Читать книгу Ten Little Niggers / Десять негритят - Агата Кристи, Agatha Christie, Detection Club The - Страница 16

Dr. Armstrong came to Nigger Island just as the sun was setting. On the way across he had chatted to the boatman – a local man. He wanted to find out a little about these people who owned Nigger Island, but the man Narracott knew curiously little, or perhaps did not wish to talk.

So Dr. Armstrong chatted instead of the weather and of fishing.

He was tired after his long motor drive. Yes, he was very tired. The sea and perfect peace – that was what he needed. He would like, really, to take a long holiday. But he couldn’t leave his practice for long: you were soon forgotten nowadays.

He thought:

“But this evening, I’ll imagine to myself that I’m not going back.”

There was something magical about an island. You lost touch with the world[15] – an island was a world of its own. A world, perhaps, from which you might never return.

He thought:

“I’m leaving my ordinary life behind me.”

He smiled to himself and began to make plans, fantastic plans for the future.

He was still smiling when he walked up the rock cut steps.

In a chair on the terrace an old gentleman was sitting and the sight of him was vaguely familiar to Dr. Armstrong. Where had he seen that frog-like face, that tortoise-like neck, that hunched-up figure – yes, and those pale shrewd little eyes? Of course – old Wargrave. He’d given evidence once before him. Had great power with a jury – it was said he could make their minds up for them any day of the week. He’d got one or two unlikely convictions out of them. A hanging judge, some people said.

Strange to meet him… here – out of the world.