"What was it exactly?"
"I gave her a mild dose of trional. A perfectly harmless preparation."
Blore grew redder still. He said:
"Look here - not to mince matters - you didn't give her an overdose, did you?"
Dr. Armstrong said angrily:
"I don't know what you mean."
Blore said:
"It's possible, isn't it, that you may have made a mistake? These things do happen once in awhile."
Armstrong said sharply:
"I did nothing of the sort. The suggestion is ridiculous," He stopped and added in a cold biting tone: "Or do you suggest that I gave her an overdose on purpose?"
Philip Lombard said quickly:
"Look here, you two, got to keep our heads. Don't let's start slinging accusations about."
Blore said sullenly:
"I only suggested the doctor had made a mistake."
Dr. Armstrong smiled with an effort. He said, showing his teeth in a somewhat mirthless smile:
"Doctors can't afford to make mistakes of that kind, my friend."
Blore said deliberately:
"It wouldn't be the first you've made - if that gramophone record is to be believed!"
Armstrong went white. Philip Lombard said quickly and angrily to Blore:
"What's the sense of making yourself offensive? We're all in the same boat. We've got to pull together. What about your own pretty little spot of perjury?"
Blore took a step forward, his hands clenched. He said in a thick voice:
"Perjury be damned! That's a foul lie! You may try and shut me up, Mr. Lombard, but there's things I want to know - and one of them is about you!"
Lombard's eyebrows rose.
"About me?"
"Yes. I want to know why you brought a revolver down here on a pleasant social visit?"
Lombard said:
"You do, do you?"
"Yes, I do, Mr. Lombard."
Lombard said unexpectedly:
"You know, Blore, you're not nearly such a fool as you look."
"That's as may be. What about that revolver?"
Lombard smiled.
"I brought it because I expected to run into a spot of trouble."
Blore said suspiciously:
"You didn't tell us that last night."
Lombard shook his head.
"You were holding out on us?" Blore persisted.
"In a way, yes," said Lombard.
"Well, come on, out with it."
Lombard said slowly:
"I allowed you all to think that I was asked here in the same way as most of the others, That's not quite true. As a matter of fact I was approached by a little Jewboy - Morris his name was. He offered me a hundred guineas to come down here and keep my eyes open - said I'd got a reputation for being a good man in a tight place."
"Well?" Blore prompted impatiently.
Lombard said with a grin:
"That's all."
Dr. Armstrong said:
"But surely he told you more than that?"
"Oh, no, he didn't. Just shut up like a clam. I could take it or leave it - those were his words. I was hard up. I took it." Blore looked unconvinced. He said:
"Why didn't you tell us all this last night?"
"My dear man -" Lombard shrugged eloquent shoulders. "How was I to know that last night wasn't exactly the eventuality I was here to cope with? I lay low and told a noncommittal story."
Dr. Armstrong said shrewdly:
"But now - you think differently?"
Lombard's face changed. It darkened and hardened. He said:
"Yes, I believe now that I'm in the same boat as the rest of you. That hundred guineas was just Mr. Owen's little bit of cheese to get me into the trap along with the rest of you."
He said slowly:
"For we are in a trap - I'll take my oath on that! Mrs. Rogers' death! Tony Marston's! The disappearing Indian boys on the dinner-table! Oh, yes, Mr. Owen's hand is plainly to be seen - but where the devil is Mr. Owen himself?"
Downstairs the gong pealed a solemn call to lunch.
II
Rogers was standing by the dining-room door. As the three men descended the stairs he moved a step or two forward. He said in a low anxious voice:
"I hope lunch will be satisfactory. There is cold ham and cold tongue, and I've boiled some potatoes. And there's cheese and biscuits and some tinned fruits."
Lombard said:
"Sounds all right. Stores are holding out, then?"
"There is plenty of food, sir - of a tinned variety. The larder is very well stocked. A necessity, that, I should say, sir, on an island where one may be cut off from the mainland for a considerable period."
Lombard nodded.
Rogers murmured as he followed the three men into the dining-room:
"It wormes me that Fred Narracott hasn't been over today. It's peculiarly unfortunate, as you might say,"
"Yes," said Lombard, "peculiarly unfortunate describes it very well."
Miss Brent came into the room. She had just dropped a ball of wool and was carefully rewinding the end of it.
As she took her seat at table she remarked:
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