10 Little Indians - SCRIPT - Part #3

MISS BRENT (Interrupting - sharply)
That's just it, who is he? I don’t know an Owen.

WARGRAVE (Interposing with authority)
That is exactly what we must go into carefully. I should suggest that you get your wife to bed first of all, Rogers. Then come back here.

MR. ROGERS
Yes, sir.

ARMSTRONG
I'll give you a hand, Rogers.

Leaning on the two men, Mrs. Rogers tottered out of the room.

MARSTON
Don't know about you, sir, but I could do with a drink.
LOMBARD
I agree.

Tony stands up to look.
MARSTON
I'll go and forage.

Leaving the room in silence he returns a second later with bottles of spirits.
MARSTON
Found them all waiting on a tray outside ready to be brought in.

The groups sat quietly as Dr. Armstrong entered the room.

ARMSTRONG
She's all right. I've given her a sedative to take. What's that, a drink? I could do with one. Rogers entered the room and Wargrave turned the room into a court of law.
WARGRAVE
Now then, Rogers, we must get to the bottom of this. Who is this Mr. Owen?
ROGERS
He owns this place, sir.

WARGRAVE
I am aware of that fact. What I want you to tell me is what you yourself know about the man?
ROGERS (Shaking his head)
I can't say, sir. You see, I've never seen him.

There is a faint stir in the room.
MACARTHUR
You've never seen him? What d'yer mean?

ROGERS
We've only been here just under a week, sir, my wife and I. We were engaged by letter, through an agency. The Regina Agency in Plymouth.

BLORE (nodding)
Old established firm.

WARGRAVE
Have you got that letter? (Rogers shakes his head no) Go on with your story, you were engaged, as you say, by letter.

ROGERS
We arrived on time. Everything was in order here. Plenty of food in stock and everything very nice. Just needed dusting and that.

WARGRAVE
What next?
ROGERS
Nothing, sir. We got orders - by letter again - to prepare the rooms for a house party and then yesterday by the afternoon post I got another letter from Mr. Owen. It said he and Mrs. Owen were detained and to do the best we could and it gave the instructions about dinner and coffee and putting on the gramophone record.
WARGRAVE (Sharply)
Surely you've got 'that' letter?

ROGERS
Yes, sir, I've got it here.

Producing the letter from his pocket the Judge took it.

WARGRAVE
H'm - Headed Ritz Hotel and typewritten.

Within a minute Blore was beside him.
BLORE
May I have a look?

Twitching it out of Wargraves hand Blore ran his eyes over it.

BLORE (Cont.)
Coronation machine. Quite new - no defects. Ensign paper - the most widely used make. You won't get anything out of that. Might be fingerprints, but I doubt it.

Everyone, especially Wargrave stared at Blore with sudden attention. Marston looks over Blores shoulder drinking heavily.

MARSTON
Got some fancy Christian names, hasn't he? Ulnick Norman Owen. Quite a mouthful.

The judges neck thrusted around like an angry tortoise.

WARGRAVE (Slight start)
I am obliged to you, Mr. Marston. You have drawn my attention to a curious and suggestive point.

PAN AROUND LOOKING AT OTHERS

WARGRAVE (Cont.)
I think the time has come for us to pool our information. It would be well, I think, for everybody to come forward with all the information they have regarding the owner of this house.

PAN AROUND AGAIN
WARGRAVE (Cont./Off screen)
We are all guests. I think it would be profitable if each of us were to explain exactly how that came about.

There is a long pause as everyone looks at each other.

MISS BRENT
There's something very peculiar about all this. I received a letter with a signature that was not easy to read. It purported to be from a woman I had met at a certain summer resort two or three years ago. I took the name to be either Ogden or Oliver. I am acquainted with a Mrs. Oliver and also with a Mrs. Ogden. I am quite certain that I have never met, or become friendly with, anyone of the name of Owen.

WARGRAVE
You have that letter, Miss Brent?

MISS BRENT
Yes, I will fetch it for you.

Miss Brent stepped out.
WARGRAVE
I am beginning to understand. . . . Miss Claythorne?
Everyone begins pulling out their letters. Miss Brent returns with her letter

MARSTON
Mine came by wire by a friend.....Berkeley.

ARMSTRONG
I was called in professionally. A reference from a friend.

