10 Little Indians - SCRIPT - Part #2

LOMBARD (Critically)
It's a bit shut in, I like open country myself. Where you can see what's coming.

MACARTHUR (To Lombard)
You've seen a bit of the world, I fancy?

Lombard shrugs his shoulders disparagingly and touched his pocket again briefly. Vera and Macarthur noticed this and thought – what is in that pocket?

LOMBARD
I've knocked about here and there, sir.

No one said another word. Vera looked back out the window.
CUT TO:
EXT. DEVON COUNTRYSIDE – DAY

They came up over a steep hill and down a zigzag track into Sticklehaven - a mere cluster of cottages with a fishing boat or two drawn up on the beach. The roads and buildings all crooked not a straight road or building can be seen.
CUT TO:

EXT. SEVEN STARS INN – DAY

Vera stepped out of the taxi first and then the rest joined the other three people sitting. Blore introduce himself first, but used another name, Davis.

BLORE
Thought we might as well wait for you. Make one trip of it. Allow me to introduce myself. Name's Davis. Natal, South Africa's, my natal spot, ha, ha

Blore laughed while everyone else looked at him strange. Wargrave looked at him with active malevolence. Miss Brent was clearly not sure if she liked Colonials. Blore pulled out his flask.

BLORE (Hospitable)
Anyone care for a little nip before we embark?

Nobody assenting to his proposition, Mr. Davis (Blore) held up a finger.

BLORE
Mustn't delay, then. Our good host and hostess will be expecting us.

A man detached himself from a nearby wall against which he was leaning out of site and came up to the group. His rolling gait proclaimed him a man of the sea. He had a weather-beaten face and dark eyes with a slightly evasive expression. He spoke in a soft deep and raspy Devon voice.

FRED NARRCOTT
Will you be ready to be starting for the island, ladies and gentleman? The boat's waiting. There's two gentlemen coming by car, but Mr. Owen's orders were not to wait for them as they might arrive at any time.
The group got up and followed their guide.

CUT TO:
EXT. STONE JETTY/BOAT – DAY

Their guide led them along a small stone jetty. Alongside it a motorboat was lying. Miss Brent nervously looks at the boat.

MISS BRENT
That's a very small boat.

FRED
She's a fine boat, that, ma'am. You could go to Plymouth in her as easy as winking.
WARGRAVE
There are a good many of us.
FRED
She'd take double the number, sir.

LOMBARD (Pleasant, easy)
It's quite all right. Glorious weather - no swell.

As the group entered the boat their guide turned hearing a car coming down the steep track. It was Anthony Marston.

CUT TO:
EXT. CAR PARKING – DAY

Anthony parked his sports car and began to run toward the boat.

CUT TO:
EXT - STONE JETTY/BOAT – DAY

The group watched as the young man who looked more like a hero god out of some Northern Saga run toward the boat. But, no one looked impressed by him or the other man behind him, Dr. Armstrong. His arrival was not noticed over the sound of Marston’s car. The two other men entered the boat. Fred Narracott sat by the engine thinking to himself - what a queer lot. Fred started the engine.

FRED
Off - next stop…Indian Island.
CUT TO:
EXT. STONE JETTY/BOAT – DAY

The loaded boat of guests churns away from the dock.

PAN UP FROM THE BOAT TO SHOW ISLAND IN DISTANCE

Now at last the island came into view and the house. The south side of the island was quite different. It shelved gently down to the sea. The house was there facing south - low and square and modern-looking with rounded windows letting in all the light. An exciting house. You could see the profile through the mist, the profile of the American Native, where the Island received its name. Indian Island
SCREEN READS ****** "Agatha Christie's - Ten Little Indians"******

Then the words fade along with the image of the island.
FADE TO:
EXT. ROCKY STEPS – DAY

The group stepping off the boat begins to ascend the steep and rocky steps.

MACARTHUR
Ha, delightful spot!
No one replied.
CUT TO:
EXT. TERRACE – DAY

The group came out on a terrace above, their spirits revived by the site of the mansion. In the open doorway of the house a correct butler was awaiting them, and something about his gravity reassured them. Macarthur looks over to large vine covered pillars but is shaken by the site of two dead ravens at the base of the pillar. Macarthur says nothing as the group is distracted by the butler, Rogers. The butler came forward, bowing slightly. He was a tall, lank man, gray-haired and very respectable.

MR. ROGERS
Will you come this way, please?
CUT TO:
INT. WIDE HALL – DAY

The group gazed at the large hall and the artwork, tiles, art and woodwork.
Anthony smiled when he saw the row of bottles. Then he turned to the Butler.

MR. ROGERS
Mr. Owen is delayed until tomorrow, if there is anything you need please don't hesitate to ask me or my wife. Also, dinner will be at 8 o'clock.

