All language subtitles for And Then There Were None (1945).eng

Thank you.

Thank you.

Thank you.

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'd 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 a list of the ladies and gentlemen
who were 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 with staff, have
you here?

Just me and Rogers, miss.

Does Mr. Owen know we've arrived?

He's not here yet, sir.

Where's 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 three years and never
spoke to each other because they hadn't

been introduced.

I'm not English. My name is Prince
Nikita Starlov.

Call me Nicky.

Well, that breaks the ice, gentlemen.

I'm Judge Quincannon.

How do you do, sir?

I'm Dr.

Armstrong. My name's 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.

Bloor. Bloor.

William Henry Bloor.

Oh, Philip Lombard. I'm afraid you've
got the wrong bag.

You're very observing, Mr. Bloor.

See him?

Charles Morley.

An old friend of mine. I like his taste.

I even bother with clothes.

Oh, excuse me, Doctor.

I thought this was a closet.

It seems we're sharing a bathroom.

Oh, I... I didn't know.

The only time I regret being a bachelor
is when I have to dress for dinner.

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. Yeah,
like a little 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 in imagination.

Represents escape.

Half of my patients are sick because
they're trying to keep reality.

Well, what's your answer?

Oh, I tell them fairy tales.

I'd 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.

Oh!

Ethel. Don't stand there gawking. Get
them 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.

With only one house.

Makes me nervous.

Here.

What they don't know won't hurt him.

Everyone has to eat a pick of dirt
before he dies.

Ladies and gentlemen, may I propose a
toast to our gracious hostess, Mrs.

Owen.

Uh -uh, doctor. I saw you. You drank
water.

It'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 tours.

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're not out of clothes, sir.

I drink to the Indians.

Each little Indian, individually.

Six, seven, eight, nine, ten.

Ten little Indians.

Ten little Indians.

It's like a 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 set up very
late. One overslept himself, and then

were eight. Then what happened?

You'll find the rhymes on the piano.

Mr. Owen seems to be fond of 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 Indians. Indian boys going
in for long.

Now one got enchantery and then there
were...

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
slew.

A big red...

The place for nursery rhymes is in the
nursery.

Don't worry, Judge.

He's down to the last Indian.

One little Indian boy 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...

Silence,

please.

Ladies and gentlemen, this is your host,
Mr.

Owen, speaking.

You are charged with the following
crimes.

General Sir John Mandry, that you did
deliberately send your wife's lover,

Lieutenant Arthur Macefield, to his
death.

Emily Brent, that you did cause and
bring about the death of your young

Peter Brent.

Dr. Edward G.

Armstrong, that through uncontrolled
drunkenness you did kill Mrs.

Mary Cleese.

Prince Nikita Starloff.

that you were guilty of the murder of
Fred and Lucy Marlowe.

Vera Claythorne, that you did murder
your sister's fiancé, Richard Barclay.

Judge Francis J.

Quintanon, that you were responsible for
the death by hanging of one Edward

Seaton. Philip Lombard, that you were
guilty of the death of 21 men, members

an East African tribe.

H. Blore, that by perjuring your
testimony, you did bring about the death

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.

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 this on the
gramophone?

I did, sir. Why?

I didn't know what it was.

And why else I didn't know?

I was just obeying orders, sir, that's
all.

Whose orders?

Mr. Owen's.

Now, let's get this quite clear.

Mr. Owen's orders were what exactly?

To put the record on at nine o 'clock.

It was sealed up.

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?

You all come 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 someday.

I told you. Shut up, Ethel.

She's quite out of her head, doctor.

Hysteria induced by shock.

Give her this sedative.

Ten drops and half a glass of water.

Yes, sir. If she doesn't sleep, repeat
the dose in two 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?

Well, 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

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

gentleman.

Well, Your Honor, I see no reason to
conceal any longer.

I'm here to do a job. I'm desired.

By whom?

This man Owen.

You saw him?

Now, ain't closed a fat money order with
that.

Tell me to join the house party and pose
as one of the guests.

I run a detective agency in Plymouth. I
got me credentials.

Here, Judge.

All of these letters refer to our host
as U .M. Owen.

U .M. Owen.

Unknown. Yeah, Mr. Unknown is not only
in test, I see, under false pretenses.

But he's taking the trouble to find out
a great deal about us all. 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 well 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 till Monday.

And this is only Friday.

You've no boat here?

No, sir.

Why do you want to leave, my friends?

Why don't we get to the bottom of this
mystery?

This wonderful theory.

Our time of life, sir, we've no desire
for thrillers, 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.

