Chapter 2 Chapter two

A group of people stood outside Oakbridge Station, and there was a little confusion for a while.The porters followed behind his door, carrying boxes, and one called out, "Jim!" A driver moved forward. "You're going to Indian Island, aren't you?" he asked, with a soft Devon accent. The four voices agreed at the same time—but immediately looked at each other furtively. The chauffeur spoke again, directing Mr Justice Wargrave as the leader of the gang. "Sir, there are two taxis. Have to leave a local for Uxeter - five minutes at the most - to pick up a gentleman who comes by that way. Which one doesn't care Wait a minute? With this arrangement, everyone can be more spacious."

Vera Claythorne, feeling that she was a secretary and her duties were related, immediately said: "Let me wait a moment. Would you please go first?" She looked at the other three.The look in her eyes and the tone of her voice somewhat conveyed that she was in her position and commanding everything herself, very similar to the energy in arranging which of her female students to play tennis. Miss Brent put on airs and said "Excuse me." She ducked her head and got into a car with the driver's door open. Mr Justice Wargrave followed. Captain Lombard said: "I'll come and wait with the lady—wait."

"My name is Claythorne," said Vera. "My name is Lombard. Philip Lombard." The porters were busy stacking the luggage on the car.In the car Mr Justice Wargrave said with dignity: "The weather is not bad!" Miss Brent replied: "It's not bad." This is a very handsome old gentleman, she thought.It is quite different from the usual men in seaside hotels.Apparently, that Miss or Mrs. Oliver had unusual social connections... Mr Justice Wargrave asked: "Are you familiar with this area?" "I've been to Duoque and Cornwall. As for this, it's my first visit."

The judge said: "I'm not familiar with this area." The taxi drove away. The driver of the second taxi said: "Please sit in the car and wait!" Vera said firmly: "No need." Captain Lombard smiled. He said: "How beautiful the sun is outside the walls. It's charming. Would you like to go inside the station?" "Of course not. It would be nice to get off a suffocating train!" He replied: "Yeah! It's terrible to squeeze the train in this kind of ghost weather." Vera replied as usual: "I'd like it to stabilize - I mean the weather. We have such a fickle summer climate in the UK."

Lombard asked, somewhat echoing what others said: "Are you familiar with this area?" "No, never before." But she added hastily, "I haven't met my employer yet." She was determined to reveal herself at once. "Your employer?" "Yes. I am Mrs. Owen's secretary." "Ah, I see." Although his attitude was hard to detect, he had changed, he became relieved, and his tone was no longer tense."Isn't it too sudden?" he said. Vera smiled. "No, I don't think so. Mrs. Owen's former secretary suddenly fell ill. She wired the Agency. The Agency let me come."

"That's the thing! What if you don't like the job after you've gone?" Vera laughed again. "It's just an odd job--a vacation errand, and I've got a regular job at a girls' school. To be honest, I'm still dreading the thought of seeing Indian Island. There's just too much talk in the papers." Is it really that striking?" "I don't know. I haven't seen it." "Really? The Owens are fascinated. I think so. Tell me what it looks like." Lombard thought: "Oops, how can I put it—seen or not?" He hastily said:

"Don't move! A wasp is crawling on your arm." He coaxed it away as if he was serious. "Okay, fly." "Ah, thanks. There are so many wasps this summer." "That's right. I'm afraid the weather is too hot. Do you know who we are waiting for?" "Not at all." The drawn-out whistle of the train approaching here was already audible. Lombard said: "The train is here now." Walking out of the platform exit was a tall, military-looking old man with short-cropped gray hair.The little white beard was also tidy.The weight of his big solid suitcase made the porter a little wobbly when he walked.The porter beckoned to Vera and Lombard.

Vera came over, looking capable and agile.she says: "I am Mrs. Owen's secretary. The car is waiting here!" She went on: "This is Mr. Lombard." Those blue eyes, faded and dull, old, nonetheless looked at Lombard sharply.In just such a split second, anyone who happened to notice would be able to tell that the two of them were thinking about each other. "It's not bad looking. It's just a little evil..." The three got into the waiting taxi and drove through the dead streets of Oak Bridge and up Plymouth Avenue for another few miles or so.Then enter a criss-cross country alley, which is very green and fresh, but steep and narrow.

