What a quiet place!
Indeed yes, very quiet. Very quiet.
There's your bathroom, Miss.
I see we have the same bathroom.
I think I had better introduce myself.
I'm Vera Claythorne, Mrs. Owen's secretary.
Oh. My name is Emily Brent.
Is there anything you want, Miss?
Well, I'd like to see Mrs. Owen.
I'm Mrs. Owen's new secretary. I expect you know that.
No Miss, I don't know anything.
Just the list of the ladies and gentlemen
who are invited for the weekend.
Didn't Mrs. Owen mention me?
I haven't seen Mrs. Owen yet.
We only came here a few days ago.
This is a large house. What staff have you here?
Just me and Rogers, Miss.
Does Mr. Owen know we've arrived?
- He's not here yet, sir. - Where is Mrs. Owen?
They were delayed in London, sir.
I got a letter. They'll be here for dinner.
Eight o'clock, sir.
We tell the story in Ireland, about the two Englishmen...
who were cast away on a desert island for 3 years...
and never spoke to each other,
because they hadn't been introduced.
I'm not English!
My name is Prince Nikita Starloff.
Call me Nicky.
Well, that breaks the ice, gentlemen.
I am Judge Quinncannon.
How do you do, sir. I'm Dr. Armstrong.
My name is Lombard. Philip Lombard.
I'm General Mandrake.
Sir John Mandrake, isn't it General?
Some years ago, I was called in consultation.
Your wife was ill.
My wife is dead, sir!
If you gentlemen will be good enough to follow me,
I will show you to your rooms.
I'm afraid I didn't catch your name.
- Blore. - Blore?
- William Henry Blore. - Oh, Philip Lombard.
I'm afraid you've got the wrong bag!
You're very observing, Mr. Blore.
C.M., Charles Morley. An old friend of mine.
I like his taste. I even borrow his clothes.
Oh excuse me, Doctor. I thought that this was a closet.
It seems we are sharing a bathroom.
Oh, I didn't know.
The only time I regret being a bachelor
is when I have to dress for dinner.
- Ah, let me help you. - Thank you.
Do you know this part of the English coast?
No. I can't say I do.
Something magical about an island.
Yes, they're like a world of its own.
How would you like to spend your last days here?
Oh no thanks, I think a weekend will be enough.
We all build islands of imagination.
Represents escape.
Half of my patients are sick
because they're trying to escape reality.
- Well, and what's your answer? - Oh, I tell them fairytales.
I build them islands of imagined security.
Don't you believe in medicine, Doctor?
Do you believe in justice, Judge?
- Mr. Blore? - Yes?
The bathroom's yours.
- Do you think they're done? - Done enough for them.
Ethel.
Don't stand there gawking. Get 'em up.
Did you wash the floor this morning?
Do you suppose I have time for everything?
It's not right to go inviting a house full of guests.
I'll talk to Mr. Owen when he comes.
You tell him, we're quitting.
The agency didn't tell us the house was so big and so lonely.
- You knew it was an island. - Hmph! With only one house.
Makes me nervous. Here!
What they don't know won't hurt 'em.
Everyone has to eat a speck of dirt before they die.
Ladies and Gentlemen, May I propose a toast...
to our gracious hostess, Mrs. Owen.
Uh oh, Doctor! I saw you. You drank water.
- That's bad luck. - Water never hurt anyone, sir.
Especially in my profession.
Don't forget the old proverb, doctor.
Never trust a man who doesn't drink.
Sounds like the Bible. Great book.
And now I give you our charming host, Mr. Owen.
Jolly good fellow!
And I hope, sir, that will conclude all possible toasts.
Tell me, Miss Claythorne,
why do they call this place Indian Island?
I don't know.
Excuse me, sir, the boatman
told me it's because it's shaped like the head of an Indian.
Oh, that accounts for the little Indians!
- Indians!
We must have a toast, sir. I drink to the Indians.
Each little Indian, individually.
6, 7, 8, 9, 10. Ten little Indians!
Ten little Indians! It's like the nursery rhyme.
Ten little Indian boys went out to dine...
one choked his little self and then there were nine.
Oh poor little fellow.
Here's to him. And what happened to the others?
Nine little Indian boys sat up very late...
one overslept himself and then there were eight.
Then what happened?
You will find the rhymes on the piano.
Mr. Owen seems to be fond of little Indians.
(Ten little Indians)
Eight little Indian boys traveling in Devon.
One said he'd stay right there and then there were seven.
Seven little Indian boys chopping up some sticks.
Till one chopped himself in half and then there were six.
Six little Indian boys playing with a hive.
A bumblebee stung one of them and then there were five.
Five little Indian boys going in for law.
Now one got in Chancery and then there were four.
Four little Indian boys going out to sea.
A red herring swallowed one and then there were three.
Three little Indian boys walking in the zoo.
A big bear hugged one and then there were two.
The place for nursery rhymes is in the nursery.
Don't worry judge, he's down to the last Indian.
Two Little Indian boys sitting in the sun.
One got all frizzled up and then there was one.
One little Indian boy left all alone.
So he went and hanged himself
and then...
there...
were none.
Silence please, Ladies and Gentlemen.
This is your host Mr. Owen speaking.
You are charged with the following crimes.
General Sir John Mandrake:
That you did deliberately send your wife's lover,
Lieutenant Arthur Masefield to his death.
Emily Brent:
That you did cause and bring about the death
of your young nephew, Peter Brent.
Dr. Edward G Armstrong:
That through uncontrolled drunkenness
you did kill Mrs. Mary Cleese.
Prince Nikita Starloff:
That you are guilty of the murder
of Fred and Lucy Marlowe.
Vera Claythorne:
That you did murder your sister's fiancé,
Richard Barclay.
Judge Francis J. Quinncannon:
That you were responsible for the death
by hanging of one Edward Seaton.
Philip Lombard:
That you are guilty of the deaths of 21 men,
members of an East African tribe.
William H Blore:
That by perjuring your testimony
you did bring about the death of James Landor.
