(Breathing andwhispering)
WOMAN: Cyril!
Cyril!
MAN: The position is for a secretary.
Then the agency shouldn't have given you my name.
My typing and shorthand isn't good enough.
Assistant, then.
With some minor secretarial duties.
I sent her all the details.
She chose you.
Really?
- You're a teacher? - A games mistress, yes.
Teachers are good at organising.
Mrs Owen is expecting a lot of guests.
Whereabouts in the country?
The Devon coast.
Soldier lsland.
The coast?
Audrey's been telling me about it from her magazines.
Haven't you, Audrey?
Some Hollywood film star was supposed to have bought it
but, no, it's Mr and Mrs Owen.
And you've met them?
No, everything by letter.
An island?
By the sea?
Islands are generally by the sea.
The box, if you please, Audrey.
Um, I don't...
- Maybe I'm not suited. - You are who she wants.
And it's very well-paid.
There's a permanent position on offer, if you fit the bill.
- Yes, but... - For immediate expenses.
(Vocal warm-ups)
And this is for a play?
In the West End?
And will I be credited in the programme?
Ladies and gentlemen...
silence, please.
You are charged with the following indictments.
(Chugging oftrain)
(Train whistle)
(Blasts of horn)
Good God!
Bloody hell!
Damn you, you stupid bastard!
(Laughter)
(Whoops and laughs)
(Clock strikes the hour)
Well, well, here are the others.
I'm Miss Claythorne.
Mrs Owen's secretary.
Are you Mr Narracott?
Ent no-one else holdin' the sign.
I've already taken two over.
A fussy old maid and some flashy young lad.
Been in and out ofthis harbour like a fiddler's elbow.
Sea dogs...
They have their own etiquette.
Well, good afternoon.
- General MacArthur. - Good lord!
What an honourto meet you.
Wargrave.
Justice Wargrave?
- The honour's all mine, sir. - Retired from justice now.
Mr...?
(lrish accent) Lombard. Philip.
- And you, sir? - Davis.
Are you comin' or not?
Well, shall we?
(Cry of gulls)
This way, just up here.
Good afternoon.
Welcome to Soldier lsland.
MACARTHUR: Right.
Come along.
Sorry, is there a problem?
That's as far as my fee'll take me, sir.
(Sighs) For God's sake.
Er, Davis.
Davis.
- I'd be grateful. - Of course.
MACARTHUR: Well, Rogers.
Our hosts...
When can we expect to meet them?
We should be at full house by tonight, sir.
Ah, afternoon. Tony Marston.
Well, I look forward to meeting you all at dinner.
A stiff G and T in my room.
Sir.
Did Mrs Owen leave any instructions for me?
I'm the secretary.
Only to ensure you were comfortable
and had everything you wished for, Miss Claythorne.
Now, ifthe gentlemen would follow me,
Mrs Rogers will escort the lady.
Thank you, Davis.
Did my friend Mrs Culmington, Mrs Constance Culmington,
did she change her plans, do you know?
No, I'm afraid I don't.
Ridiculously vague.
I'm sorry, I only just recently got the job.
No, no, not you, Miss Claythorne.
I mean this whole arrangement.
The Owens invited me here to meet my friend
and she's not even here.
Very strange.
Very strange indeed.
- Can I help you? Here. - Oh, too kind.
MALE VOlCE: "Ten little Soldier Boys went out to dine;
One choked his little self and then there were nine. "
(Snorts)
MALE VOlCE: "Ten little Soldier Boys went out to dine;
One choked his little self... "
(Choking)
(Gasps)
Leave me alone.
Look at the state of you.
I've got to baste my beef.
And my soufflés, Thomas. What about my soufflé?
Well, I can't dress her, can l?
Go on.
Was it a childhood affliction?
Your eyes...
No, madam.
It came on all suddenly.
A shock, maybe.
A sudden change.
Begging your pardon, madam, I don't know.
You must know.
Begging your pardon, madam, I don't.
I always think it's rather a weakness
to be so affected by something in one's circumstances.
Rather indulgent.
Almost vain.
We must be strong, Mrs Rogers.
Especially in these times.
We must be valiant and virtuous.
We must be Englishwomen.
Yes, madam.
And a little advice.
In future, a splash of eau de Cologne
before you come upstairs to attend on the ladies.
I appreciate it's hot work in the kitchen
but there's no need to announce it quite so emphatically.
Beg your pardon, madam.
(Polishing his accent) "Tinned goods.
Troops. In the war.
The war.
Tinned goods."
Mm.
