Ten Little Indians Page #4
- PG
- Year:
- 1965
- 91 min
- 706 Views
...with these 10 snooker balls.
Now, eight of us came here. Right?
The Grohmanns were waiting for us.
That makes 10.
And one of this 10
is our Mr. Owen.
Three of the 10 are cleared.
- The dead ones.
- Exactly.
Mr. Raven...
...Frau Grohmann...
...General Mandrake.
- Seven little Indians.
- Six.
One of them is bogus.
You're quite correct, sir.
One of them is Mr. Owen.
But which one?
Now come the alibis.
What's yours, doctor?
I resent that, Blore.
I'm a professional man.
My dear doctor,
that proves less than nothing.
Doctors have gone mad before.
Judges have gone mad.
So have policemen.
And, if I may say so, even actresses.
Frequently.
In fact, some say the sane ones
are in the minority.
What about Lombard?
Yes, indeed. What about Lombard?
Is this a private inquisition,
or can anybody join in?
And what about me?
No one's excluded. We're all eligible.
The answer is, we must suspect
each and every one of us.
- Has anybody mentioned Grohmann?
- That's just what I was thinking.
He did put the tape in the machine.
Grohmann or his wife could have leased
the schloss and pretended to be servants.
You're forgetting.
His wife was one of the victims.
In my time, Miss Clyde,
I've had many husbands before me...
...guilty of murdering their wives.
Let's have him in here
and have this out.
No, no, we must watch and wait
and be on our guard.
Otherwise, we'll all go the same way.
And Mr. Owen will be
in this house all alone.
Grohmann.
It's time you and I had a little talk.
Do you want to ask me questions?
Nothing in particular, no.
Plenty of food in the larder?
Enough for the guests who are left.
What? Oh, good. Good.
Keep the housekeeping bills down, eh?
Do you think I could kill three people
from whose death I cannot even profit?
Now, dear boy,
there's no need to be like that.
We thought you might
know a way down.
- We can't stay here.
- There's no path you could travel.
Then there is a way.
Dangerous even for an expert climber.
You could be sure of death
on the Devil's Leap, Mr. Blore.
Devil's Leap? That's well-named.
Tell me, who leapt?
People who were tired of life.
- Is that all?
- Yes.
- Now you might answer me a question.
- Of course.
How many do you think
there will be for dinner tonight?
- Grohmann, some more wine.
- I thought you didn't drink, doctor.
Never touch it...
...except under difficult circumstances.
Thank you.
For God's sake,
when will this ever end?
Exactly.
Are we going to sit around
trying to guess who is Mr. Owen...
...while we're murdered one by one?
There must be some way out of here.
According to Grohmann, there isn't.
Unless anyone's an expert climber.
Thank you.
Wait. I've got it.
- No, I haven't.
- I wish you'd stop doing that, Blore.
Well, perhaps I have.
How is Mr. Owen
going to get out of here afterwards?
Anyone tell me that?
- By climbing, perhaps.
- How else?
He wouldn't wait for a rescue party...
...so how does he plan to get away?
Climbing? Well, that lets me out.
And us, too, eh, judge?
What about you, Mr. Lombard?
I've done some climbing.
I guess Grohmann has too.
You suspect me?
You can go to hell!
Hey, come on, pal.
Take it easy.
Grohmann.
Stop it. Stop it, you two.
Hugh!
Now you asked for it, buster.
Disgraceful.
Not you, Mr. Lombard.
You were absolutely marvelous.
You've taken to it,
I see, doctor.
Under the circumstances,
wouldn't you, Mr. Blore?
That fellow, Grohmann,
we'll have to watch him.
Leave it to me, Your Honor.
I'll deal with him.
Well, I'm off to bed.
- Good night, Mr. Blore.
- Good night, Your Honor.
- Good night, doctor.
- Good night.
Cold.
Yes, cold. Quite cold.
- Lonely.
- And Ionely. Quite, quite Ionely.
- It might not be Grohmann.
- It might not be.
Then who?
Tell me, doctor,
do you lock your door at night?
Invariably. Do you?
I think I will tonight.
After you, doctor.
No, after you, judge.
- Let's go together, shall we?
- Thank you.
Go!
Where have you been?
To look at the weather.
It's still snowing.
I know. I saw that
from my window.
before breakfast.
Yes, talking of breakfast,
where's Grohmann this morning?
Grohmann?
Groh... Grohmann?
Where are you?
How did you sleep last night, judge?
Sound as a bell. And you?
- Any dreams?
- I never dream.
I didn't.
He's gone, hopped it.
- Who's gone?
- Grohmann.
Grohmann? Then he must have found
that mountain path. What's it called?
- The Devil's Leap.
- That's it.
- Perhaps he'll get through and send help.
- I wouldn't count on it.
Come take a look in here.
Yes, there's another one broken.
Could be a trick.
One Indian broken.
What does that prove?
You said yourself
that Grohmann had disappeared.
Perhaps he has hidden somewhere,
waiting to bump the rest of us off.
- Or perhaps... You saw him.
- No, I didn't.
What's all this about?
Miss Bergen was outside.
I saw her coming in.
That's right. I was on the terrace
for five minutes.
- In the snow?
- Yes.
And you were supposed to be with
General Mandrake when he was killed.
Yes, what about that, Miss Bergen?
- Is this a trial?
- I'm afraid Mr. Owen planned it that way.
The tape recording accused you
of killing your husband. Did you?
What happened to my husband has nothing
to do with the deaths in this house.
Then it's true.
- But it wasn't murder.
- What was it, then?
It started with ambition, I suppose.
That's one name for it.
There are other dirtier names.
No, I won't make excuses
like the rest of you.
I always wanted to be an actress.
I met a young British army officer
from a wealthy family...
...who I thought could help my career.
I let him fall in love with me...
...and I married him.
I became an officer's wife.
Oh, it was so dull.
General Mandrake would have
understood what I mean.
The general?
Yes.
He was my husband's
commanding officer.
I met a film producer in Berlin
where my husband was stationed.
He got me an offer
of work in Hollywood...
...and I decided to take it.
Oh, my husband was a weak fool.
I told him I was going to leave him.
And that he meant nothing to me.
And when I was through...
...he took a shotgun
and blew his head off.
You're all looking at me.
But if Mr. Owen is right...
...every one of you is a murderer.
One by one,
we make our confessions.
Playing with a hive
Bumblebee stung one
And then there were five
At least there's not much chance
of that happening in midwinter.
That's true enough.
- Well, how about some breakfast, eh?
- Good idea.
What do you want?
No.
Hugh! Judge!
Mr. Blore, where are the others?
- I haven't seen them.
- Look.
Five? Impossible.
Hugh.
- Ilona.
- What happened?
Here's your bumblebee...
...and this was the sting.
- One of yours, doctor?
- Yes.
- Must have been stolen from my room.
- Oh, my God.
You're quite right, Miss Clyde.
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"Ten Little Indians" Scripts.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 25 Dec. 2024. <https://www.scripts.com/script/ten_little_indians_19500>.
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