Десять негритят / And Then There Were None

«I wish to say this. Our unknown friend accuses me of the murder of one Edward Seton. I remember Seton perfectly well. He came up before me for trial in June of the year 1930. He was charged with the murder of an elderly woman. He was very ably defended and made a good impression on the jury in the witness box. Nevertheless, on the evidence, he was certainly guilty. I summed up accordingly, and the jury brought in a verdict of Guilty. In passing sentence of death I concurred with the verdict. An appeal was lodged on the grounds of misdirection. The appeal was rejected and the man was duly executed. I wish to say before you all that my conscience is perfectly clear on the matter. I did my duty and nothing more. I passed sentence on a rightly convicted murderer.»

Armstrong was remembering now. The Seton case! The verdict had come as a great surprise. He had met Matthews, K.C., on one of the days of the trial dining at a restaurant. Matthews had been confident. «Not a doubt of the verdict. Acquittal practically certain.» And then afterwards he had heard comments: «Judge was dead against him. Turned the jury right round and they brought him in guilty. Quite legal, though. Old Wargrave knows his law.» «It was almost as though he had a private down on the fellow.»

All these memories rushed through the doctor’s mind. Before he could consider the wisdom of the question he had asked impulsively:

«Did you know Seton at all? I mean previous to the case.»

The hooded reptilian eyes met his. In a clear cold voice the judge said:

«I knew nothing of Seton previous to the case.»

Armstrong said to himself:

«The fellow’s lying – I know he’s lying.»

II

Vera Claythorne spoke in a trembling voice. She said:

«I’d like to tell you. About that child – Cyril Hamilton. I was nursery governess to him. He was forbidden to swim out far. One day, when my attention was distracted, he started off. I swam after him… I couldn’t get there in time… It was awful… But it wasn’t my fault. At the inquest the Coroner exonerated me. And his mother – she was so kind. If even she didn’t blame me, why should – why should this awful thing be said? It’s not fair – not fair…»

She broke down, weeping bitterly.

General Macarthur patted her shoulder. He said:

«There, there, my dear. Of course it’s not true. Fellow’s a madman. A madman! Got a bee in his bonnet! Got hold of the wrong end of the stick all round.»

He stood erect, squaring his shoulders. He barked out:

«Best really to leave this sort of thing unanswered. However, feel I ought to say – no truth – no truth whatsoever in what he said about – er – young Arthur Richmond. Richmond was one of my officers. I sent him on a reconnaissance. He was killed. Natural course of events in war time. Wish to say resent very much – slur on my wife. Best woman in the world. Absolutely – Caesar’s wife!»

General Macarthur sat down. His shaking hand pulled at his moustache. The effort to speak had cost him a good deal.

Lombard spoke. His eyes were amused. He said:

«About those natives —»

Marston said: «What about them?»

Philip Lombard grinned.

«Story’s quite true! I left ‘em! Matter of self-preservation. We were lost in the bush. I and a couple of other fellows took what food there was and cleared out.»

General Macarthur said sternly:

«You abandoned your men – left them to starve?»

Lombard said: «Not quite the act of a pukka sahib, I’m afraid. But self-preservation’s a man’s first duty. And natives don’t mind dying, you know. They don’t feel about it as Europeans do.»

Vera lifted her face from her hands. She said, staring at him:

«You left them – to die?»

Lombard answered: «I left them to die.»

His amused eyes looked into her horrified ones.

Anthony Marston said in a slow puzzled voice:

«I’ve just been thinking – John and Lucy Combes. Must have been a couple of kids I ran over near Cambridge. Beastly bad luck.»

Mr. Justice Wargrave said acidly: «For them, or for you?»

Anthony said: «Well, I was thinking – for me – but of course, you’re right, sir, it was damned bad luck on them. Of course it was a pure accident. They rushed out of some cottage or other. I had my licence endorsed for a year. Beastly nuisance.»

Dr. Armstrong said warmly:

«This speeding’s all wrong – all wrong! Young men like you are a danger to the community.»

Anthony shrugged his shoulders. He said:

«Speed’s come to stay. English roads are hopeless, of course. Can’t get up a decent pace on them.»

He looked round vaguely for his glass, picked it up off a table and went over to the side table and helped himself to another whiskey and soda. He said over his shoulder:

«Well, anyway, it wasn’t my fault. Just an accident!»

III

The manservant, Rogers, had been moistening his lips and twisting his hands. He said now in a low deferential voice:

«If I might just say a word, sir.»

Lombard said: «Go ahead, Rogers.»

Rogers cleared his throat and passed his tongue once more over his dry lips.