Ten Little Indians

[Cluedo]

Hey thanks! I'm glad to hear you are in suspense...it's only going to get better!:-P

[Cluedo]

It was now half past eight. The guests all sat in the Dining Room anxiously awaiting breakfast. All except Dr. Armstrong and of course the late Anthony Marston.

"General MacArthur and I were just outside," Announced the Judge.

"Oh?" Asked Lombard, "What were you two gents discussing?"

"Oh not much," Replied Wargrave tired, "Just a little on the political situation these days, isn't that so, General?"

General MacArthur looked up, gave a muffled reply and nod to the Judge.

"Most distressing what I've come to see these days," Marked General MacArthur, "War will break out, you will all see. I can't feel it."

"Well if there's one thing for sure, Hitler is not a man to be trus.."

Suddenly he was interrupted by Emily Brent who's cheeks were turning a shade of white.

"Most improper subject to discuss at the table," She voiced, "If you don't mind, Your Honour."



Judge Wargrave gave a smile and nodded to Miss Brent.

"My apologies Miss Brent," He apologized charmingly, "You are most likely right. I forgot some do not enjoy the subject of politics in the morning. I'm pleased to see that there had been a newspaper left by Narracott yesterday. Speaking of which, no sign of the boat, yet."

"Devon's a sleepy county," Reminded Vera, "They probably run things late around here."


"No boat shall ever come I don't think," Said the General, almost in a trance like voice, "I am starting to think none of us will leave the island."

"Oh come General," Said Lombard chuckling at the slightly dotty old man, "No need to talk like that. Just because the boat is missing now doesn't mean it won't be here in the afternoon."

"Speaking of things missing," Declared Blore, hungrily "Where's breakfast?"

That's when Dr. Armstrong entered the room. He hated to be the bearer of bad news, but of course in his profession, he was used to it.

"I'm afraid you will all have to do without breakfast," He announced wearily, "Mrs. Rogers has been....unable to carry on."

"What's the matter with the woman!?" Complained Emily Brent sharply, "I was promised some homemade honey yesterday!"

Emily loved honey. Armstrong ignored her and continued...

"I'm afraid I have a piece of sad news....Mrs. Rogers has died in her sleep."



Several gasps were exchanged around the room. They couldn't believe their ears!

"How horrible!" Cried Vera sympathetically, "Two deaths since we arrived on the island!"

"Hmmmm, how extraordinary," Said the Judge in a precise voice, "What was the cause of death?"

"Impossible to say off hand," Replied Armstrong, "I certainly couldn't give a certificate. Rogers has barely any knowledge on her state of health. That's what I'm wondering about. What exactly caused Mrs. Rogers to die..."

The single voice of Emily Brent burst out.

"Concience!"
 
All eyes turned to her.

"Just what exactly are you implying Miss Brent?" Asked the quiet voice of the  Judge as he stroked his chin.

"You all saw her last night! She fainted dead away after the record accused her and her husband of murdering an elderly woman, their own employer. The shock of her wickedness was too much to bear!"

"How did you know Miss Brady was their employer?" Asked Lombard, "They never had a chance to explain who she was..."

"Jennifer Brady was a friend of my friend,  Mrs. Oliver." Explained Emily, "Clearly she employed the Rogers. At any rate, it's clear those guilty two have done away with poor Miss Brady, and the missus has been struck down through over-bearing guilt. Call it, if you prefer...and Act of God!"

"My dear woman!" Declared Armstrong turning red faced, "I think that's taking things a bit too far!"

"You regard it impossible for God to strike down a filthy sinner," Spoke Miss Brent in defence of herself, "I don't! I think it's the most likely reason of all!"

"At any rate," Spoke Blore trying to calm things down, "Did she have anything to take last night?"

"Well, she had a bit of brandy," Replied Armstrong a little numb, "And a mild sedative. A mild dose mind you, given by me. Certainly not enough to kill her!"

"Well then see here!" Said Blore wildly, "Perhaps Rogers may have gave her a little extra! You see, to quiet her up!"

"Oh!" Declared MacArthur belligerently, "I should hardly think a man would do that to his wife!"


Just then Rogers entered.