General MacArthur said: "I'm too unfamiliar with this part of Devonshire. My little place is in the East Township, next to Dorset." Vera said: "It's really cute here. Small hills, red soil, green and fragrant everywhere." Philip Lombard said, not without criticism: "It's just a bit closed... I like the empty countryside. If you look far away, you can see everything at a glance..." General MacArthur asked him. "I see, my brother has been to many places." Lombard shrugged and said: "Walking around, where are you?" He thought to himself: "Now he should ask me if I caught up with the big war. These old sticks have this virtue."

However, General MacArthur did not mention the Great War. Their car climbed a steep slope down the winding drive to Sticklehaven—just one village, near the water and near the beach, with a few huts and a few fishing boats. Reflecting the afterglow of the setting sun, they saw Indian Island on the sea for the first time, in the south direction. Vera was a little surprised and said: "Where is far from the shore?" The reality was completely different from what she imagined.She thought there would be such a beautiful little white building not far from the shore, but now she couldn't even see the house at all, only the thick and shadowy rocks and the island shape vaguely resembling the head of an Indian giant. .It also has a bit of a murderous look!She shuddered a little.

In front of a small restaurant named "Seven Stars", three people were sitting.There was the senile judge, and there was the straight Miss Brent, and another--a third, a stout one, came up and introduced himself. "It's better to wait for you to come," he said, "I plan to go together. Please allow me to introduce myself, my surname is Davis, I was born in South Africa, and South Africa is my homeland. Haha!" He said jokingly. Mr Justice Wargrave looked at him with open distaste, and looked as if he wanted the audience out of the courtroom, while Miss Brent wondered whether she liked the people in the colonies. . "Anyone want something to eat before getting on board?" asked Mr. Davies kindly. No one said a word to this suggestion.Mr. Davis turned around and held up a finger. "Well, there should be no further delay, our good master and mistress are expecting us!" said he. While speaking, he should have noticed an unusual sense of urgency among the group.It seems that when the master and mistress are mentioned, they have an unexpected shock. Davis gestured with his finger, and a man who was leaning against a nearby wall came over immediately.His bow-legged gait suggested that he was a water-fed man.He has a weather-beaten face, dark eyes that are more or less flickering, and a limp local accent. "Ladies and gentlemen, are you ready to go to the island? The boat is already waiting. There are two gentlemen coming by car. Mr. Owen told you not to wait for them, because it is not sure when they will arrive." They stood up and followed their guides along the shore to a small embankment pier next to a motor boat. Emily Brent says: "The boat is small enough." But the captain tried his best to find words and said: "It's a fine ship, ma'am, it's a fine ship! It's very convenient to get to Plymouth in a blink of an eye." Mr. Judge Wargrave was much sharper. "There are quite a few of us." "Twice as many can fit, sir." Philip Lombard said kindly: "No problem. Good weather, no waves." Miss Brent, though disturbed, was helped aboard.Then, the rest of the people boarded the boat one by one.Up to now, there is still little care and support for each other, and there is still a bit of suspicion. Just as the guide was about to untie the cable, he stopped suddenly, still holding the hook in his hand. On the steep drive a car drove up from the village.The car was imposing, surprisingly beautiful, and simply extraordinary.A young man was sitting in the car, his hair was blown back by the wind.In the glare of the night, he looked nothing like a human being, but a young fairy, a heroic fairy seen in Norse legends. He honked the horn, and a burst of echoes resounded through the rocks in the bay. It was a wonderful moment.Anthony Marston was simply extraordinary at the moment.Even later, there was definitely more than one person who clearly remembered this scene. Fred Narracott sat by the motor and thought, What a strange bunch of people.What kind of guests Mr. Irving was having was a mystery.In short, what he imagined was more advanced than what he saw now, for example, it should be full of costumes for sailing on a yacht, magnificent and extraordinary grandpas and wives, and so on. Fred Narracott could not help smiling when he recalled Mr. Elmer Robson's usual society. This group of people did not seem to be the millionaire's distinguished guests.They're a real bunch, if you can put it into words—look what they're drinking! This Mr. Owen was really special, and it was funny enough even for Fred to think about it.He never saw the