Eleven Little Soldier Boys

Eight little soldier boys

- Eight little soldier boys travelling in Devon; One said he'd stay there and then there were Seven.-

"I don't see the problem, miss", dr. Armstrong said.
"Nine little soldier boys stayed up very late; One overslept himself and then there were eigt", ms. Claythorne relied. "mrs. Rogers died during the night; she 'overslept herself'. and now there are eight figures!" she added.
"and mr. Marston choke himself, like in the poem.." ms. Harington slowly said.
the others came inside the dining room too.
"mr. Wargrave, can you please count them?" ms. Claythorne said.
the judge nodded and started counting. "one, two, three, for, five, six, seven, eight. there're eight."
ms. Claythorne nodded, but the others only looked at her weirdly.
"are you really all to blind to see? the poem is getting real, they didn't die because of drugs and alcohol, and too many medicines, they're murdered!" she yelled.
"you clearly need some more sleep, ms. Claythorne", dr. Armstrong said.
"this has nothing to do with sleep!" she replied. "it is true, the poem is true. you'll see. you will all see."
"can we just have breakfast?" mr. Lombard said and the others sat down.
ms. Harington sat next to Vera Claythorne. "I believe you", she whispered and looked at her.

after breakfast ms. Harington walked towards mr. Rogers.
"I'm sorry for your loss", she said.
"she must have taken too many of her medicines", he replied. "I could see it coming.."
"where are the Owens actually? isn't it a bit strange that they didn't showed up since we got here, I mean, we're their guests", she asked.
"they'll come, miss", he said and walked away.
"I don't think so.."
"what is it?"
she turned around and saw the general standing behind her. she walked to the window and looked at the island.
"the Owen's aren't here and neither they will come", she said.
he walked to her and she hugged him.
"I'm sorry, general", she cried.
"it's okay", he replied. "we're never going to leave this island."
she looked up at him with wide eyes. "what?"
"Naracott won't come to get us."
"we can call for help."
"there's no phone."
"we will find a way to get away here, general", she said, desperately trying to convince herself.
"Think whatever you want. I'm not going to leave here anyway. it's punishment for what we did. I deserve to be punished", he said and stared at the sea. "I sent him to his death, ms. Harington."
"don't say that!"
he walked away. she saw him walking towards the shore and looking at the wild water.
"everything okay?" Lombard asked while smoking a cigarette.
"it's the general. I worry about him", she replied.
"why? he can worry for his own."
she walked towards him. "can I get one?"
he gave her a cigarette.
"thank you, sir", she said. "will you please help me? there are some things that must be done. find a way of the island, find out where the Owen's are, solve the poem.."
he came closer towards her. "mr. Owen is on the island. you may not believe it, but I know it for sure", he whispered.
"how?"
"instinct."
"but then where would he be?"
"I dont know. but we have to find him. if this is indeed murder then he must be the one who's behind it", he said.
she nodded. "I'll help looking. thanks, sir."
"you can say Philip."

mrs. Brent sat on a chair outside the house. Mr. Wargrave, who was sitting in another chair, had fallen asleep. she was about to stand up and going inside to find the others when she noticed this crowd of birds flying low over some spot of the island. she stood up and slowly walked towards it. when she came at the cliffs above the shore she saw general macarthur lying on the ground. his head was smashed and there was a lot of blood. she quickly went back to the house to tell the others that the general was dead.