1They had carried Mr. Justice Wargrave up to his room and laid him on the bed.

2Then they had come down again and had stood in the hall looking at each other.

3Blore said heavily: "What do we do now?"

4Lombard said briskly: "Have something to eat. We've got to eat, you know."

5Once again they went into the kitchen. Again they opened a tin of tongue. They ate mechanically, almost without tasting.

6Vera said: "I shall never eat tongue again."

7They finished the meal. They sat round the kitchen table staring at each other.

8Blore said: "Only four of us now... Who'll be the next?"

9Armstrong stared. He said, almost mechanically: "We must be very careful " and stopped.

10Blore nodded. "That's what he said... And now he's dead!"

11Armstrong said: "How did it happen, I wonder?"

12Lombard swore. He said: "A damned clever double cross! That stuff was planted in Miss Claythorne's room and it worked just as it was intended to. Every one dashes up there thinking she's being murdered. And so in the confusion some one caught the old boy off his guard."

13Blore said: "Why didn't any one hear the shot?"

14Lombard shook his head. "Miss Claythorne was screaming, the wind was howling, we were running about and calling out. No, it wouldn't be heard." He paused. "But that trick's not going to work again. He'll have to try something else next time."

15Blore said: "He probably will."

16There was an unpleasant tone in his voice. The two men eyed each other.

17Armstrong said: "Four of us, and we don't know which..."

18Blore said: "I know..."

19Vera said: "I haven't the least doubt..."

20Armstrong said slowly: "I suppose I do know really..."

21Philip Lombard said: "I think I've got a pretty good idea now..."

22Again they all looked at each other...

23Vera staggered to her feet. She said: "I feel awful. I must go to bed... I'm dead beat."

24Lombard said: "Might as well. No good sitting watching each other."

25Blore said: "I've no objection..."

26The doctor murmured: "The best thing to do although I doubt if any of us will sleep."

27They moved to the door. Blore said: "I wonder where that revolver is now?..."

28II

29They went up the stairs.

30The next move was a little like a scene in a farce.

31Each one of the four stood with a hand on his or her bedroom door handle. Then, as though at a signal, each one stepped into the room and pulled the door shut.

32There were sounds of bolts and locks, of the moving of furniture.

33Four frightened people were barricaded in until morning.

34III

35Philip Lombard drew a breath of relief as he turned from adjusting a chair under the door handle.

36He strolled across to the dressingtable.

37By the light of the flickering candle he studied his face curiously.

38He said softly to himself: "Yes, this business has got you rattled all right."

39His sudden wolflike smile flashed out.

40He undressed quickly.

41He went over to the bed, placing his wristwatch on the table by the bed.

42Then he opened the drawer of the table.

43He stood there, staring down at the revolver that was inside it...

44IV

45Vera Claythorne lay in bed.

46The candle still burned beside her.

47As yet she could not summon the courage to put it out.

48She was afraid of the dark...

49She told herself again and again: "You're all right until morning. Nothing happened last night. Nothing will happen tonight. Nothing can happen. You're locked and bolted in. No one can come near you..."

50And she thought suddenly: "Of course! I can stay here! Stay here locked in! Food doesn't really matter! I can stay here safely till help comes! Even if it's a day or two days..."

51Stay here. Yes, but could she stay here? Hour after hour with no one to speak to, with nothing to do but think...

52She'd begin to think of Cornwall of Hugo of of what she'd said to Cyril.

53Horrid whiny little boy, always pestering her... "Miss Claythorne, why can't I swim out to the rock? I can. I know I can."

54Was it her voice that had answered? "Of course you can, Cyril, really. I know that." "Can I go then, Miss Claythorne?" "Well, you see, Cyril, your mother gets so nervous about you. I'll tell you what.

55Tomorrow you can swim out to the rock. I'll talk to your mother on the beach and distract her attention. And then, when she looks for you, there you'll be standing on the rock waving to her! It will be a surprise!" "Oh, good egg, Miss Claythorne! That will be a lark!"

56She'd said it now. Tomorrow! Hugo was going to Newquay. When he came back it would be all over...

