I‘One of us…One of us…One of us…’
Three words, endlessly repeated, dinning1 themselves hour after hourinto receptive brains.
Five people — five frightened people. Five people who watched eachother, who now hardly troubled to hide their state of nervous tension.
There was little pretence2 now—no formal veneer3 of conversation. Theywere five enemies linked together by a mutual4 instinct of self-preserva-tion.
And all of them, suddenly, looked less like human beings. They were re-verting to more bestial5 types. Like a wary6 old tortoise, Mr Justice War-grave sat hunched7 up, his body motionless, his eyes keen and alert. Ex-In-spector Blore looked coarser and clumsier in build. His walk was that of aslow padding animal. His eyes were bloodshot. There was a look ofmingled ferocity and stupidity about him. He was like a beast at bay readyto charge its pursuers. Philip Lombard’s senses seemed heightened, ratherthan diminished. His ears reacted to the slightest sound. His step waslighter and quicker, his body was lithe8 and graceful9. And he smiled often,his lips curling back from his long white teeth.
Vera Claythorne was very quiet. She sat most of the time huddled10 in achair. Her eyes stared ahead of her into space. She looked dazed. She waslike a bird that has dashed its head against glass and that has been pickedup by a human hand. It crouches11 there, terrified, unable to move, hopingto save itself by its immobility.
Armstrong was in a pitiable condition of nerves. He twitched12 and hishands shook. He lighted cigarette after cigarette and stubbed them out al-most immediately. The forced inaction of their position seemed to gall13 himmore than the others. Every now and then he broke out into a torrent14 ofnervous speech.
‘We—we shouldn’t just sit here doing nothing! There must be something—surely, surely there is something that we can do? If we lit a bonfire—?’
Blore said heavily:
‘In this weather?’
The rain was pouring down again. The wind came in fitful gusts15. The de-pressing sound of the pattering rain nearly drove them mad.
By tacit consent, they had adopted a plan of campaign. They all sat inthe big drawing-room. Only one person left the room at a time. The otherfour waited till the fifth returned.
Lombard said:
‘It’s only a question of time. The weather will clear. Then we can dosomething—signal—light fires—make a raft—something!’
Armstrong said with a sudden cackle of laughter:
‘A question of time—time? We can’t afford time! We shall all be dead…’
Mr Justice Wargrave said and his small clear voice was heavy with pas-sionate determination:
‘Not if we are careful. We must be very careful…’
The midday meal had been duly eaten—but there had been no conven-tional formality about it. All five of them had gone to the kitchen. In thelarder they had found a great store of tinned foods. They had opened a tinof tongue and two tins of fruit. They had eaten standing17 round the kitchentable. Then, herding18 close together, they had returned to the drawing-room—to sit there—sit, watching each other.
And by now the thoughts that ran through their brains were abnormal,feverish, diseased…
‘It’s Armstrong…I saw him looking at me sideways just then…his eyesare mad… quite mad… Perhaps he isn’t a doctor at all… That’s it, ofcourse!…He’s a lunatic, escaped from some doctor’s house—pretending tobe a doctor…It’s true…shall I tell them?…Shall I scream out?…No, it won’tdo to put him on his guard…Besides he can seem so sane…What time isit?…Only a quarter past three!…Oh, God, I shall go mad myself…Yes, it’sArmstrong…He’s watching me now…’
‘They won’t get me! I can take care of myself…I’ve been in tight placesbefore…Where the hell is that revolver?…Who took it?…Who’s got it?…Nobody’s got it—we know that. We were all searched…Nobody can haveit…But someone knows where it is…’
‘They’re going mad…They’ll all go mad…Afraid of death…we’re all afraidof death… I ’m afraid of death… Yes, but that doesn’t stop death com-ing…“The hearse is at the door, sir.” Where did I read that? The girl…I’llwatch the girl. Yes, I’ll watch the girl…’
‘Twenty to four…only twenty to four…perhaps the clock has stopped…Idon’t understand—no, I don’t understand…This sort of thing can’t hap-pen…it is happening…Why don’t we wake up? Wake up—Judgment Day—no, not that! If only I could think…My head—something’s happening in myhead—it’s going to burst—it’s going to split…This sort of thing can’t hap-pen…What’s the time? Oh, God, it’s only a quarter to four.’
