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And Then There Were None by. AGATHA CHRISTIE. CHAPTER 1. IN THE CORNER of a first-class smoking carriage, Mr. Justice Wargrave, lately retired from. And then there were none: Agatha Christie and Class Dr Dawn Mannay School of Social Sciences Cardiff University [email protected] Millennium Stadium . None of these people have anything to do with South Africa, and I've just been reading that travel folder so I can talk about it all right." Fortunately there were all .
Blore is sure that Armstrong is dead, and thinks that Lombard is somehow responsible. Lombard says that Armstrong is just hiding somewhere that they can't figure out. He suggests they try Heliographing the mainland, since the storm has finally broken and the sun is out. Vera points out the seventh line of the nursery rhyme. It says that the Indian was swallowed by a 'red herring'.
Justice Wargrave allowed his head to nod. He slept. How hot it was travelling by train to-day! It would be nice to get to the sea!
Really a great piece of luck getting this job. When you wanted a holiday post it nearly always meant looking after a swarm of children-secretarial holiday posts were much more difficult to get.
Even the agency hadn't held out much hope. And then the letter had come. I understand they know you personally. I shall be glad to pay you the salary you ask and shall expect you to take up your duties on August 8th. The train is the I enclose five pound notes for expenses.
Yours truly, Una Nancy Owen. Indian Island! Why, there had been nothing else in the papers lately! All sorts of hints and interesting rumours. But the house had certainly been built by a millionaire and was said to be absolutely the last word in luxury. Vera Claythorne, tired by a recent strenuous term at school, thought to herself-"Being a games mistress in a third-class school isn't much of a catch.
After all, people don't like a Coroner's Inquest, even if the Coroner did acquit me of all blame! For an inquest it couldn't have gone better.
And Mrs. Hamilton had been kindness itself to her- Only Hugo but she wouldn't think of Hugo! Suddenly, in spite of the heat in the carriage she shivered and wished she wasn't going to the sea.
A picture rose clearly before her mind. Cyril's head, bobbing up and down, swimming to the rock. Up and down-up and down. And herself, swimming in easy practised strokes after him- cleaving her way through the water but knowing, only too surely, that she wouldn't be in time.
The sea-its deep warm blue-mornings spent lying out on the sands-Hugo-Hugo who had said he loved her. She must not think of Hugo. She opened her eyes and frowned across at the man opposite her. A tall man with a brown face, light eyes set rather close together and an arrogant almost cruel mouth.
She thought to herself: "I bet he's been to some interesting parts of the world and seen some interesting things. If only I could get a job at some decent 3 Philip Lombard, summing up the girl opposite in a mere flash of his quick moving eyes thought to himself: "Quite attractive-a bit schoolmistressy perhaps. A cool customer, he should imagine-and one who could hold her own-in love or war.
He'd rather like to take her on. He frowned.
No, cut out all that kind of stuff. This was business. He'd got to keep his mind on the job. That little Jew had been damned mysterious. A hundred guineas when he was literally down to his last square meal! He had fancied, though, that the little Jew had not been deceived-that was the damnable part about Jews, you couldn't deceive them about money-they knewl He had said in the same casual tone: "And you can't give me any further information?
Isaac Morris had shaken his little bald head very positively. It is understood by my client that your reputation is that of a good man in a tight place. I am empowered to hand you one hundred guineas in return for which you will travel to Sticklehaven, Devon. The nearest station is Oakbridge, you will be met there and motored to Sticklehaven where a motor launch will convey you to Indian Island.
There you will hold yourself at the disposal of my client. There had been a very faint smile on the thick Semitic lips of Mr.
Morris as he answered gravely: "If anything illegal is proposed, you will, of course, be at perfect liberty to withdraw. It was as though he knew very well that in Lombard's past actions legality had not always been a sine qua non. Lombard's own lips parted in a grin. By Jove, he'd sailed pretty near the wind once or twice!
But he'd always got away with it! There wasn't much he drew the line at really. No, there wasn't much he'd draw the fine at. He fancied that he was going to enjoy himself at Indian Island.
She was sixty-five and she did not approve of lounging. Her father, a Colonel of the old school, had been particular about deportment. The present generation was shamelessly lax-in their carriage, and in every other way. Enveloped in an aura of righteousness and unyielding principles, Miss Brent sat in her crowded third-class carriage and triumphed over its discomfort and its heat.
