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V
Vera had followed Mrs. Rogers upstairs. The woman had thrown open a door at the end of a
passage and Vera had walked into a delightful bedroom with a big window that opened wide
upon the sea and another looking east. She uttered a quick exclamation of pleasure.
Mrs. Rogers was saying:
“I hope you’ve got everything you want, Miss?”
Vera looked round. Her luggage had been brought up and had been unpacked. At one side
of the room a door stood open into a pale blue-tiled bathroom.
She said quickly:
“Yes, everything, I think.”
“You’ll ring the bell if you want anything, Miss?”
Mrs. Rogers had a flat monotonous voice. Vera looked at her curiously. What a white
bloodless ghost of a woman! Very respectable-looking, with her hair dragged back from her
face and her black dress. Queer light eyes that shifted the whole time from place to place.
Vera thought:
“She looks frightened of her own shadow.”
Yes, that was it—frightened!
She looked like a woman who walked in mortal fear….
A little shiver passed down Vera’s back. What on earth was the woman afraid of?
She said pleasantly:
“I’m Mrs. Owen’s new secretary. I expect you know that.”
Mrs. Rogers said:
“No, Miss, I don’t know anything. Just a list of the ladies and gentlemen and what rooms
they were to have.”
Vera said:
“Mrs. Owen didn’t mention me?”
Mrs. Rogers’ eyelashes flickered.
“I haven’t seen Mrs. Owen—not yet. We only came here two days ago.”
Extraordinary people, these Owens, thought Vera. Aloud she said:
“What staff is there here?”
“Just me and Rogers, Miss.”
Vera frowned. Eight people in the house—ten with the host and hostess—and only one
married couple to do for them.
Mrs. Rogers said:
“I’m a good cook and Rogers is handy about the house. I didn’t know, of course, that there
was to be such a large party.”
Vera said:
“But you can manage?”
“Oh yes, Miss, I can manage. If there’s to be large parties often perhaps Mrs. Owen could
get extra help in.”
Vera said, “I expect so.”
Mrs. Rogers turned to go. Her feet moved noiselessly over the ground. She drifted from the
room like a shadow.
Vera went over to the window and sat down on the window seat. She was faintly disturbed.
Everything—somehow—was a little queer. The absence of the Owens, the pale ghostlike Mrs.
Rogers. And the guests! Yes, the guests were queer, too. An oddly assorted party.
Vera thought:
“I wish I’d seen the Owens … I wish I knew what they were like.”
She got up and walked restlessly about the room.
A perfect bedroom decorated throughout in the modern style. Off- white rugs on the
gleaming parquet floor — faintly tinted walls — a long mirror surrounded by lights. A
mantelpiece bare of ornaments save for an enormous block of white marble shaped like a bear,
a piece of modern sculpture in which was inset a clock. Over it, in a gleaming chromium frame,
was a big square of parchment—a poem.
She stood in front of the fireplace and read it. It was the old nursery rhyme that she
remembered from her childhood days.
Ten little soldier boys went out to dine;
One choked his little self and then there were Nine.
Nine little soldier boys sat up very late;
One overslept himself and then there were Eight.
Eight little soldier boys travelling in Devon;
One said he’d stay there and then there were Seven.
Seven little soldier boys chopping up sticks;
One chopped himself in halves and then there were Six.
Six little soldier boys playing with a hive;
A bumble bee stung one and then there were Five.
Five little soldier boys going in for law;
One got in Chancery and then there were Four.
Four little soldier boys going out to sea;
A red herring swallowed one and then there were Three.
Three little soldier boys walking in the Zoo;
A big bear hugged one and then there were Two.
Two little soldier boys sitting in the sun;
One got frizzled up and then there was One.
One little soldier boy left all alone;
He went and hanged himself and then there were None.
Vera smiled. Of course! This was Soldier Island!
She went and sat again by the window looking out to sea.
How big the sea was! From here there was no land to be seen anywhere—just a vast
expanse of blue water rippling in the evening sun.
The sea … So peaceful today—sometimes so cruel … The sea that dragged you down to
its depths. Drowned … Found drowned … Drowned at sea … Drowned — drowned —
drowned….
No, she wouldn’t remember … She would not think of it!
All that was over….
