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Агата Кристи
They finished the meal. They sat round the kitchen table staring at each other.
Blore said:
‘Only four of us now…
Armstrong stared. He said, almost mechanically:
‘We must be very careful—’ and stopped.
Blore nodded.
‘That’s what
Armstrong said:
‘How did it happen, I wonder?’
Lombard swore. He said:
‘A damned clever doublecross! That stuff was planted in
Miss Claythorne’s room and it worked just as it was intended to. Everyone dashes up there thinking
Blore said:
‘Why didn’t anyone hear the shot?’
Lombard shook his head.
‘Miss Claythorne was screaming, the wind was howling, we were running about and calling out. No, it wouldn’t be heard.’ He paused. ‘But that trick’s not going to work again.
He’ll have to try something else next.’
Blore said:
‘He probably will.’
There was an unpleasant tone in his voice. The two men eyed each other.
Armstrong said:
‘Four of us, and we don’t know which…’
Blore said:
Vera said:
‘I haven’t the least doubt…’
Armstrong said slowly:
‘I suppose I do know really…’
Philip Lombard said:
‘I think I’ve got a pretty good idea now…’
Again they all looked at each other…
Vera staggered to her feet. She said:
‘I feel awful. I must go to bed… I’m dead beat.’
Lombard said:
‘Might as well. No good sitting watching each other.’
Blore said:
The doctor murmured:
‘The best thing to do—although I doubt if any of us will sleep.’
They moved to the door. Blore said:
II
They went up the stairs.
The next move was a little like a scene in a farce.
Each one of the four stood with a hand on his or her bedroom door handle. Then, as though at a signal, each one stepped into the room and pulled the door shut. There were sounds of bolts and locks, of the moving of furniture.
Four frightened people were barricaded in until morning.
III
Philip Lombard drew a breath of relief as he turned from adjusting a chair under the door handle.
He strolled across to the dressing-table.
By the light of the flickering candle he studied his face curiously.
He said softly to himself:
‘Yes, this business has got you rattled all right.’ His sudden wolf-like smile flashed out.
He undressed quickly.
He went over to the bed, placing his wrist-watch on the table by the bed.
Then he opened the drawer of the table.
He stood there, staring down at the revolver that was inside it…
IV
Vera Claythorne lay in bed.
The candle still burned beside her.
And yet she could not summon the courage to put it out.
She was afraid of the dark…
She told herself again and again: ‘
And she thought suddenly:
‘Of course! I can stay here! Stay here locked in! Food doesn’t really matter! I can stay here—safely—till help comes! Even if it’s a day—or two days…’
Stay here. Yes, but could she stay here? Hour after hour— with no one to speak to, with nothing to do but