Thomas and Ethel Rogers:
That you brought about the death
of your invalid employer, Mrs. Jennifer Brady.
Prisoners at the bar of justice
have you anything to say in your defense?
Silence please, Ladies and Gentlemen.
This is your host, Mr. Owen.
What's going on here?
What kind of a practical joke is this?
It's on the record.
An outrageous lie.
It's called Swan Song.
May I ask who put it on the gramophone?
- I did, sir. - Why?
I didn't know what it was. On my oath I didn't know! I...
I was just obeying orders, sir. That's all.
- Who's orders? - Mr. Owen's.
Now let's get this quite clear.
Mr. Owen's orders were what exactly?
To put the record on at 9 o'clock. It was sealed up.
I... I thought it was just a piece of music.
It's the truth, sir!
I haven't seen Mr. Owen. I was telling my wife.
I told you we shouldn't have come here! I want to get away!
- I won't touch that money! - Shut up!
First thing to do, Rogers, is to get your wife to bed.
May I have your attention please.
This letter to Rogers is signed by Mr. U N Owen.
I must confess I don't know Mr. Owen personally.
What kind of a man is he?
Who knows him?
Ha ha. You all came to a house and you don't know the host!
What about yourself, Your Highness?
Oh, with me, it's different. I am a professional guest.
I knew we shouldn't have come here!
Quiet, Ethel!
I knew somebody would find out about it some day!
- I told you! - Shut up, I tell you!
She's quite out of her head, Doctor.
Hysteria induced by shock. Give her this sedative.
10 drops in half a glass of water.
Yes, sir.
If she doesn't sleep, repeat the dose in 2 hours.
Oh, I hope she'll sleep, Doctor.
Dr. Armstrong, we've taken all the evidence except your own.
What's your reason for being here?
Quite frankly, I came here professionally.
I received a letter from Mr. Owen, asking me to come here
and spend the weekend and pretend to be a guest
so that I might examine his wife who had refused to see a doctor.
I'll summarize our findings.
We've all received letters from old trusted friends.
Inviting us to spend the weekend here.
As guests of their friends, the Owens.
Miss Claythorne was employed through an agency
and told to report to Mrs. Owen.
This letter to Mr. Lombard is the only one directly
from Mr. Owen. Very peculiar.
I might even call it threatening.
What do you say?
I say that the only person whose presence here
hasn't been explained is that gentleman.
Well Your Honor, I see no reason to conceal it any longer.
I'm here to do a job.
- I was hired. - By whom?
This man, Owen.
You saw him?
No. He enclosed a fat money order with that
and someone to join the house party
and to pose as one of the guests.
I run a detective agency in Plymouth! I got me credentials!
Look here, Judge.
All of these letters refer to our host as U N Owen. U N Owen!
Unknown
Yes, Mr. Unknown has not only
enticed us here under false pretences but he's taken the
trouble to find out a great deal about us all.
- That's a lie! - It's a fantastical idea!
Listen, my friends. The accusation is true!
Now I remember. A year ago...
two people in the road...
I was driving fast, fast, fast!
- What happened? - They took my license away.
- What about the two people? - I ran over them.
Beastly bad luck.
I'm still not clear as to the purpose of our unknown host
in getting us to assemble here. In my opinion,
this person whoever he may be is not of normal mind.
He may be dangerous.
I think it would be wise
for us all to leave this island immediately.
I quite agree, sir.
Rogers, how soon can we get the boat from the mainland?
I can't, sir. There's no telephone.
The boat only comes twice a week, sir.
It won't come again until Monday.
And this is only Friday.
- There's no boats here? - No, sir.
Why do you want to leave, my friends?
Why don't we get to the bottom of this mystery?
It's wonderful! Really!
At our time of life, sir,
we have no desire for thrills as you call them.
Your legal mind has lost its taste for adventure.
I am all for crime, Your Honor.
May I propose a toast: Here is to crime!
How perfectly disgusting! Drinks like an animal.
- Huh? What did you say? - He's not moving.
Just plain drunk.
Just plain dead.
- What did the doctor say? - Dead.
What?
What are you looking at, Rogers?
It's broken, sir.
You'll have more than that
to report to the owner of this house.
But Mr. Owen isn't the owner, sir.
He's only leased it for the weekend.
Ah, then you know more than you told us.
Come, come, Rogers,
are you quite sure that there is no one else on this island?
- I'd swear to it, sir. - I believe you Rogers.
But I'm afraid your story will be questioned by the police.
Don't touch!
I thought you'd gone to bed, Mr. Blore.
In our profession,
Doctor, we don't always do what we appear to do.
Perhaps it the same in yours.
Why don't you want me To touch that glass?
I thought it would be inadvisable
for you to have your fingerprints on it.
Smell it.
- Lethal solution. - Suicide?
That, I believe comes under your profession, sir.
Doctor!
Doctor Armstrong!
- Doctor Armstrong! - What is it, Rogers?
It's the wife, sir. She doesn't look right to me.
Go ahead I'll follow you.
Good morning, Miss Brent.
I hope you slept better than I did.
I slept very well, thank you.
I have nothing on my conscience.
Good morning, General.
Good morning.
General Mandrake!
Yes, Juliet? Oh! Forgive me, young lady.
I was thinking of my wife.
Good morning, Miss Claythorne. What about breakfast?
Do you mind if I sit down like this?
Morning, Judge. Morning, Miss Brent.
Good morning.
What? Is something worrying you?
I don't understand it.
There are a lot of things, I don't understand, sir!
These little figures.
How many were there last night? Ten?
- Ten. - Yes, ten.
Rogers found one broken after... after what happened.
- And now, how many do you see? - Eight.
- Only eight. - That's what I counted.
Oh, let Mr. Owen worry about it. They're his Indians.
- What about breakfast? - I afraid
you'll have to go without breakfast.
Mrs. Rogers died in her sleep.
- What? - What?
- How? - Heart failure?