‘I must keep my head…I must keep my head…If only I keep my head…It’s all perfectly19 clear—all worked out. But nobody must suspect. It may dothe trick. It must! Which one? That’s the question—which one? I think—yes, I rather think—yes—him.’
When the clock struck five they all jumped.
Vera said:
‘Does anyone—want tea?’
There was a moment’s silence. Blore said:
‘I’d like a cup.’
Vera rose. She said:
‘I’ll go and make it. You can all stay here.’
Mr Justice Wargrave said gently:
‘I think, my dear young lady, we would all prefer to come and watch youmake it.’
Vera stared, then gave a short rather hysterical20 laugh.
She said:
‘Of course! You would!’
Five people went into the kitchen. Tea was made and drunk by Vera andBlore. The other three had whisky—opening a fresh bottle and using a si-phon from a nailed up case.
The judge murmured with a reptilian21 smile:
‘We must be very careful…’
They went back again to the drawing-room. Although it was summer theroom was dark. Lombard switched on the lights but they did not come on.
He said:
‘Of course! The engine’s not been run today since Rogers hasn’t beenthere to see to it.’
He hesitated and said:
‘We could go out and get it going, I suppose.’
Mr Justice Wargrave said:
‘There are packets of candles in the larder16, I saw them, better use those.’
Lombard went out. The other four sat watching each other.
He came back with a box of candles and a pile of saucers. Five candleswere lit and placed about the room.
The time was a quarter to six.
II
At twenty past six, Vera felt that to sit there longer was unbearable22. Shewould go to her room and bathe her aching head and temples in cold wa-ter.
She got up and went towards the door. Then she remembered and cameback and got a candle out of the box. She lighted it, let a little wax pourinto a saucer and stuck the candle firmly to it. Then she went out of theroom, shutting the door behind her and leaving the four men inside. Shewent up the stairs and along the passage to her room.
As she opened her door, she suddenly halted and stood stock still.
Her nostrils23 quivered.
The sea…The smell of the sea at St Tredennick.
That was it. She could not be mistaken. Of course, one smelt24 the sea onan island anyway, but this was different. It was the smell there had beenon the beach that day—with the tide out and the rocks covered with sea-weed drying in the sun.
‘Can I swim out to the island, Miss Claythorne?’
‘Why can’t I swim out to the island?…’
Horrid25 whiney spoilt little brat26! If it weren’t for him, Hugo would berich…able to marry the girl he loved…
Hugo…
Surely—surely—Hugo was beside her? No, waiting for her in the room…She made a step forward. The draught27 from the window caught theflame of the candle. It flickered28 and went out…In the dark she was suddenly afraid…
‘Don’t be a fool,’ Vera Claythone urged herself. ‘It’s all right. The othersare downstairs. All four of them. There’s no one in the room. There can’tbe. You’re imagining things, my girl.’
But that smell—that smell of the beach at St Tredennick…That wasn’timagined. It was true.
And there was someone in the room…She had heard something—surelyshe had heard something…
And then, as she stood there, listening—a cold, clammy hand touchedher throat—a wet hand, smelling of the sea…III
Vera screamed. She screamed and screamed—screams of the utmost ter-ror—wild desperate cries for help.
She did not hear the sounds from below, of a chair being overturned, ofa door opening, of men’s feet running up the stairs. She was consciousonly of supreme29 terror.
Then, restoring her sanity30, lights flickered in the doorway—candles—men hurrying into the room.
‘What the devil?’ ‘What’s happened?’ ‘Good God, what is it?’
She shuddered31, took a step forward, collapsed32 on the floor.
She was only half aware of someone bending over her, of someone for-cing her head down between her knees.
Then at a sudden exclamation33, a quick ‘My God, look at that!’ her sensesreturned. She opened her eyes and raised her head. She saw what it wasthe men with the candles were looking at.
A broad ribbon of wet seaweed was hanging down from the ceiling. Itwas that which in the darkness had swayed against her throat. It was thatwhich she had taken for a clammy hand, a drowned hand come back fromthe dead to squeeze the life out of her!
She began to laugh hysterically34. She said:
‘It was seaweed—only seaweed—and that’s what the smell was…’
And then the faintness came over her once more—waves upon waves ofsickness. Again someone took her head and forced it between her knees.
Aeons of time seemed to pass. They were offering her something todrink—pressing the glass against her lips. She smelt brandy.
She was just about to gulp35 the spirit gratefully down when, suddenly, awarning note—like an alarm bell—sounded in her brain. She sat up, push-ing the glass away.
