
"Hence-Mr. Owen-hence-Indian Island!"
Armstrong drew a deep breath.
"Now we're getting down to it. What's the real purpose of getting us all
here?" Philip Lombard said:
"What do you think?"
Armstrong said abruptly:
"Let's go back a minute to this woman's death. What are the possible
theories? Rogers killed her because he was afraid she would give the show
away. Second possibility: She lost her nerve and took an easy way out
herself." Philip Lombard said:
"Suicide, eh?"
"What do you say to that?"
Lombard said:
"It could have been-yes-if it hadn't been for Marston's death. Two suicides
within twelve hours is a little too much to swallow! And if you tell me that
Anthony Marston, a young bull with no nerves and precious little brains, got
the wind up over having mowed down a couple of kids and deliberately put
himself out of the way-well, the idea's laughable! And anyway, how did he
get hold of the stuff? From all I've ever heard, Potassium Cyanide isn't
the kind of stuff you take about with you in your waistcoat pocket. But
that's your line of country." Armstrong said:
"Nobody in their senses carries Potassium Cyanide. It might be done by some
one who was going to take a wasps' nest."
"The ardent gardener or landowner, in fact? Again, not Anthony Marston. It
strikes me that Cyanide is going to need a bit of explaining. Either Anthony
Marston meant to do away with himself before he came here, and therefore
came prepared-or else-"
Armstrong prompted him.
"Or else?"
Philip Lombard grinned.
"Why make me say it? When it's on the tip of your own tongue. Anthony
Marston was murdered, of course."
MASTERPIECES OP MURDER
3
Dr. Armstrong drew a deep breath.
"And Mrs. Rogers?"
Lombard said slowly:
"I could believe in Anthony's suicide (with difficulty) if it weren't for
Mrs. Rogers. I could believe in Mrs. Rogers' suicide (easily) if it weren't
for Anthony Marston. I can believe that Rogers put his wife out of the wayif
it were not for the unexplained death of Anthony Marston. But what we
need is a theory to explain two deaths following rapidly on each other."
Armstrong said:
"I can perhaps give you some help towards that theory."
And he repeated the facts that Rogers had given hiin about the
disappearance of the two little china figures.
Lombard said:
"Yes, little china Indian figures. . . . There were certainly ten last
night at dinner. And now there are eight, you say?"
Dr. Armstrong recited:
"Ten little Indian boys going out to dine;
One went and choked himself and then there were nine.
"Nine little Indian boys sat up very late;
One overslept himself and then there were eight."
The two men looked at each other. Philip Lombard grinned and flung away his
cigarette.
"Fits too damned well to be a coincidence! Anthony Marston dies of
asphyxiation or choking last night after dinner, and Mother Rogers
oversleeps herself with a vengeance."
"And therefore?" said Armstrong.
Lombard took him up.
"And therefore another kind of puzzle. The Nigger in the Woodpile! X! Mr.
Owen! U. N. Owen. One Unknown Lunatic at Large!"
"Ah!" Armstrong breathed a sigh of relief. "You agree. But you see what it
involves? Rogers swore that there was no one but ourselves and he and his
wife on the island."
AND THEN THERE WERE NONE
257
"Rogers is wrong! Or possibly Rogers is lying!"
Armstrong shook his head.
"I don't think he's lying. The man's scared. He's scared nearly out of his
senses."
Philip Lombard nodded.
He said:
"No motor boat this morning. That fits in. Mr. Owen's little arrangements
again to the fore. Indian Island is to be isolated until Mr. Owen has
finished his job."
Armstrong had gone pale. He said:
"You realize-the man must be a raving maniac!"
Philip Lombard said, and there was a new ring in his voice:
"There's one thing Mr. Owen didn't realize."
"What's that?"
"This island's more or less a bare rock. We shaH make short work of
searching it. We'll soon ferret out U. N. Owen, Esq."
Dr. Armstrong said warningly:
"He'll be dangerous."
Philip Lombard laughed.
"Dangerous? Who's afraid of the big bad wolf? I'll be dangerous when I get
hold of him!"
He paused and said:
"We'd better rope in Blore to help us. He'll be a good man in a pinch.
Better not tell the women. As for the others, the General's ga ga, I think,
and old Wargrave's forte is masterly inactivity. The three of us can attend
to this job."