Her heart certainly failed to beat.
What caused it to fail, I cannot say.
Conscience?
Oh conscience, my eye. What about her husband?
He was scared to death, for fear his wife would talk.
I'm sorry. I'm sorry there's no breakfast prepared.
But you see, my wife...
- It's all right, Rogers. - We understand.
But I thought you told us, he was dead.
- His wife. - Eh?
- His wife! - Wife?
No, no, no. I don't think a man would ever kill his wife.
No matter how guilty she was.
The wicked flee when no man pursueth.
Two accidental deaths in 12 hours? I don't believe it!
Nor I! What do you say, Judge?
How does the rhyme go, Miss Claythorne?
Ten Little Indians?
One choked his little self and then were nine.
- Go on... - One overslept himself.
And then there were eight.
We are eight people on this island now.
- Lombard! - I'll be ready in a minute!
Take your time!
- You know I got it? - Got what?
There's one thing this fellow Owen forgot.
This island is just a bare rock.
We'll catch that raving maniac.
He would have to be a fool to stay on the island.
You mean Rogers is lying?
Why not? The man's scared,
scared out of his senses, that's obvious.
That's why I think that he is telling the truth.
A lunatic like Owen could have found a hiding place
before Rogers arrived here.
It doesn't matter if Rogers is lying or not.
You agree that Mr. Owen Esquire is hiding, don't' you.
He'll certainly be dangerous. We ought to be armed.
Yes, too bad we're not allowed to carry firearms in England.
It puts the normal citizen at a great disadvantage.
You mean you haven't any weapon?
You know Blore, it's strange,
but I came to the same conclusion you did.
Mr. Owen is hiding, maybe inside this house.
He appears to have an accomplice, hasn't he?
If you ask me, Rogers...
I have a feeling I'm being watched. Secretly.
What do you see?
I... I thought heard a strange voice.
Gentlemen, I have come to the conclusion that
the invisible Mr. Owen is hiding somewhere on this island.
Extraordinary. I was looking for you to tell you the same thing.
- That's what I think, sir. - Me too.
We've all come to the same opinion.
We must find his place of concealment.
Immediately. So long as there's a lunatic at large,
we are in mortal danger.
Do you hear that?
Hello, puss. Looking for a mouse? So are we.
What I'd like to know is whether we're the cat or the mouse.
Nobody in the General's room, not even the General.
I wonder where the old boy is.
I don't know. I don't think he even knows where he is himself.
Nothing in there but the Russian.
I keep hearing that song
he was singing last night just before he popped off.
- Ten Little Indians? - Yes.
It certainly was his swan song.
One thing is certain. He isn't inside.
Therefore, he must be outside.
- Brilliant thinking, Blore! - Eh?
I'm afraid it's no use watching for the boat.
It won't come till Monday.
No boat will ever come, Juliet.
We're here forever. What made you love him, Juliet?
Sir John!
Oh. Forgive me, my child. You don't understand.
- Nobody! - Not a living thing.
Not even a hiding place.
Not even a seagull could hide down there.
- I don't understand it. - Maybe we've been wrong.
Building a nightmare out of imagination.
Two people dead isn't imagination.
The Russian may have committed suicide.
And Mrs. Rogers?
Well, you didn't give an overdose last night, did you?
Doctors can't afford to make mistakes of that kind.
We cannot blunder as detectives sometimes do.
It wouldn't be your first mistake
if that gramophone record is to be believed.
Gentlemen, gentlemen this is no time for quarrelling.
- Let's face it we're in a trap. - You shouldn't forget
the ten little Indians on the dinner table.
That's right. Mr. Owen's hand is plain to see.
Yes, but where the devil is Mr. Owen himself?
If Mr. Owen is on this island, he'll catch his death of cold.
If that's supposed to be a joke, I don't see the point.
All we have to do is to keep quiet and we'll hear him sneeze.
Oh.
I'm sorry it's only cold meat and salad.
I did the best I could.
- Okay, Rogers. - Oh we understand.
- Rogers we're only seven today. - I'm sorry miss.
You called General Mandrake?
I looked in his room, Miss, but he's not there.
- Didn't he come in the house? - I didn't see him, Doctor.
Last time I saw, he was mooning around on the beach.
- He seemed quite abnormal. - I know where he is.
You stay here, Miss Claythorne.
You say the General was behaving very strangely?
- Like a man out of his mind. - In other words, a lunatic.
Right ho, the old boy's barmy.
Whom the Gods destroy, they first make mad.
Well? Aren't we looking for a lunatic?
He said no boat will ever come.
Then he knows something.
Maybe he's not as crazy as we think he is.
Doctor, you better come with me.
Don't wait for us.
And don't wait for the General any longer.
Poisoned glass could mean suicide.
An overdose of sedative might have been an accident.
But this instrument,
which you saw me remove from the back of the third victim
means only one thing: Murder.
Or an act of God.
My dear lady, in my experience of ill doing,
Providence means the work of punishment to us mortals.
Evidently, Mr. Owen believes we are guilty of certain crimes,
which the law cannot touch
and he's appointed himself to execute justice.
That is why he has enticed us to this island.
There's no one on this island. I tell you. No one.
- Doctor. Doctor Armstrong! - What is it, man?
There's another little Indian figure missing.
- That accounts for the General. - I was expecting that.
You just said there's no one on this island.
In a sense you may know.
Nevertheless, I am now certain that Mr. Owen is here.
How can he be here?
I don't believe in the invisible man.
He's not invisible.
Mr. Owen could only come to this island in one way.
It's perfectly clear.
Mr. Owen is one of us.
Do you have to do that?
I'm just studying Mr. Owen's little scheme.
Maybe you know how the General was killed.
My dear Blore, can't you read?
Eight little Indians boys traveling in Devon,
One said he'd stay there and then there were seven.
The old soldier stayed here, didn't he?
Am I disturbing your little game?
Not at all, Blore.
Nothing clears the mind like a game of precision.
What game are you playing, judge?
