Ten Little Indians (1989) - full transcript

Name's Lombard.

Anyone here for the Owen party?

Oh, the safari.

Done.

- I'm Blore.
- How do you do?

- Mr. Justice Wargrave.
- Pleased to meet you.

Saoirse, quickly.

This way.

Hey, uh, you know this Owen?

Do you mean do I know him personally?

Ah, something stung me!



- I'm a doctor.
- What?

I'll take a look when we get
to some place more reasonable.

- I hope.
- If I haven't been eaten alive by them.

What are these things? They're horrible.

What the devil?

It's incredible.

He's coming in for a landing.

Thanks very much, old boy.
Cheerio.

- Are you Owen?
- No, I'm Marston.

Did I miss anything?

- I'm Lombard.
- Ah, well, then this is for you.

Thank you.

- Well, this is a great way to find out.
- Find out what?

Owen's been detained, it doesn't say why,
it just says he's coming later.



Oh, ain't that just dandy?

Well, the camp's not much further,
everyone can take their own bags.

Let me see this.

Well, this is ridiculous!

How extraordinary.

Who is he, the head camper?

Allow me.

Oh, thank you very much.

You're joking!

Ugh!

But...

All right!

All right, take it away!

It'll be all right.

Thank God it's over.

Twine!

Good God!

I told you something was wrong,
didn't I tell you something was wrong?

I know natives.

Well, somebody do something!

Look, let's not worry about it,
this happens all the time.

We're out in the middle of nowhere.

We've been totally isolated.

No retreat possible.

You know what Napoleon said
about the retreat.

What?

I can't remember.

All right, look, there's a radio.

The camp's just over the hill, let's go.

Thank God.

It's about time you got here.

Are you Mr. Owen?

Nein, I am Dr. Werner.

We were about to ask you
the same question.

Well, well, appears that no one knows our host.

How gauche.

Did I hear a martini calling?

Strange not knowing each other, hm?

Wait a moment.

I know you.

Aren't you the Judge Wargrave?

Weren't you in London about two years back?

Didn't I take care of your wife?

I hope not, Doctor.

She's dead.

Oh.

Ah, that's better.

Towel?

Oh, thanks.

- You said your name was...
- Oh, Mrs. Rodgers.

Ethel, from Omaha, Nebraska.

- Mm-hm.
- Now, that's in the States.

Vera Claythorne, from Devon.

Oh, that's England.

Oh!

We're a long way from home.

Oh, you can say that again.

Me and my husband, we arrived yesterday

after a terrible trek, and nobody.

I said to my husband Elmo,

"T his is strange."

Here we win this safari,

we come all the way from the U.S. of A,

where are the flowers,
where are the reporters, the photographers?

Nobody.

Safari? My little finger.

I'd like to know what this
Mr. Owen's racket is.

Yeah, and you're not gonna like it either.

When you go to bed at night,
all you hear is lions and tigers.

It's very eerie.

Well, you get what you pay for,
I suppose, don't you, deary?

- Hold on.
- Yes?

My good man, that, I believe, is mine.

Certainly my clothes can be replaced,
but I did bring my own ammunitions,

and if you don't mind.

I do beg your pardon.

Wait, hold on, didn't you say
your name was Lombard?

- I did.
- Hey, hey, hey.

The initials.

- T hey say "J.H."
- T hey do.

It's borrowed.

Well, merry Christmas to you too, Jack.

At least something around here works.

This is a joke.

Why do you have to volunteer
to do the cooking anyway?

Because you can't cook,
and we have to eat.

Well, it just ain't right.

So, we get a free safari trip.

Where is this man Owen anyway?

- I wish I knew.
- Well, I wanna go home.

If you ask me, we shouldn't have
come here in the first pace.

If you remember,
you're the reason we're here.

No.

Give it to the guy with the teddy bear.

I'd like to propose a toast

to our host amongst hosts,

our very own absentee Mr. Owen.

Hm.

It's bad luck not to drink.

Right you are.

Letting something go to waste
I find dreadfully boring.

I'll say.

Wonderful country round here.

- Isn't it?
- I don't think so.

It's too remote.

Those little dolls are very strange.

Charming, but imitations.

What's that children's rhyme?

"T en little Indians went out to dine,"

one choked his little self,
and then there were nine.

"Nine little Indians sat up very late,
one overslept, and then there were eight."

That's really clever.

