Chapter 4 Chapter Four

The room suddenly fell silent.There was a long silence.Because everyone is flustered and doesn't know what to do.Later, the judge, who still had a small voice but spoke clearly, took up the conversation. "Now, we move to the second step of the inquiry. But before that, let me add my own supporting letter to our list." He took a letter out of his pocket and spread it on the table. "It claims to be from an old friend of mine, Lady Constance Cummington. I haven't seen her for many years. She's gone to the East. The letter is exactly as she used to write: vague words She asked me to come here, and mentioned the host and the host's wife here, but she didn't say much. In short, you can see that it is still the same old way as the letter to you. The reason why I I mention it because the letter fits in with some other evidence—all of which boils down to the intriguing point: whoever the chap who brought us all here knew, or took pains to Whoever he is, he knows my friendship with Mrs. Constance, and even the style of her letters. He knows Dr. Armstrong's colleagues, including their current behavior. He knew the nicknames of Mr. Marston's friends and the kind of telegrams he was used to sending. He knew exactly where Miss Brent spent her vacation two years ago and who she had dealings with. As for General MacArthur's He knows it too, old man."

He paused and said again: "You see, how much he knows! Then, as far as he knows, certain specific and definite charges were made against us." As soon as the voice fell, there was a sudden commotion. General MacArthur shouted: "It's all nonsense and slander." Vera also cried out: "Bad intentions!" Her breathing became rapid, "It's so bad." Rogers said gruffly: "Lying—maliciously lying...we never did—none of us..." Anthony Marston growled: "I really don't understand the purpose of this damn guy!" Mr Justice Wargrave quelled the commotion with his upraised hand.

He said carefully: "I wish to speak of this. This anonymous friend of ours accused me of murdering a man named Edward Seton. I remember Seton well. He stood before me for trial in June, 1930. He was charged with murdering a senior woman. He was so eloquent that he moved the jury in the witness box. Nevertheless, the evidence was clear and he was definitely guilty. I closed the case according to the law and the jury found him guilty. According to the verdict, he was sentenced to death. He appealed, but the evidence was insufficient and it should be dismissed. The execution was scheduled. I want to make it clear in front of all of you that I have a clear conscience in this matter. I performed my duty and that is all , for no other reason. I am condemning a proven and convicted murderer."

Ah, now Armstrong remembered the Seton case!Such a conviction at that time was a great surprise to everyone!I remember that during the trial, when he was eating in a restaurant one day, he met the royal counsel Matthews.Matthews said with confidence: "The acquittal has actually been affirmed, and the case can only be closed in this way. There is no doubt." Of course, there is still a basis in law, and the old judge Wargrave is unambiguous." "It can be said that this matter is almost entirely his personal anger against the defendant." These memories rushed into the doctor's mind at once, and before he had time to think about how to ask more cleverly, he blurted out:

"You didn't know Seton at all? I mean, before the case?" The judge looked at him with drooping furtive eyes, and said with icy clarity: "Before this case, I was a stranger to Seton." Dr. Armstrong thought to himself: "The guy's lying—I know, he's lying." Vera Claythorne said in a trembling voice: "I would like to tell you about that boy, Cyril Hamilton. I was his nurse at the nursery where he was. We didn't let him swim too far. One day, as soon as I didn't care, he swam out. .I swam to catch up...I didn't make it in time...It was horrendous indeed...But it wasn't my fault. The coroner let me go when questioned. The mother of the child - very kind, even she didn't blame me .Then, why—why say these things so horribly? It's not fair, it's not fair...”

She couldn't go on, and wept sadly. General MacArthur patted her on the shoulder and said: "Come on, come on, dear. Of course it's not right to say that. The fellow is a madman, a madman, deranged, utterly entangled and confused." He stood upright, shoulders flat and shouted loudly: "Better just ignore it. Of course, I thought I'd have to say something - no - the things he said were wrong. Er - Arthur Richmond boy! Richmond is One of my men. I put him on a reconnaissance mission and he was killed, as is often the case during wars. I must say I was very angry - smearing my wife in the face. She is the world The most virtuous woman. Nothing to say - Caesar's wife!"

General MacArthur sat down.He stroked his beard with a trembling hand, and it took a lot of effort for him to say this. It was Lombard's turn to speak, still amused.He said: "About those local natives—" Marston said: "What's the matter with them?" Philip Lombard rejoiced. "It's true, I got away from them and kept myself safe. We got lost in the woods. Me and one or two other guys took all the provisions and slipped away." General MacArthur said sternly: "You abandoned your men and let them starve to death on purpose?" Lombard said:

"It's a bit ungentlemanly, I think so too. But it's a human instinct to protect yourself! And the natives don't care about life and death, you know, they don't take death as seriously as Europeans. " Vera lifted her face from her clasped hands, looked at Lombard and said: "You just let 'em—die, huh?" Lombard replied: "Yes, I let them die." His joyful eyes stared directly into Vera's frightened eyes. Anthony Marston said slowly, dreamily: "I've been thinking at the moment—John and Lucy Combs, must be the two boys I crushed near Cambridge. Bad luck for life."

Mr Justice Wargrave said sourly: "Who is unlucky, you or them?" Anthony said: "Yes, what I was thinking was—I was unlucky. Of course, then again, you're right. Unlucky enough for them, sir. It was pure accident, of course. Or rush out of somewhere else. I lost my car license for a year. It sucks." Dr. Armstrong argued passionately: "It's not right to drive so fast--it's not right at all! Young people like you are a scourge to society." Anthony shrugged his shoulders and said: "Whether it's fast or not is another matter. But the British roads really can't handle them. It's hard to say how fast it is appropriate."

