And Then There Were None- Wargrave Lines

Lombard: I'm afraid our host and hostess haven't arrived, sir. My name's Lombard.

Mine's Wargrave. How do you do?

Lombard: How do you do? A drink, sir?

Yes, please. A whiskey.

Blore: How are you? Davis, Davis is the name. I say, wonderful place you've got here. Quite unique.

As you say- quite unique.

Marston: Tricky, what? I say, wizard place for a holiday, what?

Aren't you going to sit down?

Mackenzie: Well, to tell you the truth, you seem to be in my chair.

I am sorry, I didn't realize you were one of the family.

Mackenzie: Well, it's not that exactly *** Can't get used to sitting anywhere else.

It becomes a bit of a habit.

Rogers: Can I have your keys, sir?

Is Lady Constance Culmington expected here, can you tell me?

Rogers: Lady Constance Culmington? I don't think so sir. Unless she's coming down with Mr. and Mrs. Owen.

Oh.

Emily: Oh, Sir Lawrence.

Miss Brent, isn't it?

Emily: There's something I want to ask you. Will you come out here?

A remarkably fine night.

Armstrong: A disgraceful and heartless practical joke.

So you think it's a joke, do you?

Armstrong: What else could it be?

At the moment I'm not prepared to give an opinion.

Marston: Who the devil turned it on, though? And set it going?

We must enquire into that.

Rogers: Of course it did. Gave me a turn too. Wicked lies it was. I'd like to know-

Who was it put that record on the gramophone? Was it you, Rogers?

Rogers: I was just obeying orders, sir, that's all.

Who's orders?

Rogers: Mr. Owen's.

Let me get this quite clear. Mr. Owen's orders were- what exactly?

Rogers: I was to put the record on the gramophone *** I thought it was just to give you all some music.

A very remarkable story.

Rogers: It's the truth *** I thought it was just a piece of music.

Is there a title?

Emily: That's just it. Who is he?

That is exactly what we must go into very carefully. I should suggest that you take your wife to bed, Rogers. Then come back here.

Marston: Don't know about you, sir, but I feel I need another drink.

I agree.

Blore: Oh, so you said. You have this one, General?

Now then, Rogers, we must get to the bottom of this. Tell us what you know about Mr. Owen.

Rogers: He owns this place, sir.

I am aware of that fact. What I want you to tell me is what you yourself know about the man.

Blore: That's a high-class firm. We can check on that.

Have you got the letter?

Rogers: The letter engaging us? Yes, sir.

Go on with your story.

Rogers: We arrived here like the letter said *** Just needed dusting and that.

What next?

Rogers: Nothing, sir. ***gramophone record. Here it is, sir.

Hmm. Headed Ritz Hotel and typewritten.

Marston: Got some fancy Christian names, hasn't he? Ulick Norman Owen. Quite a mouthful.

I am obliged to you, Mr. Marston. You have drawn my attention to a curious and suggestive point. I think the time has come for all of us to pool our information. It would be well for everybody to come forward with all the information they have regarding our unknown host. We are all his guests. I think it would be profitable if each one of us were to explain exactly how that came about.

Emily: There's something very peculiar *** I have never met or become friendly with anyone of the name of Owen.

Have you got that letter, Miss Brent?

Emily: Yes. I will fetch it for you.

Miss Claythorne?

Vera: I never actually met Mrs. Owen *** I was offered this post and accepted.

And you were never interviewed by your prospective employer?

Vera: No. This is the letter.

"Soldier Island, Sticklehaven, Devon. I have received your name from Miss Grenfell's Agency. I understand she knows 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 12:10 from Paddington and you will be met at Oakbridge Station. I enclose five pounds for expenses. Yours truly, Una Nancy Owen."

Mr. Marston?

Marston: Don't actually know the Owens *** I haven't got the wire.

Thank you. Doctor Armstrong?

Armstrong: In the circumstances, I think I may admit *** he regarded as that of an ordinary guest.

You had you previous acquaintance with the family?

Armstrong: No.

But you had no hesitation in obeying the summons?

Armstrong: A colleague of mine *** I was due for a holiday anyway.

"Dear Miss Brent: I do hope you remember me. We were together at Bell Haven Guest House in August some years ago and we seemed to have so much in common. I am starting a new guest house of my own on an island off the coast of Devon. I think there is really an opening for a place where there is good plain English cooking, and a nice old-fashioned type of person. None of this nudity and gramophones half the night. I shall be very glad if you could see your way to spending your summer holiday on Soldier Island- as my guest, of course. I suggest August 8th, 12:40 from Paddington to Oakbridge. Yours sincerely, U.N."