We've come to the conclusion, the doctor and I,
that this whole story is a game of the mind.
There we are. Eight of us came to this island.
The Rogers were waiting for us.
Don't forget, waiting for us.
One of the ten is Mr. Owen.
We agree on that.
Out of all of us, three persons are definitely cleared.
- Who? - The dead ones.
Our Russian friend, Mrs. Rogers and the General.
- Seven little Indians left. - Six. One is bogus.
Correct, sir. One of us is Mr. Owen.
Which one?
Where's your alibi?
I'm not like you Mr. Blore. I am a well known professional man.
My dear doctor, that proves less than nothing.
I too am a well known person.
But doctors have gone mad before now.
Judges have gone mad and so have policemen.
And, may I say, explorers, Mr. Lombard?
You may. You may.
Why do you leave Miss Claythorne out of it?
- We don't. - Nor you, my dear lady.
Well, I quite appreciate that nobody can be
- exonerated without proof. - What about Rogers?
- That's what I was thinking. - What do we know about him?
He put that record on the gramophone, didn't he.
That's a fact.
How do we know Rogers didn't lease this house
and pretend to be the butler?
Oh, no, no, no. Bad psychology!
You can rule Rogers out definitely.
- I don't see why. - Look at the shape of his head.
He hasn't the brains for it.
And don't forget there's something else, sir.
My wife was one of the victims.
In my time, Rogers, I've had several husbands
before me guilty of the murder of their wives.
Well, if you put it that way, sir, they...
they do sometimes drive a man crazy.
We must suspect each and everyone among us.
Now, I warn everybody to be on his guard. If not...
We shall all go the same way.
And Mr. Owen will very soon be alone on this island.
E flat, Miss Claythorne.
Aren't you afraid the others
will think your playing inappropriate.
I can't stand the silence. I have to do something.
Go on playing.
If it's any comfort to you,
there's one person who doesn't suspect you.
Thank you.
Aren't you going to return the compliment?
I haven't made up my mind about you, Mr. Lombard.
Whom do you suspect?
The one nearest the fire.
- I think you're wrong. - Well, who then?
A man who believes in punishing crimes.
His brain might snap and he'd want to be executioner.
After having been a judge.
Rogers, I'd like to ask you a few questions.
Did you...
- prepare a nice dinner? - Just cold meat, sir.
I see. I'm sure you do your best, Rogers.
Is there plenty of food for the weekend?
Oh, yes, sir. Everything was provided for.
Oh, Mr. Blore, may I ask you a question?
Of course, of course, my dear fellow.
How many will you be for dinner tonight?
But... Oh, I see what you mean. Yes.
Don't forget your vote, Rogers.
In a case like this, a secret vote is the only way
to bring out into the open how we are all thinking.
No, no, no. Never touch it. No. But under the circumstances.
Now, whom do we suspect of being Mr. Owen?
Mr. Lombard, one vote.
Mr. Blore, one vote.
Dr. Armstrong, one vote.
Rogers, one vote.
Miss Brent, one vote.
I see I haven't been neglected. One vote.
Another vote for you. Rogers. You win.
You mean, sir, that I am being accused?
Well, it's not precisely a majority,
but you have the most votes.
They're saying its me, because I'm only a butler.
You said I didn't have the brains to do it.
- I didn't vote for you, Rogers. - Well, who did then?
Who didn't drink the cocktail you just served?
You think I poisoned those cocktails?
I'll show you, sir.
Picking on an innocent man!
I can't touch even a drop of alcohol.
And if that's what you think of me,
I'm not going to serve any dinner.
Oh, Rogers, come back here!
You can't do that!
Don't look so offended, Rogers.
If it had been anybody but you, sir.
I'm sorry, Rogers.
But, how do I know that you didn't vote for me?
I didn't, Your Honor. I voted for... well...
Time will tell.
After all, Rogers, nobody in this house is above suspicion.
Never in my life, have I been accused of any crime, sir.
What about that gramophone record?
What about it?
That woman you worked for,
she left you some money, didn't she?
Let's not stand on our dignity, Rogers.
After all, she was sick.
Didn't you shorten her suffering in this world?
With the complicity, of course, of poor Mrs. Rogers?
I'm not going to argue with you, sir.
But what makes you think I would kill anybody
who wasn't going to leave me any money?
No, thank you.
Pardon me.
Obviously, we can't sit up all night, like this.
I'm going to retire. Good night.
If you don't mind, I'll say good night too.
If you don't mind, Miss Claythorne,
I would rather go upstairs alone.
May I remind you, Miss Brent, that I am the only one
whose name wasn't mentioned in the voting.
That's what I mean. I find that fact most peculiar.
I know Miss Brent won't mind if there's a third person.
Not so fast, Mr. Lombard. I'll go with you.
- The more the merrier. - And safer.
- Warm in here, isn't it? - Yes, quite warm, quite warm.
And lonely.
Yes, quite lonely, quite... quite lonely.
- Rogers! - Yes, sir?
Oh, would you mind keeping us company for a while?
Anything you wish, sir.
- Don't put any water in it. - I shan't, sir.
Good night, Miss Claythorne.
Don't forget to lock your door.
You cannot lock out the devil.
I think there's another one who's barmy.
It's going to end with the whole lot going that way.
I don't fancy you will, Blore.
No. It takes a lot to send me off my head.
I don't think you'll be going that way, either.
I feel quite sane at the moment. Thank you.
- Have you told him? - Yes, sir.
I know the jury's decision.
You'll feel safer if I didn't stay inside the house tonight.
Well then, I shall sleep in the woodshed.
And now, if you'll excuse me. Good night.
- I'll lock it behind him. - That's not enough, Mr. Blore.
Still seven. Lock that door, please.
Put the key there.
We'll have no more Indian tricks tonight.
Lock it, Mr. Blore.
No wait! Now no one can get in there but you.
Oh, I see. But, who's going to keep it?
- Rogers! Open up, Rogers! - Keep away from that door.
