For the video game, see Agatha Christie: And Then There Were None. For the play, see And Then There Were None (1943 play). For the René Clair film, see And Then There Were None (1945 film). For the CSI: Crime Scene Investigation episode, see And Then There Were None (CSI).
And Then There Were None is a work of detective fiction by Agatha Christie first published in the United Kingdom by the Collins Crime Club in November 1939[1] under the title of Ten Little Niggers[2][3] and in the United States by Dodd, Mead and Company in January 1940. The novel has also been published (and filmed) as Ten Little Indians. It is Christie's best-known novel. It has sold 115 million copies to date according to the editors of Publications International, Ltd., making it the world's best-selling mystery.
Plot summaryThe novel takes place on an island off the coast of Devon in 1930s England, where eight people of different social classes journey to the Soldier Island mansion, having been invited there by a Mr. and Mrs. U.N. Owen. Upon arriving, they are told by the butler and his wife, Thomas and Ethel Rogers, that their hosts are currently away. Each guest finds in his room a slightly odd bit of bric-a-brac and a framed copy of the nursery rhyme "Ten Little Soldiers Boys" ("Ten Little Niggers" in the original 1939 UK publication and "Ten Little Indians" in the 1940 US publication) hanging on the wall:
(In some versions the seventeenth and eighteenth lines read Two little Soldier boys playing with a gun; / One shot the other and then there was One.) During a large dinner, the guests notice ten little figurines of soldiers on the dining room table. Later, when they gather in the parlor, a gramophone recording (bearing the label Swan Song) is played, informing the ten that all of them are guilty of murder, though in each case they were not sentenced to death or heavy prison terms since the nature of the killings meant that the law could not touch them:
The characters realize they have all been tricked into coming to the island, but now have no way to get back to the mainland, as the boat which regularly delivers supplies stops arriving. They are then murdered, one by one, each murder paralleling a verse of the nursery rhyme, and one of the ten soldier figurines being removed after each murder. First to die is Anthony Marston, whose drink is poisoned with cyanide (one choked his little self). The next morning, Mrs. Rogers never wakes up, and is assumed to have received a fatal overdose of sleeping draught (one overslept himself). At lunchtime, General MacArthur, who had predicted that he would never leave the island alive, is found dead from a blow to the back of his head (one said he'd stay there). In growing panic, the survivors search the island for the murderer or possible hiding places, but find no one. Justice Wargrave establishes himself as a decisive leader of the group; he asserts that one of them must be the murderer and is playing a sadistic game with them-an example of the killer's twisted humor is that-with the exception of Wargrave-each of the "guests" has been invited to come to the Island by Mr/Mrs "U.N.Owen" {i.e. "Unknown"!}. The next morning, Mr. Rogers is found dead in the woodshed, having been struck in the head with a large axe (one chopped himself in halves). Later that day, Emily Brent dies from an injection of potassium cyanide – the injection mark on her neck is an allusion to a bee sting (a bumblebee stung one). The hypodermic needle is found outside, thrown from the window along with a smashed china soldier figurine. The five survivors – Dr. Armstrong, Justice Wargrave, Philip Lombard, Vera Claythorne, and Inspector Blore – become increasingly frightened. Wargrave announces that anything on the island that could be used as a weapon should be locked up, including Wargrave's sleeping pills and Armstrong's medical equipment; Lombard admits to bringing a revolver to the island, but it has gone missing. They decide to sit in the drawing room, with only one leaving at any one time – theoretically, they should all be safe that way. Vera, the one most wracked by guilt, goes up to her room and discovers a strand of seaweed planted there; her screams attract the attention of Blore, Lombard, and Armstrong, who rush to her aid. When they return to the drawing room, they find Wargrave, dressed up in a judge's wig and gown, slumped against a chair with a gunshot wound in his forehead (one got into Chancery); Armstrong confirms his death. That night, Blore hears someone sneaking out of the house. He searches the remaining rooms and discovers Armstrong missing from his room – so he must be the killer. Vera, Blore, and Lombard (whose revolver has since been returned to him) decide it best to go outside when morning arrives; when Blore's hunger later returns him to the house, he does not return; Vera and Phillip discover him dead, his head crushed by a Vera's marble, bear-shaped clock (a big bear hugged one). They assume that Armstrong has committed the murder and leave to walk along the shore. They find Armstrong's drowned body along the cliffs (a red herring