And Then There Were None

I love you.

I love you.

Cyril!

Cyril!

The, uh, 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 organizing.

Mrs. Owen is expecting a lot of guests.

Whereabouts in the country?

The Devon coast. Soldier Island.

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.

Zibbity-zabba-zee, zibbity-zabba-zoh,

Zibbity-zabba-zah, zibbity-zabba-zoh.

And... And this is for a play... in the West End?

And will I be credited in the program?

Ladies and gentlemen, silence, please.

You are charged with the following indictments.

Good God!

Bloody hell!

Damn you, you stupid bastard!

Well. Here are the others.

I'm Miss Claythorne, Mrs. Owen's secretary.

Are you Mr. Narracott?

Well, ain't no one else holding a sign.

I've already taken two over...

Fussy old maid and some flashy young lad.

Been in and out of this harbor like a fiddler's elbow.

Sea dogs. They have their own etiquette.

Well, good afternoon.

General MacArthur.

Good Lord.

What an honor to meet you.

Warg rave.

Justice Wargrave?

- The honor is all mine, sir. - Retired from justice now.

Mister...

Lombard. Philip.

And you, sir?

Davis.

Are you coming or not?

Well, shall we?

This way. Just up here.

Good afternoon!

Welcome to Soldier Island.

Right.

Come along.

Sorry. Is there a problem?

Well, that's as far as my feet will take me, sir.

God's sake.

Davis?

Davis?

I'd be grateful.

Of course.

Well, Rogers.

Our hosts... When can we expect to meet them?

We should be a full house by tonight, sir.

Afternoon.

Tony Marston.

Well, I look forward to meeting you all at dinner.

A stiff G&T in my room.

Sir.

Did Mrs. Owen leave any instructions for me?

I'm the secretary.

Only to ensure that you were comfortable

and had everything you wished for, Miss Claythorne.

Now, if the 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, no, 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.

Too kind.

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 I?

Go on.

Was it a childhood affliction?

Your eyes.

No, madam.

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.

Tinned goods.

Troops. The war. The war.

Tinned goods.

Judge Wargrave, I'm terribly sorry

for the clumsy introduction.

I'm... a terrible traveler.

Completely lose me bearings.

Are we on time?

Only just.

Sir.

You're ready sooner than we'd anticipated.

What's up there?

Just roof space, sir.

Sir, I've been advised

that the footing isn't particularly sturdy up there.

Best avoided, lest you make an unexpected entrance

into one of the bedrooms, sir... By way of the ceiling.

May I show you to the drawing room, sir?

Perhaps an aperitif whilst you await the other guests?

Mr. Davis.

You look like a man who could use a drink.

How very congenial.

Perhaps a small snifter.

Mr. Rogers, lead the way.

Miss?

Is there something you're looking for, Miss?

Because this is the belowstairs, 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 belowstairs.

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 how will 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 Island. 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.

I would have been remiss not to admire them.

Mr. Lombard, you seem to be under the impression

that I am a particular kind of woman.

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.

I think you're pretending.

A drink, Mr. Marston?

Pink gin.

Pink as a virgin's blush.

Didn't catch your name.

Philip Lombard.