It's me, Lombard! Open up!
Do you take me for a fool, Mr. Lombard?
- Don't be silly, Rogers! - Don't be silly yourself, sir.
- This is Judge Quinncannon, - You know my voice, Rogers!
- Doctor Armstrong! - This is Blore, Rogers.
Open the door!
At a time like this, I wouldn't open the door
even if it was Santa Claus.
We just want to give you a key.
- What for? - Never mind, you idiot!
Hurry up! It's raining!
Shove it... under the door, sir.
Good night, Rogers. Keep your door locked.
Don't worry about me, sir.
- Ohhh, be careful, Judge. - Oh, I shall.
You know, the common cold kills more people than...
Never mind.
I need hardly advise you to lock you doors.
And put a chair under the handle.
There are ways of turning locks from the outside.
And if it should turn out that one of you is Mr. Owen,
just remember I'm a very light sleeper.
- Good night. - Good night, gentlemen.
May we all meet safely in the morning.
- Good night. - Good night, sir.
Miss Brent! Miss Brent!
She doesn't answer!
- Is her door locked? - Of course, try it!
She's not here!
You grasp the fact very quickly, Blore.
What's wrong, Mr. Blore?
- Miss Brent's missing. - I knocked on all your doors,
she was the only one that didn't answer.
What's wrong with that? It's late.
We all overslept.
I heard her get up. She must gone downstairs.
- I locked that door last night. - Who opened it?
Look.
Good morning. It's such a pretty pattern.
I thought I'd like to copy it for a new shawl.
Was that door locked when you went out?
- Oh, yes, I opened it. - Good morning, Miss Brent.
I too like to walk before breakfast.
But I wouldn't have gone out alone.
I feel perfectly safe when I'm alone. Thank you.
I share your feeling.
But didn't you know you that Rogers was outside?
Poor man. I hope he didn't catch cold.
What's that?
- Someone's knocking. - Kitchen door.
Rogers, of course. He wants to get in.
That's it. We forgot all about breakfast.
- Where is he? - Somebody was knocking.
Rogers!
- He's not there. - Rogers!
Know what I think? We got our man. It's Rogers!
It fits the psychological pattern.
His behavior last night was distinctly abnormal.
Psychological pattern, my eye. I go by facts.
He was officially accused, Fact!
He got drunk.
He wouldn't open the door to the woodshed. Fact!
Realizing this morning,
that he'd gone to the end of his rope. He disappears.
Fact!
There's another fact you haven't mentioned about Rogers.
He's dead.
The murderer was fastidious.
He cleaned this blade after striking down his victim.
Obviously he crept up behind, swung this chopper
and brought it down, splitting the cranium.
Seven little Indian boys chopping up sticks.
One chopped himself in half and then there were six.
Would it have needed much strength to strike the blow?
Well, a woman could have done it.
If that's what you mean.
Miss Claythorne was locked in her room, Doctor,
if that's what you mean.
We were all in our rooms.
Except...
- No breakfast yet? - No.
If I had a butler like Rogers. I'd soon get rid of him.
Wait! We we've forgotten something.
- What? - The dining room!
It's still locked. Where's the key?
We found it in Rogers's pocket.
One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six.
- Another one missing? - But the door was locked.
I get it!
No I don't.
Did you ever hear of a bee sting being fatal?
No, why?
Six little Indian boys playing with a hive.
A bumblebee stung one and then there were five.
Very stupid to kill the only servant in the house.
Now we don't even know where to find the marmalade.
Watch out for a bee.
I'd be careful with that young man.
I mean to, Miss Brent. I'm careful of everyone.
A clear conscience is the best armor.
This island is in the image of life.
The innocent has to be surrounded by criminals.
That sounds like Mr. Owen talking.
I see nothing wrong with his idea of punishing the guilty.
What about his accusations against you?
I wonder if these eggs are fresh.
What about it, Miss Brent.
Your young nephew, aren't you to blame for his death?
Family gossip, Miss Claythorne.
My sister's boy had bad blood.
From the father's side, of course.
But he was no good, naturally.
I had to have him placed in a reformatory.
I do hope these eggs aren't overcooked.
What happened to the boy?
Oh, I never saw him again.
He added to his many sins by hanging himself.
I got it! I know who took the last Indian.
- Who? - Rogers.
He had the key to this room. Fact.
He sneaks in and takes a little Indian.
Locks the door again.
Goes back to the woodshed where he chops some sticks. Fact.
- And then... - And then...
He takes the chopper and splits his own cranium,
as the Doctor would say. Fact.
I'd like to see you do that to yourself, Blore.
It would take practice.
Anyone inside the house could leave without being noticed.
- True, Miss Brent? - Perfectly true.
The murderer meets Rogers outside and kills him.
He then takes the key from his victim's pocket,
and you know the rest.
Yes, but the key was still in Rogers' pocket!
Of course.
The murderer puts the key back in Rogers' pocket
and goes to bed again.
Or goes for an innocent walk before breakfast.
Sorry, Miss Brent.
Anyone have more tea?
Lombard!
- Lombard! - Yes, Blore?
- What you doing here? - You called me, didn't you?
Yes. Oh, yes, yes.
I ain't saying,
but don't you think the old judge knows too much?
Describing every move...
You'd think he had been at the scene of the crime.
My dear Blore, in my opinion you haven't a chance.
- Why is that? - Lack of imagination.
A criminal with a brain like U N Owen...
can think rings around you, anytime he wants to.
No man ever got the better of me... yet.
How about a woman?
Yes, yes, one should never trust a woman.
She's clearly a manic-depressive.
I don't know why I didn't see it before.
She was very strange in the kitchen this morning.
We all behaved strangely,
but I find no evidence. She left no clue.
But she did.
What about this, eh?
No sane person would think about using seaweed
as a pattern for a shawl.
She tried to throw us off the track.
It's her! I'll stake my life, it's her.
Wait, Blore.
Let Miss Claythorne call her.
She'll be less suspicious.
Miss Brent!
