General Macarthur had been laid on his bed. After making a last examination Armstrong left the room and came downstairs. He found the others assembled in the drawing-room.

Miss Brent was knitting. Vera Claythorne was standing by the window looking out at the hissing rain, Blore was sitting squarely in a chair, his hands on his knees. Lombard was walking restlessly up and down. At the far end of the room Mr. Justice Wargrave was sitting in a grandfather chair. His eyes were half closed.

They opened as the doctor came into the room. He said in a clear penetrating voice:

«Well, doctor?»

Armstrong was very pale. He said:

«No question of heart failure or anything like that. Macarthur was hit with a life preserver or some such thing on the back of the head.»

A little murmur went round, but the clear voice of the judge was raised once more.

«Did you find the actual weapon used?»

«No.»

«Nevertheless you are sure of your facts?»

«I am quite sure.»

Mr. Justice Wargrave said quietly: «We know now exactly where we are.»

There was no doubt now who was in charge of the situation. This morning Wargrave had sat huddled in his chair on the terrace refraining from any overt activity. Now he assumed command with the ease born of a long habit of authority. He definitely presided over the court.

Clearing his throat, he once more spoke.

«This morning, gentlemen, whilst I was sitting on the terrace. I was an observer of your activities. There could be little doubt of your purpose. You were searching the island for an unknown murderer?»

«Quite right, sir,» said Philip Lombard.

The judge went on. «You had come, doubtless, to the same conclusion that I had – namely that the deaths of Anthony Marston and Mrs. Rogers were neither accidental nor were they suicides. No doubt you also reached a certain conclusion as to the purpose of Mr. Owen in enticing us to this island?»

Blore said hoarsely: «He’s a madman! A loony.»

The judge coughed.

«That almost certainly. But it hardly affects the issue. Our main preoccupation is this – to save our lives.»

Armstrong said in a trembling voice: «There’s no one on the island, I tell you. No one!»

The judge stroked his jaw.

He said gently: «In the sense you mean, no. I came to that conclusion early this morning. I could have told you that your search would be fruitless. Nevertheless I am strongly of the opinion that ‘Mr. Owen’ (to give him the name he himself has adopted) is on the island. Very much so. Given the scheme in question which is neither more nor less than the execution of justice upon certain individuals for offences which the law cannot touch, there is only one way in which that scheme could be accomplished. Mr. Owen could only come to the island in one way.»

«It is perfectly clear. Mr. Owen is one of us…»