Judge Wargrave,
I'm terribly sorry forthe clumsy introduction.
I'm...
a terrible traveller.
Completely lose my bearings.
- Are we on time? - Only just.
Er, sir.
You're ready sooner than we'd anticipated.
- What's up there? - Just roof space, sir.
Er, sir, I've been advised that the footing
isn't particularly sturdy up there.
Best avoided, lest you make
an unexpected entrance into one ofthe bedrooms, sir.
By way ofthe ceiling.
May I show you to the drawing room, sir?
Perhaps an aperitifwhilst you await the other guests?
Ah, Mr Davis.
You look like a man who could use a drink.
How very congenial.
Perhaps a small snifter.
Mr Rogers, lead the way.
(Clattering)
(Continued clattering)
Miss?
Is there something you're looking for, miss?
Because this is the below-stairs, miss.
For staff.
Well, I am staff.
Miss, we had very strict instructions
that you were to be treated as a guest.
Guests don't come below stairs.
It rather sounds as though you're asking me to leave.
How many more are you expecting with the Owens?
We shall know when they arrive.
And howwill you cope, just the two of you?
Rogers and myself is competent.
More than.
So, if you please...
Well done, girl.
What an idyllic evening!
The sky!
How can one not believe in a Creator?
- Davis. - Emily Brent.
Edward Armstrong.
There's one in my room too.
I imagine there's one in every room.
Well...Soldier lsland.
It makes sense.
It's amusing.
I have a strong suspicion our hosts are inclined to whimsy.
I cannot comment on our hosts.
Good little secretary.
Excuse me.
We've got off on the wrong foot, haven't we?
But you do have very pretty legs.
It would have been remiss not to admire them.
Mr Lombard, you seem to be under the impression
that I am a particular kind ofwoman.
And I assure you that I am not.
I do not like to be looked at.
I get instincts about people.
I have an instinct about you.
(Whispers) I think you're pretending.
(Door opens)
A drink, Mr Marston?
Pink gin.
Pink as a virgin's blush.
Didn't catch your name.
Philip Lombard.
Irish.
Then you must know the Corcorans.
Great chums of mine.
Endlessly simpatico.
Anyone who's anyone knows them.
(Wargrave laughs outside)
(Conversation outside)
Are you a betting man, Lombard?
It depends.
At some point this evening, one ofthose crumbling old wrecks
will start talking about the war
and ask us ifwe aren't sorry to have missed the last one
and howwe should be gung ho to do our duty in the next.
Not that there's going to be a next one.
There's always a next one.
So how about it?
A bet.
The odds are too short.
(Wargrave laughs and conversation outside continues)
Listen to them. Clinging on.
They think they still mean something
but nobody at all would notice or care ifthey just...
I'm going to be exceptionally charming to them.
Oh, all right, Miss Claythorne.
If it'll make you happy, I'm sorry for staring.
Mr Lombard, I doubt you're ever sorry for anything.
Smart girl.
(Cry of gulls)
Ladies and gentlemen, lobster soufflé.
I hope it isn't too rich.
I always dine so modestly at home.
- Mm. - I won't, thank you.
Thank you.
We've met before, you know.
Forgive me. My memory's not what it was.
Perhaps you gave evidence before me?
No, it wasn't that. I'd rememberthat.
It was something else.
It'll come to me.
I'm not at all sure about these.
They look very...pagan.
They're the ten little soldiers.
You know, from the poem.
MACARTHUR: Mm. I know it offby heart.
When I was a little boy, my nanny used to recite it to me.
I imagine she wanted to terrify me into being...into being good.
Did it work?
I've always been a stickler, yes.
A sticklerforthe rules.
I was probably a rather dull boy.
(Chuckles) I really can't imagine that, General.
Although you shouldn't call it a poem, Miss Claythorne.
It's doggerel.
Poetry should be uplifting.
I agree with you, Miss Brent.
Well, that shows howwrong first impressions are.
I didn't think you were
the type of gentleman to appreciate poetry.
Mr Davis has hidden depths.
The soufflé is delicious.
Mm. Very light.
In over 40 years in criminal law
I have come face to face
with the most depraved examples of mankind and felt no fear.
But I quail in terror, Miss Claythorne,
at the thought of young ladies brandishing hockey sticks.
They're not so bad, Judge.
A little over-excited and noisy sometimes.
Well, the prerogative of youth.
And I'm sure you set them a very fine example.
Sometimes you dread what filth they're going to serve
but this is actually very decent.
The Owens are always generous hosts.
Friends of yours, Mr Davis?