Miss Brent! Miss Brent!
It's no use, Miss Claythorne. She'll not answer.
Look at the bee! Look at the bee!
Just an ordinary bee, Miss Claythorne.
Nothing, but a small mark on the neck.
Here's your bee, Doctor.
Somebody must have taken it. It's not here. See for yourself.
- What poison was injected? - I can only guess.
It was very potent. She must have died immediately.
But the bee. That bee in her room.
That's our murderer's artistic touch
He likes to stick to his blasted nursery jingle.
He's mad. We're all mad.
I'm not, Mr. Lombard. I still have my reasoning powers.
There are five of us left. One of us is a murderer.
- The rest of us are defenseless. - Defenseless?
How do we know one of us hasn't have a revolver?
A good point, Blore! How do we know?
Well, I know I haven't got one. Dear me, it's against the law.
How about you, Doctor?
Of course not. You may search me, gentlemen, search me.
- Miss Claythorne? - I wish I had.
Quite right, Miss Claythorne, it's an unfortunate oversight.
One should never be careless, when
visiting a place one doesn't know.
Why didn't you tell us that you had a revolver?
Nobody asked me.
I've got him! Search his pockets.
Aren't you wasting your time?
I know where it is.
Judge, you said just now that one of us was the murderer.
If I were you, I wouldn't let Blore get at that gun.
It's not here!
Look again, Blore. It's got to be there.
Look in his pockets!
Don't. Get him off. Get him off.
It's not here.
- What did you do with it? - What did you do with it?
Good heavens, where is it?
The one who can answer that question,
is obviously not going to speak.
At a time like this.
A game of the mind, Blore, a game of the mind.
You know the safest thing for you to do
is stay in your room, with the door locked.
What about yourself?
Oh, I wouldn't stay out here alone with any of the others.
Why not?
Don't you think it strange that there's never
a third person present when anything unpleasant occurs?
Mr. Owen always manages to be alone with his victim.
When a third person is present, nothing happens.
Doesn't that make you nervous, out here with me, alone?
But, we're not alone.
I asked Mr. Blore to keep an eye on us. He's my third person.
Blore!
Look, another misfortune.
Something wrong with the machinery.
Batteries must be running down.
We've got to keep every light in the house burning tonight.
I'll go to the woodshed and see to it.
Leave it on, Doctor, leave it on.
Put you off your game, wouldn't it, this flickering?
You went away from the window and left me alone.
I've got to go to the woodshed. You better go
to your room and lock your door.
I shall.
- Where's Miss Claythorne? - I don't know.
- Where's Blore? - Went out to the woodshed.
Woodshed?
What's wrong, Doctor?
Oh, I see. You and I, well, we are alone in the house.
- Lombard! - Lombard!
- Come here! - Don't leave us!
- Where's Vera? - Vera?
- Miss Claythorne! Answer me! - Don't come any closer!
- Where is she? - Keep back!
Blore, if I you don't tell me, I swear I'll kill you.
If you make another move, I'll brain you.
You know, Doctor, please give me a chance.
If you are Mr. Owen, friend tell me.
I... I won't say a word to the others.
Don't torment me this way.
If you want to kill the others, I won't interfere.
I won't say a word.
I'll even help you if you spare my life.
Look, I trust you. Don't you trust me?
- Um... yes. - That's more reasonable.
Don't come any closer!
- Isn't your arm getting tired? - Don't worry about me.
Listen, if Miss Claythorne is safe in her room as you say,
we are both behaving like idiots.
Can't get round me that way. I prefer being a living idiot.
- Hang on, someone's coming. - What?
Miss Claythorne! I told you to stay locked in your room.
I'm looking for... oh.
He's right, Vera. You shouldn't be so careless!
- Come on! - Stay here, both of you.
Now I can do what I came out to do.
Do not know anything about electricity?
Don't bother me. I get it!
- Stay where you are! - I shan't move an inch.
Neither will I till the light comes on.
- Do you think it will? - Why not?
This is no accident.
Someone wants this house to be dark at night.
- Who? - The one we fear.
My dear, Doctor, we've made a mistake.
This trick of putting out the lights,
clears two people, you and me.
Now we can trust each other.
I see! The idea was keep us in fear of each other.
But now we can form an alliance, you and I.
And find the murderer.
We no longer have anything to conceal from each other have we.
Just what I was thinking.
Oh ho, I needed that.
Now?
Now we can tell each other the truth.
The entire truth.
Who's going to speak first?
Very well, I shall begin.
As you know, Mr. Owen's saying that I was responsible
for the death of one Edward Seaton.
It's perfectly true.
He was an innocent man on trial for his life.
I'd nothing against him.
I wanted to ruin the reputation of his defending counsel,
who lost the case, while his client lost his life.
Doctor? Tell us the truth.
Your fate depends on it. I'm convinced of that.
The gramophone record did not lie.
I operated on Mrs. Cleese while under the influence of uh...
Guilty, I was, but of drinking not of killing.
I don't see where this is getting us.
Sit down, Mr. Blore.
This is getting us to a very important conclusion.
Isn't that right, Doctor?
If I were you, I would speak, Mr. Blore.
- I didn't kill anybody! - We're listening, Mr. Blore.
This Landor chap was innocent all right,
but I was mixed up with the gang that was out to get him.
On my testimony, he got sent up for life.
That's all.
But he died in prison, didn't he?
Course he did!
How could I know that would happen?
What about yourself Mr. Lombard?
What about those 21 poor natives in South Africa?
Don't get excited, Blore.
Mr. Lombard is unable to deny a thing.
Ah ha! That's the first thing you said I believe.
Are you leaving us, Miss Claythorne?
My dear child, you're trembling.
I... I'm so cold.
Would you like us to postpone this inquiry,
while we build a fire?
That would mean going outside to get wood, as Rogers did.
No. We wait while you get your coat.
Thank you.
Stay here, Mr. Lombard.
Nothing can happen to her if we all remain in this room.
Aah!
