Ten Little Indians
Cluedo:
After being shown up to their rooms by Rogers, the men adjourned to the mansion's parlor. The house itself was a gorgeous place. From the looks of it, one can tell is was recently built due to modern features. It was bright and spacious rather than old, dusty and cluttered with cob-webs and wood paneling.
The parlor itself was quite a nice room with a few elegant seats, a phonograph, a chessboard, a grand piano, sideboard with drinks (which pleased Marston. He was waiting to get a drink ever since he visited the bar on the way to Sticklehaven), and finally an odd mantle display.
In the meantime, the men in the parlor were discussing what was on their minds after finally reaching Indian Island.
"Well now, I must admit I do feel a little uneasy," Confessed Judge Wargrave, "For we have yet to have met Mr. and Mrs. Owen. I think it's distasteful when the guests end up arriving before their host."
"It happens." Said Marston.
"Not to me, young man." Stated Wargrave self-importantly.
"Well I am hoping they arrive soon." Admitted Blore, "I was talking to an old man earlier. He said there was a storm coming. I told him that it was a beautiful day, but you know these old salts. They always seem to know."
"The thing that seems to get me however is that Constance Culmington isn't here," Solemnly stated Wargrave, "She's the one who invited me in the first place.
"Say!" Declared Marston suddenly, "The person who invited me isn't here either! Where is Barkley anyway? I suppose he's late or something as well."
Lombard couldn't help but snicker a little the odd situation the people here were in.
"Well, I wasn't invited here by friends like these people," Lombard thought to himself, "Though, I'm still curious to know what Mr. Owen wants of me. That damnable Jew didn't say a thing!"
Then he turned to the General.
"What about you sir?"
"The people I was hoping to meet," He replied, "Don't appear to be here either..."
"Well here's somebody who's ought to be able to tell us what's going on," Dr. Armstrong said suddenly from the doorway, "Hey Rogers, where are the Owens anyway?"
"I don't know sir," Replied Rogers.
"Well surely you've met them, yes?" Asked the Judge.
"Well yes and no sir," Rogers tried to explain, "I've talked to Mr. Owen, but only by telephone. He did say that he would be here by dinner time."
"Well that's good to hear," Replied Dr. Armstrong, as they all breathed a sigh of relief and relaxed a little.
Cluedo:
Meanwhile, the women were upstairs awaiting to see their rooms. Mrs. Rogers was in charge of showing them. Vera was already excited by her surroundings. She couldn't wait to see her new lodgings.
"If you follow me down this corridor," Said Mrs. Rogers quietly, "I will show you to your individual rooms."
After leading Miss Brent into her bedroom, Mrs. Rogers led Vera to the room directly next to it. Her suitcase had already be brought inside by either Rogers or Narracott.
"What a beautiful room!" Declared Vera in a girlish squeal.
"Yes Miss," Replied Mrs. Rogers in a similar monotone voice as her husband, "Very beautiful indeed."
The bedroom was indeed beautiful. It was modern, upscale bedroom with even a balcony to walk out onto. It has been done in rich, cool colours. Very appropriate for a sea-side setting. There was a nice desk as well for doing her make up, or writing a letter. Vera was getting happier about her stay by the minute.
"I'm Vera Claythorne by the way," Vera told Mrs. Rogers, "I'm Mrs. Owen's new secretary. I believe she has mentioned me, yes?"
"No Miss," Replied Mrs. Rogers, "Mrs. Owen hasn't told us anything."
"But surely she ha...!?"
Then she stopped herself mid-sentence.
"Oh nevermind."
Mrs. Rogers stared at her blankly.
"May I leave you alone, Miss?"
Vera gave her a nod, and Mrs. Rogers scurried out of the room.
"What an odd woman!" She thought to herself, "She's as skiddish as a mouse and she looks like ghost..."
Then her attention turned towards a small written piece of parchment on her desk.
"What's this?" She thought to herself, "A welcoming letter? From the Owens perhaps?"
It wasn't. In fact all it was, was a nursery rhyme. At the top was the title, "Ten Little Indians."
"Ah!" She thought suddenly, "It's the nursery rhyme! What fun! This is Indian Island after all..."
Vera read a little further....
"Ten little Indian boys went out to dine; One choked his little self and then there were nine..."
"How ghastly!" Vera thought, a little jokingly disgusted, "Well the rhyme is a bit gruesome..."
Then her attentions turned towards a teddy bear sitting innocently in the corner of the room. She strolled over to pick it up, and seeings how she was alone, give it a little hug as her inner child would have. Unfortunately, the bear was nothing like what she was expecting. It wasn't cuddly at at all. In fact, it was downright heavy....
"Good grief!" Exclaimed Vera, "What kind of teddy bear is this? It's as though it has been filled with a lot of rocks!"
Despite being rather weirded out, Vera never gave it a second thought as she dropped it back down and walked over to her suitcase to unpack.
Cluedo:
Downstairs again in the parlor, the men started to take notice of the odd mantle display....
"Quaint these things!" Stated Marston, "What the heck are they?"
"Hmmmmm," Thought Armstrong aloud, "Well there are ten of them."