What did you say? He's not moving.

Just plain drunk.

He's plain dead.

What did the doctor say?

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 seat.

Ah, then you know more than you told us.

Come, come, Rogers.

I'm quite sure that there's 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 it.

I thought you'd gone to bed, Mr. Blower.

In our profession, Doctor, we don't
always do what we appear to do.

Perhaps it's 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.

Little solution.

Curie's on?

That, I believe, comes under your
profession, sir.

Doctor!

Doctor Armstrong!

Dr. 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, Miss Brent.

Why, something worrying you?

I don't understand it.

A lot of things I don't understand, sir.

These little figures.

How many were there last night?

Ten.

Roger's found one broken after, uh,
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'm afraid you'll
have to go without breakfast.

Mrs. Rogers died in her sleep.

What? I was right.

How? Heart failure.

Heart certainly failed a beat.

What caused it to fail, I cannot say.

Conscience. Oh, conscience, my eye. What
about her husband?

He was scared to death. I 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,

Roger. It's all right, as we understand.

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 pursues.

Two accidental deaths in 12 hours.

I don't believe it. All right.

What do you say, Judge?

How does the rhyme go, Miss Claythorne?

Ten little Indians.

One chopped his little self and then
there were nine.

Go on.

One overslept himself and then there
were eight.

There are eight people on this island
now.

Come on.

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.

It's only just a bare rock. We'll catch
that rabid maniac.

You've been acting like fools. You mean
Rogers is lying?

Why not?

The man's scared.

Scared out of his senses. It's obvious.

That's why I think he's 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 and his squad is
hiding, don't you?

It'll certainly be dangerous. We ought
to be armed.

Yes, too bad another lad who carried
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'd have to have an accomplice for me.
If you ask me, Roger, maybe I'm the only

real one in this house.

I have a feeling I'm being watched.

Secretly.

What do you see?

I thought I 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 this place of concealment
immediately.

So long as there is a lunatic at large,
we are in mortal danger.

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.

What about the old boy? I don't know. I
don't think he even knows where he is

himself.

Oh.

Nothing in there but the Russian.

I keep hearing that song he was singing
last night, just before he popped off.

Ten Little Indians.

It certainly was his swan song.

One thing is certain.

He isn't inside, therefore he must be
outside.

Brilliant thinking, Blore.

I'm afraid it's no use watching for the
boat.

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.

Maybe we've been wrong.

Built up 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 her an
overdose last night, did you?

Doctors can't afford to make mistakes of
that kind.

We cannot ponder a detective sometimes,
do we? Wouldn't be your first mistake if

that gravophone record is to be
believed.

Gentlemen, gentlemen, this is no time
for quarreling.

Let's face it, we're in a trap.

You shouldn't forget the ten little
Indians on the dinner table. That's

Mr. Owen's hand is plain to see.

Yes, but where the devil is Mr.

Owen himself?

Oh, it is on this island. You'll catch
his death of cold.

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.

Oh, yes, it's there.

Rogers, there are only seven today.

I'm sorry.

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.

Not until I saw him. He was moving
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 -o. The old boy's balmy.

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.

Poison 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 a third victim,

means only one thing.

Murder.

Or an act of God.

My dear lady, in my experience of ill
doing, Providence leaves the work of

punishment to us mortals.

Evidently, Mr. Ohm believes we're guilty
of certain crimes which the law can

attach, 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, ma 'am?

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 mean no.

Nevertheless, I'm 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.

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 Indian 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, bro.

Nothing clears the mind like a game of
precision.

What game are you playing, John?

We've come to the conclusion, the doctor
and I, that this whole story is a game

of the mind.

There we are.

Each 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. Blower. I'm 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.

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. No, you, my dear lady.

I quite appreciate that nobody can be
exonerated without proof.

What about Rogers?

That's what I'm 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 give you the murder

the wives.

Well, if you put it that way, sir,
they...

They do sometimes drive a man crazy. We
must suspect each and every one 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.

Miss Claythorne.

Aren't you afraid the others will think
you're playing inappropriate?

I can't stand silence.

I have to do something.

Go on, play.

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.

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'll do your best, Rogers.

Is there plenty of food for the weekend?

Yes, sir. Everything was provided for.

Mr. Blore, may I ask you a question?

Of course, of course, my dear fellow.

How many will you be for dinner tonight?

But... All right.

I'll see what you mean.

Don't forget your boat, Rogers.

In a case like this, a secret boat is
the only way to bring out into the open

what we're all thinking.

No, no, no, no. Never touch it, no.

But, uh, under the circumstances.