- Clever?
- To remember the rhyme.

Well, I'd like to take the credit for it,
but there's a copy of the poem over on the piano.

There's a piano?

In the middle of the jungle?

Over in the main tent.

See, what'd I tell you?

That's just the beginning,
they keep it up all night.

Don't they, Elmo?

Just as long as they don't get any closer,
that's all.

Do play us something, Mr. Marston.

Ah, it'll be a pleasure.

Mad dogs and Englishmen
go out in the midday sun.

The Japanese don't care to,
and the Chinese wouldn't dare to.

The Hindus and the Argentines
sleep firmly twelve to one.

But mad dogs and Englishmen
go out in the midday sun.

Well, I'm out.

Hey, Mac, how about something American?

I'm so sorry, that's all I know.

Thanks to my illustrious piano teacher,
Mr. Charles Gorman.

May he rest in peace.

- Wasn't he sweet?
- Little bugger.

He's too tame to be wild,
he must be somebody's pet.

I wonder if he's Mr. Owen's.

Elmo, do something.

You know I hate animals.

This is that record.

Ohh.

Ladies and gentlemen,
silence, please.

You have been gathered here tonight

in order to be charged
with the following indictments:

Dr. Hans Joachim Werner...

What on Earth?

You have been charged with the death
of Ursula Margaret Lismann.

Marion Marshall,

you, upon a date in February 1931...

- What is this?
- Did knowingly and willfully

bring about the death of a Miss Beatrice Taylor.

It isn't true.

- What's going on here?
- William Henry Blore,

private detective,
you did hereby bring about the death

of Stephen Joseph Landor.

- T urn that off.
- No!

You hear me, I said turn it off!

Sit down!

Vera Claythorne, on the 11th day
of August, 1933,

you killed Cyril Ogilvie Hamilton.

- T hat's enough.
- Philip Lombard,

guilty of the heinous deaths of 21 men,

members of an East Indian tribe.

- Sure.
- General Brancko Romensky,

on the 14th of January, 1917,

you deliberately sent your wife's lover,

Heinrich Domaratsky, to his death.

Anthony James Marston...

Oh, peachy.

Guilty of the murders of John and Lucy Combes.

Murder?

Mr. Justice Lawrence Wargrave,

guilty of the murder of Edward Seton.

Ethel Mae Rodgers...

- No.
- And Elmo Rodgers,

guilty of the death of one Jennifer Brady.

Prisoners at the bar,

have you anything to say in your defense?

No!

My God, Doctor, help her.

Oh, honestly, she's only fainted.

Don't worry about her, she's always fainting.

Give her some room, please.

She needs air, step back.

"T he Dying Swan Song."

Catchy tune.

Anyone care to hear it again?

We've already heard it.

- Someone went to a lot of trouble.
- Someone?

Well, who?

This Mr. Owen.

What a good guess, toots.

Why did you put on the record?

I got a letter from Mr. Owen
saying we won this trip.

All I had to do was get all of you together,

put it on, and be sure that all of you heard it.

Did anyone else win a free trip?

No one.

Where's the letter?

I left it home.

You mean you do not know Mr. Owen?

No.

Does your wife know him?

Why don't you ask her?

How could anybody?

I told you we shouldn't have come here.

I'm not gonna touch any of that money,
no, no, I'm not gonna touch it.

- No, no, no, don't take it.
- It's all right, she needs to go to her room.

- Money, no!
- T hank you, Doctor.

So...

no one has met this Mr. Owen.

No one.

I guess we will soon.

Won't we?

I told you!

I told you somebody would find out!

I told you to be quiet.

No, now they all know!

Without you they couldn't prove a thing.

Ah, it's you, I'm glad you've come.

- My wife, she's not feeling well.
- Are you all right, Mrs. Rodgers?

She's fine, she just needs some rest.

This might help.

Luminal, a very mild sedative.

A quarter of a teaspoon in half a glass of water.

If that doesn't work,
a quarter of a teaspoon more.

But no more than that.

You don't believe any of it, do you, Doctor?

- No, no.
- It's all right, Doctor, I'll look after her.

She's all right, I'll take care of her, you just go.

Tell them.

Well, now,

just a minute, let's get this thing

in its proper perspective, shall we?

Mr. and Mrs. Rodgers
thought they had won a free trip.

Mr. Marston was invited by a friend of a friend,

as, indeed, was our dear General.