Business acquaintances.
I'm in tinned goods.
The firm started off supplying troops with stew.
Tinned goods is what helped us win the war.
Well, I suppose an army marches on its stomach.
Here we go.
God, I remember that stew.
RAMC, I presume, Dr Armstrong?
That's right.
Clearing stations and then hospitals in Belgium and France.
Perhaps you're being interviewed as well?
Interviewed, General?
Yes. Mr Owen is an amateur but very knowledgeable
military historian writing about France,
about decisive actions in 1 91 7.
(Under his breath) For God's sake, it's over.
No, I'm just here to get away from it all.
Interesting man, Mr Owen. And an interesting name.
Ulick Norman.
Howfunny... Mrs Owen is Una Nancy.
EMlLY: Matching initials.
I must confess, I was a little worried about the Ulick.
Given the current climate, it might be seen as somewhat...
(Clears his throat)
-..Teutonic. - Mm.
You couldn't hope to meet a more patriotic man.
And what could be more English than Norman?
Oh, it's magical!
Mrs Rogers has the gift.
She might look like the undead but she can definitely cook.
When might we expect the Owens?
Have they not telephoned?
There's no telephone on the island, madam.
Mr Narracott brings messages
with the post and kitchen supplies every morning
and I imagine tomorrow
he will either bring a telegram from the Owens
orthey will accompany him.
Rogers, give that Narracott chap a couple ofbob.
Ask him to watch my car.
It's parked up by the harbour.
The Jensen.
Of course, sir.
And I shall pass on your compliments to Mrs Rogers.
Look here, Davis, the Owens...
are they fun-loving types?
Fun-loving?
Because there's something a tad off here.
I had a letter inviting me to a house party.
Pretty young things, you know, champagne, music.
Lombard looks like he could cut up a bit lively.
The rest of you don't really look like
fun-loving house party types.
No offence.
Your car, the Jensen?
Oh, you saw her?
Isn't she a beauty?
I honestly can't imagine loving a person
as much as I worship and adore the Jensen.
You ran me offthe road.
No, I didn't.
You ran me offthe road.
When?
I was driving along minding my own business
when you overtook me going God knows howfast
and you ran me offthe road.
I saw someone going at a pitiful speed.
Now, look here, Marston, I think an apology and a handshake
between gentlemen
- would be just the thing here. - I haven't done anything wrong.
- You ran me offthe road! - I may have overtaken you
but my great-aunt drives with more zip.
If you can't control your car,
you shouldn't be behind the wheel.
- You little shit! - You ran me offthe road
and you have the temerity to tell me it's my fault?
Careful, old boy. Going red in the face there.
Gentlemen, please. There are ladies present.
I'm sorry.
It's been a long week.
You're right, General.
A handshake between gentlemen.
Come on, Armstrong.
Put it there.
Let's be pals.
Nearly there.
Good work, Et.
Rogers, I'm out of cigarettes.
Yes, sir.
What battles were you involved with, General?
Well, I served on the Northwest Frontier,
in South Africa and of course in France.
Win any?
I loathe this convention.
Leaving men to their cigars and their "stories".
Convention, Miss Claythorne, is what keeps us together
in the face of impending chaos.
Is it time?
You start serving.
No, no. No, I'll pourthe coffee.
You must be very busy in the kitchen.
Miss.
Excellent dinner, Mrs Rogers.
The Owens are lucky to have you.
I will certainly be telling them so.
Thank you, madam.
(Feedback)
Whereabouts is your school?
I doubt you've heard of it.
It's not particularly well-known.
Nor particularly good either.
Why do you say that?
Otherwise you would not need employment
in the summer months.
Theirfees are not high enough, nor is their pay.
Not that I disapprove of
you seeking employment and being busy.
Farfrom it.
But why teach in a third-rate establishment
producing third-rate girls?
Barely worth yourtime and attention, I would have thought.
- (Feedback) ACTOR: Ladies and gentlemen!
Silence, please!
Who is that?
You are charged with the following indictments...
Edward George Armstrong,
that you murdered Louisa Mary Clees.
- Who is this? - I don't know, sir.
Emily Caroline Brent, that you murdered Beatrice Taylor.
- Who is this? - What's the meaning of this?
William Henry Blore, that you did murder James Stephen Landor.
God Almighty.
Vera Elizabeth Claythorne,
that you did murder Cyril Ogilvie Hamilton.
Philip Lombard, that you did murder 21 men,
members of an East African tribe.
John Gordon MacArthur, that you did murder Henry Richmond.
Where is this coming from?