5
罗杰斯太太领着维拉走上楼，推开走廊尽头的一扇门，走进了这间讨人喜欢的卧室。
卧室里有一扇大窗户面朝大海，另一扇窗朝东开。维拉立刻高兴得叫出了声。
罗杰斯太太问：
“小姐，还需要些什么吗？”
维拉看了一圈。行李早就搬进来，而且已经帮她打开了。房间另一边是敞着门的浴
室，里面铺着浅蓝色的瓷砖。
她马上说：
“暂时不需要了。”
“小姐，要是需要什么，请拉铃。”
罗杰斯太太的声音单调乏味。维拉好奇地看着她，她的皮肤白得惊人，像个面无血色
的幽灵，头发全梳向脑后，一身黑衣服，打扮得体面极了。那双眼睛出奇的亮，骨碌碌转
个不停。
维拉想：
“她看起来战战兢兢的，似乎连她自己的影子都能吓到她。”
对了，就是这样！这个女人非常害怕！
她看上去就像被恐惧劫持了……
维拉感到脊背一阵发凉。她究竟在害怕什么？
她笑着说：
“我是欧文夫人新雇的秘书。我想你是知道的。”
罗杰斯太太说：
“不，小姐，我什么也不知道。我只知道各位女士和先生的名字，以及你们分别住哪个
房间。”
维拉说：
“欧文夫人没提起过我吗？”
罗杰斯太太眨着眼睛说：
“我没见过欧文夫人……暂时还没有。我们不过才来了两天。”
欧文这家人可真奇怪！维拉想着，大声问道：
“这里有几个仆人？”
“就我和罗杰斯，小姐。”
维拉皱起眉头。
这幢别墅里有八位客人，再加上男主人和女主人的话，一共是十个人，却只安排了一
对夫妇为这么多人服务。
罗杰斯太太说：
“我的厨艺很好，我先生是个好管家。不过，我本来也不知道会有这么多客人。”
维拉问：
“你能忙得过来吗？”
“没问题，小姐，我能行。如果总有这么多客人的话，欧文夫人会再请帮手的。”
维拉说：
“那就好。”
罗杰斯太太转身离开了。她的脚步悄无声息，像一道影子似的离开了房间。
维拉走到窗前，坐在窗边的椅子上，隐隐感到一丝不安。一切……似乎哪里不太对劲
儿。欧文夫妇未曾露面，幽灵一般的罗杰斯太太，还有那些客人！那些客人本身就非常诡
异，一个奇怪的派对！
维拉想：
“要是我见过欧文夫妇就好了……我真希望自己了解他们。”
她站起来，在房间里心神不宁地走来走去。
这是一间完全按照现代风格装修的卧室，无可挑剔。镶木地板干净得发亮，地板上铺
着洁白的地毯。墙壁是浅色调的，墙上挂着一面大镜子，镜子四周装点着灯泡。壁炉架的
造型简单大方，上面是一大块白色大理石，雕刻成狗熊的样子，中间镶嵌着一面现代式样
的钟表。旁边挂着一个发亮的镀铬镜框，镜框里裱了一张很大的羊皮纸，纸上写着一首
诗。
她站在炉台前读这首诗。原来，这是一首她在上幼儿园的时候就会唱的歌谣：
十个小士兵，出门打牙祭；不幸噎住喉，十个只剩九。
九个小士兵，秉烛到夜半；清早叫不答，九个只剩八。
八个小士兵，旅行去德文；流连不离去，八个只剩七。
七个小士兵，举斧砍柴火；失手砍掉头，七个只剩六。
六个小士兵，捅了马蜂窝；蜂来无处躲，六个只剩五。
五个小士兵，同去做律师；皇庭判了死，五个只剩四。
四个小士兵，结伴去海边；青鱼吞下腹，四个只剩三。
三个小士兵，动物园里耍；狗熊一巴掌，三个只剩俩。
两个小士兵，日头下面栖；毒日把命夺，两个只剩一。
一个小士兵，落单孤零零；悬梁了此生，一个也不剩。
维拉微微一笑。对呀，这里不就是士兵岛吗？
她又走到窗前的椅子边坐下，望着大海。
海面辽阔，一眼望不到边。目及之处是一片茫茫天水，海浪在落日余晖中荡起层层涟
漪。
大海……今天是如此平静，可有时它又是如此凶残……把人拖入海底深渊。淹死
了……他被淹死了……在海中……淹死了……淹死了……淹死了……
不，她不愿回忆……她不愿回想起这些！
一切都已经过去了……
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