57Yes, but supposing it wasn't? Supposing it went wrong? Cyril might be rescued in time. And then then he'd say, "Miss Claythorne said I could... Well, what of it?

58One must take some risk! If the worst happened she'd brazen it out. "How can you tell such a wicked lie, Cyril? Of course I never said any such thing!" They'd believe her all right. Cyril often told stories. He was an untruthful child. Cyril would know, of course. But that didn't matter... And anyway nothing would go wrong. She'd pretend to swim out after him. But she'd arrive too late... Nobody would ever suspect...

59Had Hugo suspected? Was that why he had looked at her in that queer faroff way...? Had Hugo known?

60Was that why he had gone off after the inquest so hurriedly?

61He hadn't answered the one letter she had written to him...

62Hugo...

63Vera turned restlessly in bed. No, no, she mustn't think of Hugo. It hurt too much! That was all over, over and done with... Hugo must be forgotten...

64Why, this evening, had she suddenly felt that Hugo was in the room with her?

65She stared up at the ceiling, stared at the big black hook in the middle of the room.

66She'd never noticed that hook before.

67The seaweed had hung from that...

68She shivered as she remembered that cold clammy touch on her neck...

69She didn't like that hook on the ceiling. It drew your eyes, fascinated you... a big black hook...

70V

71Exinspector Blore sat on the side of his bed.

72His small eyes, redrimmed and bloodshot, were alert in the solid mass of his face. He was like a wild boar waiting to charge.

73He felt no inclination to sleep.

74The menace was coming very near now... Six out of ten!

75For all his sagacity, for all his caution and astuteness, the old judge had gone the way of the rest.

76Blore snorted with a kind of savage satisfaction. "What was it the old geezer had said?" "We must be very careful..."

77Selfrighteous smug old hypocrite. Sitting up in court feeling like God Almighty.

78He'd got his all right... No more being careful for him.

79And now there were four of them. The girl, Lombard, Armstrong and himself.

80Very soon another of them would go... But it wouldn't be William Henry Blore.

81He'd see to that all right. (But the revolver... What about the revolver? That was the disturbing factor the revolver!)

82Blore sat on his bed, his brow furrowed, his little eyes creased and puckered while he pondered the problem of the revolver...

83In the silence he could hear the clocks strike downstairs.

84Midnight.

85He relaxed a little now even went so far as to lie down on his bed. But he did not undress.

86He lay there, thinking. Going over the whole business from the beginning, methodically, painstakingly, as he had been wont to do in his police officer days.

87It was thoroughness that paid in the end.

88The candle was burning down. Looking to see if the matches were within easy reach of his hand, he blew it out.

89Strangely enough, he found the darkness disquieting. It was as though a thousand ageold fears awoke and struggled for supremacy in his brain. Faces floated in the air the judge's face crowned with that mockery of grey wool the cold dead face of Mrs. Rogers the convulsed purple face of Anthony Marston...

90Another face pale, spectacled, with a small strawcoloured moustache...

91A face he had seen sometime or other but when? Not on the island. No, much longer ago than that.

92Funny, that he couldn't put a name to it... Silly sort of face really fellow looked a bit of a mug.

93Of course!

94It came to him with a real shock.

95Landor!

96Odd to think he'd completely forgotten what Landor looked like. Only yesterday he'd been trying to recall the fellow's face, and hadn't been able to.

97And now here it was, every feature clear and distinct, as though he had seen it only yesterday...

98Landor had had a wife a thin slip of a woman with a worried face. There'd been a kid too, a girl about fourteen. For the first time, he wondered what had become of them... (The revolver. What had become of the revolver? That was much more important...)

99The more he thought about it the more puzzled he was... He didn't understand this revolver business...

100Somebody in the house had got that revolver...

101Downstairs a clock struck one.

102Blore's thoughts were cut short. He sat up on the bed, suddenly alert. For he had heard a sound a very faint sound somewhere outside his bedroom door.

103There was some one moving about in the darkened house.

104The perspiration broke out on his forehead. Who was it, moving secretly and silently along the corridors? Some one who was up to no good, he'd bet that!

