"You might say, I suppose that Armstrong managed to polish off the other three before he went into the sea that night. But there's another point and one you can't get over. Armstrong's body had been dragged above high water mark. We found it well above the reach of any tide. And it was laid out straight on the ground - all neat and tidy.
"So that settles one point definitely. Some one was alive on the island after Armstrong was dead."
He paused and then went on.
"And that leaves - just what exactly? Here's the position early on the morning of the 11th. Armstrong has 'disappeared' (drowned). That leaves us three people. Lombard, Blore and Vera Claythorne. Lombard was shot. His body was down by the sea - near Armstrong's. Vera Claythorne was found hanged in her own bedroom. Blore's body was on the terrace. His head was crushed in by a heavy marble clock that it seems reasonable to suppose fell on him from the window above."
The A.C. said sharply:
"Whose window?"
"Vera Claythorne's. Now, sir, let's take each of these cases separately. First Philip Lombard. Let's say he pushed over that lump of marble onto Blore - then he doped Vera Claythorne and strung her up. Lastly, he went down to the seashore and shot himself.
"But if so, woo took away the revolver from him? For that revolver was found up in the house just inside the door at the top of the stairs - Wargrave's room."
The A.C. said:
"Any fingerprints on it?"
"Yes, sir, Vera Claythorne's."
"But, man alive, then -"
"I know what you're going to say, sir. That it was Vera Claythorne. That she shot Lombard, took the revolver back to the house, toppled the marble block onto Blore and then - hanged herself.
"And that's quite all right - up to a point. There's a chair in her bedroom and on the seat of it there are marks of seaweed same as on her shoes. Looks as though she stood on the chair, adjusted the rope round her neck and kicked away the chair.
"But that chair wasn't found kicked over. It was, like, all the other chairs, neatly put back against the wall. That was done after Vera Claythorne's death - by some one else.
"That leaves us with Blore and if you tell me that after shooting Lombard and inducing Vera Claythorne to hang herself he then went out and pulled down a whacking great block of marble on himself by tying a string to it or something like that - well, I simply don't believe you. Men don't commit suicide that way - and what's more Blore wasn't that kind of man. We knew Blore - and he was not the man that you'd ever accuse of a desire for abstract justice."
The Assistant Commissioner said:
"I agree."
Inspector Maine said:
"And therefore, sir, there must have been some one else on the island. Some one who tidied up when the whole business was over. But where was he all the time - and where did he go to? The Sticklehaven people are absolutely certain that no one could have left the island before the rescue boat got there. But in that case -"
He stopped.
The Assistant Commissioner said:
"In that case -"
He sighed. He shook his head. He leaned forward.
"But in that case," he said, "who killed them?"
A MANUSCRIPT DOCUMENT SENT TO SCOTLAND YARD BY THE MASTER OF THE EMMA JANE, FISHING TRAWLER
From my earliest youth I realized that my nature was a mass of contradictions. I have to begin with, an incurably romantic imagination. The practice of throwing a bottle into the sea with an important document inside was one that never failed to thrill me when reading adventure stories as a child. It thrills me still - and for that reason I have adopted this course - writing my confession, enclosing it in a bottle, sealing the latter, and casting it into the waves. There is, I suppose, a hundred to one chance that my confession may be found - and then (or do I flatter myself!) a hitherto unsolved murder mystery will be explained.
I was born with other traits besides my romantic fancy. I have a definite sadistic delight in seeing or causing death. I remember experiments with wasps - with various garden pests... From an early age I knew very strongly the lust to kill.
But side by side with this went a contradictory trait - a strong sense of justice. It is abhorrent to me that an innocent person or creature should suffer or die by any act of mine. I have always felt strongly that right should prevail.
It may be understood - I think a psychologist would understand - that with my mental makeup being what it was, I adopted the law as a profession. The legal profession satisfied nearly all my instincts.
Crime and its punishment has always fascinated me. I enjoy reading every kind of detective story and thriller. I have devised for my own private amusement the most ingenious ways of carrying out a murder.
When in due course I came to preside over a court of law, that other secret instinct of mine was encouraged to develop. To see a wretched criminal squirming in the dock, suffering the tortures of the damned, as his doom came slowly and slowly nearer, was to me an exquisite pleasure. Mind you, I took no pleasure in seeing an innocent man there. On at least two occasions I stopped cases where to my mind the accused was palpably innocent, directing the jury that there was no case. Thanks, however, to the fairness and efficiency of our police force, the majority of the accused persons who have come before me to be tried for murder, have been guilty.
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