He looked around for his cup, looking like a "Ma Daha", and found it on another table.He poured another glass of brandy-soda on the table against the wall, and said over his shoulder: "Okay. Anyway, it wasn't my fault. It was an accident at best!" Butler Rogers was licking his lips and wringing his hands.Now it was his turn to whisper respectfully: "May I say something, sir." Lombard said: "Go ahead, Rogers." Rogers cleared his throat and moistened his parched lips with his tongue again. "Yes, sir, me and Mrs. Rogers, and Miss Brady were all mentioned just now. None of it is true, sir. My family and I attended Miss Brady until she died. She was not in good health, Sir, she was not well when we began to attend to her. It was windy that night, sir. That very night, she suddenly failed. As it happened, the telephone was out of order again, and we couldn't find a doctor for her. Sir, I went to the doctor on foot. When the doctor came, it was too late. We did everything we could to save her, sir. We were loyal to her, as anyone would say. She never said a word to us, never."

Lombard looked thoughtfully at the man's strained face, dry lips, and frightened eyes.He remembered the coffee tray that had just dropped from his hand.These are just what he thinks in his heart, but he doesn't say it: "Oh, is that so?" Blore spoke--completely in a pompous business manner. He said: "It's over for the old women, you two have got some trouble, haven't you? Eh?" Rogers pulled himself together and said rigidly: "Miss Brady thought we were faithful and well served, and left me a legacy. What's wrong with that, I ask?" Lombard said: "Mr. Blore, tell me about yourself!" "what do I have?" "Your name is also on that indictment." Blore's face turned purple. "You mean Landau? It was a bank robbery—London Commercial Bank." Mr Justice Wargrave was taken aback.He said: "I remember. Although I didn't try it, I remember that case. Landau was convicted by your testimony. Are you the police officer who undertook that case?" Blore said: "it's me." "Landau was sentenced to life imprisonment and hard labor for life. He was very weak and died a year later at Dartmouth." Blore said: "He's a gangster. He's the one who knocked out the night guard. The case is clear, and it's his fault." Wargrave said slowly: "That time, you were rewarded for your skillful handling of the case. Am I right?" Blore replied angrily: "I've upgraded." Then he said viciously: "I'm just doing my part and doing my job." Lombard laughed--suddenly, loudly.He laughed: "What conscientious and law-abiding people we seem to be! Of course I don't count myself. So what's the matter with you? Doctor—and your little medical malpractice? surgery!" Miss Emily Brent cast him a sidelong glance of disgust, and moved away a little. Dr. Armstrong, as if nothing could crush him, shook his head leisurely. "I'm at a loss and know nothing about this and that place," he said. "As for the name mentioned, I don't know. What was it, Chris? Cross? I don't remember it ever being called." I don't remember any connection with any of the deaths. It's a complete mystery to me. It was a long time ago! Of course, it could be an operation I performed in the hospital, I don't remember where. Once. Late delivery to the hospital, that happens a lot! But when a patient dies, they always say it was the operator's fault." He sighed and shook his head. He was thinking: Drunk—that's what it is—drunk...drunk surgery!Nerves were completely useless—hands trembled.It was I who killed her, no problem, poor ghost—that sister-in-law.If you don't drink, this kind of minor surgery is not a problem at all.In the end, everyone in our profession is loyal.Of course, the nurses who were there knew it—but no one said anything.God, that time it scared the hell out of me!I will never dare again.But many years later—who would have known about it? The room was silent.Everyone looked at Emily Brent, some generously, some furtively.It took a full minute or two before she realized that everyone was waiting for her.She raised her eyebrows on her narrow forehead and said: "You're all waiting for me to say, aren't you? I have nothing to say." The judge asked: "Not at all, Miss Brent?" "Not at all." Her lips are tightly shut. The judge touched his face and said gently: "Do you reserve the right of defense?" Miss Brent replied coldly: "There's no question of defence. I've never done anything against my conscience. I have nothing to condemn myself for." There was a sense of discontent on the scene.Emily Blunt was not moved by public opinion!She sat uncompromisingly. The judge cleared his throat, cleared his throat again, and said: "That ends our inquiry. Well, Rogers, do you think there are other people on the island besides us and you and your wife?" "There's no one, sir. Not a single one." "Are you sure?" "Quite sure, sir." Wargrave said: "I don't quite know what our unknown master is doing here with us chained together? But, as far as I can see, this fellow, whoever he may be, in our normal words He's abnormal. And possibly dangerous. I mean we should get out of here as soon as possible. I propose to go tonight." Rogers said: "I'm sorry, sir. There are no boats on the island." "Not one?" "No, sir." "Then how do you contact the shore?" "Fred Narracott comes every morning, sir. He brings bread, milk, mail, and takes orders." Mr Justice Wargrave said: "Then my opinion is that we shall go as soon as Naracote arrives in the morning. That will be all right." Everyone was in favor, and only one was against.Only Anthony Marston disagreed with the majority. "A little bit scared, or something?" he said. "Got to solve this mystery before we go. It's like a detective story from beginning to end. It's exciting enough." The judge sarcastically said: "At my age, I don't want 'thrills' anymore, if you use your word for it." Anthony smiled and said: "How narrow the world is to live in peace and contentment! I agree with it with both hands, why not touch the law! I will drink to it!" He raised his glass and drank it down. Perhaps, too hastily.He choked—choked, choked so much that his face convulsed and turned purple, he gasped for breath—and slid off the chair he was sitting on, his glass out of his hand, and fell on the floor. on the ground.