无人生还45
时间：2026-03-19 03:08:49
（单词翻译:单击）
IV
The storm broke just as the old man’s body was borne in through the door.
The others were standing in the hall.
There was a sudden hiss and roar as the rain came down.
As Blore and Armstrong passed up the stairs with their burden, Vera
Claythorne turned suddenly and went into the deserted dining-room.
It was as they had left it. The sweet course stood ready on the sideboard
untasted.
Vera went up to the table. She was there a minute or two later when Ro-
gers came softly into the room.
He started when he saw her. Then his eyes asked a question.
He said:
‘Oh, Miss, I—I just came to see…’
In a loud harsh voice that surprised herself Vera said:
‘You’re quite right, Rogers. Look for yourself. There are only seven…’
V
General Macarthur had been laid on his bed.
After making a last examination Armstrong left the room and came
downstairs. He found the others assembled in the drawing-room.
Miss Brent was knitting. Vera Claythorne was standing by the window
looking out at the hissing rain. Blore was sitting squarely in a chair, his
hands on his knees. Lombard was walking restlessly up and down. At the
far end of the room Mr Justice Wargrave was sitting in a grandfather
chair. His eyes were half closed.
They opened as the doctor came into the room. He said in a clear penet-
rating voice:
‘Well, doctor?’
Armstrong was very pale. He said:
‘No question of heart failure or anything like that. Macarthur was hit
with a life preserver or some such thing on the back of the head.’
A little murmur went round, but the clear voice of the judge was raised
once more.
‘Did you find the actual weapon used?’
‘No.’
‘Nevertheless you are sure of your facts?’
‘I am quite sure.’
Mr Justice Wargrave said quietly:
‘We know now exactly where we are.’
There was no doubt now who was in charge of the situation. This morn-
ing Wargrave had sat huddled in his chair on the terrace refraining from
any overt activity. Now he assumed command with the ease born of a long
habit of authority. He definitely presided over the court.
Clearing his throat, he once more spoke.
‘This morning, gentlemen, whilst I was sitting on the terrace, I was an
observer of your activities. There could be little doubt of your purpose.
You were searching the island for an unknown murderer?’
‘Quite right, sir,’ said Philip Lombard.
The judge went on.
‘You had come, doubtless, to the same conclusion that I had—namely
that the deaths of Anthony Marston and Mrs Rogers were neither acci-
dental nor were they suicides. No doubt you also reached a certain conclu-
sion as to the purpose of Mr Owen in enticing us to this island?’
Blore said hoarsely:
‘He’s a madman! A loony.’
The judge coughed.
‘That almost certainly. But it hardly affects the issue. Our main preoccu-
pation is this—to save our lives.’
Armstrong said in a trembling voice:
‘There’s no one on the island, I tell you. No one!’
The judge stroked his jaw.
He said gently:
‘In the sense you mean, no. I came to that conclusion early this morning.
I could have told you that your search would be fruitless. Nevertheless I
am strongly of the opinion that “Mr Owen” (to give him the name he him-
self has adopted) is on the island. Very much so. Given the scheme in ques-
tion which is neither more nor less than the execution of justice upon cer-
tain individuals for offences which the law cannot touch, there is only one
way in which that scheme could be accomplished. Mr Owen could only come
to the island in one way.
‘It is perfectly clear. Mr Owen is one of us…’
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