"I'm sorry," He mumbled in apology, "I'm sorry, I did the best I could with breakfast, you see my wif...."



Everybody hushed down his protests...

"It's alright Rogers, we understand."

Then the simple breakfast was served...

[Astral Faery]

Emily Brent sure is a piece of work, isn't she?  So sad that they all seem to be more concerned about breakfast than the death of poor Mrs. Rogers.  And now fingers are starting to be pointed at her husband.  I wonder what, or who, will be next?

[Cluedo]

Well, perhaps you have suspicions of your own? My advice would be to not look up the story at risk of spoiling it. You will be hopefully suprised by the conclusion.

----------------------------------------------
Breakfast was a modest meal. Clearly, Rogers lacked the cooking skills that tragically would be missed by Mrs. Rogers. Of course, perhaps he will have more time to make a decent lunch as breakfast was on short notice for him. In the meantime however, the remaining guests were off on their own plans. Afterall, it was a beautiful day, despite a bit wet from the drizzle during the night...



Philip Lombard, William Blore, and Dr. Armstrong decided to form their own little group. There was an theory that had started to dawn on them....perhaps Mr. Owen did in fact exist!


"Assuming this Mr. Owen does indeed exist," Theorized Blore, "There is no doubt that he may indeed be on this island!"

"It's quite likely," Dr. Armstrong agreed, "In which case, we certainly must find him. I'm have reason to believe that if Mr. Owen exists, he is probably a homicidal lunatic. He may be dangerous."

"Well then," Lombard smiled, flashing his pointed white teeth, "Perhaps the bloke is hidden away in a secret cave or something! Ha! Ha!"

"It's quite possible," Replied Blore, stroking his chin, "Then again, I didn't see any grottoes or caves on the map."

"Map?" Asked Lombard, narrowing his eyes a little, "What map are you talking about?"

"It's all in the Library," Blore answered back, as he wiped a bit of sweat off his forehead, "The island's history, the map....all sorts of rubbish. I could barely make through of it."

"If I were examining that sort of stuff Blore, I would pay closer attention," Lombard reprimanded,  "There may have been a thing or two on Owen in there!"

"Not my cup of tea, Unfortunately," Blore shrugged, "I'm more of a practical sort of man."

Dr. Armstrong took a little bit of a step away from his little group. Being a little left out of conservation left him open for attention to Rogers who was beckoning him once again.

"Doctor," Quickly whispered Rogers, sounding imperative, "If I could have a word with you, inside please."



They both re-entered the house.

"What the Devil is the matter?" Inquired Armstrong confused.

"I don't quite understand, it don't make sense, but perhaps you could tell," Answered Rogers, leading Armstrong into Parlor.

They stopped at the fireplace.

"Well?" Asked Armstrong, sounding a little impatient.

"Well look sir!" Rogers replied, pointing the Indian statuettes, "When I was clearing away last night, I stopped in here and saw that there was only nine of those figures, and now look sir! It doesn't make any sense! There are only eight!"

[Cluedo]

Vera Claythorne and Emily Brent resided on the terrace. The afternoon was approaching. Emily appeared not to be mindful of Vera, and yet she was acting rather strange as she sat. Now and then she would pull out a pair of binoculars and observe the sea. Vera nearly jumped when Emily finally did speak.

"It's odd that man has yet to arrive to pick us up yet." Emily said, "He seemed rather dependable yesterday."

"I really wish he would come," Vera replied softly, "I really do want to leave."

"I've no doubt we all do," Emily agreed.

Suddenly her mood changed to one of annoyance,

"I'm really disappointed in myself for being so easily being taken in! If one examined the letter closely, it really does appear to be quite absurd,"

Vera shuddered a little...

"Well I suppose I must say what's been on my mind, did you really mean what you said at breakfast?"

"I'm afraid you must be a little more precise my dear," Emily replied.

"Do you really think Rogers and his wife did away with that old lady?" Vera asked almost in a whisper.

"Personally I'm quite sure of it!" Declared Emily Brent stiffly, "Everything points in that direction. His wife even fainted if I remember, and he shouted at her most uncontrollably to keep her quiet. Oh yes, I'm afraid they did it."

