"And, even if any one knew, nothing could ever be proved against them," added Philip Lombard.
He frowned suddenly.
"Of course - that explains a good deal."
Armstrong said, puzzled:
"I beg your pardon."
Lombard said:
"I mean - it explains Indian Island. There are crimes that cannot be brought home to their perpetrators. Instance, the Rogerses'. Another instance, old Wargrave, who committed his murder strictly within the law."
Armstrong said sharply:
"You believe that story?"
Philip Lombard smiled.
"Oh, yes, I believe it. Wargrave murdered Edward Seton all right, murdered him as surely as if he'd stuck a stiletto through him! But he was clever enough to do it from the judge's seat in wig and gown. So in the ordinary way you can't bring his little crime home to him."
A sudden flash passed like lightning through Armstrong's mind.
"Murder in Hospital. Murder on the Operating Table. Safe - yes, safe as houses!"
Philip Lombard was saying:
"Hence - Mr. Owen - hence - Indian Island!"
Armstrong drew a deep breath.
"Now we're getting down to it. What's the real purpose of getting us all here?"
Philip Lombard said:
"What do you think?"
Armstrong said abruptly:
"Let's go back a minute to this woman's death. What are the possible theories? Rogers killed her because he was afraid she would give the show away. Second possibility: She lost her nerve and took an easy way out herself."
Philip Lombard said:
"Suicide, eh?"
"What do you say to that?"
Lombard said:
"It could have been - yes - if it hadn't been for Marston's death. Two suicides within twelve hours is a little too much to swallow! And if you tell me that Anthony Marston, a young bull with no nerves and precious little brains, got the wind up over having mowed down a couple of kids and deliberately put himself out of the way - well, the idea's laughable! And anyway, how did he get hold of the stuff? From all I've ever heard, Potassium Cyanide isn't the kind of stuff you take about with you in your waistcoat pocket. But that's your line of country."
Armstrong said:
"Nobody in their senses carries Potassium Cyanide. It might be done by some one who was going to take a wasps' nest."
"The ardent gardener or landowner, in fact? Again, not Anthony Marston. It strikes me that Cyanide is going to need a bit of explaining. Either Anthony Marston meant to do away with himself before he came here, and therefore came prepared - or else -"
Armstrong prompted him.
"Or else?"
Philip Lombard grinned.
"Why make me say it? When it's on the tip of your own tongue. Anthony Marston was murdered, of course."
III
Dr. Armstrong drew a deep breath.
"And Mrs. Rogers?"
Lombard said slowly:
"I could believe in Anthony's suicide (with difficulty) if it weren't for Mrs. Rogers. I could believe in Mrs. Rogers' suicide (easily) if it weren't for Anthony Marston. I can believe that Rogers put his wife out of the way - if it were not for the unexplained death of Anthony Marston. But what we need is a theory to explain two deaths following rapidly on each other."
Armstrong said:
"I can perhaps give you some help towards that theory."
And he repeated the facts that Rogers had given him about the disappearance of the two little china figures.
Lombard said:
"Yes, little china Indian figures... There were certainly ten last night at dinner. And now there are eight, you say?"
Dr. Armstrong recited:
"Ten little Indian boys going out to dine;
One went and choked himself and then there were nine.
"Nine little Indian boys sat up very late;
One overslept himself and then there were eight."
The two men looked at each other. Philip Lombard grinned and flung away his cigarette.
"Fits too damned well to be a coincidence! Anthony Marston dies of asphyxiation or choking last night after dinner, and Mother Rogers oversleeps herself with a vengeance."
"And therefore?" said Armstrong.
Lombard took him up.
"And therefore another kind of puzzle. The Nigger in the Woodpile! X! Mr. Owen! U.N. Owen. One Unknown Lunatic at Large!"
"Ah!" Armstrong breathed a sigh of relief. "You agree. But you see what it involves? Rogers swore that there was no one but ourselves and he and his wife on the island."
"Rogers is wrong! Or possibly Rogers is lying!"
Armstrong shook his head.
"I don't think he's lying. The man's scared. He's scared nearly out of his senses."
Philip Lombard nodded.
He said:
"No motor boat this morning. That fits in. Mr. Owen's little arrangements again to the fore. Indian Island is to be isolated until Mr. Owen has finished his job."
Armstrong had gone pale. He said:
"You realize - the man must be a raving maniac!"
Philip Lombard said, and there was a new ring in his voice:
"There's one thing Mr. Owen didn't realize."
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