Chapter 8 chapter eight

It was done with Blore, and he immediately agreed to their plan. "What you mentioned about the little porcelain man shows that the matter is not so simple at all, gentlemen. Damn! That's it! Just one more point: Do you think that, judging by all the things that have happened up to now, , what Owen did was that he didn’t show up, and you guys did it all by yourself?” "Be clear, man." "Listen, what I mean is this: Mr. Marston, the little boy, couldn't take it last night when he bluffed, and took poison. That Rogers, too, couldn't stand it, and killed his wife! All by himself. U.N. Owen's mercy."

Armstrong shook his head, emphasizing the cyanide issue again.Blore agrees with this. "To tell the truth, I'd forgotten that, and it's rare indeed to carry it around with me. But how did it get into his drink, sir?" Lombard said: "I've been thinking about it. Marston had more than one drink last night. There was a long time between his last and his last, and his glass was sitting on the table or something. I think—not sure, maybe on that little table by the window. The window is open. Maybe someone sneaked a little cyanide in there." Blore said incredulously:

"Escaped from us all, sir?" Lombard said coldly: "We're all — busy with other things." Armstrong said slowly: "That's good. We were all frightened at the time. People were running around the room, shouting, and it was annoying! Talking about their own business. I think it's possible..." Blore shrugged. "It's obvious, it must have been done like this! That's all for now, folks, let's do it! Who happens to have a gun? Maybe nobody thought they'd be able to use it?" Lombard said: "I have one." He patted his pocket.

Blore opened his eyes wide, and said in a voice that was pretending to be casual but obviously overdone: "Have you always carried this thing, sir?" Lombard said: "Always carry it. You all know that I often go to places where there is no embarrassment or embarrassment." "Understood," Blore went on, "but perhaps you've never been in a far more embarrassing place than you are today! If there were such a madman hiding on the island, he would be completely Possibly well equipped with weapons - not to mention two or three knives and daggers or something."

Armstrong coughed dryly. "Maybe you're wrong about this, Blore! Killers don't necessarily all show their teeth and claws and fight. Most of them are gentle and easy-going characters." Blore said: "I don't get the feeling we've got that kind of guy here, Doctor Armstrong." The three of them started to circle around the island. It turned out that things were so simple.In the northwest corner of the island, that is, on the side facing the coast of the mainland, straight cliffs plunge into the bottom of the sea, and the cliffs are bare.Elsewhere on the island, there are no trees, almost exposed.The three men searched carefully and methodically, and really walked all over Indian Island from the top of the island to the water's edge.Inch by inch, not even the slightest unusual rock crease or any corner that might lead to the cave was missed.However, there are no holes and no holes!

They walked around the water and finally came to the place where General MacArthur sat alone overlooking the water and the sky.Here, there are only layers of waves hitting the reef and splashing the waves, it is extremely peaceful!The old man sat upright, his eyes fixed on the horizon. When the group of island searchers walked over, he didn't pay attention at all.This indifference made at least one of the three feel a little uneasy. Blore thought to himself: "That's not right--it looks like something is bewitched." He cleared his throat, put on a posture ready to chat for a while, and said:

"You will find yourself a nice place of comfort, sir." The general frowned, glanced back, and said: "There's not much time—too little. I beg you to leave me alone." Blore said very kindly: "We're not bothering you. We're going around the island, so to speak. Just a little suspicious that maybe someone is hiding on the island." The general still frowned and said: "You don't understand—you don't understand at all. Go away, please." Blore walked away.He went up to the other two and said: "He's crazy... It's useless to talk to him."

Lombard asked a little curiously: "What did he say?" Blore shrugged: "Why is there not much time, he doesn't want others to disturb him." Dr. Armstrong frowned too. He murmured: "Now, I worry about..." The search for the island was declared over, and the three of them stood on the commanding heights of the whole island and looked down at the mainland in the distance. There were no ships going out to sea, and the sea breeze was blowing, and the fresh air was getting stronger and stronger. Lombard said: "There's no boat out, and a storm's coming. The trouble is, there's no village in sight, no way to send a signal or anything."

Blore said: "Let's try to make a bonfire tonight." Lombard frowned and said: "The bad thing is that maybe it's all arranged." "How is it arranged, sir?" "How would I know? It might be a joke or something. Banish us to this island, ignore your signals, or something like that. Tell the village, for example, that there's a gamble here. Anyway, You can talk nonsense." Blore half-believingly said: "Do you think the people in the village will believe it?" Lombard said dryly: "Well, there are more people who believe the fake than the real! If anyone told the villagers to leave this island alone, and let Mr. Owen, who knows who, quietly kill all his guests-you think they would Do you believe it?"

Dr. Armstrong said: "In the beginning, even I didn't believe it, but now..." Philip Lombard bit his lip and said: "Now—that's what you said! Doctor, you said it!" Blore stared at the water and said: "I don't think anyone will climb into the water!" Armstrong shook his head. "I don't think so. Besides, it's so steep, how can anyone hide?" said Blore. "Maybe there are holes in the cliff. Now if we have a boat, we can paddle around the island." "If there is a boat, all of us are already on our way back to shore."

