And Then There Were None (5 page)

Emily Brent interrupted. She said sharply:

“That's just it, who is he?”

The judge interposed. He spoke with the authority that a life-time in the courts had given him. He said:

“That is exactly what we must go into very carefully. I should suggest that you get your wife to bed first of all, Rogers. Then come back here.”

“Yes, sir.”

Dr. Armstrong said:

“I'll give you a hand, Rogers.”

Leaning on the two men, Mrs. Rogers tottered out of the room. When they had gone Tony Marston said:

“Don't know about you, sir, but I could do with a drink.”

Lombard said:

“I agree.”

Tony said:

“I'll go and forage.”

He went out of the room.

He returned a second or two later.

“Found them all waiting on a tray outside ready to be brought in.”

He set down his burden carefully. The next minute or two was spent in dispensing drinks. General Macarthur had a stiff whiskey and so did the judge. Every one felt the need of a stimulant. Only Emily Brent demanded and obtained a glass of water.

Dr. Armstrong re-entered the room.

“She's all right,” he said. “I've given her a sedative to take. What's that, a drink? I could do with one.”

Several of the men refilled their glasses. A moment or two later Rogers re-entered the room.

Mr. Justice Wargrave took charge of the proceedings. The room became an impromptu court of law.

The judge said:

“Now then, Rogers, we must get to the bottom of this. Who is this Mr. Owen?”

Rogers stared.

“He owns this place, sir.”

“I am aware of that fact. What I want you to tell me is what you yourself know about the man.”

Rogers shook his head.

“I can't say, sir. You see, I've never seen him.”

There was a faint stir in the room.

General Macarthur said:

“You've never seen him? What d'yer mean?”

“We've only been here just under a week, sir, my wife and I. We were engaged by letter, through an agency. The Regina Agency in Plymouth.”

Blore nodded.

“Old established firm,” he volunteered.

Wargrave said:

“Have you got that letter?”

“The letter engaging us? No, sir. I didn't keep it.”

“Go on with your story. You were engaged, as you say, by letter.”

“Yes, sir. We were to arrive on a certain day. We did. Everything was in order here. Plenty of food in stock and everything very nice. Just needed dusting and that.”

“What next?”

“Nothing, sir. We got orders - by letter again - to prepare the rooms for a houseparty and then yesterday by the afternoon post I got another letter from Mr. Owen. It said he and Mrs. Owen were detained and to do the best we could and it gave the instructions about dinner and coffee and putting on the gramophone record.”

The judge said sharply:

“Surely you've got that letter?”

“Yes, sir, I've got it here.”

He produced it from a pocket. The judge took it.

“H'm,” he said. “Headed Ritz Hotel and typewritten.”

With a quick movement Blore was beside him.

He said:

“If you'll just let me have a look.”

He twitched it out of the other's hand, and ran his eye over it.

He murmured:

“Coronation machine. Quite new - no defects. Ensign paper - the most widely used make. You won't get anything out of that. Might be fingerprints, but I doubt it.”

Wargrave stared at him with sudden attention.

Anthony Marston was standing beside Blore looking over his shoulder. He said:

“Got some fancy Christian names, hasn't he? Ulick Norman Owen. Quite a mouthful.”

"The old judge said with a slight start:

“I am obliged to you, Mr. Marston. You have drawn my attention to a curious and suggestive point.”

He looked round at the others and thrusting his neck forward like an angry tortoise, he said:

“I think the time has come for us all to pool our information. It would be well, I think, for everybody to come forward with all the information they have regarding the owner of this house.” He paused and then went on. “We are all his guests. I think it would be profitable if each one of us were to explain exactly how that came about.”

There was a moment's pause and then Emily Brent spoke with decision.

“There's something very peculiar about all this,” she said. “I received a letter with a signature that was not very easy to read. It purported to be from a woman I had met at a certain summer resort two or three years ago. I took the name to be either Ogden or Oliver. I am acquainted with a Mrs. Oliver and also with a Miss Ogden. I am quite certain that I have never met, or become friendly with, any one of the name of Owen.”

Mr. Justice Wargrave said:

“You have that letter, Miss Brent?”

