‘These walls. My eyes hurt just from looking at them.’
The ten white walls which gleamed in the light of a single lamp. They were theoretically at a 144 degree angle to one another, but, depending on the light, the angles sometimes appeared rounder and sometimes sharper. In contrast, the table in the centre of the room always retained its decagonal shape, which made the walls seem even more distorted.
‘Really, they make me dizzy.’
Van rubbed his bloodshot eyes.
‘Go to bed early, Van. You still don’t look too well,’ Poe admonished him.
‘Still feeling sick?’ Agatha put a hand to Van’s forehead. ‘You have a fever. You need to go to bed, Van.’
‘I’m okay. It’s only seven o’clock.’
‘It’s not okay. We’re on an uninhabited island here. We don’t have a real doctor with us. What if your fever turns worse?’
‘—All right.’
‘Did you take some medicine?’
‘I’ll take it before I sleep. It makes you sleepy.’
‘Take it now and go sleep then. Better safe than sorry.’
‘Okay.’
Van stood up, like a child being told by his mother. Agatha brought a water jug and a glass from the kitchen and gave them to him.
‘Well, good night,’ said Van and he walked to the door of his room.
But then….
‘What’re you planning to do, hiding in your dark little room so early?’
It was Carr’s low, deep voice. Van’s hand, which was reaching for the doorknob, stopped in mid-air. He turned round.
‘I’m going to sleep, Carr.’
‘Well. And there I was thinking you were going to sharpen your knife.’
‘What do you mean?’
Carr chuckled at Van’s angry question.
‘You know, I think that it was you who announced our murders this morning.’
‘Van, ignore him and go to sleep,’ said Ellery.
‘Wait, Ellery,’ Carr continued in an ingratiating voice. ‘Considering the circumstances, don’t you think that it’s only normal to suspect Van?’
‘Why?’
‘Think about it. In cases where several people gather in one place and they get killed one by one, the person behind it is usually the host or organiser.’
‘That’s just in mystery stories.’
‘And those plates announcing our murders were nothing more than props for this particular mystery story. He’s the one behind it. He’s our culprit. What’s wrong with assuming that it’s just like what happens in the books?’
Carr thrust out his chin.
‘Anything to say, our dear host Van?’
‘Enough of your jokes.’ Holding the jug and the glass in his hands, Van stamped his foot on the floor. ‘I wasn’t the one who invited you all here. I only told you that my uncle bought the place. The organiser of this trip was our upcoming editor-in-chief, Leroux.’
‘He’s right. Leroux told me about it and I was the one who had the idea of us all coming here,’ Ellery said angrily.
‘If you want to suspect Van, you’ll need to suspect me and Leroux too. Or else your reasoning lacks logic.’
‘I don’t like “great detectives” who spout out deductions only after someone has been killed.’
Ellery shrugged his shoulders in disdain.
‘And your theme of the host being the murderer is just too clichéd. It certainly won’t help you find a “great criminal.” If I were the culprit, I’d just have made use of the invitation sent to all of us.’
‘What nonsense!’ exclaimed Poe, putting his half-smoked cigarette out violently.
‘Great detectives, great criminals, can’t you keep fiction separate from reality? Van, you don’t have to listen to this kooky lot. Go to sleep.’
‘Kooky?’
Carr’s look hardened and he stamped his foot. ‘Who’s kooky!?’
‘Just try and use some common sense.’
With a sour look on his face, Poe lit a new cigarette.
‘First of all, this discussion is absolutely useless. This isn’t the first time the seven of us have got together somewhere. Of course it’s possible that Van’s the one, and that he lured us all here with some delicious bait. It
The ten white walls which gleamed in the light of a single lamp. They were theoretically at a 144 degree angle to one another, but, depending on the light, the angles sometimes appeared rounder and sometimes sharper. In contrast, the table in the centre of the room always retained its decagonal shape, which made the walls seem even more distorted.
‘Really, they make me dizzy.’
Van rubbed his bloodshot eyes.
‘Go to bed early, Van. You still don’t look too well,’ Poe admonished him.
‘Still feeling sick?’ Agatha put a hand to Van’s forehead. ‘You have a fever. You need to go to bed, Van.’
‘I’m okay. It’s only seven o’clock.’
‘It’s not okay. We’re on an uninhabited island here. We don’t have a real doctor with us. What if your fever turns worse?’
‘—All right.’
‘Did you take some medicine?’
‘I’ll take it before I sleep. It makes you sleepy.’
‘Take it now and go sleep then. Better safe than sorry.’
‘Okay.’
Van stood up, like a child being told by his mother. Agatha brought a water jug and a glass from the kitchen and gave them to him.
‘Well, good night,’ said Van and he walked to the door of his room.
But then….
‘What’re you planning to do, hiding in your dark little room so early?’
It was Carr’s low, deep voice. Van’s hand, which was reaching for the doorknob, stopped in mid-air. He turned round.
‘I’m going to sleep, Carr.’
‘Well. And there I was thinking you were going to sharpen your knife.’
‘What do you mean?’
Carr chuckled at Van’s angry question.
‘You know, I think that it was you who announced our murders this morning.’
‘Van, ignore him and go to sleep,’ said Ellery.
‘Wait, Ellery,’ Carr continued in an ingratiating voice. ‘Considering the circumstances, don’t you think that it’s only normal to suspect Van?’
‘Why?’
‘Think about it. In cases where several people gather in one place and they get killed one by one, the person behind it is usually the host or organiser.’
‘That’s just in mystery stories.’
‘And those plates announcing our murders were nothing more than props for this particular mystery story. He’s the one behind it. He’s our culprit. What’s wrong with assuming that it’s just like what happens in the books?’
Carr thrust out his chin.
‘Anything to say, our dear host Van?’
‘Enough of your jokes.’ Holding the jug and the glass in his hands, Van stamped his foot on the floor. ‘I wasn’t the one who invited you all here. I only told you that my uncle bought the place. The organiser of this trip was our upcoming editor-in-chief, Leroux.’
‘He’s right. Leroux told me about it and I was the one who had the idea of us all coming here,’ Ellery said angrily.
‘If you want to suspect Van, you’ll need to suspect me and Leroux too. Or else your reasoning lacks logic.’
‘I don’t like “great detectives” who spout out deductions only after someone has been killed.’
Ellery shrugged his shoulders in disdain.
‘And your theme of the host being the murderer is just too clichéd. It certainly won’t help you find a “great criminal.” If I were the culprit, I’d just have made use of the invitation sent to all of us.’
‘What nonsense!’ exclaimed Poe, putting his half-smoked cigarette out violently.
‘Great detectives, great criminals, can’t you keep fiction separate from reality? Van, you don’t have to listen to this kooky lot. Go to sleep.’
‘Kooky?’
Carr’s look hardened and he stamped his foot. ‘Who’s kooky!?’
‘Just try and use some common sense.’
With a sour look on his face, Poe lit a new cigarette.
‘First of all, this discussion is absolutely useless. This isn’t the first time the seven of us have got together somewhere. Of course it’s possible that Van’s the one, and that he lured us all here with some delicious bait. It