swallowed one) and realize that they are the only two left; though neither could possibly have killed the Inspector, their mutual suspicion has driven them to the breaking point and each of them assumes the other to be the murderer. As they lift Armstrong's body out of reach of the water, Vera swipes Lombard's revolver, shoots him dead on the beach (out in the sun; or, one shot the other), and returns to her room, discovering a noose hanging from the ceiling and a chair underneath it. Having finally been driven mad (or "hypnotically suggestible") by the experience and latent remorse for her crime, Vera hangs herself, kicking the chair out from under her, fulfilling the final verse of the rhyme (And then there were none). EpilogueThe epilogue consists of a conversation between Inspector Maine, in charge of the unsolved case, and the Assistant Commissioner at Scotland Yard. The man who made all the arrangements for U.N. Owen's purchase of the island was Isaac Morris, a shady dealer known to efficiently cover his tracks when doing business. However, he cannot tell the police anything: he died of a drug overdose the day the party set sail. During the period when the killings took place and immediately after, no one could have got onto or left the island without being seen and the weather was too bad anyway, ruling out the possibility that "Mr. Owen" was some unidentified person who committed the murders while evading detection from the guests. The police have concluded from various characters' diaries that Blore, Armstrong, Lombard, and Vera were definitely the last to die. Blore could not have died last, as the clock was dropped onto him from above, and he could not have set up a way for it to fall on him. Armstrong could not have been last since his body was dragged above the high-tide mark by someone else; nor could Lombard, since he was shot on the beach but the revolver was found upstairs in the hallway, outside the door of Wargrave's room. This leaves Vera, who might have been the killer — her fingerprints are on the pistol and it was from her window the clock was dropped on Blore — except for the fact that the chair from which she lept with the noose around her neck was found pushed against the wall out of reach from where she would have stood on it. Hence, although one of the ten guests must have been the killer, none of them could have been. PostscriptA bottled letter penned by the late Justice Wargrave is found by a fishing trawler and sent to the Scotland Yard. The letter confesses that the judge committed the murders because, as he writes, ever since he was a child, he had been prone both to sadism and a fascination with the legal system. He freely divulges his hunger for blood, his desire for strict justice (as a judge he could never punish someone whom he honestly thought as innocent), and his delight in seeing the guilty punished. When he was told by his physician that he was terminally ill, Wargrave decided to go out in a blaze of glory to satiate his inner urges. Thereafter, he details how he picked his victims, including a drug-dealing hypochondriac, Isaac Morris, whose drugs led to the death of a family friend. After he had murdered the first five guests, he conspired with Armstrong to fake his own death and convinced the doctor to falsely pronounce him dead, allowing him to commit or orchestrate the remaining murders without suspicion. After Vera (the guiltiest of the "condemned" according to the judge, since she deliberately allowed a child to drown but managed to pass herself off as a heroine who tried to rescue the boy) hanged herself, Wargrave, who had been watching from the bedroom closet, pushed the chair against the wall. He then wrote out his confession, putting the letter in a bottle and casting the bottle into the sea. He states that his only regret is that it was not enough to concoct an unsolvable mystery – he craves posthumous recognition of his brilliant scheme – therefore he explains three clues which should point to him as the killer in case his letter is not found:
The conclusion of the judge's letter indicates that after writing he shot himself while sitting on his bed, so that his body fell onto the bed as if it had been laid there. He had fastened the gun to the doorknob with a piece of elastic chord in such a way that the recoil would snap the gun out into the hallway as the door to his room closed. Thus the police found 10 dead bodies and an unsolvable mystery on Soldier Island. Characters in "And Then There Were None"