WARGRAVE (To Armstrong)
A colleague friend, I presume, was momentarily out of touch?
Armstrong agreed with a nod. Lombard this entire time had been staring at Blore.
LOMBARD
I just thought of something.

Wargrave put his hand up.

WARGRAVE
In a minute.
LOMBARD
But I…
WARGRAVE (Interrupting Lombard)
We will take one thing at a time, Mr. Lombard. We are at the present inquiring into the causes which have resulted in our being assembled here tonight. General?

Macarthur pulling at his moustache begins to mutter.

MACARTHUR (Muttered)
Got a letter - from this fellow Owen - mentioned some old pals of mine who were to be here - hoped I'd excuse informal invitation. Haven't kept the letter, I'm afraid.
WARGRAVE (Off screen)
Mr. Lombard?

Lombard’s brain is active.

LOMBARD
Same sort of thing. Invitation, mention of mutual friends - I fell for it, all right. I've torn up the letter.
Wargrave stroking his upper lip turns his attention to Blore.

WARGRAVE (Dangerously polite)
Just now we had a somewhat disturbing experience. An apparent disembodied voice spoke to us all by name, uttering certain precise accusations against us. We will deal with those accusations presently. At the moment I am interested in a minor point. Amongst the names recited was that of a William Henry Blore. But as far as we know there is no one named Blore amongst us. The name of Davis was not mentioned.

Wargrave looks up at Blore with penetrating eyes.

WARGRAVE (To Blore)
What have you to say about that, Mr. Davis?

LOMBARD (To Blore)
You are William Henry Blore?

BLORE
That's right.

LOMBARD
I will add something. Not only are you here under a false name, Mr. Blore, but in addition I've noticed this evening that you're a first-class liar. You claim to have come from Natal, South Africa. I know South Africa and Natal and I'm prepared to swear that you've never set foot there in your life.

Blore nervous as all eyes are on him. Angry, suspicious eyes. Marston moved a step closer to Blore with fists clenched.

MARSTON
Now then, you swine, any explanation?
Blore flung back his head and set his square jaw.

BLORE
You gentlemen have got me wrong. I've got my credentials and you can see them. I'm an ex-C.I.D. man. I run a detective agency in Plymouth. I was put on this job.
WARGRAVE
By whom?
BLORE
This man Owen. Enclosed a handsome money order for expenses and instructed me as to what he wanted done. I was to join the house party, posing as a guest. I was given all your names. I was to watch you all.

WARGRAVE
Any reason given?

BLORE (Bitterly)
Mrs. Owen's jewels. Mrs. Owens my big foot! I don't believe there's any such person.

Wargrave began stroking his lip again with his finger.

WARGRAVE
Your conclusions are, I think, justified.

Wargrave holds up Miss Brent’s letter.

WARGRAVE (Cont.)
Ulick Norman Owen! In Miss Brent's letter here, though the signature of the same surname is a mere scrawl the Christian names are reasonably clear - Una Nancy - in either case, you notice the same initials. Ulick Norman Owen - Una Nancy Owen - each time, that is to say, U.N. Owen. Or by a slight stretch of fancy --- UNKNOWN!
VERA (Crying)
But this is fantastic - mad!

Wargrave took the letter from his pocket.

WARGRAVE
This letter purports to be from an old friend something similar to all of you. This person has taken a great deal of time to find out a good deal about us all. He knows, you see, a good deal. And out of his knowledge concerning us, he made certain definite accusations.

All of the group begin babbling and crying out.

VERA (Breathing fast)
It's iniquitous!

ROGERS (Hoarsely)
A lie! A wicked lie! We never did… neither of us. . .

WARGRAVE
This person accuses me of killing Edward Seaton.

ARMSTRONG
I remember that case.

Wargrave raising his hand to stop Armstrong from talking. Armstrong looks at Lombard who is used to being cut off by the good Judge.

WARGRAVE
The jury came back with a guilty verdict. I passed the death sentence. My conscience is clear.

No one said anything. The judge nodded gently.

WARGRAVE
Oh, yes. I've no doubt in my mind that we have been invited here by a madman - probably a dangerous homicidal lunatic.

FADE TO:
EXT. INDIAN ISLAND MANSION – EVENING

The wind has picked up and we can see the silhouette of a person walking past one of the lit windows of the drawing room.
CUT TO:
INT. DRAWING ROOM – EVENING

The silhouette is of Lombard. The group sit/stand quietly until Vera speaks.

