and then there were none, chapter 8

CHAPTER 8
BLORE WAS easily roped in. He expressed immediate agreement with their
arguments. "What you've said about those china figures, sir, makes all the
difference. That's crazy, that is! There's only one thing. You don't think
this Owen's idea might be to do the job by proxy, as it were?"
"Explain yourself, man."
"Well, I mean like this. After the racket last night this young Mr. Marston
gets the wind up and poisons himself. And Rogers, he gets
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258 MASTERPIECES OF MURDER AND THEN THERE
WERE NONE 259
the wind up too and bumps off his wife! All according to U. N. O.'s plan."
Armstrong shook his head. He stressed the point about the Cyanide. Blore
agreed. "Yes, I'd forgotten that. Not a natural thing to be carrying about
With you. But how did it get into his drink, sir?"
Lombard said:
"I've been thinking about that. Marston had several drinks that night.
Between the time he had his last one and the time he finished the one
before it, there was quite a gap. During that time his glass was lying
about on some table or other. I think-though I can't be sure, it was on the
little table near the window. The window was open. Somebody could have
slipped a dose of the Cyanide into the glass.
Blore said unbelievingly:
"Without our all seeing him, sir?"
Lombard said drily:
"We were all-rather concerned elsewhere."
Armstrong said slowly:
"That's true. We'd all been attacked. We were walking about, moving about
the room. Arguing, indignant, intent on our own business. I think it could
have been done.
Blore shrugged his shoulders.
"Fact is, it must have been done! Now then, gentlemen, let's make a start.
Nobody's got a revolver, by any chance? I suppose that's too much to hope
for." Lombard said:
"I've got one." He patted his pocket.
Blore's eyes opened very wide. He said in an over-casual tone:
"Always carry that about with you, sir?"
Lombard said:
"Usually. I've been in some tight places, you know."
"Oh," said Blore and added: "Well, you've probably never been in a tighter
place than you are to-day! If there's a lunatic hiding on this island, he's
probably got a young arsenal on him-to say nothing of a knife or dagger or
two." Armstrong coughed.
"You may be wrong there, Blore. Many homicidal lunatics are very quiet,
unassuming people. Delightful fellows."
Blore said:
"I don't feel this one is going to be of that kind, Dr. Armstrong."
2
The three men started on their tour of the island.
It proved unexpectedly simple. On the northwest side, towards the coast,
the cliffs f ell sheer to the sea below, their surface unbroken.
On the rest of the island there were no trees and very little cover. The
three men worked carefully and methodically, beating up and down from the
highest point to the water's edge, narrowly scanning the least irregularity
in the rock which might point to the entrance to a cave. But there were no
caves.
They came at last, skirting the water's edge, to where General Macarthur
sat looking out to sea. It was very peaceful here with the lap of the waves
breaking over the rocks. The old man sat very upright, his eyes fixed on
the horizon. He paid no attention to the approach of the searchers. His
oblivion of them made one at least faintly uncomfortable.
Blore thought to himself:
"'Tisn't natural-looks as though he'd gone into a trance or something."
He cleared his throat and said in a would-be conversational tone:
"Nice peaceful spot you've found for yourself, sir."
The General frowned. He cast a quick look over his shoulder. He said:
"There is so little time-so little time. I really must insist that no one
disturbs me."
Blore said genially:
"We won't disturb you. We're just making a tour of the island, so to speak.
Just wondered, you know, if some one might be hiding on it."
The General frowned and said:
"You don't understand-you don't understand at all. Please go away." Blore
retreated. He said, as he joined the other two:
"He's crazy. . . . It's no good talking to him."
Lombard asked with some curiosity:
"What did he say?"
Blore shrugged his shoulders.
260 MASTERPIECES OF MURDER
"Something about there being no time and that he didn't want to be
disturbed." Dr. Armstrong frowned. He murmured: "I wonder now.