- Vera! - Claythorne!
- Get a light! - Haven't got one!
- Who is it? - It's me, Blore!
- Guy Lombard!
- Where's Blore? - How do I know in the dark.
Where have you been all this time?
I went to my room to get this candle.
Where have you been?
I've been looking for my flashlight.
Where is Blore?
Blore! What the devil are you doing in my room?
Your room? No wonder I couldn't find anything.
- What happened to you? - Somebody bumped into me.
- Did you hear anything? - Yes, sounded like a shot.
Sounded like something fell to me.
You're jumpy, both of you. Nerves.
It's Vera's.
Vera!
Vera! What happened?
Don't be frightened, Vera. What happened?
- He was in my room. - Who?
I felt. Oh, I don't know...
- Something like a hand. - Who was it?
I don't know. My candles went out.
We'll soon find out.
Help! Lights! Lights!
Seaweed.
It felt like a cold hand.
That's what Miss Claythorne walked into.
Who brought it in here?
Who brought it into the house?
- Miss Brent. - Are you sure, Miss Brent is...
- Dead as a doornail. - Where's the judge?
That's funny, I thought he came up with us.
So did I.
He was right behind me on the staircase.
Yes, I thought I bumped into him when I heard that shot.
- Shot? What did I tell you? - What?
Why, the old bloke knew too much.
- You say you heard a shot? - Yes.
Well, don't you see? He took a shot at us in the dark.
He'll pot us like clay pigeons, when we go downstairs.
There's one way to find out!
It's my own.
No. It looks too easy.
Alright, Judge, come outside.
Don't think I can't see you.
He has been shot through the head.
Only one shot fired.
Who will be next?
Another one proved innocent. Too late.
He'd found the solution. That's why he had to be silenced.
- Silenced by who? - By whom? Don't you remember?
One moment, Miss Claythorne!
Just when the judge was about to question you...
you came up here, presumably to get your coat.
True?
Yes.
You opened that door.
Wind blows out your candles, seaweed touches your face...
You scream. Perfect, perfect.
But, considerable time elapses,
and then we find you way down there.
What made you run the wrong way?
She didn't know where she was going. She was hysterical.
Agreed.
But if Miss Claythorne had not screamed,
we would still be in the dining room,
and the judge would be alive.
Now wait a minute. Don't confuse things.
One of you two pulled this trigger
and you're trying to pin it on Miss Claythorne.
Now you wait a minute, Mr. Lombard.
We know very well that the judge
was on the point of an important discovery.
How do we know what was in the judge's mind?
I do know. He took me into his confidence.
Truth. The entire truth.
Miss Claythorne, did you or did you not,
commit the crime, of which the gramophone accused you?
I'd rather not talk about it.
Ah, but you must. We've all confessed our little errors.
All except you. Come now, my girl.
You didn't really kill this Barclay chap did you?
Will you take my word, if I tell you I didn't?
I'm afraid, I will.
Then you have my word for it.
And don't ask me any more questions.
Can't you see she's telling the truth?
That is precisely her mistake.
- I don't see why. - You will. You will.
The judge reasoned it out.
Owen enticed us to this island
to be punished for our past crimes.
Right.
We three have admitted, shall I say, our guilt.
Right.
Therefore, we cannot be interested in
- the punishment of crime. - Right.
Conclusion: Owen is the one
who has not committed any past crimes.
I get it! What a wonderful brain.
To think he couldn't save his own life.
Yes, but he saved ours.
Yes of course, that's the important thing.
Do you understand now, Mr. Lombard?
Oh, it's great. Convincing. Mathematical deduction.
Oh, wait a minute.
- Oh, no! - Not you either, Blore.
Now nobody has it.
That's an excellent arrangement.
- Now we can all sleep. - Let's turn in, gentlemen.
Good night, gentlemen.
Doctor, I find one flaw in your theory.
I could destroy it in four words.
Do you want to hear them?
Suppose I said: I am Mr. Owen.
It would be most interesting. But quite unlikely.
Trouble with you, Lombard, is nobody could believe you.
Too bad. I was just trying to be helpful.
Good night. Sleep well.
I hope I will.
I'm sure I will.
How long have you been out there?
Shh. Not so loud.
But how long have you been out there?
Ever since you put out your light.
Why?
I wanted to be here to welcome Mr. Owen.
Locking you in this room and leaving the key outside
is a little too obvious, isn't it?
It's the doctor or Blore.
And unless I am mistaken,
one of them is going to come through that door at any minute.
How do I know he's not here already? You.
If you believe that you wouldn't have opened your window.
- What about me? - Hmm. You're not smart enough.
A quick thinking girl would have confessed to any old crime,
in order to clear herself of what's happened in this house.
Are you sure, you didn't kill this fellow, Barclay?
Maybe you forgot about it.
Or maybe he never existed.
- Yes, he did. - Or maybe, he was never killed.
Yes, he was.
By someone who was close to you? And you were suspected?
What happened to that someone, who was close to you?
She was my sister.
I took care of her to the very last.
Oh, now I see that Mr. Owen isn't infallible.
You don't belong in this house.
You haven't killed your way into it.
Aren't you ashamed
of taking this ever so lightly, Mr. Lombard?
Don't call me Mister. And don't call me Lombard.
I'll tell you something about Mr. Lombard.
Something else that Mr. Owen doesn't know...
Listen!
Give me a chance to grab him when he comes in.
Don't shoot unless you have to.
- He's going away. - Down the stairs.
I'm going to find out.
I forgot. It's locked.
- I'll go around the other way. - Take the gun.
Oh you keep it, in case I can't get back.
But he might kill you.
If he does, he's going to make a serious mistake.
The other thing he doesn't know is I am not Mr. Lombard.
Now, we'll find out. It's either Blore or the doctor.
The one, who's not in his room.
Blore!
Blore! Get up. Open the door.
Who let that girl out of her room?
Never mind about her. Come on, Blore!
He's not here. Now we know who it is.