Hmm. Yes, the signature is slightly ambiguous.

Lombard: I like the nudity touch.

Here is my own decoy letter. From an old friend of mine, Lady Constance Culmington. She writes in her usual vague, incoherent way, urges me to join her here and refers to her host and hostess in the vaguest of terms.

Lombard: Look here, I've just thought of something.

In a minute.

Lombard: But I-

We will take one thing at a time, if you don't mind, Captain Lombard, General Mackenzie?

Mackenzie: Got a letter- from this fellow Owen *** Haven't kept the letter, I'm afraid.

And you, Captain Lombard?

Lombard: Same sort of thing. Invitation mentioning mutual friends. I haven't kept a letter either.

Just now we had a somewhat disturbing experience. An apparently disembodied voice spoke to us all by name, uttering certain definite accusations against us. We will deal with those accusations presently. At the moment I am interested in a minor point. Amongst the names received was that of William Henry Blore. But as far as we know, there is no one named Blore amongst us. This name of Davis was not mentioned. What have you to say about that, Mr. Davis?

Blore: Cat's out of the bag, it seems. I suppose I'd better admit my name isn't Davis.

You are William Henry Blore?

Blore: I've got my credentials and I can prove it. I run a detective agency in Plymouth. I was put onto this job.

By whom?

Blore: Why Mr. Owen *** Said I was to keep an eye on you all.

Any reason given?

Blore: Said Mrs. Owen had some valuable jewels. Mrs. Owen, my foot! I don't believe there's any such person.

Your conclusions are, I think, justified. Ulick Norman Owen, Una Nancy Owen. Each time, that is to say, U. N. Owen. Or by a stretch of fancy, Unknown.

Vera: It's fantastic! Mad!

Oh, yes, I've no doubt in my own mind that we have been invited here by a madman- probably a dangerous homicidal lunatic.

Rogers: Oh my gawd!

Whoever it is who has enticed us here, that person has taken the trouble to find out a great deal about us. A very great deal. And out of his knowledge concerning us, he has made certain definite accusations.

Marston: Don't know a what the damned fool was getting at-

I wish to say this. Our unknown friend accuses me of the murder of one Edward Seton. I remember Seton perfectly well. He came up before me for trial in June, 1930. He was charged with the murder of an elderly woman. He was very ably defended and made a good impression on the jury in the witness box. Nevertheless, on the evidence he was certainly guilty. I was summoned up accordingly and the jury brought in a verdict of guilty. In passing sentence of death, I fully concurred with this verdict. The appeal was lodged on the grounds of misdirection. The appeal was dismissed and the man was duly executed. I wish to say before you all that my conscience is perfectly clear on the matter. I did my duty and nothing more. I passed sentence on a rightly convicted murder.

Armstrong: Did you know Seton at all? I mean, personally?

I knew nothing of Seton previous to the trial.

Marston: I've just been thinking *** Beastly bad luck.

For them or for you?

Blore: I know, I know. Lendor you mean? That was the London & Commercial Bank robbery.

I remember the name, though it didn't come before me. Lendor was convicted on your evidence. You were the police officer in charge of the case.

Blore: It was, my Lud.

Lendor got penal servitude for life and died in Dartmoor a year later. He was a delicate man.

Blore: He was aa crook. It was him put the night watchman out. The case was clear from the start.

You were complimented, I think, on your able handling of the case.

Lombard: My dear fellow *** is the only one who knows all the facts.

Miss Claythorne?

Vera: I was nursery governess *** I couldn't get there in time-

Was there an inquest?

Vera: Yes, I was exonerated by the Coroner. His mother didn't blame me either.

Thank you. Miss Brent?

Emily: I have nothing to say.

Nothing?

Emily: Nothing.

You reserve your defense?

Lombard: What a law-abiding lot we seem to be! Myself excepted-

We are waiting for your story, Captain Lombard.

Lombard: I haven't got a story.

What do you mean?

Lombard: Not quite the act of a proper *** They don't feel about it as Europeans do-

Our inquiry rests there. Now Rogers, who else is there on this island besides ourselves and you and your wife?

Rogers: Nobody sir. Nobody at all.

You're sure of that?

Rogers: Quite sure, sir.

Thank you. Don't go Rogers. I am not yet clear as to the purpose of our unknown host in getting us to assemble here. But in my opinion he's not sane in the accepted sense of the word. He may be dangerous. In my opinion, it would be well for us to leave this place as soon as possible. I suggest that we leave here tonight.

