Ten Little Indians
Cluedo:
She does get searched eventually, but within reason.
_______________________________________________
It was now evening. Dinner...or as least what could be called dinner was being prepared by Vera in the Kitchen. Out of all things to be doing, Blore and Lombard were in the Parlor, having a game a chess. Before there was a commotion over the missing revolver, but it was yet another thing everyone was willing to forget. It was a curious sort of thing to be doing, but by now...everything was beyond curious.
"You know Lombard, come to thing of it, our whole situation is like a game of chess...," Commented Blore.
"What's that old man?" Perked up Lombard.
"Well the whole purpose of chess is almost like a game of survival," Explained Blore, "And well...I never have been good at it myself. In fact...I don't know why we are even playing."
"Have to pass the time somehow," Replied Lombard, "We can't sit frozen like frenzied vegetables waiting in bathed fear for the murderer to pick off another of us..."
"Do you think you can keep your wits long enough?" Blore asked as he leaned forward.
"I've been in tough spots before," Answered Lombard, "But I think....just think I will make it out of this one."
"Would you wager on that claim then?" Blore urged on.
"Perhaps I might," Lombard boasted, "Why, would you bet that you could outlive me?"
"Nobody is going to pull one on William Henry Blore, I'll see to that!" Growled Blore, obstinately, "How much would you bet on it?"
"Well if we bet on it..," Wondered Lombard with menace, "Who shall collect the winnings from the loser?"
Dr. Armstrong and Judge Wargrave were once again in the Games Room involved in a game of billiards. However, the tension had heightened significantly since the last round the day before...
"What's the matter doctor?" Asked Wargrave solemnly, "You don't look well and your playing has been..shall we say...not up to par."
"Surely you understand Judge," Armstrong answered back, "This whole situation is exceedingly stressful on my shot nerves..."
"I perfectly understand," Assured Wargrave, "Though I often find a stiff whiskey does the trick."
"Pity the drinks and spirits have been holding up in the larder..." Muttered Armstrong under his breath.
Suddenly the lights in the room flickered as Dr. Armstrong was about to take a shot....
For a split second, the room was thrown into darkness before coming back on, causing Armstrong to hit the ball right off the table.
"Blast! It's hopeless with these lights flickering!" Growled Armstrong, "Something is messing up the electricity!"
Blore and Lombard were noticing it too in the Parlor.
"Ruddy Hell!" Blurted Blore, "What's going on here?"
"The generator," Answered Lombard, slapping his forehead, "It hasn't been checked since Rogers was alive!"
"Not if I can do something about it!" Insisted Blore.
And like a flash he darted out of the room....no sooner when he left did the lights shut out completely. The house was thrown into darkness! Then came the sound of footsteps running...and into the Parlor came a shakened Vera.
"Oh Philip!" She cried, "I was in the Kitchen when suddenly we were in complete darkness! I couldn't see a thing!"
Lombard grabbed her and held her close to him,
"Just stay here with me," He told her, "We will stay here until the others come. Don't worry we will light some candles.....until the lights come back on."
Vera looked up.
"Do you think they will come back on?"
"Stay where you are!" Ordered Dr. Armstrong clutching his billiard cue close.
"I haven't moved an inch," Replied Wargrave calmly.
"Let's just wait...a second or two...until they come back on," Armstrong stuttered.
"They won't come back on," Bluntly replied Wargrave in a cold tone.
"And why shouldn't they?" Asked Armstrong in a high paranoid tone.
"Do you think this is an accident?" Wargrave inquired, "Clearly the murderer wants the house to be in darkness tonight....nows the time."
"You mean...?" Perked up Armstrong leaning closer.
"Yes," Answered Wargrave, "Let us go over the plan...."
Astral Faery:
Ooh - should be interesting to see what happens next.
Cluedo:
Hardly a word was said over dinner. It was cold tongue. They ate it in silence, casting suspicious glares at each other. All they could think about was "One of us...one of us....one of us...", After it was over, they all adjourned to the Parlor which was where they sat still in further silence. The rule was that only one person was allowed to leave. Nobody else could leave until the first person got back. It was if they were less like human beings and had transformed into beastly animals.
