And Then There Were None (16 page)

The judge said calmly:

“We have still, I hope, our reasoning powers. Did any one bring a hypodermic syringe to this house?”

Dr. Armstrong, straightening himself, said in a voice that was not too well assured:

“Yes, I did.”

Four pairs of eyes fastened on him. He braced himself against the deep hostile suspicion of those eyes. He said:

“Always travel with one. Most doctors do.”

Mr. Justice Wargrave said calmly:

“Quite so. Will you tell us, doctor, where that syringe is now?”

“In the suitcase in my room.”

Wargrave said:

“We might, perhaps, verify that fact.”

The five of them went upstairs, a silent procession.

The contents of the suitcase were turned out on the floor.

The hypodermic syringe was not there.

IV

Armstrong said violently:

“Somebody must have taken it!”

There was silence in the room.

Armstrong stood with his back to the window. Four pairs of eyes were on him, black with suspicion and accusation. He looked from Wargrave to Vera and repeated helplessly - weakly:

“I tell you some one must have taken it.”

Blore was looking at Lombard who returned his gaze.

The judge said:

“There are five of us here in this room. One of us is a murderer. The position is fraught with grave danger. Everything must be done in order to safeguard the four of us who are innocent. I will now ask you, Dr. Armstrong, what drugs you have in your possession?”

Armstrong replied:

“I have a small medicine case here. You can examine it. You will find some sleeping stuff - trional and sulphonal tablets - a packet of bromide, bicarbonate of soda, aspirin. Nothing else. I have no cyanide in my possession.”

The judge said:

“I have, myself, some sleeping tablets - sulphonal, I think they are. I presume they would be lethal if a sufficiently large dose were given. You, Mr. Lombard, have in your possession a revolver.”

Philip Lombard said sharply:

“What if I have?”

“Only this. I propose that the doctor's supply of drugs, my own sulphonal tablets, your revolver and anything else of the nature of drugs or firearms should be collected together and placed in a safe place. That after this is done, we should each of us submit to a search - both of our persons and of our effects.”

Lombard said:

“I'm damned if I'll give up my revolver!”

Wargrave said sharply:

“Mr. Lombard, you are a very strongly built and powerful young man, but ex-Inspector Blore is also a man of powerful physique. I do not know what the outcome of a struggle between you would be but I can tell you this. On Blore's side, assisting him to the best of our ability will be myself, Dr. Armstrong and Miss Claythorne. You will appreciate, therefore, that the odds against you if you choose to resist will be somewhat heavy.”

Lombard threw his head back. His teeth showed in what was almost a snarl.

“Oh, very well then. Since you've got it all taped out.”

Mr. Justice Wargrave nodded his head.

“You are a sensible young man. Where is this revolver of yours?”

“In the drawer of the table by my bed.”

“Good.”

“I'll fetch it.”

“I think it would be desirable if we went with you.”

Philip said with a smile that was still nearer a snarl:

“Suspicious devil, aren't you?”

They went along the corridor to Lombard's room.

Philip strode across to the bed-table and jerked open the drawer.

Then he recoiled with an oath.

The drawer of the bed-table was empty.

V

“Satisfied?” asked Lombard.

He had stripped to the skin and he and his room had been meticulously searched by the other three men. Vera Claythorne was outside in the corridor.

The search proceeded methodically. In turn, Armstrong, the judge and Blore submitted to the same test.

The four men emerged from Blore's room and approached Vera. It was the judge who spoke.

“I hope you will understand. Miss Claythorne, that we can make no exceptions. That revolver must be found. You have, I presume, a bathing dress with you?”

Vera nodded.

“Then I will ask you to go into your room and put it on and then come out to us here.”

Vera went into her room and shut the door. She reappeared in under a minute dressed in a tight-fitting silk rucked bathing dress.

Wargrave nodded approval.

“Thank you, Miss Claythorne. Now if you will remain here, we will search your room.”

Vera waited patiently in the corridor until they emerged. Then she went in, dressed, and came out to where they were waiting.

The judge said:

“We are now assured of one thing. There are no lethal weapons or drugs in the possession of any of us five. That is one point to the good. We will now place the drugs in a safe place. There is, I think, a silver chest, is there not, in the pantry?”

Blore said:

“That's all very well, but who's to have the key? You, I suppose.”

Mr. Justice Wargrave made no reply.

He went down to the pantry and the others followed him. There was a small case there designed for the purpose of holding silver and plate. By the judge's directions, the various drugs were placed in this and it was locked. Then, still on Wargrave's instructions, the chest was lifted into the plate cupboard and this in turn was locked. The judge then gave the key of the chest to Philip Lombard and the key of the cupboard to Blore.

He said:

“You two are the strongest physically. It would be difficult for either of you to get the key from the other. It would be impossible for any of us three to do so. To break open the cupboard - or the plate chest - would be a noisy and cumbrous proceeding and one which could hardly be carried out without attention being attracted to what was going on.”

