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"I'll see no one plays tricks tonight, at any rate."
Crossing the room he locked the door to the pantry. Then going through the other door to the hall he pulled the door to, locked it and slipped the key into his pocket.
Then, extinguishing the lights, he hurried up the stairs and into his new bedroom.
There was only one possible hiding-place in it, the tall wardrobe, and he looked into that immediately. Then, locking and bolting the door, he prepared for bed.
He said to himself:
"No more Indian tricks tonight I've seen to that..."
Chapter 11
Philip Lombard had the habit of waking at daybreak. He did so on this particular morning. He raised himself on an elbow and listened. The wind had somewhat abated but was still blowing. He could hear no sound of rain...
At eight o'clock the wind was blowing more strongly, but Lombard did not hear it. He was asleep again.
At nine-thirty he was sitting on the edge of his bed looking at his watch. He put it to his ear. Then his lips drew back from his teeth in that curious wolf-like smile characteristic of the man.
He said very softly:
"I think the time has come to do something about this."
At twenty-five minutes to ten he was tapping on the closed door of Blore's room.
The latter opened it cautiously. His hair was tousled and his eyes were still dim with sleep.
Philip Lombard said affably:
"Sleeping the clock round? Well, shows you've got an easy conscience."
Blore said shortly:
"What's the matter?"
Lombard answered:
"Anybody called you - or brought you any tea? Do you know what time it is?"
Blore looked over his shoulder at a small travelling clock by his bedside.
He said:
"Twenty-five to ten. Wouldn't have believed I could have slept like that. Where's Rogers?"
Philip Lombard said:
"It's a case of echo answers where?"
"What d'you mean?" asked the other sharply.
Lombard said:
"I mean that Rogers is missing. He isn't in his room or anywhere else. And there's no kettle on and the kitchen fire isn't even lit."
Blore swore under his breath. He said:
"Where the devil can he be? Out on the island somewhere? Wait till I get some clothes on. See if the others know anything."
Philip Lombard nodded. He moved along the line of closed doors.
He found Armstrong up and nearly dressed. Mr. Justice Wargrave, like Blore, had to be roused from sleep. Vera Claythorne was dressed. Emily Brent's room was empty.
The little party moved through the house. Rogers' room, as Philip Lombard had already ascertained, was untenanted. The bed had been slept in, and his razor and sponge and soap were wet.
Lombard said:
"He got up all right."
Vera said in a low voice which she tried to make firm and assured:
"You don't think he's - hiding somewhere - waiting for us?"
Lombard said:
"My dear girl, I'm prepared to think anything of any one! My advice is that we keep together until we find him."
Armstrong said:
"He must be out on the island somewhere."
Blore who had joined them, dressed, but still unshaved, said:
"Where's Miss Brent got to - that's another mystery?"
But as they arrived in the hall, Emily Brent came in through the front door. She had on a mackintosh. She said:
"The sea is as high as ever. I shouldn't think any boat could put out today."
Blore said:
"Have you been wandering about the island alone, Miss Brent? Don't you realize that that's an exceedingly foolish thing to do?"
Emily Brent said:
"I assure you, Mr. Blore, that I kept an extremely sharp lookout."
Blore grunted. He said:
