Blore who had joined them, dressed, but still unshaved, said:
"Where's Miss Brent got to - that's another mystery?"
But as they arrived in the hall, Emily Brent came in through the front door. She had on a mackintosh. She said:
"The sea is as high as ever. I shouldn't think any boat could put out today."
Blore said:
"Have you been wandering about the island alone, Miss Brent? Don't you realize that that's an exceedingly foolish thing to do?"
Emily Brent said:
"I assure you, Mr. Blore, that I kept an extremely sharp lookout."
Blore grunted. He said:
"Seen anything of Rogers?"
Miss Brent's eyebrows rose.
"Rogers? No, I haven't seen him this morning. Why?"
Mr. Justice Wargrave, shaved, dressed and with his false teeth in position, came down the stairs. He moved to the open dining-room door. He said:
"He laid the table for breakfast, I see."
Lombard said:
"He might have done that last night."
They all moved inside the room, looking at the neatly set plates and cutlery. At the row of cups on the sideboard. At the felt mats placed ready for the coffee urn.
It was Vera who saw it first. She caught the judge's arm and the grip of her athletic fingers made the old gentleman wince.
She cried out:
"The Indians! Look!"
There were only six china figures in the middle of the table.
II
They found him shortly afterwards.
He was in the little wash-house across the yard. He had been chopping sticks in preparation for lighting the kitchen fire. The small chopper was still in his hand. A bigger chopper, a heavy affair, was leaning against the door - the metal of it stained a dull brown. It corresponded only too well with the deep wound in the back of Rogers' head...
III
"Perfectly clear," said Armstrong. "The murderer must have crept up behind him, swung the chopper once and brought it down on his head as he was bending over."
Blore was busy on the handle of the chopper and the flour sifter from the kitchen.
Mr. Justice Wargrave asked:
"Would it have needed great force, doctor?"
Armstrong said gravely:
"A woman could have done it if that's what you mean." He gave a quick glance round. Vera Claythorne and Emily Brent had retired to the kitchen. "The girl could have done it easily - she's an athletic type. In appearance Miss Brent is fragile looking, but that type of woman has often a lot of wiry strength. And you must remember that any one who's mentally unhinged has a good deal of unsuspected strength."
The judge nodded thoughtfully.
Blore rose from his knees with a sigh. He said:
"No fingerprints. Handle was wiped afterwards."
A sound of laughter was heard - they turned sharply. Vera Claythorne was standing in the yard. She cried out in a high shrill voice, shaken with wild bursts of laughter:
"Do they keep bees on this island? Tell me that. Where do we go for honey? Ha! ha!"
They stared at her uncomprehendingly. It was as though the sane well-balanced girl had gone mad before their eyes. She went on in that high unnatural voice:
"Don't stare like that! As though you thought I was mad. It's sane enough what I'm asking. Bees, hives, bees! Oh, don't you understand? Haven't you read that idiotic rhyme? It's up in all your bedrooms - put there for you to study! We might have come here straightaway if we'd had sense. Seven little Indian boys chopping up sticks. And the next verse. I know the whole thing by heart, I tell you! Six little Indian boys playing with a hive. And that's why I'm asking - do they keep bees on this island? - isn't it funny? - isn't it damned funny...?"
She began laughing wildly again. Dr. Armstrong strode forward. He raised his hand and struck her a flat blow on the cheek.
She gasped, hiccuped - and swallowed. She stood motionless a minute, then she said:
"Thank you... I'm all right now."
Her voice was once more calm and controlled - the voice of the efficient games mistress.
She turned and went across the yard into the kitchen saying: "Miss Brent and I are getting you breakfast. Can you - bring some sticks to light the fire?"
The marks of the doctor's hand stood out red on her cheek.
As she went into the kitchen Blore said:
"Well, you dealt with that all right, doctor."
Armstrong said apologetically:
"Had to! We can't cope with hysteria on the top of everything else."
Philip Lombard said:
"She's not a hysterical type."
Armstrong agreed.
"Oh, no. Good healthy sensible girl. Just the sudden shock. It might happen to anybody."
Rogers had chopped a certain amount of firewood before he had been killed. They gathered it up and took it into the kitchen. Vera and Emily Brent were busy. Miss Brent was raking out the stove. Vera was cutting the rind off the bacon.
Emily Brent said:
"Thank you. We'll be as quick as we can - say half an hour to three quarters. The kettle's got to boil."
IV
Ex-Inspector Blore said in a low hoarse voice to Philip Lombard:
"Know what I'm thinking?"
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