Anthony James Marston...
Let's go, Rogers!
..that you did murder John and Lucy Coombes.
MARSTON: Never heard of them.
Lawrence John Wargrave,
that you did murder Edward Seton.
- Get out of my way. - Thomas and Ethel Rogers...
(Shriek and smashing)
..that you did murder Jennifer Brady.
- Thomas? - Prisoners at the bar...
..how do you plead?
Oh... Mrs Rogers.
- She just took a turn. - I'll go fetch my bag.
- She'll be all right. - I'll be the judge ofthat.
- A record? - It's called Swan Song.
What the hell are they playing at?
Huh? What the hell are they playing at?
- Your pals, the damn Owens. - Let him go, Marston.
He doesn't knowthem.
He's not Davis.
I'm Blore.
Detective Sergeant William Blore.
How did you know?
Instinct.
I need a drink.
MACARTHUR: Emily, these grotesque, false accusations!
EMlLY: lndeed, General!
We should wait forthe doctor and Rogers.
We should wait until everyone is together.
Well said, Tubs.
Let's all listen to the policeman.
Miss Claythorne?
(Tinkling)
Here. It's mild but it will help you sleep.
I suspect, Rogers,
that there are questions about our hosts
- that only you can answer. - Yes, sir.
A few minutes, then, to settle yourwife.
Sir.
I told you.
ROGERS: Pull yourselftogether, woman!
Stop flapping yourtrap, you dozy bitch!
Thank you.
Rogers is coming.
Well, Rogers?
See? On my instructions...
Put the record on at such a time.
We were told it was to be a surprise, a party game.
Some party game!
But you were in the room with us.
There's a delay. On the record.
Somebody went to a lot oftime and expense.
If I'd known what was on the record,
I'd never have been a part of it.
What is said about me and Mrs Rogers...
Never.
Nothing in it, then?
Miss Brady were like family to us.
We did everything for her.
She weren't well. Frail as a bird.
But on account of how she'd left us a small legacy,
well,
some folk will say anything to hurt.
(Muffled moaning)
(Rogers grunts with effort)
(Grunts)
(Panting)
(Sniffs)
There's a lot of jealousy amongst domestic service,
I'm afraid to say.
Below stairs is very often a nest of vipers.
EMlLY: Thank you, Rogers.
We'll ring ifwe require anything further.
I've had more than my fair share of lazy and vindictive staff.
I believe Rogers.
MARSTON: It doesn't make any sense.
I've never even met a John and Lucy Coombes.
Malicious nonsense!
Louisa Clees was a surgical patient.
It was risky. There were complications.
Everyone knewthat but the moment anything goes wrong,
it's blame the bloody surgeon.
No-one's blaming you, Doctor.
Well, someone is!
Henry Richmond was one of my finest young officers
who fell in pursuit of his gallant duty
for King and Country.
It is repugnant that these vile rumours
should be given credence. Repugnant!
Edward Seton was guilty.
I was party to evidence that was not admissible before the court.
But he was guilty.
The only time I laid hands on Landor
was to put handcuffs on him.
He was a degenerate.
And a drunk. He...
choked on his own puke.
MlSS CLAYTHORNE: Cyril...
The little boy...
I was his governess and...
He wasn't supposed to swim.
He wasn't strong.
But he sneaked off
and l...
I wasn't a good enough swimmer.
Ijust wasn't good enough.
I tried.
I really tried to save him.
His poor mother was... broken.
She was so broken.
I had to be rescued.
I almost drowned.
Who could say something like this?
It's some sort of vicious joke.
If that's your sense of humour,
there's something wrong with yourwiring.
Time forthe funny farm.
LOMBARD: It was pinpoint accurate about me.
21 men?
I always thought someone would blab.
It's amazing how people get an attack of conscience
when they're safely tucked away in their beds.
EMlLY: Terrible man!
You terrible, terrible man!
It's people like you, men like you,
that put our missionaries in such danger!
Oh, your missionaries with their God and their syphilis!
I am not the only white killer in Africa, Miss Brent.
Lombard, you, sir, are a bloody butcher!
And I'm holding my hands up to it.
So, either I'm embellishing a story for shocking effect
or I'm the only one telling the truth in a room full of liars.
- How dare you! - (Overlapping voices)
WARGRAVE: Enough, please, ladies and gentlemen, enough!
What good can it do?
My feeling is that we should retire
and be ready to leave tomorrow with Mr Narracott.
What ifthe Owens are with him?
We confront them.
But we leave.
And despite Mr Lombard's devastating confession,
we are all victims of a cruel hoax.