"Well if they did do it," Vera wondered, "What about the others?"

"Ah, now I understand what you mean," Emily replied, "Well Mr. Lombard doesn't seem like the remorseful type. I'm sure if you asked him, he would straight away admit to abandoning 21 natives."

"But they were only natives," Vera replied.

"Black or white, they are still our brothers,"

"Our black brothers-our black brothers...oh I must be going hysterical..." Vera thought.

"Of course some of the other accusations were quite ridiculous," Emily continued, "Against the Judge for instance, he was only doing his duty within legal incapacitation, as was that ex-Scotland Yard man. My own case too...."

Vera looked up, curious.

"Beatrice Taylor was in service with me. Not a nice girl as I soon found out. She was a good worker, had decent manners...oh and was rather nice cook as well. I am saddened to say that I was terribly deceived in her. She was actually a loose girl with no morals! Disgusting! It some time before I discovered that was suddenly...in "trouble."



Emily paused and wrinkled her nose in distaste.

"It was a great shock to me too. Her parents were decent folk who brought her up strictly. I was glad to say that they did not condone her behavior."

"So what happened to her?" Vera asked wide-eyed.

"Oh naturally I wasn't going to keep her one minute under my roof. No one should ever say that Emily Brent ever condoned immorality!"

There was no remorse in Emily's eyes, no reproachfulness...she stood on the terrace encased in her own virtue.

"Weren't you sorry?" Vera asked, "I mean, for that sort of harshness?"

"I have nothing to reproach myself with." Emily replied self-satisfied.

"But Beatrice is dead now," Vera reminded, "Didn't you have anything to do with that?"

"Absolutely not," Emily replied, turning a shade of white, "Not content with one sin on her mind, the girl committed a graver one..."

"What was that!?" Asked Vera.

"She chucked herself in a river and drowned."

Vera stared at Emily Brent in disbelief. No longer was she an odd uptight old lady. Suddenly, she was terrible!

[Cluedo]

Blore and Lombard were still outside waiting for Dr. Armstrong to return. It was clear a search had to be done of the island. They wanted to rope in the Doctor as well. There was one thing on their minds that had them both puzzled. That entailed the two deaths on the island.

Just then the General walked by them...

"Looks like you in an exploring mood today, General," Said Lombard dryly, "Were off to explore the island."

"Quite the adventurer you are," Replied General MacArthur almost in a trance, "There is so little time...so little time, I really must insist nobody disturbs me."

"We won't disturb you," Replied Blore, "We were just wondering if you may know of anyone hiding on the island so to speak."

"You don't understand," Replied the General once again trance-like, "Please leave me alone...in peace."

With that, he was off.



"There's one who's going balmy," Snickered Blore to Lombard.

Just then the Doctor exited once more. He saw the Judge reading the newspaper, then he saw Blore and Lombard coming around the corner. He wanted to speak to an articulate mind. He was well aware of the Judge's masterful intelligence, but he also had a feeble elderliness about him. He decided to speak with the latter...

"So Doctor," Asked Lombard, "What did Rogers have to say?"

"Oh not much," Replied Armstrong looking away a little, "Just a couple of disappearing statues in the parlor."

He paused for a minute.

"I had a little bit of a chat with him on the death of the old lady in their care; Miss Brady."

"Go on" Said Blore, keen on the subject.

"I found his answer very enlightening. Turns out Miss Brady had been suffering from a form of a cardiac trouble. When a person has cardiac attack, amyl nitrate is inhaled to save them. Supposing amyl nitrate was withheld...the result could be fatal."

"And as easy as that!" Replied Lombard, "It must have been rather tempting..."

"Of course this all leads back to the crimes against us," Reminded Blore.

"Yes indeed," Lombard concurred, "Suppose the Rogeres committed a indirect murder the law cannot touch. Take Wargrave for example, he committed murder within the law!"

Armstrong tried to quiet Lombard down a little as the Judge was sitting close by. Then he made a motion to move somewhere else. So they circled around and ended up in the yard behind the house.

"You don't really believe that story do you?" Asked Armstrong in a whisper, as they walked.