Mrs. Rogers turned away motioning for the others to follow but only Vera followed.
CUT TO:
INT. VERA'S ROOM – DAY

Vera had walked into a delightful bedroom with a big window that opened wide upon the sea and another looking east. She uttered a quick exclamation of pleasure.
MRS. ROGERS (In a flat monotonous voice)
I hope you have everything you want, miss?

Mrs. Rogers looked like a white, bloodless ghost of a woman. Very respectable looking, with her hair dragged back from her face and black dress. Her eyes shifted the whole time from place to place. Vera looked around, saw her luggage put away and then noticed a door open into a pale-blue tiled bathroom.

VERA
Yes, everything, I think. (Pleasantly) I'm Mrs. Owens secretary. I expect you know that.
MRS. ROGERS
No, miss, I don't know anything. Just a list of ladies and gentlemen and what rooms they were to have.
VERA
Mrs. Owens didn't mention me?

Mrs. Rogers’s eyelashes flickered.

MRS. ROGERS
I haven't seen Mrs. Owen - not yet. We only came two days ago.

VERA (Aloud)
What staff is here?

MRS. ROGERS
Just me and Rogers, miss.

Mrs. Rogers notices Vera frowning.

MRS. ROGERS
I'm a good cook and Rogers is handy about the house. I don't know, of course, that there was to be such a large party.

VERA
But you can manage?

MRS ROGERS
Oh, yes, miss, I can manage. If there's to be large parties often perhaps Mrs. Owen could get extra help in.

VERA (Softly)
I expect so.
MRS. ROGERS
You'll ring the bell if you want anything, miss?

Mrs. Rogers turned to go. Her feet moved noiselessly over the ground. She drifted from the room like a shadow. Vera went over to the window and sat down on the window seat. Then something catches her eye, a piece of modern sculpture. An enormous block of white marble shaped like a bear, with an inset of a clock. Over it a gleaming chromium frame, was a big square of parchment - a poem. Vera stood in front of the fireplace and read it.

VERA (Aloud)
Ten little Indian boys went out to dine;
One chocked his little self and then there were nine.
FADE TO:
INT. ANTHONY MARSTON'S BATHROOM - EVENING

Anthony Marston was in his bath sipping from a flask. He luxuriated in the steaming water. His limbs had felt cramped after his long drive. The steam relaxed him.

CUT TO:
INT. BLORE'S ROOM - EVENING

Blore was tying his tie. He wasn't very good at this sort of thing. In the reflection of the mirror he could see the rhyme over the mantelpiece.

CUT TO:
INT. MACARTHUR'S ROOM – EVENING

Sitting at the edge of the bed, Macarthur frowned, wishing he was not there. He also was reading the Indian poem from the wall.

CUT TO:
INT. LOMBARD'S ROOM - EVENING

A gong sounded as Lombard was reading the poem above his mantelpiece. He exits.
CUT TO:
INT. EMILY BRENT'S ROOM – EVENING

Emily Brent, dressed in black silk ready for dinner, was reading her Bible. Her lips moved as she followed the words. After the second gong she got up, her tight lips closed. She shut the Bible. After rising, she pinned a cairngorm brooch to her neck, and exited to dinner.

FADE TO:
INT. DINING ROOM – EVENING
PAN AROUND TABLE

Multiple conversations are going on at the same time.
Dinner was drawing to a close. Rogers waited next to the wall as the group enjoyed their drinks. Everyone is in better spirits. They had begun to talk to each other with more freedom and intimacy. Wargrave, mellowed by the excellent port, was being amusing in a caustic fashion; Dr. Armstrong and Tony Marston were listening to him. Miss Brent chatted to General Macarthur; they discovered some mutual friends. Vera Claythorne was asking Mr. Davis (Blore) intelligent questions about South Africa. Mr. Davis was quite fluent on the subject. Lombard listened carefully to everyone’s conversations. In the center of the round table, on a circular glass stand, were some little china figures.

ANTHONY MARSTON (Referring to figures)
Quaint, these things aren't they? Indians, Indian Island. I suppose that's the idea.
VERA (Leaning forward)
I wonder. How many are there? Ten? Yes - ten there are! What fun! They're the ten little Indian boys of the nursery rhyme, I suppose. In my bedroom the rhyme is framed and hung over the mantelpiece.

LOMBARD
In my room, too.
EVERYONE ELSE (Separately/unison – except Wargrave)
Mine too.
VERA
It's an amusing idea, isn't it?

WARGRAVE (Grunted)
Remarkably childish.

Emily Brent looked at Vera. Vera returned the glance. The two women rose.

CUT TO:
INT. DRAWING ROOM – EVENING

In the drawing room, the French windows were open onto the terrace and the sound of the sea murmuring against the rocks came up to them.