"True, sir." Lombard said suddenly: "We can get to the bottom of this cliff. There's only one place to hide—right down there on the right. If any of you can get a rope, let me down and find out." Blore said: "Better find out. Though, at first glance—seems ridiculous. I'll look around and see if I can get a rope or something." He ran straight towards the house. Lombard looked at the sky. Clouds were gathering and the wind was picking up. He glanced sideways at Armstrong and said: "You are very calm, doctor. What are you thinking?" Armstrong said slowly: "I'm wondering how crazy old MacArthur is..." All morning Vera was restless, avoiding Emily Brent.Brent frightened her, she hated Brent. Miss Brent sat in a corner of the house with a chair, just out of the draft.She sat there knitting something. Whenever Vera thinks of her, it's like seeing a gray drowned face with seaweed tangled in her hair... a face that used to be pretty--to the point where it might take nothing. ——Now, this face is devoid of even pity and fear. Emily Brent, calm as usual, sat knitting with the same seriousness. On the great terrace, Mr. Judge Wargrave was curled up in a porter's chair, his head almost sunk in his neck. When Vera looked at him, she seemed to see the man in the dock--a young man with blue eyes, fine hair, and a bewildered, frightened face, Edward Seton.In her imagination, she seemed to see the judge put on the judge's hat with his old hands again, and began to read the judgment... After a while, Vera strolled towards the sea, and she walked along the sea to the end of the island.An old man was sitting there staring at the sky. General MacArthur saw her approach and moved a little.He turned his head—a look of doubt, bewilderment, and strange complexity appeared on his face.Vera was taken aback.The general stared at her for a while. She thought to herself: "How queer. As if he already knew..." He said: "Ah! So it's you! You're here..." Vera sat down beside him and said: "Would you like to sit here and look at the sea?" He nodded kindly. "Yes," said he, "it's fascinating! I think it's a good place to wait." "Waiting?" said Vera at once. "What are you waiting for?" Still he said kindly: "Doomsday. But, I thought you knew it already? Isn't that true? We are all waiting for our own doomsday." In this way, she trembled even when she spoke: "What do you mean by that?" General MacArthur said solemnly: "None of us can live without this island. This is arranged. Of course, you are fully aware of this. Maybe you still don't realize that this is liberation." Vera asked puzzledly: "relief?" He said: "Yes. Of course, you are still too young... You have not yet been exposed to the problem. But the problem is coming! When a person finds that he has done everything-hereafter has nothing to do, that is, Thank goodness for the relief. One day you'll feel the same way..." Vera said hoarsely: "I don't understand what you're talking about." She felt spasms in her fingers.Suddenly, I became afraid of this quiet old soldier. He said happily: "I'm telling you, I love Leslie. I love her, I love her so much..." Vera asked him: "Is Leslie your wife?" "Yes, it's my wife. . . I love her--I'm so proud of having a wife like that. She's so pretty--and cheerful." He was silent for a minute or two, and then said: "Yes, I love Leslie. That's what I do." Vera said: "You mean—" She stopped. General MacArthur nodded calmly: "It's no use denying it now--it's the end of it. I sent Richmond to his death. I think it's a kind of murder, too. How strange it sounds. Murder--and I Always obeyed the law. But said nothing about murder at the time. No regrets afterwards. 'This boy, he deserved it!'—that's what I thought. And then..." Vera's voice changed, and she said: "Yeah. Later?" He shook his head bemusedly, looking confused and a little sad. "I don't know. I—don't know. Look, everything's changed. I don't know if Leslie sees it... I don't. But you know, I never knew her after that." .She was so far away from me that I couldn't get close to her. And then she died—and I was left alone..." Vera said: "Alone—alone—" Her words echoed across the rock. General MacArthur said: "When the end comes, you will be happy too." Vera stood up and said sharply: "I don't know what you mean." He said: "I understand, my child, I understand..." "You don't understand, you don't understand anything." General MacArthur went to look at the sea by himself again, and seemed to have no idea that she was standing behind. On the one hand he was still whispering softly: "Lesley..." When Blore came back from the house with a loop of rope in his arm, he saw Armstrong staring down at the water at the same place he had been! Blore said breathlessly: "Where's Lombard?" Armstrong replied indifferently: "Going to prove his idea or something, be back in a minute. Listen, Blore, I'm so worried." "My way of saying this is that we're all worried." The doctor waved his hand impatiently: "Of course, of course. That's not what I mean. I'm thinking about old man MacArthur." "What's the matter with him, sir?" Dr. Armstrong's tone of reply was grim: "What we are looking for is a lunatic. Is it possible for MacArthur?" Blore couldn't believe his ears.He said: "You mean he loves to kill?" Armstrong said suspiciously: "I shouldn't have said that. I shouldn't have said it now. Of course, I'm not good at psychosis. I haven't really talked to him, either—didn't study him from that angle." Blore said suspiciously: "Call him stupid, agree! But I won't say..." Armstrong held him back, trying to regain his composure. "Perhaps you are right. Hell, there must be someone hiding on this island! Ah! Here comes Lombard." They fastened the