3
The search of the island was practically completed. The three men stood on
the highest point looking over towards the mainland. There were no boats
out. The wind was freshening. Lombard said: "No fishing boats out. There's
a storm coming. Damned nuisance you can't see the village from here. We
could signal or do something." Blore said: "We might light a bonfire tonight."
Lombard said, frowning: "The devil of it is that that's all
probably been provided for." "In what way, sir?" "How do I know? Practical
joke, perhaps. We're to be marooned here, no attention is to be paid to
signals, etc. Possibly the village has been told there's a wager on. Some
damn fool story anyway." Blore said dubiously: "Think they'd swallow that?"
Lombard said drily: "It's easier of belief than the truth! If the village
were told that the island was to be isolated until Mr. Unknown Owen had
quietly murdered all his guests-do you think they'd believe that?" Dr.
Armstrong said: "There are moments when I can't believe it myself. And yet-
" Philip Lombard, his lips curling back from his teeth, said: "And yetthat's
just it! You've said it, doctor!" Blore was gazing down into the
water. He said: "Nobody could have clambered down here, I suppose?"
Armstrong shook his head. "I doubt it. It's pretty sheer. And where could
he hide?" Blore said:
AND THEN THERE WERE NONE
261
"There might be a hole in the cliff. If we had a boat now, we could row
round the island."
Lombard said:
"If we had a boat, we'd all be halfway to the mainland by now!"
"True enough, sir."
Lombard said suddenly:
"We can make sure of this cliff. There's only one place where there could
be a recess-just a little to the right below here. If you fellows can get
hold of a rope, you can let me down to make sure."
Blore said:
"Might as well be sure. Though it seems absurd-on the face of it! I'll see
if I can get hold of something."
He started off briskly down to the house.
Lombard stared up at the sky. The clouds were beginning to mass themselves
together. The wind was increasing.
He shot a sideways look at Armstrong. He said:
"You're very silent, doctor. What are you thinking?"
Armstrong said slowly:
"I was wondering exactly how mad old Macarthur was.
4
11
Vera had been restless all the morning. She had avoided Emily Brent with
a kind of shuddering aversion.
Miss Brent herself had taken a chair just round the corner of the house so
as to be out of the wind. She sat there knitting.
Every time Vera thought of her she seemed to see a pale drowned face with
seaweed entangled in the hair. . . . A face that had once been prettyimpudently
pretty perhaps-and which was now beyond the reach of pity or
terror.
And Emily Brent, placid and righteous, sat knitting.
On the main terrace, Mr. Justice Wargrave sat huddled in a porter's chair.
His head was poked down well into his neck.
When Vera looked at him, she saw a man standing in the dock-a young man
with fair hair and blue eyes and a bewildered, frightened face. Edward
Seton. And in imagination she saw the judge's old hands put the black cap
on his head and begin to pronounce sentence. . . .
After a while Vera strolled slowly down to the sea. She walked
262 MASTERPIECES OF MURDER
along towards the extreme end of the island where an old man sat staring out
to the horizon.
General Macarthur stirred at her approach. His head turned-there was a
queer mixture of questioning and apprehension in his look. It startled her.
He stared intently at her for a minute or two.
She thought to herself:
"How queer. It's almost as though he knew
He said:
"Ah! it's you! You've come.
Vera sat down beside him. She said:
"Do you like sitting here looking out to sea?"
He nodded his head gently.
"Yes," he said. "It's pleasant. It's a good place, I think, to wait." "To
wait?" said Vera sharply. "What are you waiting for?"
He said gently:
"The end. But I think you know that, don't you? It's true, isn't it? We're
all waiting for the end."
She said unsteadily:
"What do you mean?"
General Macarthur said gravely:
"None of us are going to leave the island. That's the plan. You know it,
of course, perfectly. What, perhaps, you can't understand is the relief!"
Vera said wonderingly:
"The relief?"
He said:
"Yes. Of course, you're very young . . . you haven't got to that yet. But
it does come! The blessed relief when you know that you've done with it
all-that you haven't got to carry the burden any longer.