105Noiselessly, in spite of his heavy build, he dropped off the bed and with two strides was standing by the door listening.

106But the sound did not come again. Nevertheless Blore was convinced that he was not mistaken. He had heard a footfall just outside his door. The hair rose slightly on his scalp. He knew fear again...

107Some one creeping about stealthily in the night...

108He listened but the sound was not repeated.

109And now a new temptation assailed him. He wanted, desperately, to go out and investigate. If he could only see who it was prowling about in the darkness.

110But to open his door would be the action of a fool. Very likely that was exactly what the other was waiting for. He might even have meant Blore to hear what he had heard, counting on him coming out to investigate.

111Blore stood rigid listening. He could hear sounds everywhere now, cracks, mstles, mysterious whispers but his dogged realistic brain knew them for what they were the creations of his own heated imagination.

112And then suddenly he heard something that was not imagination. Footsteps, very soft, very cautious, but plainly audible to a man listening with all his ears as

113Blore was listening.

114They came softly along the corridor (both Lombard's and Armstrong's rooms were farther from the stairhead than his). They passed his door without hesitating or faltering.

115And as they did so, Blore made up his mind.

116He meant to see who it was! The footsteps had definitely passed his door going to the stairs. Where was the man going?

117When Blore acted, he acted quickly, surprisingly so for a man who looked so heavy and slow. He tiptoed back to the bed, slipped matches into his pocket, detached the plug of the electric lamp by his bed, and picked it up winding the flex round it. It was a chromium affair with a heavy ebonite base a useful weapon.

118He sprinted noiselessly across the room, removed the chair from under the door handle and with precaution unlocked and unbolted the door. He stepped out into the corridor. There was a faint sound in the hall below; Blore ran noiselessly in his stockinged feet to the head of the stairs.

119At that moment he realized why it was he had heard all these sounds so clearly.

120The wind had died down completely and the sky must have cleared. There was faint moonlight coming in through the landing window and it illuminated the hall below.

121Blore had an instantaneous glimpse of a figure just passing out through the front door.

122In the act of running down the stairs in pursuit, he paused.

123Once again, he had nearly made a fool of himself! This was a trap, perhaps, to lure him out of the house!

124But what the other man didn't realize was that he had made a mistake, had delivered himself neady into Blore's hands.

125For, of the three tenanted rooms upstairs, one must now be empty. All that had to be done was to ascertain which!

126Blore went swiftly back along the corridor.

127He paused first at Dr. Armstrong's door and tapped. There was no answer.

128He waited a minute, then went on to Philip Lombard's room.

129Here the answer came at once. "Who's there?" "It's Blore. I don't think Armstrong is in his room. Wait a minute."

130He went on to the door at the end of the corridor. Here he tapped again. "Miss Claythorne. Miss Claythorne."

131Vera's voice, startled, answered him: "Who is it? What's the matter?" "It's all right, Miss Claythorne. Wait a minute. I'll come back."

132He raced back to Lombard's room. The door opened as he did so. Lombard stood there. He held a candle in his left hand. He had pulled on his trousers over his pyjamas. His right hand rested in the pocket of his pyjama jacket. He said sharply: "What the hell's all this?"

133Blore explained rapidly. Lombard's eyes lit up. "Armstrong eh? So he's our pigeon!" He moved along to Armstrong's door. "Sorry, Blore, but I don't take anything on trust."

134He rapped sharply on the panel. "Armstrong Armstrong."

135There was no answer.

136Lombard dropped to his knees and peered through the keyhole. He inserted his little finger gingerly into the lock.

137He said: "Key's not in the door on the inside."

138Blore said: "That means he locked it on the outside and took it with him."

139Philip nodded: "Ordinary precaution to take. We'll get him, Blore... This time, we'll get him!

140Half a second. "

141He raced along to Vera's room. "Vera." "Yes." "We're hunting Armstrong. He's out of his room. Whatever you do, don't open your door. Understand?" "Yes, I understand." "If Armstrong comes along and says that I've been killed, or Blore's been killed, pay no attention. See? Only open your door if both Blore and I speak to you. Got that?"

