And Then There Were None

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.

Armstrong said gravely:

"And yet, you know, the argument holds. Hang it all, I'm a doctor, I know something about suicides. Anthony Marston wasn't a suicidal type."

Lombard said doubtfully:

"It couldn't, I suppose, have been an accident?"

Blore snorted, unconvinced.

"Damned queer sort of accident," he grunted.

There was a pause, then Blore said:

"About the woman ­" and stopped.

"Mrs. Rogers?"

"Yes. It's possible, isn't it, that that might have been an accident?"

Philip Lombard said:

"An accident? In what way?"

Blore looked slightly embarrassed. His red­brick face grew a little deeper in hue. He said, almost blurting out the words:

"Look here, doctor, you did give her some dope, you know."

Armstrong stared at him.

"Dope? What do you mean?"

"Last night. You said yourself you'd give her something to make her sleep."

"Oh, that, yes. A harmless sedative."

"What was it exactly?"

"I gave her a mild dose of trional. A perfectly harmless preparation."

Blore grew redder still. He said:

"Look here ­ not to mince matters ­ you didn't give her an overdose, did you?"

Dr. Armstrong said angrily:

"I don't know what you mean."

Blore said:

"It's possible, isn't it, that you may have made a mistake? These things do happen once in awhile."

Armstrong said sharply:

"I did nothing of the sort. The suggestion is ridiculous," He stopped and added in a cold biting tone: "Or do you suggest that I gave her an overdose on purpose?"

Philip Lombard said quickly:

"Look here, you two, got to keep our heads. Don't let's start slinging accusations about."

Blore said sullenly:

"I only suggested the doctor had made a mistake."

Dr. Armstrong smiled with an effort. He said, showing his teeth in a somewhat mirthless smile:

"Doctors can't afford to make mistakes of that kind, my friend."

Blore said deliberately:

"It wouldn't be the first you've made ­ if that gramophone record is to be believed!"

Armstrong went white. Philip Lombard said quickly and angrily to Blore:

"What's the sense of making yourself offensive? We're all in the same boat. We've got to pull together. What about your own pretty little spot of perjury?"

Blore took a step forward, his hands clenched. He said in a thick voice:

"Perjury be damned! That's a foul lie! You may try and shut me up, Mr. Lombard, but there's things I want to know ­ and one of them is about you!"

Lombard's eyebrows rose.

"About me?"

Lombard said slowly:

"I allowed you all to think that I was asked here in the same way as most of the others, That's not quite true. As a matter of fact I was approached by a little Jewboy ­ Morris his name was. He offered me a hundred guineas to come down here and keep my eyes open ­ said I'd got a reputation for being a good man in a tight place."

"Well?" Blore prompted impatiently.

Lombard said with a grin:

"That's all."

Dr. Armstrong said:

"But surely he told you more than that?"

"Oh, no, he didn't. Just shut up like a clam. I could take it or leave it ­ those were his words. I was hard up. I took it." Blore looked unconvinced. He said:

"Why didn't you tell us all this last night?"

"My dear man ­" Lombard shrugged eloquent shoulders. "How was I to know that last night wasn't exactly the eventuality I was here to cope with? I lay low and told a noncommittal story."

Dr. Armstrong said shrewdly:

"But now ­ you think differently?"

Lombard nodded.

Rogers murmured as he followed the three men into the dining­room:

"It wormes me that Fred Narracott hasn't been over today. It's peculiarly unfortunate, as you might say,"

"Yes," said Lombard, "peculiarly unfortunate describes it very well."

Miss Brent came into the room. She had just dropped a ball of wool and was carefully rewinding the end of it.

As she took her seat at table she remarked:

"The weather is changing. The wind is quite strong and there are white horses on the sea."

Mr. Justice Wargrave came in. He walked with a slow measured tread. He darted quick looks from under his bushy eyebrows at the other occupants of the dining­ room. He said:

"You have had an active morning."

There was a faint malicious pleasure in his voice.

Vera Claythorne hurried in. She was a little out of breath.

She said quickly:

"I hope you didn't wait for me. Am I late?"

Emily Brent said:

"You're not the last. The General isn't here yet."

They sat round the table.

Rogers addressed Miss Brent:

"Will you begin, Madam, or will you wait?"

Vera said:

"General Macarthur is sitting right down by the sea. I don't expect he would hear the gong there and anyway" ­ she hesitated ­ "he's a little vague today, I think."

Rogers said quickly:

"I will go down and inform him luncheon is ready."

Dr. Armstrong jumped up.

"I'll go," he said. "You others start lunch."

He left the room. Behind him he heard Rogers' voice.

"Will you take cold tongue or cold ham, Madam?"

III