VERA (Trembling)
I'd like to tell you. About that child - Cyril Hamilton. I was a nursery governess to him. He was forbidden to swim out far. One day, when my attention was distracted, he started off. I swam after him . . . I couldn't get there in time. . It was awful . . . but it wasn't my fault. I was exonerated and even his mother - she was so kind. She didn't blame me. If she didn't blame me why this awful thing should be said.

Vera breaks down and Macarthur pats Vera on the shoulder.

MACARTHUR
There, there, my dear. Of course it's not true. Fellows a madman. A madman!

Miss Brent looks up from her knitting too Vera and Macarthur.

MACARTHUR (Off screen)
Got a bee in his bonnet!

Macarthur locks eyes with Miss Brent.

MACARTHUR (Cont.)
Got hold of the wrong end of the stick.

Macarthur stands erect with squared shoulders.

MACARTHUR
No truth in whatever he said about - er - young Arthur Richmond. Richmond was one of my officers. I sent him on a reconnaissance. He was killed. Natural events of war. I resent the slur on my wife.
Macarthur becomes chocked up.

MACARTHUR (Cont.)
Best woman in the world.

Lombard, eyes amused spoke up.

LOMBARD
About those natives…

MARSTON
What about them?

LOMBARD (Grinning)
Story's quite true! I left 'em! Matter of self-preservation. We were lost in the bush. I and a couple of other fellows took what food there was and cleared out.
Both in shock.
MACARTHUR (Sternly)
You abandoned your men - left them to starve?

Lombard moves closer to Macarthur & Vera.

LOMBARD
Not quite the act of 'pukka sahib', I'm afraid. But self-preservation's a man's first duty. And natives don't mind dying, you know. They don't feel about it as Europeans do.

Vera lifts her head from her hands looking right at Lombard.
VERA
You left them - to die?

LOMBARD (To Vera)
I left them to die.

After a pause Marston who begins to sound drunk speaks.

MARSTON
John and Lucy Combes. Must have been a couple kids I ran over near Cambridge. Beastly bad luck.
WARGRAVE (Acidly)
For them, or for you?

Everyone looks in disdain toward Marston.
MARSTON
Well, I was thinking - for me - but of course, you're right, sir, it was damned bad luck for them. Of course it was an accident. They rushed out of some cottage or other. I had my license endorsed for a year. Beastly nuisance…

ARMSTRONG (Interrupting)
This speeding's all wrong - all wrong!

Marston is not shocked by Armstrong or any of the others shameful looks towards him.
ARMSTRONG (Cont.)
Young men like you are a danger to the community!

Marston gets up shrugged his shoulders and moved over to make a drink. No one says anything as the bottles clink and clank against each other. Marston pours into a glass, some of the liquor misses.

MARSTON
Speeds come to stay.

Finding his glass and the whiskey raises for a toast.

MARSTON (Cont.)
Well, anyway, it wasn't my fault. Just an accident!

Marston sips away. Rogers stands twisting his hands.

ROGERS (Low, deferential voice)
If I might just say a word, sir.

LOMBARD
Go ahead, Rogers.

Marston raises his glass in approval towards Rogers. Wargrave shakes his head at Marston and begins to listen to Rogers.
Rogers cleared his throat.
ROGERS
There was a mention, sir, of me and Mrs. Rogers. And of Miss Brady. There isn't a word of truth to it sir. She was always in poor health, sir, always from the time we came to her. There was a storm, sir, that night - that night she was taken bad. The telephone was out of order. We couldn't get a doctor to her. I went for him, sir, on foot. The doctor arrived too late. There was never a word said against us. Not a word.

BLORE
Came into a little something at her death, Rogers?

Rogers turned quickly toward Blore.

LOMBARD
What about yourself Blore?

BLORE
What about me?

LOMBARD
Your name was on the list.

BLORE
Landor, you mean? That was the bank robbery - London and Commercial. I was the investigator in charge of the case. Landor was a crook; I was given a promotion for catching him. Landor died in penal servitude.

WARGRAVE
I remember that case. Blore is telling the truth.
Lombard laughs.
LOMBARD
What a duty-loving, law-abiding lot we all seem to be! Myself excepted. What about you doctor?
Armstrong shook his head.