He paused, then went on:

“We are still faced by one very grave problem. What has become of Mr. Lombard's revolver?”

Blore said:

“Seems to me its owner is the most likely person to know that.”

A white dint showed in Philip Lombard's nostrils. He said:

“You damned pig-headed fool! I tell you it's been stolen from me!”

Wargrave asked:

“When did you see it last?”

“Last night. It was in the drawer when I went to bed - ready in case anything happened.”

The judge nodded.

He said:

“It must have been taken this morning during the confusion of searching for Rogers or after his dead body was discovered.”

Vera said:

“It must be hidden somewhere about the house. We must look for it.”

Mr. Justice Wargrave's finger was stroking his chin. He said:

“I doubt if our search will result in anything. Our murderer has had plenty of time to devise a hiding-place. I do not fancy we shall find that revolver easily.”

Blore said forcefully:

“I don't know where the revolver is, but I'll bet I know where something else is - that hypodermic syringe. Follow me.”

He opened the front door and led the way round the house.

A little distance away from the dining-room window he found the syringe. Beside it was a smashed china figure - a sixth broken Indian boy.

Blore said in a satisfied voice:

“Only place it could be. After he'd killed her, he opened the window and threw out the syringe and picked up the china figure from the table and followed on with that.”

There were no prints on the syringe. It had been carefully wiped.

Vera said in a determined voice:

“Now let us look for the revolver.”

Mr. Justice Wargrave said:

“By all means. But in doing so let us be careful to keep together. Remember, if we separate, the murderer gets his chance.”

They searched the house carefully from attic to cellars, but without result. The revolver was still missing.

“One of us... One of us... One of us...”

Three words, endlessly repeated, dinning themselves hour after hour into receptive brains.

Five people - five frightened people. Five people who watched each other, who now hardly troubled to hide their state of nervous tension.

There was little pretence now - no formal veneer of conversation. They were five enemies linked together by a mutual instinct of self-preservation.

And all of them, suddenly, looked less like human beings. They were reverted to more bestial types. Like a wary old tortoise, Mr. Justice Wargrave sat hunched up, his body motionless, his eyes keen and alert. Ex-Inspector Blore looked coarser and clumsier in build. His walk was that of a slow padding animal. His eyes were bloodshot. There was a look of mingled ferocity and stupidity about him. He was like a beast at bay ready to charge its pursuers. Philip Lombard's senses seemed heightened, rather than diminished. His ears reacted to the slightest sound. His step was lighter and quicker, his body was lithe and graceful. And he smiled often, his lips curling back from his long white teeth.

Vera Claythorne was very quiet. She sat most of the time huddled in a chair. Her eyes stared ahead of her into space. She looked dazed. She was like a bird that has dashed its head against glass and that has been picked up by a human hand. It crouches there, terrified, unable to move, hoping to save itself by its immobility.

Armstrong was in a pitiable condition of nerves. He twitched and his hands shook. He lighted cigarette after cigarette and stubbed them out almost immediately. The forced inaction of their position seemed to gall him more than the others. Every now and then he broke out into a torrent of nervous speech.

“We - we shouldn't just sit here doing nothing! There must be something - surely, surely, there is something that we can do? If we lit a bonfire -”

Blore said heavily:

“In this weather?”

The rain was pouring down again. The wind came in fitful gusts. The depressing sound of the pattering rain nearly drove them mad.

By tacit consent, they had adopted a plan of campaign. They all sat in the big drawing-room. Only one person left the room at a time. The other four waited till the fifth returned.

Lombard said:

“It's only a question of time. The weather will clear. Then we can do something - signal-light fires - make a raft - something!”

Armstrong said with a sudden cackle of laughter:

“A question of time - time? We can't afford time! We shall all be dead...”

Mr. Justice Wargrave said, and his small clear voice was heavy with passionate determination:

“Not if we are careful. We must be very careful...”

The mid-day meal had been duly eaten - but there had been no conventional formality about it. All five of them had gone to the kitchen. In the larder they had found a great store of tinned foods. They had opened a tin of tongue and two tins of fruit. They had eaten standing round the kitchen table. Then, herding close together, they had returned to the drawing-room - to sit there - sit - watching each other...

And by now the thoughts that ran through their brains were abnormal, feverish, diseased...

“It's Armstrong... I saw him looking at me sideways just then... his eyes are mad... quite mad... Perhaps he isn't a doctor at all... That's it, of course!... He's a lunatic, escaped from some doctor's house - pretending to be a doctor... It's true... shall I tell them?... Shall I scream out?... No, it won't do to put him on his guard... Besides he can seem so sane... What time is it?... Only a quarter past three!... Oh, God, I shall go mad myself... Yes, it's Armstrong... He's watching me now...”

“They won't get me! I can take care of myself... I've been in tight places before... Where the hell is that revolver?... Who took it?... Who's got it?... Nobody's got it - we know that. We were all searched... Nobody can have it... But some one knows where it is...”

“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.