Miss Claythorne, you were sent here by
an employment agency, right?

- Mm-hm.
- You were to be Mr. Owen's secretary.

And, I say, it's rather a long way to travel
to work for a man you've never even met.

But then, I'm awfully removed
from the younger set.

- Now, Miss, uh...
- Marshall.

Marshall.

I was invited.

I received a letter in the post.

Who does that leave?

Ah, the doctor.

Just in time.

You were about to be
hanged, drawn, and quartered.

- How is Mrs. Rodgers?
- Well, she's all right.

I'm not so sure about her husband.

Who cares about him?

We're waiting, Doctor.

For what?

We want to know what brought you here.

- I was hired.
- By whom?

Why, Mr. Owen.

In case anything happened to anybody
during the safari.

Hey, is he a patient of yours?

No, I haven't even talked to him.

I was referred to him by a colleague.

Why?

What's wrong?

Who asked you, Judge?

Why did you come?

That's a good question.

We were just coming to me.

You see, um,

I received a letter

from a Mr. Martin Biddle.

He said that his friend Mr. Owen
had personally invited me

on this safari that he was going,
and that I should come too.

He... he wrote
that the whole affair should be

highly entertaining.

Entertaining?

Who's applauding?

This Mr. Owen,
did he say that he was British or American?

Mr. Lombard, why do you suppose

that amongst all of us,

Mr. Owen addressed this letter to you?

Well, look, I don't know about you, Charlie,

but I was hired to lead this safari,

so if you wanna fry someone, pick on him.

Fair enough.

I was hired to keep an eye on all of you.

You see, I'm a detective.

This is really very uncomfortable.

If none of us know this Mr. Owen,
then where is he?

Yes, and why is everyone
being accused but him?

Hm.

Well, maybe there isn't a Mr. Owen.

- Maybe he's a fake.
- What?

A fake?

I forbid anyone to insult our host.

Well, whoever accused me...

Well, I don't know about the rest of you,
but I've collected my share of skeletons.

I'm sure we don't want to hear.

Why not? Hey, go ahead.

Well, it wasn't my fault actually.

Um, it was this car accident.

This couple.

It was on the outskirts of a village,

it wasn't much more than a settlement really,

and this couple ran out in front of me.

There was absolutely no way
I could avoid them.

They were killed right out.

They never knew a thing about it.

Well, I don't call that murder.

I call that bloody bad luck.

So, what happened to you?

Pater took the car away.

Mr. Owen, if that's who the voice really was,

wasn't very far off with me.

Let me see that.

Signed, "U.N. Owen."

"U.N."

Couldn't be that, could it?

Unknown.

Oh, how droll.

Too much slivovitz.

I'll go and get some water.

How is he, Doc?

Yeah, the hot climate of the tropics.

Who's gonna figure
the guy's gonna get soused?

Drunk, Mr. Blore?

He's not drunk.

He's dead.

Look.

"Ten little Indians went out to dine,

one choked on himself,
and then there were nine."

Now, on the count of three.

One, two, and three!

Fire!

What am I saying?

I mean... I mean "lift."

Funny, we didn't even know his first name.

Where are you going?

It's none of your business,

but I'm going to see my wife.

You didn't see anything
when you first came here, did you?

What are you hinting at?

Isn't it obvious? You and your wife
were the first people to arrive here.

You had a whole day in which to,

shall we say, arrange things.

What a pity.

Too much slivovitz.

Ah, don't touch that!

Cyanide.

Well, what do you think?
You think it's suicide?

I'm sure I wouldn't know.

Mr. Blore,

aren't you the detective?

Good God.

- Boo!
- Ahh!

Female, aged three and a half.

You mean, you can tell the sex and the age
of an animal by looking at its paw?

Sure.

See the strides, they're erratic.

Some are small and some are large.

That means she's hungry and she's stalking.

Stalking?

Us?

Could be.

Bullshit.

Good morning.

- Good morning.
- Morning.

Good morning, Miss Claythorne.

Katana.

My little one.

My little Katoosh.

Are you feeling all right, General?

It's been such a long time.

My darling wife, you see, I never should have...

Oh, those fingers.

They're so beautiful, your fingers, I remember.

But I'm not Katana, General.

I'm Vera.

Not Katana?

Hey, uh, General, don't you remember?

Vera Claythorne.

That's if my notes are all right.

Yeah.

Yes, yes, it is the heat.