Now, who do we suspect to be Mr.

Owen?

Mr.

Lombard, one vote.

Mr. Bloor, 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 it's 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.

Don't look so offended, Rogers.

If it had been anybody but you, sir.

I'm sorry, Rogers, but how do I know 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 her 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?

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'd
rather go upstairs alone.

May I remind you, Miss Brent, that I'm
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 the safer.

And, uh, lonely.

Yeah, 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. 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
bombing.

Looks like it'll end with the old lot
going that way. I don't fancy you will,

Lord. No.

It'll take 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 juror's decision.

You'd 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,

night.

more Indian tricks tonight.

Lock it, Mr. Cole.

No way.

Now no one can get in there but you.

Oh, I see.

But who's going to keep it?

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 Prince Hammond.

You know my voice, Rogers. Dr.
Armstrong.

This is Gore, 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, Roger. Keep your door
locked.

Don't worry about me, sir.

You know, if the common cold kills more
people than... Never mind.

I need hardly advise you to lock your
doors.

And put a chair under the angle. 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

light sleeper.

Good night.

Good night, gentlemen.

May we all meet safely in the morning.

Good night. Good night.

She's not here.

You grasp a fact very quickly, Blore.

What's wrong, Mr. Blore?

Miss Brent's missing.

I knocked at all your doors. She was the
only one who didn't answer. What's

wrong with that? It's late. Yes, we all
must have slept. I had to get up. She

must have gone downstairs.

Good morning.

Oh, it's such a pretty pattern. I
thought I'd like to copy it for a new

Was that door locked when you went out?

Oh, yes, I opened it. Good morning, Miss
Brent.

I do like to walk before breakfast, but
I wouldn't have gone out alone.

I feel perfectly safe when I'm alone.

Thank you.

I see a feeling.

But didn't you know that Rogers was
outside?

Poor man.

I hope he didn't catch cold.

What's that?

Who's knocking?

Kitchen door. Rogers, of course. He
wants to get in. I said we forgot all

breakfast.

Where is he?

Somebody was knocking.

We got our man.

It's Rodgers.

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 Rodgers.

He's dead.

The murder 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.

I had a butler like Rogers.

I'd soon get rid of him.

Wait. We've forgotten something.

What? The dining room.

Still out.

Where's the key?

He found it in Rod's pocket.

One, two, three, four, five, six.

Another one missing?

But the door was locked.

sting being fatal no why six little
indian boys playing with a hive a

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'll be careful

of that young man I mean to, Miss Brent.

I'm careful of everyone.

The clear conscience is the best armor.

This island is an image of life.

Innocence has to look 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 his
father's side, of course.

Whipping did no good, naturally. I had
to have him placed in the 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.

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
your soft floor.

We 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
Roger's pocket and goes to bed again.

Or goes for an innocent walk before
breakfast.

Sorry, Miss Brent.

Anyone have more tea?

Yes, Blore?

What you doing here?

You called me, didn't you?

Yes. Oh, yes.

I ain't saying, but don't you think the
old judge knows too much?

Describing every move.

You think he's been at the scene of the
crime.

My dear Blore, in my opinion, you
haven't a chance.

How's that?

Lack of imagination.

A criminal with a brain like you, N.
Owen, can think rings around you any

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 behave strangely.

But I find no evidence. She left no
clue.

But she did.

about this, eh?

No sane person would think of using
seaweed as a pattern for a shawl. She

to throw us off the track.

It's her.

I'll stake my life, it's her.

Wait, Lord.

Let Miss Claythorne call her.

She'll be less suspicious.

Spread spread it's no use miscreant on
she'll not answer

To be look at the

beam Just an ordinary beam is clay phone

Nothing but a small mark on the neck.
Yeah, is he a bee doctor?

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.

It'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 got a
revolver? A good point, Blore.

How do we know?

Well, I know I haven't got one.

Tell me it is against the law.

How about you, Doctor?

Why, 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 you had a
revolver nobody asked me

Aren't you wasting your time?

I know where it is Judge you said just
now that one of us was a murderer

if I were you I wouldn't let the law get
at that gun

It's

not here Look again, Blore. It's got to
be there.

Look at his pocket. No, take him off me.
Take him off.

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, Laura, a game of the
mind.

You know, the safest thing for you to do
is to 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's strange that
there's never a third person present

anything unpleasant occurs?

Mr. Owen always manages to be alone with
his victims.

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.

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.

So you are again, weren't 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

I shall.

Where's Miss Claythorne? I don't know.

Where's Bloor?

Right out of the woodshed.