Judge Wargrave was a wary old tortoise who sat hunched with his eyes alert. Mr. Blore looked coarser and clumsier in build like a hulking bear. There was a look of ferocity and stupidity about him. Philip Lombard's senses were heightened like a wolf; reacting to even the slightest sound. Vera Claythorne sat huddled on the sofa looking dazed and confused as though she were a bird that had just smashed against the window pane. Dr. Armstrong was a bundle of nerves twitching nervously and suddenly like a terrified rabbit. Every now and then he would burst out in nervous speech...
"We shouldn't just sit here and do nothing!" He insisted nervously, "We ought to do something! We should lit a fire...yes a fire! Let's start with that!"
He did so, making the room warmer...
"Well who shall be first to speak?" Asked the Judge, all so suddenly.
All eyes turned on him.
"What the Devil do you mean?" Asked Lombard.
"I believe it is time we ought to confess our crimes," Replied Wargrave, "If we could sort out those who confess from the person who cannot explain, then it may be the key to save our lives. Anybody care to go first?"
Nobody responded.
"Very well, I shall begin," Said the Judge solemnly, "As you know, Mr. Owen held me responsible for the death of Edward Seton. It is perfectly true. He was an innocent young man accused of killing an old woman. I had nothing against him, I wanted to ruin the reputation of his defending counsel; who lost the case. While his client, lost his life."
There was still a silence. Then the Judge turned to Dr. Armstrong and nodded.
"Well...I rather not," He meekly replied.
"Tell us the truth Doctor," Urged on Wargrave, "Your fate depends on it..."
"The gramophone record....did not lie," Admitted Armstrong, wiping his forehead, "Elderly woman, poor dear. I operated on Mrs. Clees while under influence of a little pick me up or two to steady myself. It was an accident that could of happened to anyone....and I blundered it. Guilty I was, I suppose. But of drinking....not of killing."
Suddenly Blore spoke up,
"I don't see where this is getting us!"
"I think this is getting us to a very important conclusion Mr. Blore," Replied Wargrave, "If I were you, I would speak."
"I didn't kill anybody!" Protested Blore, "This Landor chap was innocent alright, but I got mixed up with the Purcell gang that was out to get him. From my testimony he got sentenced for life. That's all."
"Well I hope you made a tidy bit out of it," Said Lombard maliciously.
"Didn't make as much as should have. Mean crowd the Purcell gang. I got my promotion though..."
"And Landor got penal servitude and died in prison," Reminded Lombard.
How was I supposed to know he was such a fragile man?" Demanded Blore, "Anyway what about you Mr. Lombard and those twenty-one Natives?"
"Self-preservation is a man's first duty in the bush," Explained Lombard, "A crisis arose when we got lost. A couple of fellows and I took the supplies and headed out. Yes, I left them to die. But they were only African natives. They don't look at death the same we us Europeans do."
Before anybody could respond, Vera suddenly quivered...
"I would like to leave...just for a moment," She requested, "I...I feel so cold."
"Would you like us to postpone this inquiry while you go fetch yourself a wrap?" Asked Wargrave sympathetically.
"Yes, please," Responded Vera.
"Very well my dear, but don't be long...."
With that, Vera got up and left the four men in the Parlor.....
Cluedo:
Vera went upstairs along the passage to her room. As she opened the door, she sudden stopped to a halt. Her nostrils quivered...
"The sea..." She thought, "The sea....it smells like the sea!"
It was no mistake. It wasn't the regular smell of sea that was regular on the island...it was the smell of the beach.....with the tide out and the rocks covered in seaweed drying in the sun.
"Can I swim out to the island Miss Claythorne? Why can I not swim out?"
Horrible whiny little brat! If it weren't for him, Hugo would be rich and would have been able to marry the girl he loved...
Hugo...
Surely Hugo was beside her? No...waiting for her in the room....