ARMSTRONG
The name meant nothing to me when it was spoken. (Thinking) What was it? Clees? Close? I cannot remember a patient with that name, or being connected to a death in any way.

The room fell into another silence. The group all then turned to Miss Brent.
Miss Brent's eyebrows rose on her narrow forehead.

MISS BRENT
Are you waiting for me to say something? I have nothing to say.

WARGRAVE
Nothing, Miss Brent?

Miss Brent pursed her lips so tight her that the lower cracked lip began to bleed.

MISS BRENT (Adamant)
Nothing.

The judge stroked his face and taped the bottom of his lip informer Miss Brent of the bleed. Her tongue quickly lathered up the blood like Vampire.

WARGRAVE
You reserve your defense?

Miss Brent still unnerved.
MISS BRENT
There is no question of defense. I have nothing with which to reproach myself.
WARGRAVE (Clearing throat)
Our inquiry rests there. Now, Rogers, who else is there on this island besides ourselves, you and your wife?

The room unsettled.

ROGERS
Nobody, sir. Nobody at all.

WARGRAVE
You're sure of that?

ROGERS
Quite sure, sir.

WARGRAVE
I am not yet clear as to the purpose of our Unknown host in getting us to assemble here. But in my opinion this person, whoever he may be, is not sane in the accepted sense of the word. He may be dangerous. In my opinion it would be well for us to leave this place as soon as possible. I suggest that we leave tonight.
ROGERS
I beg your pardon, sir, but there's no boat on the island.

WARGRAVE
No boat at all?

ROGERS
No, sir.

WARGRAVE
How do you communicate with the mainland?

ROGERS
Fred Narracott, he comes over every morning, sir. He brings the bread and milk and the post, and takes the orders.

WARGRAVE
Then we leave in the morning as soon as the boat arrives.
Everyone agreed.
MARSTON
I disagree. We ought to ferret out the mystery. Quite thrilling!
WARGRAVE (Acidly)
At my time in my life, I have no desire for 'thrills' as you call them.

Anthony Marston picked up his drink.

MARSTON (Drunken grin)
The legal life's narrowing! I'm all for crime! Here's to it!
Drinking down the entire glass of whiskey - quickly. Marston chokes - chokes badly. His face contorts, and turns purple. Marston gasps for breath, slides down his chair, the glass falling from his hand landing onto the floor. The glass did not break on the carpet but spun in a small circle and stopped.

MARSTON IS DEAD.

It was so sudden and so unexpected that it took everyone's breath away. Everyone stupidly staring at the crumpled figure on the ground. Dr. Armstrong kneeled down next to the limp/dead body of Marston.
Doctor Armstrong bewildered looks around at everyone.

ARMSTRONG (Low awestruck voice)
My God! He's dead.

The group could not take it in. Armstrong sniffed around Marston’s blue lips and peered into his eyes. Picking up the glass from which Marston was drinking he smelled it.
MACARTHUR
Dead? D'you mean the fellow just choked and --- died?
ARMSTRONG (Sniffing at glass still)
You can call it choking, if you like. He died of asphyxiation right enough.
Doctor Armstrong dipped his finger into glass very cautiously and just touched the finger with the tip of his tongue. His expression altered.

MACARTHUR
Never knew a man could die like that -- just a choking fit!

MISS BRENT (Clear voice)
In the midst of life we are in death.

Dr. Armstrong stood up.
ARMSTRONG (Brusquely)
No, a man doesn't die of a mere choking fit. Marston's death wasn't what we call a natural death.
VERA (Soft whisper)
Was there --- something --- in the whiskey?

ARMSTRONG (Nodding)
Yes. Can't say exactly. Everything points to cyanides. No distinctive smell of prussic acid, probably potassium cyanide. It acts pretty well instantaneously.

WARGRAVE (Sharply)
It was in his glass?

ARMSTRONG
Yes.

As the doctor strode to the table where the drinks were. Everyone else still clearly mortified watched Armstrong.

LOMBARD
You mean --- he must have put the stuff in his glass himself?

Armstrong removed the stopper from the whiskey and smelt and tasted it. Then he tasted the soda water He shook his head.

ARMSTRONG
They're both all right.

BLORE
Suicide, eh? That's a queer way to go.

ARMSTRONG
Is there any other possibility other than suicide?
Everyone slowly shook their head.