Woodshed? What's wrong, Doctor?

Oh, I see.

You and I, well, we are alone in the
house.

Lombard! Come here!

Don't come any closer. Where is she?

Keep back, Lord. If you don't tell me, I
swear I'll kill you. If you make

another move, I'll break you.

No, Doctor, please.

Give me a chance. If you are, Mr. Owen.

For heaven's sake, tell me.

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'll 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're both

like idiots.

Don't get around me that way. I prefer
being a living idiot.

Someone's coming.

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 you 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
tonight.

Who? The one we fear.

But my dear doctor, he's made a mistake.

This trick of putting out the lights
clears two people.

You and me.

Now we can trust each other.

I see.

Yes, the idea was to keep us secure of
each other.

But now we can form the lines, you and
I.

We no longer have anything to conceal
from each other, have we?

That's what I was thinking.

Oh, I needed that.

Now. Now we can tell each other the
truth. The entire truth.

going to speak first.

Very well. I shall begin.

As you know, Mr. Owen claimed 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 had 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 I was
under the influence of...

Guilty I was, but of drinking, not of
killing.

I don't see where this is getting us.

Sit down, Mr. Bloor.

This is getting us to a very important
conclusion.

Isn't that right, Toto?

If I were you, I would speak, Mr. Bloor.

I didn't kill anybody.

We're listening, Mr. Bloor.

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?

Of 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, at the first thing you shall 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 nothing can happen to her if we all
remain in this room

Blore! It's I, 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?

Yeah, sounded like a shot.

Sounded like something fell to me.
You're jumpy, both of you.

Nerds.

Vera, what happened?

You'll be frightened, dear. What
happened?

He was in my room.

Who?

I felt... I don't know, something like a
hand.

Who was it?

I... I don't know. My candles went out.

We'll soon find out.

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 at the door now, you.

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.

But I heard that shot.

Shot? What'd I tell you?

What? Why, the old folks knew too much.
You say you heard a shot?

Yes. Well, don't you see? He took a shot
at us in the dark.

You potters like clay pigeons when we go
downstairs.

There's one way to find out.

That looks too easy.

All right, 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?

Now, one moment, Miss Claythorne.

Just when the judge was about to
question you, you came up here,

get your coat.

True?

Yes.

You open 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

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 cooked me into his confidence.

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 thus.

Owen enticed us to this island to be
punished for a past crime. 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 crime.

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, Bloor.

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 multiple.

Oh, you Lombardis, nobody can 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.

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'm 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 believed that, you wouldn't have
opened your window.

What about me?

You're not smart enough. A quick
-thinking girl would have confessed to

crime in order to clear herself of
what's happened in this house.

Are you sure you didn't kill this
fellow, Barkley?

Maybe you forgot about it.

Maybe he never existed.

Yes, he did.

Well, maybe he was never killed.

Yes. It 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 it at 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 talking of letters
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.

Give me a chance to grab him when he
comes in.

Don't seem to wish you had to.

other way take the gun no 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

know is i am not mr lombard

Now we'll find out.

It's either Bloor or the doctor. The one
who's not in his room.

Bloor! Bloor!

Get up! Open the door!

Who let that girl out of her room?

Never mind about her. Come on, Bloor.

He's not here.

Now we know who it is.

I heard him go downstairs.

Come on, Bloor. We'll catch him.

No, you heard the doctor.

Don't be a fool, Blore. We've no time to
waste.

Life is short, isn't it? But I heard him
too, Mr. Blore.

Oh, you did, did you?

It's a nice present you got there.

Mr. Lombard's getting generous.

You go first. Come on, Bill.

Must 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.

Tried to throw us off the track.

You don't fool us this time, Dr.
Armstrong.

Lombard!

Law, 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.

All right, we shan't be long.

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, eh?

What is it?

I don't know.

Don't you 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 to... 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.

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.

Tell me!

Armstrong.

He's been dead for hours.

For hours?

Since the last tide.

No footprints around the body.

But if he was... Who killed Law?

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.

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.

But 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.

It'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

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 step.

I counted on everyone's confusion in the
dark, and I counted on Armstrong, who

played his part to the hilt.

I knew no one would challenge the
doctor's authority when he would say he

been shot through the head.

After that, I had to play my part.

And what the part it was.

No one would suspect me, least of all
the dear doctor, who thought that 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 in the mainland,
there'll 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.

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,

More dignified.

And now my work is done.

Never should trust a woman.

Thanks for the advice, Mr. Owen.

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.

Good morning.

Ready to leave now?

Are we? Are the others ready too?

You go.