"Oh I believe it alright!" Confirmed Lombard, "He certainly murdered Edward Seton no question about it! But he was clever to do it from the Judge's seat in a wig and gown!"

"I just don't see where this is getting us though!" Burst in Blore confused.

"Well let's go back to the deaths." Suggested Armstrong, "Perhaps Rogers snuffed his wife out because she would have given the show away. Or she may have felt so much guilt she took the easy way out!"

"But if it was suicide or perhaps an act from her husband, what about Marston? Asked Lombard, "I don't believe Rogers would have killed him for a second! And don't tell me that a young bull like Anthony Marston with no nerves or brains would go poisoning himself because he felt remorse after mowing down two kids with his car! What kind of poison did you suspect anyway?"

"Potassium Cyanide," Replied Dr. Armstrong, "I'm almost sure of it!"

"Not something I would be carrying back and forth in my coat," Rationalized Blore.

"Well this cyanide needs explaining then!" Insisted Lombard, thinking hard, "Well in that case, either Marston came to the Island carrying cyanide as he planned to do himself in, therefore came prepared..or..."

"Or else?" Asked Dr. Armstrong.

"Why make me say it when it's on the tip of your tongue," Lombard replied, grinning menacingly, "Anthony Marston was murdered of course....."

[Cluedo]

The three men began their search of Indian Island. The island itself was not much to search. It was more or less a bare rock and it was actually rather small in fact. There were a couple of trees that provided only a little cover in the yard. Their search eventually had taken them to the northeast cliffs of the island. Blore and Lombard scrambled up to the very top to get a good look, while Armstrong waited closely below...



"Nothing!" Bellowed Blore, "Not a soul here!"

"No motorboat either," Added Lombard, looking out to sea, "I'm beginning to wonder if I will ever come. Perhaps, it's been instructed not to. Not until the lunatic Mr. Owen has finished off everybody!"

"I don't know how he could possibly kill us all," Thought Blore, thinking hard.

"That's true Blore," Agreed Lombard, "Before none of us were on guard, but now..."

"But now! We can protect ourselves!" Declared Blore, "I don't suppose anybody has a revolver or anything like that?"

"I do," Admitted Lombard, flashing the revolver in his pocket.

"Always carry that thing with you?" Asked Blore, looking bewildered.

 "Habit of mine," Replied Lombard, "Especially when I'm in tight places....and now you know what I've been thinking?"

He looked down to Dr. Armstrong who was scanning the area.

"Hey Armstrong," He called, "What was it that Rogers said!? About the statues?"

"What's that?" Asked Armstrong, "The statues? Oh...he said two were missing."

"Queer it is, isn't it?" Blore remarked.

Dr. Armstrong recited:

"Ten little Indian boys went out to dine; One choked his little self and then there were nine.

Nine little Indian boys sat up very late; One overslept himself and then there were eight."


Lombard lit himself a cigarette.

"Fits too damned well to be a coincidence! Anthony Marston dies after a choking fit last night! Mother Rogers oversleeps herself with a vengeance!"

"And therefore?" Said Armstrong.

"Therefore we have one Unknown lunatic at large!" Burst Lombard, "Were going to find the man no matter what!"

"He'll be dangerous." Reminded Blore.

"I'll be dangerous when I get hold of him!" Retorted Lombard.

"There's one thing we haven't considered," Reminded Armstrong, "What if this Mr. Owen is in the house?"

Blore and Lombard stared back at Armstrong as though he just struck something genious.

[Cluedo]

Vera Claythorne had been wandering the island herself, but not because she too was searching for Owen...she had been trying to avoid Miss Brent since their talk earlier. She couldn't think of Emily without getting the shudders. It wasn't long before she found herself walking down to a quiet little beach where she saw General MacArthur staring trance-like out at sea as the waves rolled in....



As she approached, the General turned around to face her which was rather unexpected.

"How queer!" Thought Vera, "It's almost as though he knew!"

"Ah it's you," Said the General quietly, "You've come..."

"Nice peaceful spot you found for yourself General," Noted Vera.



"Yes," Replied General MacArthur, "Pleasant little spot. It's a good place I think to wait..."