rope carefully. Lombard said: "I'll try to keep an eye on myself. You just have to watch for any sudden tightening of the rope." Armstrong and Blore stood there watching Lombard's descent, and after a while Blore said: "Climbs like a cat, doesn't it?" There was something else in his breath. Dr. Armstrong said: "I'd rather think he must have had some mountain-climbing experience before." "Maybe." Both fell silent.After a while, the ex-inspector spoke: "In short, this man is very unusual, do you understand what I mean?" "what?" "He's a special character." Armstrong said incredulously: "How did you see that?" Blore muttered a few words.Then he said: "I don't know—specifically. But I don't trust him at all." Dr. Armstrong said: "I think he is a wanderer." Blore said: "As far as trekking, I'll bet he's done some shady business." He paused, then continued, "Did you happen to be carrying a gun, Doctor?" Armstrong stared dumbfounded and said: "Me? God knows, no! Why should I carry a gun?" Blore said: "Why does Lombard have a gun?" Armstrong said suspiciously: "I suppose—get used to it." Blore snorted. The rope suddenly tightened.For a while, they clasped their hands tightly.Then, when the rope slackened again, Blore said: "It's habit, habit! If Mr. Lombard comes to the backcountry, it's all right to bring a gun; and there's nothing wrong with bringing a gas stove, sleeping bag, and some bedbug meal. But here to-day, too. Even the word 'habit' can't explain this whole set of luggage. It's only in novels that it's taken for granted to run around with a pistol." Dr. Armstrong shook his head in bewilderment.They leaned together, watching Lombard's movements.He searched thoroughly.It soon became apparent to them that it was all a waste of effort.Now Lombard had climbed to the very end of the cliff.He wiped the sweat off his forehead. "Well," he said, "we can't help it. There's a house ahead, and there's nowhere to go." The house was easily searched.They searched a few buildings in the outer circle first, and then concentrated on searching the main building.Mrs. Rogers' tape measure, dug out of the kitchen cupboard, helped them a lot.There is no corner that has not been found.There are no dark buildings with partition walls in the new buildings, and everything is wide and open.They searched from downstairs to the upstairs bedroom floor.When I went upstairs, I saw Rogers from the window walking towards the platform with a tray of cocktails. Philip Lombard whispered: "Fantastic beasts, wonderful servants. To be able to keep things quiet and do business as usual." Armstrong said quite appreciatively: "Rodgers is indeed a first-class butler. I must tell the truth!" Blore said: "His wife is a pretty good cook, too. That supper—last night—" They went into the first bedroom. Five minutes later, they returned to the entrance of the corridor.No one is hiding—and there is nowhere to hide. Blore said: "There's a little staircase here." Dr. Armstrong said: "That leads to the servant's room." Blore said: "There must be a place under the roof of the house--some kind of sink, basin, etc., there. That's the most likely place--and this is the only place!" Just as they were standing there, they heard a sound overhead, a soft, furtive tread on overhead! All three of them heard it.Armstrong seized Blore's arm, and Lombard silenced them both with a finger: "Quiet—listen." There it was again—someone moving softly, furtively, just overhead. Armstrong bit his ear and said: "Actually, this man is in the bedroom, in the room over there where Mrs. Rogers is buried." Blore also bit his ear and replied: "Yes! There's his, the best hiding place! No one's going there. Now—try to keep quiet." They climbed up quietly and secretly. At the entrance of the small corridor outside the bedroom door, they stopped again.Indeed, someone was in the room.There was a slight creaking sound coming from inside. Blore ordered softly: "Do it." He pushed the door open at once and rushed in, followed by the other two. Then all three stayed there. Rogers was in the room with his arms full of clothes. Blore returned to normalcy first.He said: "I'm sorry—uh—Rodgers. Heard someone moving around here and thought—this, this..." He paused. Rogers said: "Excuse me, gentlemen. I have just been moving my own things. I have taken it upon myself to choose one of the vacant guest rooms downstairs, the smallest one, and I suppose you will agree?" He was addressing Armstrong, who replied: "Of course, of course. Move, move." He avoided looking at the body on the bed covered with a sheet. Rogers said: "Thank you, sir." He walked out of the room, with his hands full of clothes, and went downstairs along the stairs. Armstrong walked to the bed, lifted the sheet, and looked down at the peaceful face of the dead woman.On this face, there is no longer any fear, but only emptiness and bewilderment. Armstrong said: "If only my set of dicks were around, I really want to find out what she's eating." Then he turned to the other two and said: "Let's finish it. I'm dead. I won't find anything." Blore wrenched the plug on the pipe inlet valve at the foot of the wall. He said: "Rodgers' actions are really subtle. We saw him in the garden just now. None of us heard him go upstairs!" Lombard said: "I think that's why we thought there must be some stranger walking around here." Blore went into the black hole with the open entrance, and Lombard followed, pulling a flashlight from his pocket. Five minutes later, the three stood at the entrance of the corridor on the highest floor, looking at each other.They were filthy, covered with cobwebs, and had ugly faces. There was no one else on the island except their own eight!