51
. ..
You'll feel that too some day.
Vera said hoarsely:
"I don't understand you."
Her fingers worked spasmodically. She felt suddenly afraid of this quiet
old soldier.
He said musingly:
"You see, I loved Leslie. I loved her very much.
Vera said questioningly:
"Was Leslie your wife?"
"Yes, my wife. . . . I loved her-and I was very proud of her. She was so
pretty-and so gay."
AND THEN THERE WERE NONE
He was silent for a minute or two, then he said:
"Yes, I loved Leslie. That's why I did it."
Vera said:
"You mean-" and paused.
General Macarthur nodded his head gently.
"It's not much good denying it now-not when we're all going to die. I sent
Richmond to his death. I suppose, in a way, it was murder. Curious. Murderand
I've always been such a law-abiding man! But it didn't seem like that
at the time. I had no regrets. 'Serves him damned well right!'-that's what
I thought. But afterwards-"
In a hard voice, Vera said:
"Well, afterwards?"
He shook his head vaguely. He looked puzzled and a little distressed. "I
don't know. I-don't know. It was all different, you see. I don't know if
Leslie ever guessed . . . I don't think so. But you see, I didn't know about
her any more. She'd gone far away where I couldn't reach her. And then she
died-and I was alone.
Vera said:
"Alone-alone-" and the echo of her voice came back to her from the rocks.
General Macarthur said:
"You'll be glad, too, when the end comes."
Vera got up. She said sharply:
"I don't know what you mean!"
He said:
"I know, my child, I know.
"You don't. You don't understand at all.
General Macarthur looked out to sea again. He seemed unconscious of her
presence behind him.
He said very gently and softly:
"Leslie . . . T'
5
When Blore returned from the house with a rope coiled over his arm, he
found Armstrong where he had left him staring down into the depths.
Blore said breathlessly:
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264 MASTERPIECES OF MURDER
"Where's Mr. Lombard?"
Armstrong said carelessly:
"Gone to test some theory or other. He'll be back in a minute. Look here,
Blore, I'm worried."
"I should say we were all worried."
The doctor waved an impatient hand.
"Of course-of course. I don't mean it that way. I'm thinking of old
Macarthur."
"What about him, Sir?"
Dr. Armstrong said grimly:
"What we're looking for is a madman. What price Macarthur?"
Blore said incredulously:
"You mean he's homicidal?"
Armstrong said doubtfully:
"I shouldn't have said so. Not for a minute. But of course I'm not a
specialist in mental diseases. I haven't really had any conversation with
him-I haven't studied him from that point of view."
Blore said doubtfully:
"Ga ga, yes! But I wouldn't have said-"
Armstrong cut in with a slight effort as of a man who pulls himself
together. "You're probably right! Damn it all, there must be some one
hiding on the island. Ah! here comes Lombard."
They fastened the rope carefully.
Lombard said:
"I'll help myself all I can. Keep a lookout for a sudden strain on the
rope." After a minute or two, while they stood together watching Lombard's
progress, Blore said:
"Climbs like a cat, doesn't he?"
There was something odd in his voice.
Dr. Armstrong said:
"I should think he must have done some mountaineering in his time."
"Maybe."
There was a silence and the ex-Inspector said:
"Funny sort of cove altogether. D'you know what I think?"
"What?"
"He's a wrong 'un!"
Armstrong said doubtfully:
"In what way?"
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265
Blore grunted. Then he said:
"I don't know-exactly. But I wouldn't trust him a yard."
Dr. Armstrong said:
"I suppose he's led an adventurous life."
Blore said:
"I bet some of his adventures have had to be kept pretty dark." He paused
and then went on: "Did you happen to bring a revolver along with you,
doctor?" Armstrong stared.
"Me? Good Lord, no. Why should IT'
Blore said:
"Why did Mr. Lombard?"
Armstrong said doubtfully:
"I suppose-habit."
Blore snorted.
A sudden pull came on the rope. For some moments they had their hands full.