MISS BRENT (Referring to sound from sea)
Pleasant sound.
VERA
I hate it.

Miss Brent looked at her in surprise.

VERA
I don't think this place would be very agreeable in a storm.

MISS BRENT
I've no doubt the house is shut up in the winter. You'd never get servants to stay here for one thing.
VERA (Murmured)
It must be difficult to get servants anyways.

MISS BRENT
Mrs. Oliver has been lucky to get these two. The woman's a good cook.

Vera looked at Miss Brent with question – Miss Brent got the name wrong.

VERA
Yes, I think 'Mrs. Owen' has been very lucky indeed.

Miss Brent reached in her bag and pulled out a small piece of embroidery. She was about to thread her needle, and paused.

MISS BRENT (Sharply)
I've never met anyone called Owen in my life!

VERA
But surely…

A DOOR SLAMMED OPEN - STARTLING EVERYONE

The door opened and the coffee tray slipped from Rogers’s hands startling everyone. Rogers entered.
ROGERS
My apologies. It can get breezy.

Picking up the coffee tray he began to serve everyone as they continued in their own private conversations.

FADE TO:
INT - DRAWING ROOM – EVENING – CLOCK
PULL OUT FROM CLOCK

The hands of the clock pointed to twenty minutes past nine. Then there was a comfortable, replete silence. Then into that silence came THE VOICE.
Without warning, inhuman, penetrating.

THE VOICE
Silence! Ladies and gentlemen! Silence, please!

Startled again they looked round - at each other, at the walls. Who was speaking? THE VOICE went on - a high clear resonating VOICE.

THE VOICE
You are all charged with the following indictments:

Dr. Armstrong has a hand over his mouth.

THE VOICE
Edward George Armstrong, that you did upon the 14th day of March, 1925, caused the death of Louisa Mary Clees.

Miss Brent judgmentally looks at Armstrong - gripping her embroidery with pursed lips. She then stops abruptly.

THE VOICE
Emily Caroline Brent, that upon the 5th of November, 1931, you were responsible for the death of Beatrice Taylor.

Blore stood with his arms folded looking at the floor and not reacting to his name.
THE VOICE
William Henry Blore that you brought about the death of James Stephen Landor on October 10th, 1928.

Vera sits shaking and scared when her name is called. Tears well up in her eyes.
THE VOICE
Vera Elizabeth Claythorne, that on the 11th day of August, 1935, you killed Cyril Ogilvie Hamilton.

Lombard stands with affirmation as if he knows what is about to be said, but looks at Vera concerned.
THE VOICE
Phillip Lombard, that upon a date in February, 1932, you were guilty of the death of twenty-one men, members of the East African Tribe.

The General leaning against the fireplace with his hand over his face. He wiped his weary eyes. The General is tired and accepts his guilt.

THE VOICE
John Gordon Macarthur, that on the 4th of January, 1917, you deliberately sent your wife's lover, Arthur Richmond, to his death.

Mr. Rogers standing near the door is holding a coffee. Mr. Rogers head and face look as if he is not worried. Mrs. Rogers is nowhere to be seen.

THE VOICE
Thomas and Ethel Rogers, that on the 6th of May, 1929, you brought about the death of Jennifer Brady.

Wargrave sitting there looking like a reptilian, shriveled, man looks into the air, but makes no eye contact with anyone.

THE VOICE
Lawrence John Wargrave, that upon the 10th day of June, 1930, you were guilty of the murder of Edward Seton.
Everyone is in shock.
THE VOICE
Prisoners at the bar, have you anything to say in your defense?

The VOICE had stopped. There was a moment's petrified silence and then a resounding crash! Mr. Rogers dropped the tray and then there came a scream and thud outside the door. Lombard was the first to move. He leapt to the door and flung it open. Lying in a huddled mass was Mrs. Rogers.

LOMBARD (Off screen)
Marston!

Marston and Lombard lifted the woman and carried her to the sofa and bent her over.
LOMBARD
It's nothing. She's fainted, that's all. She'll be round in a minute. (To Mr. Rogers) Get some brandy!

ROGERS (Shaking)
Yes sir.

Rogers slipped out of the room. Still sitting and shaking Vera cried out.

VERA
Who was that speaking? Where was he? It sounded - it sounded -
MACARTHUR
What's going on here? What kind of practical joke was that?

MacArthur’s hands shook, and then his shoulders sagged. He suddenly looked ten years older. Blore was mopping his face with a handkerchief. Only Wargrave and Miss Brent seemed comparatively unmoved. Miss Brent sat upright, her head held high. In both cheeks was a spot of hard color. Wargrave sat in his habitual pose, his head sunk down into his neck. With one hand he gently scratched his ear. Only his eyes were active, darting around the room, puzzled, alert with intelligence. Armstrong busy with the collapsed woman, Lombard stands up looking around.
LOMBARD
That voice? It sounded as though it were in the room.