gentleman, let alone the lady.Never saw him here, no.It was all arranged by Mr. Morris, and he paid the money. What should be done and how to do it was always explained clearly, and the money was given readily.Even so, it is still surprising.The newspapers have said so much inexplicable gossip about Owen.Narakote thought about it, and it did make sense. In all seriousness, it may have been Miss Gabriel Turl's property.However, he looked at the guests in front of him and felt that this kind of thinking was unreasonable.This bunch wasn't like—none of them were good enough to hang out with a movie star.He calmly estimated the group of people: "One is an old girl—the sour kind, she can see through all these people. Or, just bet? It's not strange that she's not a prick. The other is an old soldier—from the look on her face, A real soldier. That young chick with a nice face--just normal, not that flamboyant--not Hollywood style. That pretentious, blustery young man is not a gentleman. Fred Narracott thought he looked like a businessman with a closed shop. The other gentleman, a lean, hard-faced man with rolling eyes, was rare, and probably had something to do with the film industry. . Hold on, there's still one decent guest on board, just him, the one who arrived last in the car (what a car! Stickerhaven's never seen one before, like that, it's going to cost Tens of thousands), he is qualified, and he grew up with money.If the gang were all like him... that would make sense... If you really want to understand it, the more you think about it, the more confused you become - it's a confused thing in the first place - enough to be confused... The boat bumped forward in the middle of the reef.Now at last I could see the house.The south side of the island is another scene, with the edge extending into a slope that stretches into the sea.The house was located right there, facing south, not high, square and very stylish, with round windows that brought sunlight into the room. The house is really exciting - living up to everyone's expectations. Fred Narracott switched off the motor, and the skiff carried them smoothly into a small natural bay formed between rock and rock. Philip Lombard said sharply: "It will be difficult to land here in bad weather!" Fred Narracott said cheerfully: "When the wind blows to the southeast, no one can go to Indian Island. Sometimes it won't go up or down, and it won't stop for a week." Vera Kinsohn thought: "Supply must be inconvenient. That's the worst thing that can happen to a small island, and it seems to be enough to worry about making a good home." The boat rattled against the rocks.Fred Narracott jumped overboard, and he and Lombard helped the others disembark.Narakote fastened the skiff to a ring in the rock, and then led the men up steps carved out of the rock. General MacArthur said: "Great place, refreshing!" However, he was not at peace!What the hell, what a place! This group of people climbed up the stairs and reached the platform on the upper floor, and their spirits stabilized.At the open door of the house an immaculate butler was waiting for them, whose seriousness and seriousness steadied the group.Besides, the house itself is absolutely stunning, and it's a grand sight to stand on the terrace and admire the beauty of the island... The butler came over and bowed slightly.He was tall, slender, with gray hair, and very respectable.Butler said: "Come here, please." In the spacious hall, the wine has been arranged, and the bottles are lined up in rows.Anthony Marston's spirit was a little cheered up, he had been thinking just now, what an inexplicable trick, not to his liking!The old guy Badger got him inside, I really don't know what he was thinking.But then again, the wine was good and there was no shortage of ice. What did the butler or something just say? Mr. Owen...unfortunately, delayed...tomorrow.He has taken care of it...whatever you want...do you want to go to everyone's room now? ... Dinner at eight o'clock ... Vera was led upstairs by Mrs. Rogers.The woman pushed open a door at the end of the passage, and Vera entered a lovely bedroom.One large window was just over the sea and the other faced east.She immediately called out happily. Mrs. Rogers asked: "Miss, do you want anything else?" Vera glanced around.The luggage has been brought in and opened.On the other side of the room was the light blue tiled bathroom with the door open. She immediately said: "I see, no need." "Miss, if you want something, please ring the bell." Mrs. Rogers' voice was flat and monotonous, and Vera looked at her curiously.What a rare, bloodless, pale female ghost.Hair pulled back, dressed in black.He looked very respectable.It was the eyes, which were surprisingly bright, and which kept moving from side to side. Vera thought: "She's afraid of her own shadow." By the way, this is it - this woman is afraid! It seemed that she was such a woman living in extreme fear. Vera felt a slight