Читать «И никого не стало» онлайн - страница 58
Агата Кристи
Blore said with a grin:
‘No need to tell ’em to lock their doors!’
Lombard said:
‘Well,
He went down again and the other followed him.
VII
The four men went to bed an hour later. They went up together. Rogers, from the dining-room where he was setting the table for breakfast, saw them go up. He heard them pause on the landing above.
Then the judge’s voice spoke.
‘I need hardly advise you, gentlemen, to lock your doors.’
Blore said:
‘And what’s more, put a chair under the handle. There are ways of turning locks from the outside.’
Lombard murmured:
‘My dear Blore, the trouble with you is you know too much!’
The judge said gravely:
‘Good-night, gentlemen. May we all meet safely in the morning!’
Rogers came out of the dining-room and slipped halfway up the stairs. He saw four figures pass through four doors and heard the turning of four locks and the shooting of four bolts.
He nodded his head.
‘That’s all right,’ he muttered.
He went back into the dining-room. Yes, everything was ready for the morning. His eye lingered on the centre plaque of looking-glass and the seven little china figures.
A sudden grin transformed his face.
He murmured:
‘I’ll see no one plays tricks tonight, at any rate.’
Crossing the room he locked the door to the pantry. Then going through the other door to the hall he pulled the door to, locked it and slipped the key into his pocket.
Then, extinguishing the lights, he hurried up the stairs and into his new bedroom.
There was only one possible hiding-place in it, the tall wardrobe, and he looked into that immediately. Then, locking and bolting the door, he prepared for bed.
He said to himself:
‘No more china-soldier tricks tonight. I’ve seen to that…’
Chapter 11
I
Philip Lombard had the habit of waking at daybreak. He did so on this particular morning. He raised himself on an elbow and listened. The wind had somewhat abated but was still blowing. He could hear no sound of rain…
At eight o’clock the wind was blowing more strongly, but Lombard did not hear it. He was asleep again.
At nine-thirty he was sitting on the edge of his bed looking at his watch. He put it to his ear. Then his lips drew back from his teeth in that curious wolf-like smile characteristic of the man.
He said very softly:
‘I think the time has come to do something about this.’
At twenty-five minutes to ten he was tapping on the closed door of Blore’s room.
The latter opened it cautiously. His hair was tousled and his eyes were still dim with sleep.
Philip Lombard said affably:
‘Sleeping the clock round? Well, shows you’ve got an easy conscience.’
Blore said shortly:
‘What’s the matter?’
Lombard answered:
‘Anybody called you—or brought you any tea? Do you know what time it is?’
Blore looked over his shoulder at a small travelling clock by his bedside.
He said:
‘Twenty-five to ten. Wouldn’t have believed I could have slept like that. Where’s Rogers?’
