The only fair thing is to put that revolver with the other things that are locked up - and you and I will hold the two keys still."
Philip Lombard lit a cigarette. As he puffed smoke, he said: "Don't be an ass."
"You won't agree to that?"
"No, I won't.
That revolver's mine. I need it to defend myself - and I'm going to keep it."
Blore said: "In that case we're bound to come to one conclusion."
"That I'm U.N.
Owen?
Think what you damned well please.
But I'll ask you, if that's so, why I didn't pot you with the revolver last night?
I could have, about twenty times over."
Blore shook his head. He said: "I don't know - and that's a fact.
You must have had some reason."
Vera had taken no part in the discussion.
She stirred now and said: "I think you're both behaving like a pair of idiots."
Lombard looked at her. "What's this?"
Vera said: "You've forgotten the nursery rhyme.
Don't you see there's a clue there?"
She recited in a meaning voice: "Four little Indian boys going out to sea; A red herring swallowed one and then there were three."
She went on: "A red herring - that's the vital clue.
Armstrong's not dead... He took away the china Indian to make you think he was.
You may say what you like - Armstrong's on the island still.
His disappearance is just a red herring across the track..."
Lombard sat down again.
He said: "You know, you may be right."
Blore said: "Yes, but if so, where is he?
We've searched the place.
Outside and inside."
Vera said scornfully: "We all searched for the revolver, didn't we, and couldn't find it?
But it was somewhere all the time!"
Lombard murmured: "There's a slight difference in size, my dear, between a man and a revolver."
Vera said: "I don't care - I'm sure I'm right."
Blore murmured: "Rather giving himself away, wasn't it?
Actually mentioning a red herring in the verse.
He could have written it up a bit different."
Vera cried: "But don't you see, he's mad?
It's all mad! The whole thing of going by the rhyme is mad!
Dressing up the judge, killing Rogers when he was chopping sticks - drugging Mrs. Rogers so that she overslept herself - arranging for a bumblebee when Miss Brent died! It's like some horrible child playing a game.
It's all got to fit in."
Blore said: "Yes, you're right." He thought a minute.
"At any rate there's no Zoo on the island.
He'll have a bit of trouble getting over that."
Vera cried: "Don't you see?
We're the Zoo... Last night, we were hardly human any more.
We're the Zoo..."
II They spent the morning on the cliffs, taking it in turns to flash a mirror at the mainland.
There were no signs that any one saw them.
No answering signals.
The day was fine, with a slight haze.
Below, the sea weaved in a gigantic swell.