death,
of James Landor
on October 5th, '28.
Vera Elizabeth Claythorne,
that on the 11th day of August, '35,
killed Cyril Hamilton.
Captain Lombard, that upon
a date in February, '32,
you were guilty of the death of 20 men,
members of an East African tribe.
General Macarthur,
you deliberately sent
your wife's lover, Arthur Richmond,
to his death.
Anthony Marston, were guilty
of the murder of John and Lucy Combes!
Ethel and Thomas Rogers,
you brought about the death
of Jennifer Brady.
Lawrence Wargrave, that upon
the 10th day of June, '30,
you were guilty of the murder
of Edward Seton.
Prisoners,
have you anything to say
in your defence?
Doctor, quick!
It’s nothing. She’s fainted,
that’s all. Rogers, water!
Help, please!
Put her here.
What’s happened to me?
Just one sip,
you’ll feel better.
What a horrible voice.
Where have I heard that voice?
What’s going on here?
What kind of practical
joke was that?
Ah, here we are.
What?
Ladies and gentlemen!
Silence, please!
Turn it off!
Turn it off!
That’s just nerves.
Now Mrs. Rogers will be better.
She’s fainted, that’s all.
Because of the voice.
What a horrible voice.
It sounded like a sentence.
I have to make a statement,
gentlemen, it’s a heinous lie
from start to end.
- A disgraceful and heartless practical joke.
- So you think it’s a joke, do you?
There’s one thing
you’ve forgotten.
- Who the devil turned the thing
on and set it going? - Rogers?
Yes, Sir?
Who put the record on the gramophone?
Wasn’t you, Rogers?
I didn’t know what it was.
Before God, I didn’t know, sir.
That is probably true. But I think
you’d better explain.
- I was just obeying orders, sir.
- Whose orders?
Mr. Owen’s. I was
to start the gramophone,
after I’d gone
with the coffee tray.
- A very remarkable story.
- I didn’t know what it was.
I swear to God, it had
a name on it,
I thought it was
just a piece of music.
Was there a title on it?
Quite right, Sir.
It was titled “Swan Song”.
The whole thing is preposterous!
Slinging accusation about like this!
- This fellow Owen whoever he is…
- That’s just it,
who is he?
Now then we must get
to the bottom of this.
Rogers!
Yes, Sir?
- Who is this Mr. Owen?
- He owns this place, Sir.
We are aware of the fact,
Rogers.
What do you yourself
know about the man?
I can’t say, Sir. You see,
I’ve never seen him.
You’ve never seen him?
What d’yer mean?
My wife and I were engaged
by letter through an agency.
The “Regina” Agency.
Old established firm.
We are to arrive on a certain day.
Everything was in order.
Just needed dusting and that.
And then yesterday I got
another letter from Mr. Owen.
It said he was detained
and to do
the best we could…
- To do the best!
- And gave the instruction about dinner
and gramophone plate.
- Surely you’ve got that letter?
- Yes, sir. Here you are.
Headed Ritz Hotel
and typewritten.
- If you’ll just let me have a look.
“Coronation” machine.
Quite new - no defects.
Ensign paper.
“U.N. Owen”.
Got some fancy Christian
names, hasn’t he?
Ulick Norman Owen.
Quite a mouthful.
There’s something very
peculiar about of this.
I received a letter with a signature
that was not easy to read.
It purported to be
from Mrs. Oliver
I had met at a summer
resort 2 years ago.
She invited me to this Island
where, supposedly, opened a pension
with a good cuisine and without
the newfangled fashions: half-naked
youth and music until morning.
- You have that letter, Miss Brent.
- Yes, I will fetch it for you.
Please, stay here.
Marston?
What? Got a wire.
From a pal of mine,
because I had an idea
he had gone to Norway.
Told me to roll up here.
That’s all.
General?
Got a letter from
this fellow Owen
mentioned some old pals of mine
who were to be here.
Letter?
Haven’t kept the letter.
I’m afraid.
I was invited as a doctor.
From the letter I understood that
the husband was worried about his wife.
He wants to find out her