Every one made such a fuss over things nowadays! Rogers c. Blore d. Marston e.
Armstrong 6. Killed someone by being too reckless. Famous for making harsh judgments. Committed perjury, which lead to the death of an innocent man. Killed someone by operating on them while drunk. Worked with another person to kill someone. Conducted the download of Indian Island for an unnamed third party. The cause is unknown, but some of the guests suspect her husband of poisoning her for fear that she would confess to the crime they are charged with in the recording.
By lunchtime, General MacArthur is found dead, from a heavy blow to his head. Three of the figurines are found to be broken, and again the deaths parallel the rhyme. The guests begin to suspect that U. Owen is systematically murdering them. A search for Owen turns up no results. The island is a "bare rock" with no hiding places, and no one could have arrived or left; thus, they conclude that one of the seven remaining persons is the killer.
Wargrave leads the group in determining that so far, none of them can definitively be ruled out as the murderer. The next morning, Rogers is found dead while chopping wood. After breakfast, Emily Brent is found dead in the kitchen, where she had been left alone after complaining of feeling unwell; she had been injected with potassium cyanide via a hypodermic needle.
Wargrave suggests searching all the rooms, and any potentially dangerous items are locked up. Lombard's gun is missing from his room. When Vera goes upstairs to take a bath, she is shocked by the touch and smell of seaweed left hanging from the ceiling of her room and screams; the remaining guests rush upstairs to her room.
Wargrave, however, is still downstairs. The others find him seated, immobile and crudely dressed up in the attire of a judge. Wargrave is examined by Armstrong and pronounced dead from a gunshot to the forehead. That night, Lombard finds his gun returned to his room. Henry Blore catches a glimpse of someone leaving the house but loses the trail.
Only Armstrong is absent from his room. Vera, Blore, and Lombard decide to stay together at all times.
In the morning, they signal SOS to the mainland from outside by using a mirror and sunlight , but receive no reply. Blore returns to the house for food by himself and is killed by a heavy bear-shaped clock statue that is pushed from Vera's window sill, crushing his skull.
Since neither of them were near the house when the death occurred, Vera and Lombard conclude that Armstrong is the killer. Vera and Lombard come upon Armstrong's body washed up on the beach. Each concludes the other must be the killer.
Vera suggests moving the doctor's body past the shore as a gesture of respect for the dead, but this is a pretext. While they move the body, she lifts Lombard's gun. When Lombard lunges at her to get it back, she shoots him dead. She returns to the house in a shaken dreamlike state, relieved to be alive. She finds a noose and chair arranged in her room, and a strong smell of the sea. Pressed by guilt over the crime she is accused of causing the drowning of a boy in her charge because he held priority over her lover for his inheritance , she hangs herself in accordance with the last verse of the rhyme.
Scotland Yard officials are puzzled at who could have killed the ten.
They reconstruct the deaths from Marston to Wargrave with the help of the victims' diaries and a coroner 's report, and systematically determine that none of the last four victims Armstrong, Blore, Lombard, or Claythorne can be the killer, since there was some form of cleanup following all their deaths except Blore's for example, the chair on which Vera stood to hang herself had been set back upright , and a suicide by falling clock seems beyond the realm of probability.
Isaac Morris, a sleazy lawyer and drug trafficker, downloadd the island, arranged the invitations, ordered the production of the gramophone record, and told the inhabitants of nearby Sticklehaven to ignore any signals for help, citing a bet about living on a "desert island" for a week.
However, Morris died of an overdose of barbiturates on the night of 8 August. A fishing ship picks up a bottle inside its trawling nets; the bottle contains a written confession of the killings, which is then sent to Scotland Yard.
In the confession, Justice Wargrave writes that all his life he has had two contradictory impulses: a sadistic love for causing the death of others, and a strong sense of justice.
For most of his life, he satisfied both desires through his profession as judge. However, the desire to commit murder with his own hands and his diagnosis with a terminal illness motivated him to orchestrate a mass murder of people who were themselves murderers by his judgment but could not be prosecuted under the law. Before departing for the island, he gave Morris barbiturates to take for his indigestion.
He tricked Armstrong into helping him fake his own death under the pretext that it would help the group identify the killer.