And Then There Were None
IN THE CORNER of a first-class smoking carriage, Mr. Justice Wargrave,
lately retired from the bench, puffed at a cigar and ran an interested eye
through the political news in the Times.
He laid the paper down and glanced out of the window. They were running now
through Somerset. He glanced at his watch-another two hours to go. He went
over in his mind all that had appeared in the papers about Indian Island.
There had been its original purchase by an American millionaire who was crazy
about yachting-and an account of the luxurious modern house he had built on
this little island off the Devon coast. The unfortunate fact that the new
third wife of the American millionaire was a bad sailor had led to the
subsequent putting up of the house and island for sale. Various glowing
advertisements of it had appeared in the papers. Then came the first bald
statement that it had been bought-by a Mr. Owen. After that the rurnours
of the gossip writers had started. Indian Island had really been bought by
Miss Gabrielle Turl, the Hollywood film star! She wanted to spend some
months there free from all publicity! Busy Bee had hinted delicately that
it was to be an abode for Royalty??! Mr. Merryweather had had it whispered
to him that it had been bought for a honeymoon-Young Lord L-- had
surrendered to Cupid at last! Jonas knew for a fact that it had been
purchased by the Admiralty with a view to carrying out some very hush hush
Definitely, Indian Island was news!
From his pocket Mr. Justice Wargrave drew out a letter. The handwriting was
practically illegible but words here and there stood out with unexpected
clarity. Dearest Lawrence . . . such years since I heard anything of you
. . . must come to Indian Island . . . the most enchanting place . . . so
much to talk over . . . old days . . . communion with Nature . . . bask
in sunshine . . . 12.40 from Paddington . . . meet you at Oakbridge . .