I must keep out of the heat.

It's the heat.

And the memories,

they can be terrible.

In the end, I suppose,

it does not matter what you did to people,

it matters who you held here.

This I know,
and I will wait for her.

Look, uh, I don't know
too much about these things,

but, as you say,

why don't you stay out of the heat?

Yes, yes, I must stay out of the heat.

That is important.

Doctor, Doctor!

Come quickly, my wife.

- Quickly!
- Excuse me.

- I don't know what to say.
- What? What?

It's Mrs. Rodgers.

I am afraid she died in her sleep.

No, that's impossible.

Is it?

In Serbia we have an old saying.

"Mourn only once, and... and..."

And keep out of the heat, of course,
that's important.

You giveth and taketh away.

Where in Hades is this Mr. Owen?

I don't know.

But who touched that?

"Nine little Indians sat up very late,

one overslept, and then there were eight."

It couldn't be.

Well, how many are there of us?

That's right, eight.

She has a point.

I do not like this.

- Not at all!
- Please, please.

Doctor, keep calm.

Well, how did she die?

I don't know.

We'd have to have an autopsy.

If I'm remembering right,

weren't you the one
who gave her the sedative?

No, I didn't.

I gave it to her husband.

You bastard!

She was my wife.

All right, goddamnit, who's next?
We're being picked off like flies.

I think we should leave right now!

How? We're in the middle of Africa.

There's nothing out there for miles.

Anyway, there's no way back over the ravine.

Oh my God, what's that way?

Wild, hungry, vicious animals.

Why don't you just trust
in the good Lord, Miss Marshall?

Won't He provide?

Mr. Lombard, thank God.

We've got to get out of here.

Radio for a plane.

What is it?

Radio's down. Someone smashed the back.

Oh!

Well, I don't know about all of you,
but I'm not gonna sit here.

What do you propose?

Look, if all those deaths are natural, all right,

but if they're not, it looks like
it must be the work of our infamous Mr. Owen.

He's around here some place.

And I'll track him.

Your honor.

It's a millionaire's idea of a joke.

Look, we'll get to the bottom of it.

- Are you ready?
- Mr. Blore, you stick with me.

If it's Owen and he's out there,

he won't be out there long... let's go.

Okay, Doc, let's go.

Thank you, General.

She will be here soon.

Are you all right, General?

Yes.

She will come.

I was too old for her, you know.

But we were happy together
for a time.

- You mean your wife?
- Yes.

Domaratsky was more her age.

He was my second lieutenant.

And do you know how I... how I found out?

We were at the front.

She wrote to both of us

and she put the letters
in the wrong envelopes.

So, I sent him to Belgrade.

I picked him.
I picked him to die.

I knew he would die,
it is what I wanted.

This Mr. Owen is right.

It was murder in a way.

Yes, murder.

And Katana, she...

she lived on for a few years.

I never told her.

Then, she died.

As we are going to die.

I am waiting.

Here is as good a place as any.

What do you mean, General?

None of us are going to leave.

That is the plan.
You know it, of course.

You will be glad too,
when the end comes.

You must keep out of the heat, General.

Yes, that is... oh, let me.

No, it's all right, General,
I'll get it... stay there.

Argh!

Agh!

Damn!

Son of a bitch!

Blanks!

Waxed heads.

No better than blanks.

All right, somebody switched 'em
and I'd like to know who.

What do you mean, who?

You know perfectly well who... Owen.

To be determined.

What are we doing to do without weapons?

Aw, come on, Judge.

You know a gun is not the only way to kill!

You know, Judge...

that guy's nuts.

Where the hell is a way out?

Miss Claythorne was right.

"Eight little Indians"

traveling in Devon.

One said he'd stay there,

"then there were seven."

Well. Shall we begin?

Now we know.

Know what?

Who Mr. Owen is.

Who?

One of us.

Come on, for crying out loud.

Where was Mr. Rodgers in all of this?

He just mysteriously disappeared.

Then reappeared, suddenly.

He was the the only one unaccounted for
when the general died.

Perhaps we should confront him.

That's a good idea.

- You mind?
- No.

Tell me. What are you thinking?

I don't know.

How stupid it all is.

You see, I've been a governess
for the past five years,

and suddenly,
this opportunity came along

and I thought how lucky I was to have the chance
to get out and see the world at last.

Now look.

How ironic.

Now here you are and here I am
and everyone's suspicious.