"Ten, eh?" Noted Blore, "Seems like they are the Ten Little Indians if you ask me."
"Ten Little Indians?" Questioned Marston, "That's a rum go. Well I suppose this Indian Island after all. Funny they don't look like American Indians."
"Perhaps not," Said Blore, "But they do resemble the East Indians or perhaps African Indians."
The Rogers were now in the Kitchen preparing supper. Mind, the fact it was still late afternoon, but Mrs. Rogers insisted they get a head start due to the amount of guests. She was starting to feel a tad overwhelmed by the guests.
Just then Rogers entered after setting out the plates in the Dining Room.
"Have you got dinner underway?" He asked.
"I'm working on the salad right now." Mrs. Rogers replied, "Anyway, it's not right to be cooking for so many visitors."
"You knew the Owens were having a party." Mr. Rogers reminded sternly.
"Never did they say this many number of guests in the letter!" Declared Mrs. Rogers, "You tell the Owens!"
"Alright," Reassured Roger, "I will have a word with Mr. Owen when he arrives."
"You tell them we're quitting!" Cried Mrs. Rogers, whose pale face turned a shade of red.
Rogers didn't know what to say to that. He never has seen his wife so upset since their last employment. A efficient butler and excellent cook was what they advertised in the papers, and he really wished to keep his word. Now if his wife could just keep her mouth shut....
Their argument went unheard as everybody else was involved in their own thing. Emily and Vera were sitting in the Parlor listening to the outdoor sounds...
"Peaceful sound," Voiced Emily Brent, "The water crashing on the rocks..."
"I hate it!" Burst Vera all so suddenly it took Emily Brent aback.
"I beg your pardon?" Asked Miss Brent, who was still in shock at Vera's comment.
"Oh, excuse me," Vera replied back to her mild self, "I never really liked the sound of the sea much..."
"Well then," Miss Brent was trying to change the subject. She didn't want to upset the poor girl again, "The servants here are quite excellent. Mrs. Oliver was quite lucky to get these two."
"Mrs. Oliver?" Asked Vera, who was a bit surprised, "Don't you mean Mrs. Owen?"
Emily Brent stared at Vera, embarrassed.
"I never met a Mrs. Owen." She replied sharply.
"Well, this is nuisance!" She thought, as her face flushed, "I could of sworn that said Mrs. Oliver on the letter. I don't know a Mrs. Owen! Who's this Mrs. Owen?"
At the end of the room, General MacArthur ignored the two ladies as he was involved with a game of chess with himself.
"It's your turn Leslie, dear." The General thought, as he was absorbed in his thoughts, "Oh..no. That's not right. Damned whole thing. Old army friends? My foot! And wanting to talk about old times? Ha! Spoof Leggard and Johnny Dyer? They are dead probably....just like everyone else."
Not realizing what he was doing, he knocked over his own King in defeat.
Cluedo:
Detective William Blore was trying to avoid everybody else for the present moment. He was getting a head start on the investigation despite no further instructions from the elusive Mr. U.N. Owen. He sat in the private Library, trying to see if he could get information on Mr. Owen himself, or perhaps even the island! He did find a couple of interesting books of some of the island's old history, as well as a map, and some parchment without writing.
At any rate, he had to be careful being in Owen's Library without permission. He didn't want to bungle his job at any rate. What if Rogers were to come in? Still however, Blore didn't think Rogers would come in here during dinner preparation. Nor did he think Rogers would tell. Deciding on that scenario, Blore relaxed a little, and looked out the window. It was quite cozy in here in fact, and like the old man, Blore did recall knowing about Indian Island before.
"Recall Indian Island when I was a kid myself," Blore thought, "But I never would have guessed I would be given a job in this house. Good thing, perhaps, that one can't foresee the future!"
Upstairs, Anthony Marston was taking a long, hard bath. His tensed, cramped muscles oozed in the warmth of the bath water. It was pure relaxation. "Ahhhhhhhhhhh....." He sighed in a single breath, as he massaged his calves. Being a man of sensation, this was one of his favourite moments.
"A nice steamed bath," He thought wistfully, "Kink out those tired limbs from the drive, perhaps a shave, a c0cktail, dinner, and after...?"
Meanwhile, Emily Brent was in her bedroom dressing for dinner. Something modest, classy and decent seemed appropriate. A nice black silk dress was a article of choice. The red in her vest not too flashy, and finally she fastened an heirloom broach at the collar.
What now though? There was still time for dinner. Perhaps a good Bible verse would be appropriate. Sitting where she was, she pulled her King James 1611 Holy Bible out from the drawer and opened it up. She stared at the cross that she affixed to the wall close to her bed. As she read her Bible, she mouthed the words along with it....
"The heathen are sunk down in the pit that they made: in the net which they did hid is their own foot taken. The Lord is known by the judgment which he executeth: the wicked is snared in the work of his own hands. The wicked shall be turned into hell...."
She felt her eyelids get heavy. Better not fall asleep at the dinner table! Perhaps she better take off her spectacles for now. She closed her Bible and put it on the side table as she headed down to dinner....
haileyharper:
I really like this! We had to read the book in school last year and you did a really good job with this.
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