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‘The Lord is mindful of his own.’ ‘Thou shalt not be afraid for the terror by night; nor for the arrow that flieth by day…’ It was daylight now—there was no terror. ‘We shall none of us leave this island.’ Who had said that? General Macarthur, of course, whose cousin had married Elsie MacPherson. He hadn’t seemed to care. He had seemed—actually—to welcome the idea! Wicked! Almost impious to feel that way. Some people thought so little of death that they actually took their own lives. Beatrice Taylor… Last night she had dreamed of Beatrice—dreamt that she was outside pressing her face against the window and moaning, asking to be let in. But Emily Brent hadn’t wanted to let her in. Because, if she did, something terrible would happen…

Emily came to herself with a start. That girl was looking at her very strangely. She said in a brisk voice:

‘Everything’s ready, isn’t it? We’ll take the breakfast in.’

VI

Breakfast was a curious meal. Every one was very polite.

‘May I get you some more coffee, Miss Brent?’

‘Miss Claythorne, a slice of ham?’

‘Another piece of toast?’

Six people, all outwardly self-possessed and normal.

And within? Thoughts that ran round in a circle like squirrels in a cage…

‘What next? What next? Who? Which?’

‘Would it work? I wonder. It’s worth trying. If there’s time. My God, if there’s time…’

‘Religious mania, that’s the ticket… Looking at her, though, you can hardly believe it… Suppose I’m wrong…?’

‘It’s crazy—everything’s crazy. I’m going crazy. Wool disappearing—red silk curtains—it doesn’t make sense. I can’t get the hang of it…’

‘The damned fool, he believed every word I said to him. It was easy… I must be careful, though, very careful.’

‘Six of those little china figures… only six—how many will there be by tonight?..’

‘Who’ll have the last egg?’

‘Marmalade?’

‘Thanks, can I cut you some bread?’

Six people, behaving normally at breakfast…

Chapter 12

I

The meal was over.

Mr Justice Wargrave cleared his throat. He said in a small authoritative voice:

‘It would be advisable, I think, if we met to discuss the situation. Shall we say in half an hour’s time in the drawingroom?’

Every one made a sound suggestive of agreement.

Vera began to pile plates together.

She said:

‘I’ll clear away and wash up.’

Philip Lombard said:

‘We’ll bring the stuff out to the pantry for you.’

‘Thanks.’

Emily Brent, rising to her feet sat down again. She said: ‘Oh dear.’

The judge said:

‘Anything the matter, Miss Brent?’

Emily said apologetically:

‘I’m sorry. I’d like to help Miss Claythorne, but I don’t know how it is. I feel just a little giddy.’

‘Giddy, eh?’ Dr Armstrong came towards her. ‘Quite natural. Delayed shock. I can give you something to—’