Not everyone.

- I don't think it's you.
- You don't?

No, I don't.

Are you sure?

Yeah, I'm sure.

But, uh, what about me?

Oh.

I think it's the doctor.

And, uh...

- Shall we begin?
- Just a minute.

What is it, Miss Marshall?

I don't understand this.
Why do we have to vote?

What difference does it make
who we think Mr. Owen is?

I think it's a good idea.

Could shed some light.

I don't approve.

It's speculation.

We need proof.

It's ridiculous.

Look, Miss Marshall.

Maybe that's the way
they do things in Hollywood,

but we're nowhere near there.

Come on, Judge. Move it.

One vote for the good doctor.

And one for Mr. Blore.

Mr. Lombard, you haven't been excluded.

Let me see that.

And neither has Miss Marshall.

Oh!

Somebody voted for me.

Two votes left.

Mm-hm.

They both honor Mr. Rodgers.

Get off my back, all of yous.

I'm not going through this again.

You only have to go through it once.

Oh, by the way, who is this, uh, Miss Brady?
Who is she, huh?

Who is Miss Brady?

The woman Owen accused him of murdering.

She's an old lady that Mrs. Rodgers and I
spent years and years looking after.

She was very, very sick.

We were with her when she died.

She left all her money to us.

There were no relatives.

Just a moment, Mr. Rodgers.

What did your wife mean when she said
that sooner or later,

somebody would find out?

I have no idea what she was talking about,

except the possibility that there was
some conversation at the time.

But the doctor certified
that she died of a massive stroke.

And if you don't believe it,
you can check the death certificate.

Now, I've had enough. I'm leaving.

Where are you going?

I'm going out on top of that hill.

I'm gonna sit at the top and watch
so that none of you can sneak up behind.

Hold on.

Hold on, Mr. Rodgers.

No one is pointing a finger, really.

We are all desperate
and we are trying to understand.

Now.

It seems to me
whenever someone dies,

we seem to lose a little Indian.

If you are going to sit
on top of the hill, Mr. Rodgers,

I'm sure you wouldn't mind
taking the key with you.

We'd all sleep better that way.

My pleasure.

I won't be sleeping.

Brilliant.

One last suggestion.

That we all keep our tents closed
during the night

and open them to no one.

No one?

There he is on the top of the hill.

He should be safe there.

I hope so. I do hope so.

Goodnight, Doctor.

Goodnight.

Marion!

It's Marion! She's not in her tent.

Okay. Don't worry, we'll find her.

All right, everybody, let's spread out.

Come on.

Damn you, Owen.

There you are.

Oh, you frightened me.

- Did I?
- Yes.

We were worried about you.

Hey! Here she is!

Everybody, Miss Marshall is here!

You shouldn't be out alone, you know.

Thank you, darling.

I'm not alone.
The Lord is with me.

Let me look at that.

Where's she going?

Good heavens.

"Seven little Indians"

chopping up sticks.

One chopped himself in half

"and then there were six."

So where's Mr. Rodgers?

I'm going up.

Hey, you all right?

Agh!

The devil is amongst us.

You okay?

Did you ever hear
of a bee sting being fatal?

No.

"Six little Indians playing with a hive.

- "A bumblebee stung one..."
- Shh.

Only makes it worse.

We must get out of here.

We must!

Take your shot, Doctor.

And keep calm.

Your hand is trembling.

Is it nerves... or alcohol?

This, uh, Ursula Margaret Lismann, was it?

Do you remember,
the voice on the gramophone?

Did you operate?

Perhaps you were drunk.

This slander.

Oh yes.

What does it matter?

We're all under sentence of death.

Four dead,
no idea who it can be.

Oh, I wouldn't quite say that.

Do you know something?

As a matter of practical evidence,
I have none.

But it seems to me
that one particular person

is sufficiently indicated.

Opportunity and means.

Surgical skills,
access to dangerous drugs

and implements.

You have your own way of killing, Judge.

Sentence of death, yes.

You wouldn't know about that.

You cooked Edward Seton's goose,
an innocent man.

The hanging judge.

Yes.

I have been called that.

- Miss Marshall?
- Oh!

- May I come in?
- Yes, please.

- I wish I wasn't so frightened.
- Don't worry, it'll pass.

We'll be out of here soon... I hope.

Yes.

Whoever is out there
killing us one by one is laughing

and we're still here,
stranded and helpless.