Literary significance and receptionThe Times Literary Supplement's review by Maurice Percy Ashley of November 11, 1939 stated that, "If her latest story has scarcely any detection in it there is no scarcity of murders." He continued, "There is a certain feeling of monotony inescapable in the regularity of the deaths which is better suited to a serialized newspaper story than a full-length novel. Yet there is an ingenious problem to solve in naming the murderer. It will be an extremely astute reader who guesses correctly."[4] In The New York Times Book Review of February 25, 1940, Isaac Anderson detailed the set-up of the plot up to the point where 'the voice' accuses the ten people of their past misdemeanors and then said, "When you read what happens after that you will not believe it, but you will keep on reading, and as one incredible event is followed by another even more incredible you will still keep on reading. The whole thing is utterly impossible and utterly fascinating. It is the most baffling mystery that Agatha Christie has ever written, and if any other writer has ever surpassed it for sheer puzzlement the name escapes our memory. We are referring, of course, to mysteries that have logical explanations, as this one has. It is a tall story, to be sure, but it could have happened."[5] Maurice Richardson wrote a rhapsodic review in The Observer's issue of November 5, 1939 which began, "No wonder Agatha Christie's latest has sent her publishers into a vatic trance. We will refrain, however, from any invidious comparisons with Roger Ackroyd and be content with saying that Ten Little Niggers is one of the very best, most genuinely bewildering Christies yet written. We will also have to refrain from reviewing it thoroughly, as it is so full of shocks that even the mildest revelation would spoil some surprise from somebody, and I am sure that you would rather have your entertainment kept fresh than criticism pure." After stating the set-up of the plot, Richardson concluded, "Story telling and characterisation are right at the top of Mrs. Christie's baleful form. Her plot may be highly artificial, but it is neat, brilliantly cunning, soundly constructed, and free from any of those red-herring false trails which sometimes disfigure her work."[1] An unnamed reviewer in the Toronto Daily Star of March 16, 1940 said, "Others have written better mysteries than Agatha Christie, but no one can touch her for ingenious plot and surprise ending. With And Then There Were None...she is at her most ingenious and most surprising; is, indeed, considerably above the standard of her last few works and close to the Roger Ackroyd level."[6] Robert Barnard: "Suspenseful and menacing detective-story-cum-thriller. The closed setting with the succession of deaths is here taken to its logical conclusion, and the dangers of ludicrousness and sheer reader-disbelief are skillfully avoided. Probably the best-known Christie, and justifiably among the most popular."[7] Film, TV and theatrical adaptationsAnd Then There Were None has had more adaptations than any other single work of Christie's with the setting often being changed to locations other than an island and mostly utilising Christie's alternative ending from her 1943 stage play rather than that used in the book. Stage
Film
Television
Other
PC adaptation
Graphic novel adaptationAnd Then There Were None will be released by HarperCollins as a graphic novel adaptation on December 1, 2008, adapted by François Rivière and illustrated by Frank Leclercq. ISBN 0-00-727532-3 Publication historyThe novel was originally published in Britain under the title Ten Little Niggers in 1939[2][3]. All references to "Indian" in the story were originally "Nigger": thus the island was called "Nigger Island" [3] rather than "Indian Island" and the rhyme found by each murder victim was also called Ten Little Niggers [3] rather than Ten Little Indians. Modern printings use the rhyme Ten Little Soldiers and "Soldier Island". The UK serialisation was in twenty-three parts in the Daily Express from Tuesday, June 6 to Saturday, July 1, 1939. All of the instalments carried an illustration by "Prescott" with the first instalment having an illustration of Burgh Island in Devon which inspired the setting of the story. This version did not contain any chapter divisions[9]. For the United States market, the novel was first serialised in the Saturday Evening Post in seven parts from May 20 (Volume 211, Number 47) to July 1, 1939 (Volume 212, Number 1) with illustrations by Henry Raleigh and then published separately in book form in January 1940. Both publications used the less inflammatory title And Then There Were None. The 1945 motion picture also used this title. In 1946, the play was published under the new title Ten Little Indians (the same title under which it had been performed on Broadway), and in 1964, an American paperback edition also used this title. British editions continued to use the work's original title until the 1980s and the first British edition to use the alternative title And Then There Were None appeared in 1985 with a reprint of the 1963 Fontana Paperback. [10] Today And Then There Were None is the title most commonly used. However, the original title survives in many foreign-language versions of the novel: for example, the Spanish title is Diez Negritos, while the French title is Dix petits nègres. [11] A Dutch translation available as late as 1981 even used the work's original English title Ten Little Niggers. The 1987 Russian film adaptation has the title Десять негритят (Desyat Negrityat). The computer adventure game based on the novel uses "Ten Little Sailor Boys."
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