VERA (Crying)
Who was it? Who was it? It wasn't one of us.

Like the judge, Lombard's eyes wandered slowly round the room until he noticed Wargrave and he rested on the open window, and then he shook his head decisively. You could still hear the sea. Wargrave shakes his head in agreement with Lombard. His face lit up and moved forward swiftly to where a door near the fireplace led into an adjoining room. With a swift gesture, he caught the handle and flung the door open. Passing through.

CUT TO:
INT. GRAMOPHONE ROOM - EVENING

Lombard entered and notices a table had been brought up close to the wall which adjoined the drawing room. On the table was a gramophone - an old fashioned type with a large trumpet attached. The mouth of the trumpet was against the wall, and Lombard, pushing it aside, indicated where two or three small holes had been unobtrusively bored through the wall.

LOMBARD (Satisfied)
Ah, he we are.

Adjusting the gramophone he replaced the needle on the record and immediately they heard THE VOICE again.

THE VOICE
You are charged with the following indictments -

VERA (Screaming - crying)
Turn it off! It's horrible!

Lombard obeyed. By now the rest of group without Mr. or Mrs. Rogers have come to the gramophone room.

DR. ARMSTRONG (Sigh of relief)
A disgraceful and heartless practical joke, I suppose.

WARGRAVE (Small, clear voice)
So you think it's a joke, do you?

The doctor stared at Wargrave.

DR. ARMSTRONG
What else could it be?

The hand of the judge gently stroked his upper lip.

WARGRAVE
At the moment I'm not prepared to give an opinion.

But, Wargraves mind was working. Anthony Marston interrupted the silence.

MARSTON
Look here, there's one thing you've forgotten. Who the devil turned the thing on and set it going?

WARGRAVE
Yes, I think we must inquire into that.

Wargrave led them back into the Drawing room.
CUT TO:
INT. DRAWING ROOM – EVENING

The group slowly enters as Rogers came in with a glass of brandy. Miss Brent went over to the moaning form of Mrs. Rogers. Adroitly Rogers slipped between the two women.
MR. ROGERS
Allow me, madam, I'll speak to her. Ethel - Ethel - it's all right. All right, do you hear? Pull yourself together.

Mrs. Rogers' breath came in quick gasps. Her eyes, staring frightening eyes. Went round and round the ring of faces.

MR. ROGERS (Urgency in tone)
Pull yourself together, Ethel.

Dr. Armstrong approached the Rogers.

DR. ARMSTRONG (Soothingly)
You'll be all right now, Mrs. Rogers. Just a nasty turn.

MRS. ROGERS
Did I faint sir?

DR. ARMSTRONG
Yes.
MRS. ROGERS
It was the voice, that awful voice, like a judgment.

Mrs. Rogers face turned green again, her eyes fluttered.

DR. ARMSTRONG (Sharply)
Where's that brandy?

She drank, choking a little and gasping. Color returns to her face.

MRS. ROGERS
I'm all right now. It just - gave me a turn.

MR. ROGERS
Of course it did. It gave me a turn too. Fair made me drop that tray. Wicked lies, it was! I'd like to know…

Wargrave coughed interrupting Mr. Rogers. Everyone turns to Wargrave.

WARGRAVE (Coughing again)
Who put that record on the gramophone? Was it you Rogers?
Rogers cried.
MR. ROGERS
I didn't know what it was. Before God, I didn't know what it was, sir. If I had I'd never have done it.

WARGRAVE (Dryly)
That is probably true. But I think you'd better explain, Rogers.

Rogers stood up wiping his face with a handkerchief.

MR. ROGERS (Earnestly)
I was just obeying orders, sir, that's all.

WARGRAVE
Whose orders.

MR. ROGERS
Mr. Owen's.

WARGRAVE
Let me get this quite clear. Mr. Owen's orders were - what exactly?
MR. ROGERS
I was to put a record on the gramophone. I's find the record in the drawer and my wife was to start the gramophone when I'd gone into the drawing room with the coffee tray.
WARGRAVE (Murmured)
A very remarkable story.

MR. ROGERS (Upset)
It's the truth sir. I swear to God it's the truth. I didn't know what it was - not for a moment. It had a name on it - I thought it was just a piece of music.
WARGRAVE (Looking at Lombard)
Was there a title on it?

Lombard nods and smiles showing his white pointed teeth.

LOMBARD
Quite right, sir. It was entitled 'Swan Song.'
The group beginning to relax in their former positions, Mrs. Rogers begins to totter out of the room, but stops when General Macarthur broke out suddenly.

GENERAL (Exclaiming)
The whole thing is preposterous - preposterous! Slinging accusations about like this! Something must be done about it. This fellow Owen, whoever he is -

MISS BRENT