That's why we have to stick together.

It's the only thing left to reassure us.

Laying down the burden of guilt
is the only thing that's going to reassure me.

It wasn't true, you know,
what they said in all the papers.

What wasn't?

About Beatrice Taylor.

She wasn't charming, she wasn't fun,
she wasn't a saint.

She was vulgar and ruthless.

I thought you were supposed
to be great friends.

We were lovers.

And when I tried to break away,
she threatened me.

She said she'd go to the studio
and tell them about us

and ruin my career forever.

Hers was over,
mine was just beginning.

She was found floating in her pool.

Yes.

What else was I to do?

She was drunk,
we had a terrible fight.

She fell.

I left her there,

quietly.

No one ever knew.

I pray to God every day
that He will forgive me,

and until He does,
I know I won't forget.

I need to sleep for a while now.

Is Miss Marshall all right?

Yes.

She shouldn't be alone.

- No one should be alone.
- Well, that's what I've just told her.

- Well, maybe we should go to her.
- No!

Well, she's sleeping.

She's better off with a rest.

Didn't you think Miss Claythorne was,
uh, awfully nervous?

Yes.

Any luck?

No.

RXQ, RXQ, can you read me?

RXQ, RXQ, come in.

Can you read me?

This is RXQ, this is RXQ,
I can read you. Come on.

Message received.

Sending a spotter plane in the morning.

Over and out.

What's he doing?

What's it look like?

He's trying to light the fire.

He's wasting his time.

- Oh, it's cold!
- Damn.

Perhaps we should all go into the tent.

All right, enough of this crap.

All right, Doctor.

Who else here has a hypodermic needle?

Huh?

Detective Blore.

Anybody could have stolen it from my bag.

Anybody, including you.

It is not too hard to be a thief.

What did you say?

Please!

Miss Claythorne, would you
pass me the decanter?

Perhaps Mr. Blore and the doctor
and yourself

would join me in a drink?

Oh, by the way.

Weren't you the last person
to see Miss Marshall alive?

That is right.

We saw you coming out of her tent.

Well, you did see me
coming out of her tent.

But then I left
and you two stayed.

Just a few feet from her doorway, in fact.

Yes, I remember.

But I left immediately to
relieve myself.

And I... This has gone far enough!

I don't know.

It's cold.

I'm going to go put something warmer on.

Perhaps

I should go with you.

It's all right, Mr. Lombard's out there.

I'll only be a minute.

Oh! I'm sorry,
I didn't mean to scare you.

Come on, there's something I wanna show you.

Come.

Can I trust you to keep a secret?

Mm-hm.

When Marston arrived,
I remember him saying

that he brought his own bullets.

You mean you're the only one
with a loaded gun?

That's right.

I don't want you to tell anyone.

We have a better chance
of making it through the night.

- And if we do make it through the night...
- Do you think it would have

made any difference
if Mr. Marston had had a gun?

Or Marion or the general or Rodgers?

Even if they had had a gun,
they'd all still be dead.

Wait! Where are you going?

I'm sorry.

I just don't trust anybody anymore.

I'm all right now.

Goodnight.

If you were a betting man,

would you bet someone else
would die tonight?

I never bet.

I fold.

It's only fair.

Now I wanna tell you about me.

Landor.

You familiar with the name?

He was a bank robber and I was a cop.

Many years before that,
we grew up together on the same block.

My testimony

sent him up the river.

Mr. Owen accused you of murder.

Did Mr. Landor die?

In prison, a year later.

Called on the feds.

He was about to make
a confession about something.

And you were about to be implicated.

Yeah, right.

That's why I'm here

and he's dead.

The fact is,
I lost my license over it.

He was guilty

and I was doing my duty.

That's all that any of us can hope to do.

Our duty?

Good God, what's happening?

- T he judge has disappeared.
- Oh no.

Look, the shot came from over there.
Let's go, come on.

Let's go.

Agh!

We can't bury him now.

Not until it clears.

You take care of her.

We'll put him in the store tent.

"Five little Indians
going in for law.

Once got into Chancery
and then there were four."

What's so funny, Doc?

Oh.

Blore, Vera?

She's feeling much better.

I brought her in here
because I didn't want her to be alone.

- I'm gonna go get the doc.
- Don't.

What's wrong with you two?

It's not what you think.

You were the only one
who had any bullets.

- Of course it's you.
- Look.