chill run down her spine.What was this woman afraid of? She said happily: "I am Mrs. Owen's new secretary. I hope you understand that." Mrs Rogers said: "No, madam, I don't understand anything. All I know is a list of the ladies and gentlemen, and who else lives in which room." Vera said: "Hasn't Mrs. Owen mentioned me?" Mrs. Rogers blinked and said: "I haven't seen Mrs. Owen--not yet. We've only been here two days." It's really rare, this family surnamed Owen!Vera thought. She said aloud: "How many errands are there?" "Just me and Rogers, miss." Vera frowned.There were now eight persons in the house--ten with the master and mistress--and only one couple at their disposal. Mrs Rogers said: "I'm a good cook, and I'm a housekeeper as well. Of course, I didn't know there were so many people." Vera said: "So are you busy?" "Okay, okay, miss, I can do it. If you often treat guests, Mrs. Owen will probably add help." "I suppose so," said Vera. Mrs. Rogers turned away.Light and silent, she moved out of the room like a shadow. Vera went to the window and sat in a chair by the window.She felt vaguely uneasy, everything—somewhat strange.Absence of the Owens, ghostly pale Mrs. Rogers, and the company of guests!These guests are already weird, a rare hodgepodge! Vera thought: "I wish I'd met Owen and the others...I wish I knew what they were like." She stood up and paced up and down the room restlessly. It was an impeccable bedroom furnished in exactly the fashion.There was a crisp white carpet on a polished parquet floor, light-coloured walls, and a large mirror surrounded by light bulbs.The mantel-piece was simple and generous, consisting only of a large block of white marble carved in the shape of a bear in the fashion, with a clock set in the middle, with a shiny chrome frame, and in the frame was a large piece of parchment, on which was written a poem. She stood by the hearth looking at the poem.It turned out to be a children's song in the nursery, which she had memorized since she was a child. Ten little Indian boys, running for food; One can't be saved if he chokes to death, and only nine out of ten remain. Nine little Indian boys, weary sleepless nights; I fell asleep and fell asleep, and there were only eight of the nine. Eight little Indian boys go hunting in Devon; Lost one life and returned to the west, only seven of the eight remained. Seven little Indian boys, felling trees and cutting branches are not easy; Cleave the two halves with an axe and die, leaving only six of the seven. Six little Indian boys playing with the beehive to piss off the bees; Flying one stings and dies, only five remain out of six. Five little Indian boys, trouble and lawsuits; Litigation entangled until death, only four of the five remained. Four little Indian boys went out to sea together and suffered catastrophe; The fish swallowed one blood spot, and there were only three left of the four. Three little Indian boys, disaster in the zoo; The bear suddenly fell from the sky, and there were only two of the three. Two little Indian boys sighing in the sun; Baked to death and sad to death, only one of the two remained. A little Indian boy, all alone; Hang Liang committed suicide in this life, leaving no one left. Vera smiled.Indeed, isn't this Indian Island? She went to the window and sat down again, looking at the sea. How vast is the sea!Looking out from here, you can't see the edge anywhere—that is, Ruoda is a vast expanse of sky and water, with the afterglow of the setting sun and blue waves. The sea... so calm today--and sometimes so violently... It is the sea that drags people into the abyss.drowned... found drowned... drowned in the sea... drowned... drowned... drowned... No, she didn't want to remember... she didn't want to think about it! everything has passed... The sun was just setting when Dr. Armstrong reached Indian Island.While crossing the sea, he chatted with the boatman, a local, for a while.He was eager to find out a little bit about the owner of the island, but this Narakote seemed strangely closed, perhaps unwilling to talk. So, Dr. Armstrong can only talk about the weather, fishing and so on. He was really tired from the long-distance sports car, and his eyeballs hurt.Driving west means driving in the sunshine. Really, he was so tired.The sea, the 100 percent tranquility—these hit the spot.He really wanted to rest for a while, but he couldn't.Of course, it's not that he can't do it financially, but, how could he just let go like this?People will forget about you very quickly.cannot!Now that he is here, he still has to work hard to come up with some tricks. he thought: "Anyway, tonight I'm going to take it as if I'm never going back again--to cut a clean slate from Harley Street, London, and everything else." There's always something magical about talking about islands.Just the word "small island" has a strong flavor of fantasy.It cuts you off from the whole world—a world unto itself.This world, perhaps, you