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And Then There Were None
by
AGATHA CHRISTIE
CHAPTER 1
IN THE CORNER of a first-class smoking carriage, Mr. Justice Wargrave,
lately retired from the bench, puffed at a cigar and ran an interested eye
through the political news in the Times.
He laid the paper down and glanced out of the window. They were running now
through Somerset. He glanced at his watch-another two hours to go. He went
over in his mind all that had appeared in the papers about Indian Island.
There had been its original purchase by an American millionaire who was crazy
about yachting-and an account of the luxurious modern house he had built on
this little island off the Devon coast. The unfortunate fact that the new
third wife of the American millionaire was a bad sailor had led to the
subsequent putting up of the house and island for sale. Various glowing
advertisements of it had appeared in the papers. Then came the first bald
statement that it had been bought-by a Mr. Owen. After that the rurnours
of the gossip writers had started. Indian Island had really been bought by
Miss Gabrielle Turl, the Hollywood film star! She wanted to spend some
months there free from all publicity! Busy Bee had hinted delicately that
it was to be an abode for Royalty??! Mr. Merryweather had had it whispered
to him that it had been bought for a honeymoon-Young Lord L-- had
surrendered to Cupid at last! Jonas knew for a fact that it had been
purchased by the Admiralty with a view to carrying out some very hush hush
experiments!
Definitely, Indian Island was news!
From his pocket Mr. Justice Wargrave drew out a letter. The handwriting was
practically illegible but words here and there stood out with unexpected
clarity. Dearest Lawrence . . . such years since I heard anything of you
. . . must come to Indian Island . . . the most enchanting place . . . so
much to talk over . . . old days . . .
I
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communion with Nature . . . bask in sunshine . . . 12.40 from Paddington .
. . meet you at Oakbridge . . . and his correspondent signed herself with
a flourish his ever Constance Culmington.
Mr. Justice Wargrave cast back in his mind to remember when exactly he had
last seen Lady Constance Culmington. It must be seven -no, eight years ago.
She had then been going to Italy to bask in the sun and be at one with
Nature and the contaditd. Later, he had heard, she had proceeded to Syria
where she proposed to bask in yet stronger sun and live at one with Nature
and the bedouin. Constance Culmington, he reflected to himself, was exactly
the sort of woman who would buy an island and surround herself with
mystery! Nodding his head in gentle approval of his logic, Mr. Justice
Wargrave allowed his head to nod. He slept. . . .
MASTERPIECES OF MURDER
2
Vera Claythorne, in a third-class carriage with five other travellers in
it, leaned her head back and shut her eyes. How hot it was travelling by
train to-day! It would be nice to get to the sea! Really a great piece of
luck getting this job. When you wanted a holiday post it nearly always
meant looking after a swarm of children-secretarial holiday posts were much
more difficult to get. Even the agency hadn't held out much hope.
And then the letter had come.
"I have received your name from the Skilled Women's Agency together with
their recommendation. I understand they know you personally. I shall be
glad to pay you the salary you ask and shall expect you to take up your
duties on August 8th. The train is the 12.40 from Paddington and you will
be met at Oakbridge station. I enclose five pound notes for expenses.
Yours truly,
Una Nancy Owen."
And at the top was the stamped address Indian Island, Sticklehaven, Devon.
...
Indian Island! Why, there had been nothing else in the papers lately! All
sorts of hints and interesting rumours. Though probably
AND THEN THERE WERE NONE
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that was mostly untrue. But the house had certainly been built by a
millionaire and was said to be absolutely the last word in luxury.
Vera Claythorne, tired by a recent strenuous term at school, thought to
herself-"Being a games mistress in a third-class school isn't much of a
catch. school."

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