In the dark, she was suddenly afraid...and there was someone in the room...
She took a step forward, and then she felt it. A cold, clammy hand coming down and suffocating her...
Vera screamed....she screamed of utmost terror!
Downstairs, there was a crash and a commotion as the men scrambled and fumbled in their pursuit to rescue Vera...
"Quickly now! She's upstairs!"
"I'm coming, I'm coming!"
Suddenly admist all the running came the ringing of a gunshot...
BANG!
A minute later, Blore and Lombard flung into Vera's room towering over her twitching body....covered in seaweed.
"My God what is that!?" Exclaimed Blore.
Lombard took a whiff of the air.
"Smells like the sea in here!"
Then Dr. Armstrong entered the room and looked down at Vera's crumpled figure. Then he looked up.....there was a little bit seaweed hanging from a hook on the ceiling.
Acting fast, he bent down and patted Vera's cheek to revive her. Her eyelids fluttered and snapped open. She found herself lying in strands of slimed up ribbons.
Then she began to laugh hysterically.
"It..It was only seaweed! Ha ha! That's what the smell was!"
Everybody relaxed for a moment.
"Well here's one murder that didn't go according to plan!" Chuckled Philip Lombard.
"You think that's what it was meant for?" Asked Vera.
"Precisely!" Agreed Blore, enthusiastically, "The killer expected you to pass out from fright! Some people would have, wouldn't you say Doctor?"
"Hmmm, impossible to say really," Replied Armstrong, "Young healthy woman, unlikely chance of cardiac arrest..."
Suddenly with her wits revived, Vera made a diversion,
"Where's the Judge?" She asked.
The three men looked at each other.
"That's odd!" Declared Blore, "I thought he came up with us!"
"I thought he was following me," Said Dr. Armstrong, "Of course, being an old man, he would have gone slower..."
"It's damned odd..." Muttered Lombard.
"Well we got to go look for him!" Insisted Blore, "In fact, I could have sworn I heard a gun go off!....."
Cluedo:
The four of them walked along the upper hallway in pursuit of the missing Judge Wargrave. Each one of them calling out "Wargrave? Oh Wargrave? Where are you?" Suddenly Philip Lombard stopped dead as something caught his eye.....his revolver!
He bent down to pick it up.
"Looks like Mr. Owen has been kind enough to leave it for me..." Lombard muttered under his breath.
"This is the door to the Judge's bedroom," Informed Dr. Armstrong.
"Perhaps he's in there then...waiting for us!" Hissed Blore in a loud whisper.
Lombard knocked on the door.
"Judge? Are you in there? Were coming in..."
After a count of three, Lombard flung the door open and everybody rushed in...
Judge Wargrave was sitting in the room on a chair at the foot of the bed. What the shocked the onlookers was a scarlet cape draped over his back as well as a full white judge's wig on top of his head.
Dr. Armstrong motioned the others to stand back as he examined the slumping figure of the Judge...
He bent over and pulled back the wig a little. Clear in crimson was a small mark on his forehead which trickled a little.
Then he turned to the others and gave the verdict.
"He has been shot through the head."
"God...the revolver!" Cried Blore.
Lombard opened the gun up and checked the barrel.
"One shot fired," He reported.
Vera suddenly put her hand up to her mouth in shock as she stared at the white wig on his head...
"Miss Brent's missing white yarn!" She cried.
"And the scarlet towel missing from the bathroom!" Added Blore.
Suddenly Philip Lombard laughed. It was a high, unnatural laugh.
"Five little Indian boys going in for law; One got in Chancery and then there were four!" Recited Lombard, "That's the end of Mr. Bloody Justice Wargrave! No more pronouncing sentence for him! No more putting on the black cap! Here's the last time he'll ever sit in court! No more summing up and sentencing innocent men to their death. How Edward Seton would laugh if he were here! How he would laugh..."
"But last night, you said he was the killer!" Reminded Vera.
Lombard turned more somber,
"I know I did...Well I was wrong. One more of us acquitted...too late!"
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