"To wait?" Asked Vera sharply, "What are you waiting for?"

"The end." Replied the General, "I think you knew that don't you? That is what were waiting for isn't it?"

"I...I don't know what your talking about," Vera admitted unsteadily.

MacArthur's response was a grave one,

"None of us are going to leave the island. That is the plan. You know it perfectly. What you may not quite realize is the relief."

"The relief?"

"Yes, well of course you are a pretty, young thing. You haven't got to that yet. But you will soon see...and await the day where you no longer have to carry the burden...."

"I..I don't understand!" Vera replied, getting more and more afraid of the old soldier.

"You see I loved Leslie...I loved her so much..."

"Was Leslie you wife?" Asked Vera in wonder.

"Yes," Answered the General softly, "She was. She was so pretty...so lively...so gay...and I loved her. That's why I did it."

"You mean..."

"Yes, It's not good denying it now," Confessed MacArthur almost in a whisper, "Not when were all going to die. I sent Arthur Richmond to his death..."



"I suppose in a way it was murder," He continued, "Funny thing...murder. I've always been such a law-abiding man! But it didn't seem like that at the time. "Served him damned right!" That's what I thought, But now..."

"And afterward?" Vera urged him on in a hard voice.

"Afterward, I don't know." Answered the General, "I just don't know. It seemed like Leslie never figured out what really happened....But I didn't know her anymore after that. She gone far away to somewhere where I couldn't reach her, and then she died....and I was alone..."

His voice seemed to echo amongst the cliffs...

"Alone..alone..alone...."

"You'll be glad too when the end comes, my dear."

Vera turned to him suddenly.

"I don't know what you mean!" She answered sharply.

"I know, my child, I know..."

"No, you don't know!" Burst Vera, frantically, "You don't understand at all!"

He almost didn't realize she was leaving behind him, his conscience had returned to the sea...

"Leslie...?" He softly called out.

[Cluedo]

Judge Wargrave was still sitting on the front terrace reading his newspaper. It was all old news from yesterday, so not much in it for him. There was hardly any mention of Indian Island in the papers. But why should there? His mind was wandering to what the trio were talking about Edward Seton earlier. Not that it mattered much now, afterall...

"I cooked Seton's goose alright!" Thought the Judge, almost with a smile.



Then his mind wandering to something different altogether. What was it the General said earlier?

"Ah yes," Though Wargrave, "He said none of us would leave the island!"

He got up, and left....


Meanwhile, the three explorers had now conducted their searches within the house...but the results have been fruitless.

"Well now," Said Blore, "We've search high and low all over the house. Maybe there is a hidden room!"

"Unlikely," Replied Lombard, "This is a modern house. Not one of those old creaky manors. I doubt there would be any hidden passage or concealment."

"Wait," Blore said suddenly, "Where does that door lead to?"

"The servants room," Answered Dr. Armstrong.

They listened....they could hear feet moving around inside......

"Aha!" Declared Blore in a rapid whisper, "Of course Mr. Owen would be hiding in there! Nobody would suspect he would be in that room after what happened!"

"Now," Commanded Lombard, "As quietly as you can..."

The three men stealthily approached the door...they could hear a creak on the floorboards inside.

"Now!" Ordered Blore.

They flung the door opened and stopped dead.

Rogers stood meekly in the center of the room.

"Oh!" Rogers cried in suprised, "I..I was just moving some of my wife's things..."



"Err...sorry about that Rogers," Replied Blore turning red with embarrassment.

"May I go sir?" Asked Rogers politely.

"Yes, yes get on with it," Answered back Dr. Armstrong.

Rogers quickly scurried out of the room.

Blore was looking at the body of Mrs. Rogers on the bed. It was such an unnervingly peaceful face. There was no fear or pain in her any longer. Just emptiness.

"Let's get finished," He ordered turning to the other two, "I'm starting to get a bad feeling that were not going to find anything."

And sure enough they soon discovered he was right. There was no one on the island but the eight of themselves.

[Cluedo]

The gong had sounded for luncheon. At least, what Rogers could make of it. It was mostly cold ham and tongue, some boiled potatoes, and a few biscuits with cheese.

