Ten Little Indians Page #5

any lies about me, my lovelies.

Allow me to confess.

It all happened about a year ago

in London.

I was on my way back

from a party. Late, drunk.

And I was driving fast. Very fast.

Two people on the road ahead.

- What happened?

- I ran over them.

William and Lisa Stern.

Two years married. Very sad.

Were you charged?

Yeah, a whitewash job,

but they punished me.

- How?

- They took away my driving license.

- Good Lord.

- See what's the matter with him.

- What's the matter with him?

- The fellow's intoxicated. Disgusting.

He's dead drunk.

No, Miss Bergen. Not drunk.

Just dead.

- What did he say?

- He's snuffed it. Dead.

Doctor.

Judge.

Insomnia?

Curiosity.

Honesty is undoubtedly

the best policy, doctor.

- And you?

- A certain sense of claustrophobia.

A feeling that some sort

of macabre joke is being played on us.

Good Lord.

Ten little Indians went out to dine

One of them choked himself

And then there were nine

A macabre joke, you said?

Let me show you something else.

Don't touch that.

Mr. Blore.

We thought you'd gone to bed.

In my profession, gentlemen,

we don't always do what we appear to do.

- Apparently.

- Perhaps it's the same in yours.

Why don't you want me

to touch this glass?

I don't think it'd be advisable

to have your fingerprints on it.

But they're already there.

Oh, you've examined it?

Of course.

May I?

Just a minute.

Thank you.

Almonds, doctor.

A solution of cyanide.

How clever of you

not to alarm the others.

Suicide, doctor?

That, I believe, comes under

your profession, Mr. Blore.

Hi.

Don't do that again, please.

I'm sorry. I couldn't sleep either.

I thought I heard somebody moving about.

Must have been you.

- Glass of milk?

- Thank you.

By the way, what was said about me

on that tape, it wasn't true.

You do believe me, don't you?

Of course.

Well, happy days.

And what about you and that girl?

Jennifer Hayes?

That wasn't true, was it?

What do you think?

Oh, I saw the light.

I thought it's Elsa, my wife.

- What's the matter?

- She's missing.

I've searched all over the house.

She is gone.

- The car's nearly halfway down.

- Hugh, look!

It's been cut.

It'll break any minute!

- You can't get her back.

- I can't leave her there!

And then there were eight

And now we are eight.

I told her she had to stay...

...but she wouldn't listen.

She ran away.

We're all very sorry, Grohmann.

Yes, indeed. Damn sorry.

Now we're really cut off.

Perhaps it's what our host intended.

Well, what are we going to do about it?

We've got to do something.

I quite agree.

The only question is, what?

We're entirely without

means of communication.

But surely, when they see

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