We shouldn't dignify these accusations
with any more debate.
- Agreed? OTHERS: Hear, hear!
John and Lucy Coombes...
They must have been those two kids.
I mean, what sort ofparents let kids play out in the dark,
for God's sake? It's completely irresponsible.
I lost my licence for six months. A terrific nuisance!
Oh, you were driving, were you?
What a surprise!
It was jolly bad luck, that's all.
I didn't stand a chance.
Those poor children.
You're a bloody maniac, Marston!
I wasn't even driving that fast.
You can't, in England. Not like the Continent.
They understand motoring overthere.
Say what you like about the Krauts
but their roads are magnificent. The Jensen loves them.
I can really open her up and let her rip.
(Gasping and coughing)
- (Gasping) - All right?
He's choking!
He's bleeding!
- Get him down. - Get him off me!
(She cries out)
Get him down.
(Choking)
He's dead.
Heavenly Father...
watch over us...
and protect us...
MACARTHUR: Right, well...
After you, ladies.
Armstrong.
Come here.
Ah.
Well, perhaps we ought to get rid ofthe stimulant
out of respect to the family.
Don't want to cause a scandal.
It's a police matter now, Doctor.
Same set of rules if you're posh or not.
Very well.
(Wind blows)
We're damned, Thomas.
We're damned.
(Panting tearfully)
We're going to hell!
(She shrieks)
(She sobs)
(Knocking)
Yes?
Who is it?
Doctor, please.
Don't touch me.
I knowwhat I'm doing.
(Knocking)
(Panting)
Dr Armstrong.
Yes?
What is it?
Can you come, please?
(Ticking)
She's been dead for some hours.
I'll...inform the others not to expect
too much in the way ofbreakfast
given the circumstances.
No, sir.
Full breakfast will be provided.
Good man.
Best not to dwell. Keep busy.
Dr Armstrong.
I heard you get up.
Has Mrs Rogers got worse?
Somewhat. She's dead.
- Dead? - Died in her sleep.
It was quite peaceful. Nothing to be alarmed about.
Wait. Wait.
I um...
I came down here to wait for you and I saw this.
Please.
A bit late forthe kiss of life, Tubs.
A right smartarse you are.
Have a sniff yourself.
- There were ten ofthem. - From the nursery rhyme,
- the poem, yes? - Yes.
Count them for me, please, Dr Armstrong.
There are eight, aren't there?
Eight figures forthe eight people here.
Tell me I'm right.
Please tell me I'm right.
I'm sure there's a perfectly rational explanation forthis.
- Almonds. - Almonds be buggered.
Cyanide.
I trust you're not going to unravel on us, Miss Claythorne.
Hysterical women are so boring.
WOMAN: Thank you fortrying. Thank you fortrying.
Thank you. Thank you for trying.
Oh, God. Oh, God...
(Sobs)
(Child clamouring)
BOY: I want to swim to the rocks!
No, darling, you know you can't. You're not strong enough.
- I am! - Cyril, behave yourself.
Listen to Miss Claythorne, dearest.
No!
That's incredibly naughty.
I'm so sorry, Miss Claythorne.
Oh, dear. He's getting all worked up.
Cyril, you will make yourself ill.
What's all this now?
Uncle Hugo!
I could hear you shouting from miles away, you young rascal.
Oh, thank heavens. In the nick oftime!
Olivia, you look absolutely radiant. As ever.
Empty flattery. I'm completely raddled and utterly hideous.
I don't believe I've had the pleasure.
Hugo, this is Miss Claythorne,
who is doing so much to help Cyril in the school room.
(Breathing deeply)
(Front door shuts)
Have you been for a paddle, General?
What are you, Lombard?
A mercenary?
A gun for hire?
A soldier?
Not from any army I'd recognise but still...
..a soldier of sorts.
You don't need to worry about what I am.
There's always a moment, isn't there, before the attack,
the advance, the bombardment, the chaos,
a moment of absolute calm.
Listen...
Doesn't this feel like... that moment?
I was never a man for calm, General.
We can't see the harbour from here.
Which means they can't see us.
We are cut off.
Rats in a barrel.
This is the peace... before the carnage.
People do not just die for no reason.
They die because something was done to them by someone.
There's a Fenian sat overthere with a bloody gun.
No-one's coming for us. This is the end.
Don't you dare touch my possessions!
What have you got to hide?
The whole morning clearing up guts!
You've got some right brass neck.
We are all being hunted.
There's someone else on this island.
And when I find him, I'm going to make him number 22.