She said sharply: ‘Where did this come from?’
Blore’s voice answered. He stared a minute before speaking. He said:
‘I got it from downstairs.’
Vera cried:
‘I won’t drink it…’
There was a moment’s silence, then Lombard laughed.
He said with appreciation36:
‘Good for you, Vera. You’ve got your wits about you—even if you havebeen scared half out of your life. I’ll get a fresh bottle that hasn’t beenopened.’
He went swiftly out.
Vera said uncertainly:
‘I’m all right now. I’ll have some water.’
Armstrong supported her as she struggled to her feet. She went over tothe basin, swaying and clutching at him for support. She let the cold taprun and then filled the glass.
Blore said resentfully:
‘That brandy’s all right.’
Armstrong said:
‘How do you know?’
Blore said angrily:
‘I didn’t put anything in it. That’s what you’re getting at I suppose.’
Armstrong said:
‘I’m not saying you did. You might have done, or someone might havetampered with the bottle for just this emergency.’
Lombard came swiftly back into the room.
He had a new bottle of brandy in his hands and a corkscrew.
He thrust the sealed bottle under Vera’s nose.
‘There you are, my girl. Absolutely no deception39.’ He peeled off the tinfoil40 and drew the cork38. ‘Lucky there’s a good supply of spirits in the house.
Thoughtful of U. N. Owen.’
Vera shuddered violently.
Armstrong held the glass while Philip poured the brandy into it. He said:
‘You’d better drink this, Miss Claythorne. You’ve had a nasty shock.’
Vera drank a little of the spirit. The colour came back to her face.
Philip Lombard said with a laugh:
‘Well, here’s one murder that hasn’t gone according to plan!’
Vera said almost in a whisper:
‘You think—that was what was meant?’
Lombard nodded.
‘Expected you to pass out through fright! Some people would have,wouldn’t they, doctor?’
Armstrong did not commit himself. He said doubtfully:
‘H’m, impossible to say. Young healthy subject—no cardiac weakness.
Unlikely. On the other hand—’
He picked up the glass of brandy that Blore had brought. He dipped afinger in it, tasted it gingerly. His expression did not alter. He said dubi-ously: ‘H’m, tastes all right.’
Blore stepped forward angrily. He said:
‘If you’re saying that I tampered37 with that, I’ll knock your ruddy blockoff.’
Vera, her wits revived by the brandy, made a diversion by saying:
‘Where’s the judge?’
The three men looked at each other.
‘That’s odd…Thought he came up with us.’
Blore said:
‘So did I…What about it, doctor, you came up the stairs behind me?’
Armstrong said:
‘I thought he was following me…Of course, he’d be bound to go slowerthan we did. He’s an old man.’
They looked at each other again.
Lombard said:
‘It’s damned odd…’
Blore cried:
‘We must look for him.’
He started for the door. The others followed him, Vera last.
As they went down the stairs Armstrong said over his shoulder:
‘Of course he may have stayed in the living-room.’
They crossed the hall. Armstrong called out loudly:
‘Wargrave, Wargrave, where are you?’
There was no answer. A deadly silence filled the house apart from thegentle patter of the rain.
Then in the entrance to the drawing- room door, Armstrong stoppeddead. The others crowded up and looked over his shoulder.
Somebody cried out.
Mr Justice Wargrave was sitting in his high-backed chair at the end ofthe room. Two candles burnt on either side of him. But what shocked andstartled the onlookers41 was the fact that he sat there robed in scarlet42 with ajudge’s wig43 upon his head…
Dr Armstrong motioned to the others to keep back. He himself walkedacross to the silent staring figure, reeling a little as he walked like adrunken man.
He bent44 forward, peering into the still face. Then, with a swift move-ment he raised the wig. It fell to the floor revealing the high bald foreheadwith, in the very middle, a round stained mark from which something hadtrickled.
Dr Armstrong lifted the lifeless hand and felt for the pulse. Then heturned to the others.
He said—and his voice was expressionless, dead, far away…‘He’s been shot…’
Blore said:
‘God—the revolver!’
The doctor said, still in the same lifeless voice:
‘Got him through the head. Instantaneous.’
Vera stooped to the wig. She said, and her voice shook with horror:
‘Miss Brent’s missing grey wool…’
Blore said:
‘And the scarlet curtain that was missing from the bathroom…’
Vera whispered:
‘So this is what they wanted them for…’
Suddenly Philip Lombard laughed—a high unnatural45 laugh.
