Ten Little Niggers / Десять негритят. Агата Кристи
Читать онлайн.| Название | Ten Little Niggers / Десять негритят |
|---|---|
| Автор произведения | Агата Кристи |
| Жанр | |
| Серия | Abridged & Adapted |
| Издательство | |
| Год выпуска | 2023 |
| isbn | 978-5-6049811-7-7 |
So Dr. Armstrong chatted instead of the weather and of fishing.
He was tired after his long motor drive. Yes, he was very tired. The sea and perfect peace – that was what he needed. He would like, really, to take a long holiday. But he couldn’t leave his practice for long: you were soon forgotten nowadays.
He thought:
“But this evening, I’ll imagine to myself that I’m not going back.”
There was something magical about an island. You lost touch with the world[15] – an island was a world of its own. A world, perhaps, from which you might never return.
He thought:
“I’m leaving my ordinary life behind me.”
He smiled to himself and began to make plans, fantastic plans for the future.
He was still smiling when he walked up the rock cut steps.
In a chair on the terrace an old gentleman was sitting and the sight of him was vaguely familiar to Dr. Armstrong. Where had he seen that frog-like face, that tortoise-like neck, that hunched-up figure – yes, and those pale shrewd little eyes? Of course – old Wargrave. He’d given evidence once before him. Had great power with a jury – it was said he could make their minds up for them any day of the week. He’d got one or two unlikely convictions out of them. A hanging judge, some people said.
Strange to meet him… here – out of the world.
VIII
Mr. Justice Wargrave thought to himself:
“Armstrong? Remember him in the witness box. Very correct and cautious. All doctors are damned fools. Harley Street ones are the worst of them.” And in his mind he returned to a recent interview he had had with a suave personage in that very street.
Aloud he grunted:
“Drinks are in the hall.”
Dr. Armstrong said he wanted first to pay his respects to the host and hostess.
The judge said:
“No host and hostess. Very curious state of affairs. Don’t understand this place.”
Dr. Armstrong stared at him for a minute. When he thought the old gentleman had actually gone to sleep, Wargrave said suddenly:
“D’you know Constance Culmington?”
“Er – no, I’m afraid I don’t.”
“It’s not important,” said the judge. “Very vague woman – and practically unreadable handwriting. I was just wondering if I’d come to the wrong house.”
Dr. Armstrong shook his head and went on up to the house.
In his mind, Mr. Justice Wargrave turned to the two women in the house, the tight-lipped spinster and the girl. He didn’t care for the girl, heartless young hussy. No, three women, if you counted the Rogers woman. Queer creature, she looked frightened to death. Respectable pair and knew their job…
At that moment, Rogers came out on the terrace and the judge asked him:
“Is Lady Constance Culmington expected, do you know?” Rogers stared at him.
“No, sir, not to my knowledge.”
The judge’s eyebrows rose. But he only grunted.
He thought:
“Nigger Island, eh? There’s a nigger in the woodpile[16].”
IX
Anthony Marston was enjoying his bath. Very few thoughts passed through his head. Anthony was a creature of sensation – and of action.
He thought to himself:
“Must go through with it, I suppose,” and thereafter dismissed everything from his mind.
Pleasantly hot water – presently a shave – a cocktail – dinner.
And after —?
X
Mr. Blore was tying his tie. He wasn’t very good at this sort of thing.
It worried him whether he looked all right. He hoped he did.
Nobody had been exactly pleasant to him… Funny the way they all looked at each other – as though they knew.
Well, he didn’t mean to fail in his job.
He glanced up at the framed nursery rhyme over the mantelpiece.
Neat touch, having that there!
XI
General Macarthur was frowning to himself. Damn it all, the whole thing was so strange! Not at all what he had expected…
He would like to make an excuse and get away. Throw up the whole business.
But the motor boat had gone back to the mainland.
He’d have to stay.
That fellow Lombard, he was a queer chap.
He’d bet the man wasn’t honest.
XII
Philip Lombard came out of his room as the gong sounded. He moved noiselessly like a panther. A beast of prey – pleasant to the eye.
He was smiling to himself. He was going to enjoy that week.
XIII
Emily Brent was reading her Bible in her bedroom, dressed in black silk ready for dinner.
“The Lord is known by the judgement which he executed: the wicked is snared in the work of his own hands. The wicked shall be turned into hell.”
She closed the Bible and went down to dinner.
Chapter 3
I
Dinner was nearly at its end.
The food had been good, the wine perfect.
They all had begun to talk to each other with more freedom and intimacy.
Mr. Justice Wargrave was being amusing in a sarcastic manner; Dr. Armstrong and Tony Marston were listening to him. Miss Brent chatted to General Macarthur; they had discovered some mutual friends. Vera Claythorne and Mr. Davis were talking about South Africa. Lombard listened to the conversation. Now and then[17] his eyes went round the table, studying the others.
Anthony Marston suddenly pointed to little china figures in the centre of the round table.
“Niggers,” he said. “Nigger Island. I suppose that’s the idea.”
Vera asked:
“How many are there? Ten?”
“Yes – ten there are.”
Vera exclaimed:
“How interesting! They’re the ten little Nigger boys of the nursery rhyme, I suppose. The rhyme in a frame is over the mantelpiece in my bedroom.”
There was the chorus of voices:
“In my room, too.”
Vera said:
“It’s an amusing idea, isn’t it?”
Mr. Justice Wargrave grunted:
“Remarkably childish,” and helped himself to port.
Emily Brent and Vera Claythorne stood up and went to the drawing-room.
In the drawing-room, the French windows were open onto the terrace and the sound of the sea waves against the rocks came up to them.
Vera said:
“I
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