Читать книгу Ten Little Niggers / Десять негритят - Агата Кристи, Agatha Christie, Detection Club The - Страница 23

Dinner was nearly at its end.

The food had been good, the wine perfect.

They all had begun to talk to each other with more freedom and intimacy.

Mr. Justice Wargrave was being amusing in a sarcastic manner; Dr. Armstrong and Tony Marston were listening to him. Miss Brent chatted to General Macarthur; they had discovered some mutual friends. Vera Claythorne and Mr. Davis were talking about South Africa. Lombard listened to the conversation. Now and then[17] his eyes went round the table, studying the others.

Anthony Marston suddenly pointed to little china figures in the centre of the round table.

“Niggers,” he said. “Nigger Island. I suppose that’s the idea.”

Vera asked:

“How many are there? Ten?”

“Yes – ten there are.”

Vera exclaimed:

“How interesting! They’re the ten little Nigger boys of the nursery rhyme, I suppose. The rhyme in a frame is over the mantelpiece in my bedroom.”

There was the chorus of voices:

“In my room, too.”

Vera said:

“It’s an amusing idea, isn’t it?”

Mr. Justice Wargrave grunted:

“Remarkably childish,” and helped himself to port.

Emily Brent and Vera Claythorne stood up and went to the drawing-room.

In the drawing-room, the French windows were open onto the terrace and the sound of the sea waves against the rocks came up to them.

Vera said:

“I don’t think this place would be very pleasant in a storm.”

Emily Brent agreed.

“I’ve no doubt the house is closed up in winter,” she said. “No servants would stay here.”

Vera murmured:

“It must be difficult to get servants anyway.”

Emily Brent said:

“Mrs. Oliver has been lucky to get these two. The woman’s a good cook.”

Vera thought:

“Funny how elderly people always get names wrong.”

She said:

“Yes, I think Mrs. Owen has been very lucky indeed.”

Emily Brent took a small piece of embroidery out of her bag and paused.

She said sharply:

“I’ve never met anyone called Owen in my life.”

At that moment the door opened and the men joined them. Rogers followed them into the room with the coffee tray.

The judge came and sat down by Emily Brent. Armstrong came up to Vera. Tony Marston went to the open window. Blore studied a statuette of a female figure. General Macarthur stood with his back to the mantelpiece. Lombard turned over the pages of Punch that lay with other papers on a table by the wall.

Rogers went round with the coffee tray. The coffee was good – really black and very hot.

The whole party had dined well. They were satisfied with themselves and with life. The hands of the clock pointed to twenty minutes past nine. There was a pleasant satisfied silence.

Into that silence, without warning, came The Voice…

“Ladies and gentlemen! Silence, please!”

They looked round – at each other, at the walls. Who was speaking?

The Voice went on – a high clear voice.

You are charged with the following indictments:

Edward George Armstrong, that upon the 14th day of March, 1925 you caused the death of Louisa Mary Clees.

Emily Caroline Brent, that upon the 5th November, 1931, you were responsible for the death of Beatrice Taylor.

William Henry Blore, that on October 10th, 1928, you caused the death of James Stephen Landor.

Vera Elizabeth Claythorne, that on the 11th day of August, 1935, you killed Cyril Ogilvie Hamilton.

Philip Lombard, that in February, 1932, you were guilty of the death of twenty-one men, members of an East African tribe.

John Gordon Macarthur, that on the 4th of January, 1917, you deliberately sent your wife’s lover, Arthur Richmond, to his death.

Anthony James Marston, that last year, upon the 14 th of November, you were guilty of the murder of John and Lucy Combes.

Thomas Rogers and Ethel Rogers, that on the 6th of May,

1929, you caused the death of Jennifer Brady.

Lawrence John Wargrave, that upon the 10th day of June,

1930, you were guilty of the murder of Edward Seton.

Defendants, have you anything to say in your defence?