And Then There Were None: Chapters 10-13

I know very well that I'm not the murderer, and I don't fancy that there's anything insane about you, Vera. You strike me as being one of the sanest and most levelheaded girls I've come across. I'd stake my reputation on your sanity.

He said hoarsely: "It's like a bad dream, that's what it is."

It flashed across Dr. Armstrong's mind that an old man like the judge was far more tenacious of life than a younger man would be.

Everyone was in the living room. They sat listlessly huddled together. And, surreptitiously, they watched each other.

Receiving an assent to this, the curtains were drawn and the lamps turned on.

Inside the room, the pall of fear had fallen anew.

The wind had somewhat abated but was still blowing.

Philip Lombard said affably: "Sleeping the clock round? Well, shows you've got an easy conscience."

"The girl could have done it easily—she's an athletic type. In appearance Miss Brent is fragile-looking, but that type of woman has often a lot of wiry strength. And you must remember that anyone who's mentally unhinged has a good deal of unsuspected strength."

Ex-Inspector Blore was an earnest man.

A light touch was incomprehensible to him.

Philip Lombard said laconically: "It might be."

Lots of elderly spinsters go that way—I don't mean go in for homicide on the grand scale, but go queer in their heads.

Religious mania—thinks she's God's instrument, something of that kind!

"You're missing the point, Mr. Lombard. If the woman was innocent she'd be too dead scared to go wandering about by herself. She'd only do that if she knew that she had nothing to fear. That's to say if she herself is the criminal."

Almost impious to feel that way. Some people thought so little of death that they actually took their own lives.

There was no mistaking the fear and suspicion in her face.

A perfectly straightforward story. I personally should have no difficulty in accepting it.

I think we should summon Miss Brent to join our conclave.

Armstrong's attention was riveted on a mark on the right side of the neck.

"That's the mark of a hypodermic syringe."

It was as though even his nerves, seasoned by a long career of hazards and dangerous undertakings, had given out at last.

The position is fraught with grave danger. Everything must be done in order to safeguard the four of us who are innocent.

"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."

Mr. Lombard, you are a very strongly built and powerful young man, but ex-Inspector Blore is also a man of powerful physique.

He had stripped to the skin and he and his room had been meticulously searched by the other three men.

The search proceeded methodically.

To break open the cupboard—or the plate chest—would be a noisy and cumbersome proceeding and one which could hardly be carried out without attention being attracted to what was going on.

And all of them, suddenly, looked less like human beings. They were reverting 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.

Philip Lombard's senses seemed heightened, rather than diminished.

His step was lighter and quicker, his body was lithe and graceful.

It crouches there, terrified, unable to move, hoping to save itself by its immobility.

The forced inaction of their position seemed to gall him more than the others.

By tacit consent, they had adopted a plan of campaign.

The midday meal had been duly eaten—but there had been no conventional formality about it.

At twenty past six, Vera felt that to sit there longer was unbearable.

And then, as she stood there, listening—a cold, clammy hand touched her throat—a wet hand, smelling of the sea.

You might have done, or someone might have tampered with the bottle for just this emergency.

"There you are, my girl. Absolutely no deception."

He dipped a finger in it, tasted it gingerly.