142Vera said: "Yes. I'm not a complete fool."

143Lombard said: "Good."

144He joined Blore. He said: "And now after him! The hunt's up!"

145Blore said: "We'd better be careful. He's got a revolver, remember."

146Philip Lombard raced down the stairs chuckling.

147He said: "That's where you're wrong." He undid the front door, remarking: "Latch pushed back so that he could get in again easily."

148He went on: "I've got that revolver!" He took it half out of his pocket as he spoke. "Found it put back in my drawer tonight."

149Blore stopped dead on the doorstep. His face changed. Philip Lombard saw it.

150He said impatiently: "Don't be a damned fool, Blore! I'm not going to shoot you! Go back and barricade yourself in if you like! I'm off after Armstrong."

151He started off into the moonlight. Blore, after a minute's hesitation, followed him.

152He thought to himself: "I suppose I'm asking for it. But after all "

153After all he had tackled criminals armed with revolvers before now. Whatever else he lacked, Blore did not lack courage. Show him the danger and he would tackle it pluckily. He was not afraid of danger in the open, only of danger undefined and tinged with the supernatural.

154VI

155Vera, left to wait results, got up and dressed.

156She glanced over once or twice at the door. It was a good solid door. It was both bolted and locked and had an oak chair wedged under the handle.

157It could not be broken open by force. Certainly not by Dr. Armstrong. He was not a physically powerful man.

158If she were Armstrong intent on murder, it was cunning that she would employ, not force.

159She amused herself by reflecting on the means he might employ.

160He might, as Philip had suggested, announce that one of the other two men was dead. Or he might possibly pretend to be mortally wounded himself, might drag himself groaning to her door.

161There were other possibilities. He might inform her that the house was on fire.

162More, he might actually set the house on fire... Yes, that would be a possibility.

163Lure the other two men out of the house, then, having previously laid a trail of petrol, he might set light to it. And she, like an idiot, would remain barricaded in her room until it was too late.

164She crossed over to the window. Not too bad. At a pinch one could escape that way. It would mean a drop but there was a handy flowerbed.

165She sat down and picking up her diary began to write in it in a clear flowing hand.

166One must pass the time.

167Suddenly she stiffened to attention. She had heard a sound. It was, she thought, a sound like breaking glass. And it came from somewhere downstairs.

168She listened hard, but the sound was not repeated.

169She heard, or thought she heard, stealthy sounds of footsteps, the creak of stairs, the rustle of garments but there was nothing definite, and she concluded, as

170Blore had done earlier, that such sounds had their origin in her own imagination.

171But presently she heard sounds of a more concrete nature.

172People moving about downstairs the murmur of voices. Then the very decided sound of some one mounting the stairs doors opening and shutting feet going up to the attics overhead. More noises from there.

173Finally the steps came along the passage. Lombard's voice said: "Vera? You all right?" "Yes. What's happened?"

174Blore's voice said: "Will you let us in?"

175Vera went to the door. She removed the chair, unlocked the door and slid back the bolt. She opened the door. The two men were breathing hard, their feet and the bottom of their trousers were soaking wet.

176She said again: "What's happened?"

177Lombard said: "Armstrong's disappeared..."

178VII

179Vera cried: "What?"

180Lombard said: "Vanished clean off the island."

181Blore concurred: "Vanished that's the word! Like some damned conjuring trick."

182Vera said impatiently: "Nonsense! He's hiding somewhere!"

183Blore said: "No, he isn't! I tell you, there's nowhere to hide on this island. It's as bare as your hand! There's moonlight outside. As clear as day it is. And he s not to be found."

184Vera said: "He doubled back into the house."

185Blore said: "We thought of that. We've searched the house too. You must have heard us. He's not here, I tell you. He's gone clean vanished, vamoosed..."

186Vera said incredulously: "I don't believe it."

187Lombard said: "It's true, my dear."

188He paused and then said: "There's one other little fact. A pane in the diningroom window has been smashed and there are only three little Indian boys on the table."