will never be able to go back for the rest of your life! he thought: "I left my old routine behind." He cheerfully thought about his future plans, but they were actually all absurd ideas. He was still smiling to himself when he stepped on the stone steps. On the platform, there was an old gentleman sitting in a chair. Dr. Armstrong looked at him and seemed familiar.Where had he seen this toad-like face, this tortoise-like neck, and this hunched posture—and those small, dark, sly eyes?It was him - old Wargrave.The doctor testified before him once.Look at that, always half asleep.However, when it comes to legal issues, it is brilliant.For example, he had a knack for juries.They said he could make the jury decide what he wanted.More than once he let the jury pass the case that couldn't pass at all.And it is said that it will be passed on that day, some people say that he is an executioner judge. It was so interesting to meet him in this place - beyond the world. Mr Justice Wargrave reflected: "Armstrong? Remember! I saw it on the witness stand. He's good at putting on a show, but he's not careful. Doctors are assholes. The Harley Street gang is even more assholes." I have seen a flattering person on that street, and I still have a bad breath in my heart. He hummed loudly: "There are drinks in the lobby." Dr. Armstrong said: "I have to go and pay my respects to the host couple." Mr. Justice Wargrave closed his eyes again, his face grimacing. "Can not be done." Dr. Armstrong said in surprise: "what happened?" The judge said: "There's no mistress, and no mistress. It's so utterly inexplicable that I don't know the place." Dr. Armstrong stared at him for a full minute.Just when he thought the old gentleman had really fallen asleep, Wargrave broke into speech again. "Have you ever heard of Constance Calmington?" "Er—no, I don't think so." "That's not a big problem," said the judge. "The woman's identity is not clear, and her handwriting is not really decipherable. I'm wondering if I'm in the wrong place." Dr. Armstrong shook his head and continued on towards the house. Mr Justice Wargrave was still thinking about Constance Cummington.This woman is as unreliable as all women in the world. He thought again of the two women in the room, an old lady who kept her mouth shut and another girl.He doesn't care about that girl, a cold little girl.Ah, no, it was three women, and Rogers had to be counted.Weird, it looked like she was terrified to death.The couple are quite a decent couple, and they know how to do it. At this time, Rogers came to the platform.The judge asked him: "Lady Constance Cummington please, you know?" Rogers stared at him. "No, sir, I don't know." The judge raised his eyebrows, but only murmured.he thinks: "Indian Island, eh? There must be articles in it!" Anthony Marston was in his bath, and the hot water was steaming, and he was very happy.After driving for a long time, my limbs are numb.Nothing was on his mind.Anthony was an excitable character—and restless. He thought to himself: "I think, we must stick to it." Then he thought of nothing. Steaming water, limp limbs, another shave, another cocktail—a meal. after? Mr. Blore was wearing a tie, he was not good at such things. Dressed up to look okay, right?He himself thought there was no problem. No one is kind to him... Everyone looks at me and I look at your virtue, it's strange!As if they all knew... However, it depends on him. He didn't intend to mess things up. He glanced at the nursery ballads framed on the mantelpiece. Putting it like this looks neat and tidy. he thought: I have remembered this island since I was a child.But never thought I'd be doing this kind of work in this house here.Perhaps it is a good thing that one cannot foresee the future... General MacArthur frowned. Everything be damned.The whole thing is going to be damned!It's not at all like he's always imagined... He'd have to slip away and leave the whole thing behind... But the motorboat had already returned. He had no choice but to stay. That fellow Lombard, now it seems, is really rare. not authentic.He dared to swear and curse, this person is not authentic. At the sound of the bell Philip Lombard walked out of the room and walked as lightly and noiselessly as a leopard up to the bottom of the stairs.In short, he is indeed a bit leopard-like, like a beast-looks strange. He grinned contentedly. Wasn't it a week--eh? He can have fun for a week. Emily Brent, in black silk, was waiting for dinner, and now she was sitting in her bedroom, reading her Bible. She moved her lips in a murmur, and read word by word: "Heretics make their own traps, use nets to hide themselves, but throw themselves into the nets. God's judgment is not enforced: those who do evil will suffer themselves, and those who do evil will go to hell." She shut her mouth, pouted, and closed the Bible. She got up, fastened a Scotch smoky quartz brooch around her neck, and went downstairs to eat.