I heard him go downstairs. Come on, Blore. We'll catch him!
How do I know you heard the doctor?
Don't be a fool, Blore.
- We've no time to waste. - Ah, life is short, isn't it?
- But I heard him too Mr. Blore. - Oh, you did, did you?
That's a nice present, you've got there.
Mr. Lombard's getting generous.
- You go first! - Come on, Vera!
Might be a trick.
Right, Blore. Maybe, he's in the house.
One. Two. Three. Three Indians only.
He wants to make us think, he's dead.
That's to throw us off the track.
You don't fool us this time, Dr. Armstrong!
Who's there?
Lombard!
Blore. What are you doing down there alone?
I think I know where the doctor is.
Where?
I'm not sure yet. I'll wait for you.
Alright. We shan't be long.
I get it!
Aren't you being careless, unlocking your door
when you don't know who's out here?
But I thought it was you.
- You heard it too, eh? - I heard you pass my door.
Not me. I thought I heard you.
Are you sure you haven't been outside of your room?
I wanted to ask you the same thing.
Maybe, Mr. Blore came back to his room.
No, no-no. I knocked on his door.
I heard a noise while I was dressing.
- Like a door slamming? - Exactly.
You heard it too, huh?
- What is it? - Oh, I don't know.
I feel all the time that there's someone...
someone waiting and watching?
Yes, I know what you mean.
- Oh, it's just nerves. - Then you have felt it.
Keep a grip on yourself, darling.
There's nothing supernatural about this business.
It's definitely human.
- You mean, it's the doctor? - The mad doctor.
- Hiding here? - We'll soon find out.
Aaah!
He must have been looking that way.
And while he was looking, Dr. Armstrong...
That was Armstrong we both heard.
But what was Blore looking at?
What do you see? What is it?
- It's impossible! - Let me see!
You're going to see. Come with me.
What is it? What is it? Tell me.
Look!
Armstrong. He's been dead for hours.
- For hours? - Since the last tide.
No footprints around the body.
But if he was... Who killed Blore?
Yes, there are only two people alive on this island.
- You. - And you.
So this is how it ends, Vera.
This is how it ends. We come to the truth now.
Yes, the truth. The entire truth.
Don't come any closer!
Oh, I see. That's not quite right, my dear.
It doesn't fit in your nursery rhyme.
Don't try to talk your way out.
You made one mistake, giving me this revolver.
Look, I don't mind being killed.
But I hate like the devil to be killed for someone else.
Didn't I tell you I wasn't Lombard?
- What is your name? - Charles Morley.
You're not a very good detective.
Mr. Blore spotted the initials on my luggage,
the moment I arrived here.
Why did you come here under another name?
I knew Lombard very well. He committed suicide.
I wanted to find out if Mr. Owen's letter
had anything to do with it.
Do you expect me to believe that?
Why not?
There's something much more difficult to believe.
That one of us is Mr. Owen.
I know I'm not, and I simply can't believe that you are.
Don't try to fool me. I know I'm not.
It's got to be you. There's no other explanation.
If you're so sure, go ahead and shoot me.
You see? You have a doubt.
Don't come any closer. I'll shoot.
No you won't. You can't shoot.
You still trust me, and I still trust you.
There's got to be an explanation.
Yes, that's it! You've got to shoot me!
- Now shoot! - But it won't hit you.
That's what I mean! Shoot, and don't be frightened if I fall.
A game of the mind, Miss Claythorne.
You came just in time for my last shot.
And now the game is over.
One little Indian boy left all alone.
He went and hanged himself.
And then there were none.
That's for you, Miss Claythorne.
What if I don't agree to hang myself?
Oh, that's been taken care of.
Do you mind if I sit down?
Every artist has a certain amount of vanity.
We all like the approbation of the public.
And you are my last public.
I had two great ideas.
The first was a search for perfect human justice.
And you've seen the result.
To perfect this scheme, my second idea
was to find an unwitting accomplice
among the criminals invited here for punishment.
I needed a respectable fool.
And naturally I selected
a man whose fear of death
might make him extremely cooperative.
I proposed a scheme to confuse
the imaginary Mr. Owen.
It was simply this:
I must appear to be the next victim.
Remember the seaweed?
Armstrong and I placed it in your room.
Your scream was perfect.
We pretended to rush out, but according to our plan,
we came back.
Now, I was assumed to be dead.
Killed by that gun, I had borrowed from Mr. Lombard.
And which he found later on the steps.
I counted on everyone's confusion in the dark.
And I counted on Armstrong to play his part to the hilt.
I knew no one would challenge the doctor's authority.
When he would say: He has been shot through the head.
After that, I had to play my part.
And what a part it was!
No one would suspect me, least of all the dear doctor,
who thought I was about to discover the unknown murderer,
and was waiting for me on the beach.
And worrying about the success of our plan.
A few minutes later, he had nothing more to worry about.
Justice had triumphed once again.
Too late, he had learned that drinking,
when it gets out of hand, can be fatal.
So you see, the whole thing has been as inevitable
as the nursery rhyme.
When the boat arrives from the mainland,
there will be ten dead bodies and a riddle,
no one can solve on Indian Island.
Ten?
My dear child, I'm an old and sick man.
I received my death sentence a year ago.
Rather than go painfully and slowly
I choose to leave this wicked world
with a proud record of good deeds.
But how can you force me to hang myself?
The only living person found here
with nine corpses, will certainly be hanged.
As the last little Indian, has to be.
Public hanging isn't pretty.
If you'll allow me to give you a piece of friendly advice,
do it now, privately.
It's more dignified.
And now my work is done.
Never should trust a woman.
Thanks for the advice, Mr. Owen.
But if I hadn't trusted you, darling,
and you hadn't trusted me...
By the way, why did you trust me?
Why did you?
On account of one thing, Mr. Owen couldn't foresee.
Aaah! Somebody! Somebody's still alive!
Good morning.
- Ready to leave now? - Ho, ho, are we!
Are the others ready too?
You call them.
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