"I did the best I could with lunch," Reported Rogers as they sat down, "I will go fetch your meals."

He turned and entered the Kitchen as the guests began to sit down.

Dr. Armstrong, William Blore and Philip Lombard entered and sat down as well.

"Well you men had an active morning," Said Judge Wargrave to them with a faint sound of malicious pleasure in his voice.



"Is everyone present?" Asked Emily Brent, raising a eyebrow, "Where's the General?"

"I spoke with him down by the sea," Answered Vera Claythorne, "He must have not have heard the gong. He was a little "vague" today."

Rogers reentered with some plates.

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

Dr. Armstrong got up from his seat.

"I'll go," He said to Rogers, "You can attend to lunch and the others may start without me."

He quickly left the room.

As he made his way outside, he followed a little path that led down to the beach, he had to scramble over some rocks to get down to the beach, but in the end, the reason as to why General MacArthur never arrived was quite clear.....

...he was as dead as a rock.



Back in the Dining Room, everyone was discussing the weather...

"The sea is becoming quite strong," Noted Emily Brent, "And there are white-horses on the waves."

The wind was presently picking up outside...

"There's a storm coming," Said Vera shivering.

"Yes, there was that old man in Sticklehaven who said that there was one due to arrive," Added Blore, "Funny how these old salts know."

Roger suddenly stopped in the middle of his duties.

"Somebody's running!" He said almost scared.

Everybody got up from seats and entered the hall, just as Dr. Armstrong was coming in through the front door.



"General MacArthur....!" He cried.

"DEAD!" Burst Vera, unexpectedly.

"Yes..." Whimpered Armstrong, wiping his forehead, "He's dead."

The was a pause...and long pause. Seven remaining people cast their eyes around the room, with not a single word to say.

As the other men went off to look at the body, Rogers scurried over to the Parlor, his face turning pale. He found Vera Claythorne standing over by the fireplace, clearly startling each other.

"Oh Miss!" He cried, "I just came to see..."

"You are quite right Rogers," Said Vera in a loud, harsh voice, "There are only seven...."

[KatrinaandTiff]

I know what is going on lol!I never read the actual book before,but I know what is happening!

[Astral Faery]

It just keeps getting better!  So mysterious.  I can't wait to read more!

[steelguy]

Oooh! Damned intriguing, what?
I love the stories from this era!

[Cluedo]

Well I'm glad to see you are all enjoying it!

_______________________________________________________


General MacArthur's head was indeed quite bloody. However, Dr. Armstrong decided to lay the body in the bed before he cleaned his wound. His stalled a little in the dead man's room with his mind racing...soon to be interrupted by a knock on the door. He went over to open it and found Blore and Lombard standing in the hall. They were keen on hearing of Armstrong's verdict.



"Well Doctor?" Asked Lombard eagerly.

"Well Gentlemen," Replied Armstrong clearing his throat, "Apparently the General was killed by several blows on the back of his head. He lost quite a bit of blood. His skull is completely shattered."

"Eh, may we see him?" Asked Blore.

"Well men, he's not a pretty slight," Answered Armstrong, reluctantly, "But alright."

He walked over and pulled back the sheet revealing MacArthur's gory motionless face.

"From the looks of force," Reported Armstrong, facing the other two, "I'd say he died near-instantly."



"Blimey," Said Blore aloud, "I hope I would never have to have my brains smashed like that. Know what it was?"

"I haven't a clue," Replied Armstrong wiping his forehead, "Probably a heavy rock or even a a hard rubber like in a life preserver."

"Well at least this is confirming what I have come to be absolutely certain of." Lombard announced suddenly.

"Oh and what is that Mr. Lombard?" Asked Blore, raising an eyebrow.

"Poisoned whiskey for Marston could mean an odd suicide. An overdose for Mrs. Rogers could have been an accident. But this third victim who had his head crushed on a sandy beach in the open can only mean one thing...." Lombard's mouth curling into a cruel, malicious state, "....MURDER!"

[Astral Faery]

So they're finally facing up to the facts that these deaths are not happening by accident.  Now...we have to see who's behind it all.  Thanks for bringing this story to life - I'm really enjoying it.