Presently, when the strain relaxed, Blore said:
"There are habits and habits! Mr. Lombard takes a revolver to out-of-theway
places, right enough, and a primus and a sleeping-bag and a supply of
bug powder, no doubt! But habit wouldn't make him bring the whole outfit
down here? It's only in books people carry revolvers around as a matter of
course."
Dr. Armstrong shook his head perplexedly.
They leaned over and watched Lombard's progress. His search was thorough
and they could see at once that it was futile. Presently he came up over
the edge of the cliff. He wiped the perspiration from his forehead.
"Well," he said. "We're up against it. It's the house or nowhere."
6
The house was easily searched. They went through the few outbuildings first
and then turned their attention to the building itself. Mrs. Rogers' yard
measure discovered in the kitchen dresser assisted them. But there were no
hidden spaces left unaccounted for. Everything was plain and
straightforward, a modern structure devoid of concealments. They went
through the ground floor first. As they mounted to the bedroom floor, they
saw through the landing window Rogers carrying out a tray of cocktails to
the terrace.
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266 MASTERPIECES OF MURDER
Philip Lombard said lightly:
"Wonderful animal, the good servant. Carries on with an impassive
countenance." Armstrong said appreciatively:
"Rogers is a first-class butler, I'll say that for him!"
Blore said:
"His wife was a pretty good cook, too. That dinner-last night-" They turned
in to the first bedroom.
Five minutes later they faced each other on the landing. No one hiding-no
possible hiding-place.
Blore said:
"There's a little stair here."
Dr. Armstrong said:
"It leads up to the servants' room."
Blore said:
"There must be a place under the roof-for cisterns, water tank, etc. It's
the best chance-and the only one!"
And it was then, as they stood there, that they heard the sound from above.
A soft furtive footfall overhead.
They all heard it. Armstrong grasped Blore's arm. Lombard held up an
admonitory finger.
"Quiet-listen."
It came again-some one moving softly, furtively, overhead.
Armstrong whispered:
"He's actually in the bedroom itself. The room where Mrs. Rogers' body is."
Blore whispered back:
"Of course! Best hiding-place he could have chosen! Nobody likely to go
there. Now then-quiet as you can."
They crept stealthily upstairs.
On the little landing outside the door of the bedroom they paused again.
Yes, some one was in the room. There was a faint creak from within.
Blore whispered:
"Now."
He flung open the door and rushed in, the other two close behind him. Then
all three stopped dead.
Rogers was in the room, his hands full of garments.
AND THEN THERE WERE NONE
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267
Blore recovered himself first. He said:
"Sorry-er-Rogers. Heard some one moving about in here, and thought-well-"
He stopped.
Rogers said:
"I'm sorry, gentlemen. I was just moving my things. I take it there will
be no objection if I take one of the vacant guest chambers on the floor
below? The smallest room."
It was to Armstrong that he spoke, and Armstrong replied:
"Of course. Of course. Get on with it."
He avoided looking at the sheeted figure lying on the bed.
Rogers said:
"Thank you, sir."
He went out of the room with his arm full of belongings and went down the
stairs to the floor below.
Armstrong moved over to the bed and, lifting the sheet, looked down on the
peaceful face of the dead woman. There was no fear there now. Just
emptiness. Armstrong said:
"Wish I'd got my stuff here. I'd like to know what drug it was.'
Then he turned to the other two.
"Let's get finished. I feel it in my bones we're not going to find
anything." Blore was wrestling with the bolts of a low manhole.
He said:
"That chap moves damned quietly. A minute or two ago we saw him in the
garden. None of us heard him come upstairs."
Lombard said:
"I suppose that's why we assumed it must be a stranger moving about up
here." Blore disappeared into a cavernous darkness. Lombard pulled a torch
from his pocket and followed.
Five minutes later three men stood on an upper landing and looked at each
other. They were dirty and festooned with cobwebs and their faces were
grim. There was no one on the island but their eight selves.
I