Eleven Little Soldier Boys

Ten little soldier boys

- Ten little soldier boys went out for dine; One choked his little self and then there were Nine-

"alright, come along", mr. Rogers added as they walked upon the island.
miss Harington helped Justice Wargrave again with walking towards the house. Dr. Armstrong took his suitcase.
miss Harington looked around. there was grass everywhere upon the hills and it looked perfectly fine, where would Owen need a gardner for? she turned her head and looked at mr. Lombard walking behind them, looking around. she smiled, it was nice to see him again, but it also brought her very close to her past, which was something she tried to avoid. she sighed, she always had known that it would catch up with her one day.
they went inside the white house, it was huge! mrs. Rogers stood upon the large stairs. mr. Rogers stood next to her.
"gentlemen, follow me. the ladies follow mrs. Rogers", he said.
miss Claythorn and miss Harington looked at eachother before following mrs. Rogers.
the rooms she shew them were huge, like the rest of the house, and very chique.
"you can get ready for dinner, miss, if you don't mind", Rogers said.
miss Harington nodded. "sure."

a while later she was ready for dinner and was just wandering in the house. she saw the same poem as in her room hanging on the wall. she smiled. the poem about the little soldier boys, this was Soldier Island ofcourse.
"nice poem, isn't it?"
she turned around and saw a young man standing there, who she hadn't seen before.
"it's also in my room", he said. "Anthony Marston, I announce."
I shook his hand. "Maureen Harington."
"so, miss Harington, do you know where I can find the dining room? I'm a bit lost", he said and smiled a bit.
"yes, ofcourse. I mean... no", she replied. "sorry."
mr. Rogers came walking towards them. "if you could follow me, please", he said.
they followed him to the dining room. the others were already there. miss Harington sat down in a chair. mr. Marston sat next to her. she felt a hand upon her shoulder.
"may I?" Lombard asked and sat down in the chair at her other side.
she felt her face blushing and looked at the ground so that nobody would notice.
"what about you?" mr. Marston looked at her.
"uhh... sorry?" she asked.
"I asked if you have a car", he repeated.
"no, sadly I haven't", she replied. "but I really want to and I was planning to buy one with the money I got for coming here", she added.
"that's nice, miss", he said. "that's nice."
she looked at him. "you really love cars, don't you, sir?" she asked.
the door opened and mr. Rogers came inside. "dinner's ready", he said and put some things on the table.
"quiant, these little things, aren't they?" Marston said and pointed at the ten figures standing on the middle of the table.
miss Harington started laughing. "the ten little soldier boys, ofcourse!" she said.
they started eating.
"mm, this is delicious!" Emily Brent said.
everyone agreed with her. mr. Anthony Marston was talking the whole time, mostly about his car.
then a cracking voice started talking:
"Ladies and gentlemen! silence please!"
everyone was startled. they looked around - at eachother, at the walls. who was speaking? the voice continued:
"you are charged with the following indictments:
Edward George Armstrong, that you did upon the 14th day of March, 1925 cause the death of Louisa Mary Clees.
Emily Caroline Brent, that upon the 5th of november, 1931, you were responsible for the death of Beatrice Taylor.
William Henry Blore, that you brought about the death of James Stephen Landor on october 10th, 1928.
Vera Elizabeth Claythorne, that on the 11th day of august, 1935, you killed Cyril Ogilvie Hamilton.
Maureen Pattie Harington, that upon the 23th of March, 1932, you killed John Boyd, who tried to save you.
Philip Lombard, that upon a date in february, 1932, you were quilty of the death of 21 men, members of an East African tribe.
John Gordon Macarthur, that on the 4th of january, 1917, yiu deliberately sent your wife's lover, Arthur Richmond, to his death.
Anthony James Marston, that upon the 14th day of november last, you were quilty of the murder of John and Lucy Combes.
Thomas Rogers and Ethel Rogers, that on the 6th of may, 1929, you brought about the death of Jennifer Brady.
Lawrence John Wargrave, that upon the 10th day op june, 1930, you were quilty of the murder of Edward Seton.
Prisoners at the bar, have you anything to say in your defence?"
the voice stopped.
"quick, were did it came from?"
"here!" Lombard said and opened the door with great force.
there was nobody. nobody, just a gramophone. he grabbed the long-playing record and walked slowly out of the room.
"what was that, Rogers?!"
"I don't know, I didn't know it, I swear!" mr. Rogers said. "there was a note which said I had to turn it on, it should be a surprise."
miss Harington walked back to the dining room and saw mrs. Rogers body lying on the ground. "doctor Armstrong!" she yelled.
they came walking towards her.
"it's okay, she's just fainted. take her to our room", mr. Rogers said. "I'm sorry, miss, she's always been if a nervous disposition", he added.
they went inside a room and sat down, talking about what they'd just heard.
"I was driving in my car and these two children suddenly came on the street and I'd hit them", Marston said.
"was it you that was driving?" dr. Armstrong asked.
Marston nodded.
"no wonder", dr. Armstrong mumbled.
"what about you, miss Harington?" Marston asked.
she sighed. "it was an acident", she started. "I was never meant to kill him. he tried to save me and I didn't want that, I was desperate, but he wouldn't let me go. I hit him, but it wasn't the meaning that he would die", she said.
"those natives", Lombard said. "it's pin point accurate about me, it was a matter of self preservation, I did what I had to survive."
"you disgust me!" mrs. Bent said to him.
"look, love, either I'm going along with this story of fun or I'm the only one telling the truth in a room full of liars", he replied.
"you're a monster, Lombard!"
mr. Marston took a sip from his glass. he coughed and went pale.
"mr. Marston? are you okay?" miss Harington asked.
he coughed even more and grabbed at his throat. he stood up and walked towards her. he choked blood and fell forwards, upon her. she screamed as he didn't move anymore. the blood was everywhere, in her face, on her clothes, on the chair...
"he's dead", dr. Armstrong said.
they took him to his room and lied him in his bed, his sheets over him.
"he must have taken drugs and alcohol", Blore said.
"the pour sool..." miss Harington said.
miss Claythorne lied a hand upon her shoulder. "come on", she said and they went out of the room.