Free And Then There Were None by Agatha Christie Page B

to be explained, sir. It’s got to be explained. Because it doesn’t make any sense.”
    “Well, man, tell me what it is. Don’t go on talking in riddles.”
    Rogers swallowed again.
    He said:
    “It’s those little figures, sir. In the middle of the table. The little china figures. Ten of them, there were. I’ll swear to that, ten of them.”
    Armstrong said:
    “Yes, ten. We counted them last night at dinner.”
    Rogers came nearer.
    “That’s just it, sir. Last night, when I was clearing up, there wasn’t but nine, sir. I noticed it and thought it queer. But that’s all I thought. And now, sir, this morning. I didn’t notice when I laid the breakfast. I was upset and all that.
    “But now, sir, when I came to clear away. See for yourself if you don’t believe me.
    “ There’s only eight, sir! Only eight! It doesn’t make sense, does it? Only eight. …”

Seven
    I
    A fter breakfast, Emily Brent had suggested to Vera Claythorne that they should walk to the summit again and watch for the boat. Vera had acquiesced.
    The wind had freshened. Small white crests were appearing on the sea. There were no fishing boats out—and no sign of the motorboat.
    The actual village of Sticklehaven could not be seen, only the hill above it, a jutting out cliff of red rock concealed the actual little bay.
    Emily Brent said:
    “The man who brought us out yesterday seemed a dependable sort of person. It is really very odd that he should be so late this morning.”
    Vera did not answer. She was fighting down a rising feeling of panic.
    She said to herself angrily:
    “You must keep cool. This isn’t like you. You’ve always had excellent nerves.”
    Aloud she said after a minute or two:
    “I wish he would come. I—I want to get away.”
    Emily Brent said dryly:
    “I’ve no doubt we all do.”
    Vera said:
    “It’s all so extraordinary … There seems no—no meaning in it all.”
    The elderly woman beside her said briskly:
    “I’m very annoyed with myself for being so easily taken in. Really that letter is absurd when one comes to examine it. But I had no doubts at the time—none at all.”
    Vera murmured mechanically: “I suppose not.”
    “One takes things for granted too much,” said Emily Brent.
    Vera drew a deep shuddering breath.
    She said:
    “Do you really think—what you said at breakfast?”
    “Be a little more precise, my dear. To what in particular are you referring?”
    Vera said in a low voice:
    “Do you really think that Rogers and his wife did away with that old lady?”
    Emily Brent gazed thoughtfully out to sea. Then she said:
    “Personally, I am quite sure of it. What do you think?”
    “I don’t know what to think.”
    Emily Brent said:
    “Everything goes to support the idea. The way the woman fainted. And the man dropped the coffee tray, remember. Then theway he spoke about it—it didn’t ring true. Oh, yes, I’m afraid they did it.”
    Vera said:
    “The way she looked—scared of her own shadow! I’ve never seen a woman look so frightened … She must have been always haunted by it….”
    Miss Brent murmured:
    “I remember a text that hung in my nursery as a child. ‘Be sure thy sin will find thee out.’ It’s very true, that. Be sure thy sin will find thee out. ”
    Vera scrambled to her feet. She said:
    “But, Miss Brent—Miss Brent—in that case—”
    “Yes, my dear?”
    “The others? What about the others?”
    “I don’t quite understand you.”
    “All the other accusations—they— they weren’t true? But if it’s true about the Rogerses—” She stopped, unable to make her chaotic thought clear.
    Emily Brent’s brow, which had been frowning perplexedly, cleared.
    She said:
    “Ah, I understand you now. Well, there is that Mr. Lombard. He admits to having abandoned twenty men to their deaths.”
    Vera said: “They were only natives….”
    Emily Brent said sharply:
    “Black or white, they are our brothers.”
    Vera thought:
    “Our black brothers—our black