Feel it, smell it.

Go ahead.

Now, if I'd have shot him,

that gun would be hot
and you'd smell the gunpowder.

Well? Do you?

No.

Vera, I have a hunch.
It's the Doctor.

Couldn't be Blore.
Blore used to be a cop.

Look, I don't know what all of this
is about for you,

but I know what it's about for me.

There was a little boy,
I was his governess.

He was forbidden to swim out too far.

It won't help.

I'm not guilty.

Well, damnit, I'm not.

We were on the beach one day, and...

he just started off.

Somebody... somebody said something,
and I just turned away

just for a second.

When I looked back, he...
He was just gone.

I tried to swim out after him.

It was too late.

I've never been able to forgive myself.

But it was an accident!

Why do you keep doing this to yourself?

Why are you so nice?

Who's Jack Hutchinson?

Why?

There was a letter, I saw it.

It was addressed to Jack Hutchinson.

You wouldn't believe me if I told you.

Maybe I would. Try me.

Okay. I'm Jack Hutchinson.

Where's Lombard?

Lombard's dead.

He was a real good friend of mine, Lombard.

He knew this country
like I know this country.

You know, there's not too many of us left.

We're what you call a dying breed.

But anyway, this guy Owen
already paid his way out.

I came instead.

Why did you wait so long before you told?

What's the difference?
It wouldn't change anything.

How do you know?

Maybe it would.

Maybe it would have saved somebody.

Where are you going, Vera?

I'm going out to find the doctor and Blore.

I'm going to tell them
what you just told me.

Don't leave me now. vera!

Listen to me.

You're wrong.

- Mr. Blore.
- Oh, fer Christ sakes!

I think I know who Mr. Owen is.

In fact, I'm sure of it.

- Vera.
- Wait a minute.

- He's got real bullets.
- Wait a minute.

Where's the doc?

Now, look,
we have to stick together.

He's right.

- No, thank you.
- Wait!

Where's this spotter plane you promised?

Or did you lie about that too?

If you want to kill me, go on. Go on!

"A red herring swallowed one,"

and then there were...

"three."

Agh!

Vera!

What happened?

He's in the tent.

Very neat, really.

"Three little Indians off to the zoo.

A bear hugged one
and then there were two."

Nice try, Vera,
but I'm not buying.

Arms up.

I was right, it was you.

- Come on.
- Don't move, I'm warning you.

Marion Marshall suspected you,
and the judge.

Trying to get me on your side.

"Oh, let's keep the bullets a secret," you said.

It's sordid!

And what's worse is,

just for a time there,
in the beginning,

I thought that you...

it turns my stomach!

Let go!

Good morning, Miss Claythorne.

You!

I'm so glad that you were
the last one to survive.

You must forgive my appearance.

My judicial robes
for my very last sentencing of death.

Oh! The blood.

Tomato sauce.

A bit left over from
my little charade with the doctor.

We rigged up my supposed death
so that I could be free

to spy on the rest of you.

Poor old doctor.

He swallowed my red herring beautifully.

"One little Indian left all alone."

She went and hanged herself...

"and then there were none."

Now, come on, come on, come here.

Slip this over your head.

Come on, come on, come on.

Mount the scaffold, Anne Boleyn.

You're mad.

You must be, you're insane.

Do it...
or I shall kill you now.

It's the spotter plane!

Oh yes.

Yes. That's good.

Why good? They'll arrest you.

No.

I shall be dead.

Now, pay attention.

When I pull on this rope,
you will hang.

This wine contains hemlock.

They tell me that if I drain the glass,

it will be no more than three minutes
until death.

You see...

a short while ago,

a doctor gave me only a little time to live.

But I've been able to reflect
and to plan this safari.

My own private big game hunt.

And you shall be the last to die.

Very good try.

My dear Miss Claythorne,
I wonder how long you can hold on.

I always wanted to see a hanging.

Please! Don't leave me here!

Save your breath.

Listen.

For some time now,
I have noticed a change in myself.

After 25years on the bench,

a desire to act instead of to judge.

I wanted to commit a murder,
kill on a huge scale.

I chose my victims carefully.

Well, didn't I?

My ten little Indians

who had escaped the hangman.

Please!

I'm beginning to feel dizzy.

Goodbye... my dear Miss Claythorne.

All ten little Indians

are dead.

Vera!

When we get out of here,
I'm gonna teach you how to shoot straight.