“Yes, I will fetch it for you.”

She went away and returned a minute later with the letter.

The judge read it. He said:

“I begin to understand... Miss Claythorne?”

Vera explained the circumstances of her secretarial engagement.

The judge said:

“Marston?”

Anthony said:

“Got a wire. From a pal of mine. Badger Berkeley. Surprised me at the time because I had an idea the old horse had gone to Norway. Told me to roll up here.”

Again Wargrave nodded. He said:

“Dr. Armstrong?”

“I was called in professionally.”

“I see. You had no previous acquaintanceship with the family?”

“No. A colleague of mine was mentioned in the letter.”

The judge said:

“To give verisimilitude... Yes, and that colleague, I presume, was momentarily out of touch with you?”

“Well - er - yes.”

Lombard, who had been staring at Blore, said suddenly:

“Look here, I've just thought of something -”

The judge lifted a hand.

“In a minute -”

“But I -”

“We will take one thing at a time, Mr. Lombard. We are at present inquiring into the causes which have resulted in our being assembled here tonight. General Macarthur?”

Pulling at his moustache, the General muttered:

“Got a letter - from this fellow Owen - mentioned some old pals of mine who were to be here - hoped I'd excuse informal invitation. Haven't kept the letter. I'm afraid.”

Wargrave said:

“Mr. Lombard?”

Lombard's brain had been active. Was he to come out in the open, or not? He made up his mind.

“Same sort of thing,” he said. “Invitation, mention of mutual friends - I fell for it all right. I've torn up the letter.”

Mr. Justice Wargrave turned his attention to Mr. Blore. His forefinger stroked his upper lip and his voice was dangerously polite.

He said: “Just now we had a somewhat disturbing experience. An apparently disembodied voice spoke to us all by name, uttering certain precise accusations against us. We will deal with those accusations presently. At the moment I am interested in a minor point Amongst the names recited was that of William Henry Blore. But as far as we know there is no one named Blore amongst us. The name of Davis was not mentioned. What have you to say about that, Mr. Davis?”

Blore said sulkily:

“Cat's out of the bag, it seems. I suppose I'd better admit that my name isn't Davis.”

“You are William Henry Blore?”

“That's right.”

“I will add something,” said Lombard. “Not only are you here under a false name, Mr. Blore, but in addition I've noticed this evening that you're a first-class liar. You claim to have come from Natal, South Africa. I know South Africa and Natal and I'm prepared to swear that you've never set foot in South Africa in your life.”

All eyes were turned on Blore. Angry suspicious eyes. Anthony Marston moved a step nearer to him. His fists clenched themselves.

“Now then, you swine,” he said. “Any explanation?”

Blore flung back his head and set his square jaw.

“You gentlemen have got me wrong,” he said. “I've got my credentials and you can see them. I'm an ex-C.I.D. man. I run a detective agency in Plymouth. I was put on this job.”

Mr. Justice Wargrave asked: “By whom?”

“This man Owen. Enclosed a handsome money order for expenses and instructed me as to what he wanted done. I was to join the house party, posing as a guest. I was given all your names. I was to watch you all.”

“Any reason given?”

Blore said bitterly:

“Mrs. Owen's jewels. Mrs. Owen my foot! I don't believe there's any such person.”

Again the forefinger of the judge stroked his lip, this time appreciatively.

“Your conclusions are, I think, justified,” he said. “Ulick Norman Owen! In Miss Brent's letter, though the signature of the surname is a mere scrawl the Christian names are reasonably clear - Una Nancy - in either case, you notice, the same initials. Ulick Norman Owen - Una Nancy Owen - each time, that is to say, U.N. Owen. Or by a slight stretch of fancy, UNKNOWN!”

Vera cried:

“But this is fantastic - mad!”

The judge nodded gently.

He said:

“Oh, yes. I've no doubt in my own mind that we have been invited here by a madman - probably a dangerous homicidal lunatic.”

There was a moment's silence - a silence of dismay and bewilderment. Then the judge's small clear voice took up the thread once more.

“We will now proceed to the next stage of our inquiry. First, however, I will just add my own credentials to the list.”