Rogers: I beg your pardon, sir, but there's no boat on the island.

No boat at all?

Rogers: No, sir.

Why don't you telephone to the mainland.

Marston: A bit unsporting *** Positively thrilling.

At my time of life, I have no desire for thrills.

Vera: Oh, don't let's bother about breakfast.

How's the weather looking?

Blore: Got the wind up properly. I'd take an even bet that he and his wife did do that old lady in.

You really think so?

Vera: I wish the boat would come. I hate this place.

Yes. I think the sooner we can get in touch with the police the better.

Vera: The police?

The police have to be notified in a case of suicide, you know, Miss Claythorne.

Armstrong: Yes.

She might have been poisoned, I suppose, Doctor?

Armstrong: It is perfectly possible.

With the same stuff as young Marston?

Armstrong: Impossible to say without an autopsy.

If, for instance, this death had occurred in the case of one of your private patients, what would have been your procedure.

Emily: You regard it as impossible *** wrath of God? I do not.

My dear lady, in my experience of ill doing, Providence leaves the work of conviction and chastisement to us mortals- and the process is often fraught with difficulties. There are no short cuts.

Blore: He's pulling a fast one, if you ask me.

The really significant thing is the failure of the boat to arrive. It means that we are being deliberately cut off from help.

Lombard: Why do you think Narracott hasn't turned up?

I think the ubiquitous Mr. Owen has given orders.

Lombard: Oh, yes, we can do something *** And as dangerous as a rattlesnake.

Hardly a very good simile, Captain Lombard. The rattlesnake at least gives warning of its approach.

Lombard: Don't you agree with me, Sir Lawrence?

Up to a point- yes.

Armstrong: You may be wrong there, Blore. Many homicidal maniacs are very quiet, unassuming people.

Delightful fellows!

Blore: Come on, Armstrong.

A very energetic young man, Captain Lombard.

Vera: Don't you think he's right? *** It's practically bare rock.

I think this problem needs brains to solve it. Rather than brawn.

Vera: Where are you going?

I'm going to sit in the sun- and think, my dear young lady.

Blore: But he can't be- Who could have done it? There's only us on the island.

Exactly, my dear sir. Don't you realize that this clever and cunning criminal is always comfortably one stage ahead of us? That he knows exactly what we are going to do next, and makes his plans accordingly? There's only one place, you know, where a successful murderer could hide and have a reasonable chance of getting away with it.

Blore: One place- where?

Here in this room- Mr. Owen is one of us!

Blore: Sir Lawrence?

Well, Mr. Blore?

Blore: I wanted to get you alone. *** And I think I know which one.

Really?

Blore: Ever hear of the Lizzie Borden case? *** But they never found any other explanation.

Then your answer to the problem is Miss Emily Brent?

Blore: I tell you that woman is mad as a hatter. Religious mad, I tell you- she's the one. And we must watch her.

Really? I had formed the impression that your suspicions were in a different quarter.

Vera: Miss Brent's.

Allow me.

Vera: You were right to insist *** I feel better.

The court always adjourns for lunch.

Vera: All the same, it's a nightmare. It seems as though it can't be true. What- what are we going to do about it?

We must hold an informal court of inquiry. We may at least be able to eliminate some innocent people.

Blore: You haven't got a hunch of any kind, have you, Miss Claythorne.

If Miss Claythorne suspects one of us three, that is rather an awkward question.

Blore: That's true. But someone else gave her brandy, remember.

Her husband had a good opportunity of administering a drug.

Vera: Such restraint in the face of danger is nothing short of heroic.

I do not, of course, profess to be a weather prophet. But I should say that it is very unlikely that a boat could reach us, even if it know of our plight, under twenty-four hours. Even if the wind drops, the sea has still to go down.

Emily: Drowned- drowned in the pond-

I beg your pardon, Miss Brent.

Lombard: What's become of Armstrong?

He went to his room to rest.

Lombard: Somebody's probably batted him one by now!

I expect he had the good sense to bolt his door.

Blore: It won't be so easy now that we're all on our guard.

I advise you, Mr. Blore, not to be too confident. I should like shortly to propose certain measures of safety, which I think we should all adopt.

Lombard: Against whom?

Against each other. We are all in grave danger. Of the ten people who came to this island, three are definitely cleared. There are seven of us left- seven little soldier boys.

Lombard: One of whom is a bogus little soldier boy.

Exactly.

Blore: Well, in spite of what *** and you're known all over England.

Mr. Blore, that proves nothing at all. Judges have gone mad before now. So have doctors. So have policemen.