‘Five little soldier boys going in for law; one got in Chancery and then therewere Four. That’s the end of Mr Bloody46 Justice Wargrave. No more pro-nouncing sentence for him! No more putting on of the black cap! Here’sthe last time he’ll ever sit in court! No more summing up and sending in-nocent men to death. How Edward Seton would laugh if he were here!
God, how he’d laugh!’
His outburst shocked and startled the others.
Vera cried:
‘Only this morning you said he was the one!’
Philip Lombard’s face changed—sobered.
He said in a low voice:
‘I know I did…Well, I was wrong. Here’s one more of us who’s beenproved innocent—too late!’
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收听单词发音
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1
dinning
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| vt.喧闹（din的现在分词形式） | |
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pretence
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| n.假装，作假；借口，口实；虚伪；虚饰 | |
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3
veneer
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| n.(墙上的)饰面，虚饰 | |
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4
mutual
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| adj.相互的，彼此的；共同的，共有的 | |
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5
bestial
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| adj.残忍的；野蛮的 | |
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6
wary
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| adj.谨慎的，机警的，小心的 | |
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7
hunched
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| （常指因寒冷、生病或愁苦）耸肩弓身的，伏首前倾的 | |
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8
lithe
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| adj.(指人、身体)柔软的，易弯的 | |
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graceful
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| adj.优美的，优雅的；得体的 | |
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10
huddled
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| 挤在一起（huddle的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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11
crouches
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| n.蹲着的姿势( crouch的名词复数 )v.屈膝，蹲伏( crouch的第三人称单数 ) | |
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12
twitched
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| vt.& vi.（使）抽动，（使）颤动（twitch的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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gall
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| v.使烦恼，使焦躁，难堪；n.磨难 | |
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torrent
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| n.激流，洪流；爆发，(话语等的)连发 | |
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15
gusts
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| 一阵强风( gust的名词复数 )； （怒、笑等的）爆发； （感情的）迸发； 发作 | |
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16
larder
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| n.食物贮藏室，食品橱 | |
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standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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18
herding
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| 中畜群 | |
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perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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hysterical
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| adj.情绪异常激动的，歇斯底里般的 | |
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reptilian
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| adj.（像）爬行动物的；（像）爬虫的；卑躬屈节的；卑鄙的n.两栖动物；卑劣的人 | |
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unbearable
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| adj.不能容忍的；忍受不住的 | |
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nostrils
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| 鼻孔( nostril的名词复数 ) | |
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smelt
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| v.熔解，熔炼；n.银白鱼，胡瓜鱼 | |
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horrid
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| adj.可怕的；令人惊恐的；恐怖的；极讨厌的 | |
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brat
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| n.孩子；顽童 | |
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draught
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| n.拉，牵引，拖；一网（饮，吸，阵)；顿服药量，通风；v.起草，设计 | |
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28
flickered
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| （通常指灯光）闪烁，摇曳( flicker的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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supreme
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| adj.极度的，最重要的；至高的，最高的 | |
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sanity
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| n.心智健全，神智正常，判断正确 | |
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shuddered
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| v.战栗( shudder的过去式和过去分词 )；发抖；（机器、车辆等）突然震动；颤动 | |
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collapsed
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| adj.倒塌的 | |
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exclamation
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| n.感叹号，惊呼，惊叹词 | |
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hysterically
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| ad. 歇斯底里地 | |
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gulp
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| vt.吞咽，大口地吸（气）；vi.哽住；n.吞咽 | |
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appreciation
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| n.评价；欣赏；感谢；领会，理解；价格上涨 | |
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tampered
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| v.窜改( tamper的过去式 )；篡改；（用不正当手段）影响；瞎摆弄 | |
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cork
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| n.软木，软木塞 | |
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deception
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| n.欺骗，欺诈；骗局，诡计 | |
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tinfoil
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| n.锡纸，锡箔 | |
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41
onlookers
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| n.旁观者，观看者( onlooker的名词复数 ) | |
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scarlet
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| n.深红色，绯红色，红衣；adj.绯红色的 | |
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wig
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| n.假发 | |
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bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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45
unnatural
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| adj.不自然的；反常的 | |
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bloody
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| adj.非常的的；流血的；残忍的；adv.很；vt.血染 | |
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