He took a letter from his pocket and tossed it onto the table.

“This purports to be from an old friend of mine, Lady Constance Culmington. I hove not seen her for some years. She went to the East. It is exactly the kind of vague incoherent letter she would write, urging me to join her here and referring to her host and hostess in the vaguest of terms. The same technique, you will observe. I only mention it because it agrees with the other evidence - from all of which emerges one interesting point. Whoever it was who enticed us here, that person knows or has taken the trouble to find out a good deal about us all. He, whoever he may be, is aware of my friendship for Lady Constance - and is familiar with her epistolary style. He knows something about Dr. Armstrong's colleagues and their present whereabouts. He knows the nickname of Mr. Marston's friend and the kind of telegrams he sends. He knows exactly where Miss Brent was two years ago for her holiday and the kind of people she met there. He knows all about General Macarthur's old cronies.”

He paused. Then he said:

“He knows, you see, a good deal. And out of his knowledge concerning us, he has made certain definite accusations.”

Immediately a babel broke out.

General Macarthur shouted:

“A pack of damn lies! Slander!”

Vera cried out:

“It's iniquitous!” Her breath came fast. “Wicked!”

Rogers said hoarsely:

“A lie - a wicked lie... we never did - neither of us...”

Anthony Marston growled:

“Don't know what the damned fool was getting at!”

The upraised hand of Mr. Justice Wargrave calmed the tumult.

He said, picking his words with care:

“I wish to say this. Our unknown friend accuses me of the murder of one Edward Seton. I remember Seton perfectly well. He came up before me for trial in June of the year 1930. He was charged with the murder of an elderly woman. He was very ably defended and made a good impression on the jury in the witness box. Nevertheless, on the evidence, he was certainly guilty. I summed up accordingly, and the jury brought in a verdict of Guilty. In passing sentence of death I concurred with the verdict. An appeal was lodged on the grounds of misdirection. The appeal was rejected and the man was duly executed. I wish to say before you all that my conscience is perfectly clear on the matter. I did my duty and nothing more. I passed sentence on a rightly convicted murderer.”

Armstrong was remembering now. The Seton case! The verdict had come as a great surprise. He had met Matthews, K.C., on one of the days of the trial dining at a restaurant. Matthews had been confident. “Not a doubt of the verdict. Acquittal practically certain.” And then afterwards he had heard comments: “Judge was dead against him. Turned the jury right round and they brought him in guilty. Quite legal, though. Old Wargrave knows his law.” “It was almost as though he had a private down on the fellow.”

All these memories rushed through the doctor's mind. Before he could consider the wisdom of the question he had asked impulsively:

“Did you know Seton at all? I mean previous to the case.”

The hooded reptilian eyes met his. In a clear cold voice the judge said:

“I knew nothing of Seton previous to the case.”

Armstrong said to himself:

“The fellow's lying - I know he's lying.”

II

Vera Claythorne spoke in a trembling voice.

She said:

“I'd like to tell you. About that child - Cyril Hamilton. I was nursery governess to him. He was forbidden to swim out far. One day, when my attention was distracted, he started off. I swam after him... I couldn't get there in time... It was awful... But it wasn't my fault. At the inquest the Coroner exonerated me. And his mother - she was so kind. If even she didn't blame me, why should - why should this awful thing be said? It's not fair - not fair...”

She broke down, weeping bitterly.

General Macarthur patted her shoulder.

He said:

“There, there, my dear. Of course it's not true. Fellow's a madman. A madman! Got a bee in his bonnet! Got hold of the wrong end of the stick all round.”

He stood erect, squaring his shoulders. He barked out:

“Best really to leave this sort of thing unanswered. However, feel I ought to say - no truth - no truth whatsoever in what he said about - er - young Arthur Richmond. Richmond was one of my officers. I sent him on a reconnaissance. He was killed. Natural course of events in war time. Wish to say resent very much - slur on my wife. Best woman in the world. Absolutely - Caesar's wife!”

General Macarthur sat down. His shaking hand pulled at his moustache. The effort to speak had cost him a good deal.