There was a momentary silence.
Mrs. Oliver said, 'Is it twenty to or twenty past? An angel passing. My feet are crossed – it must be a black angel!'
Chapter 3
A GAME OF BRIDGE
When the company returned to the drawing-room a bridge table had been set out. Coffee was handed round.
'Who plays bridge?' asked Mr. Shaitana. 'Mrs. Lorrimer, I know. And Doctor Roberts. Do you play, Miss Meredith?'
'Yes. I'm not frightfully good, though.'
'Excellent. And Major Despard? Good. Supposing you four play here.'
'Thank goodness there's to be bridge,' said Mrs. Lorrimer in an aside to Poirot. 'I'm one of the worst bridge fiends that ever lived. It's growing on me. I simply will not go out to dinner now if there's no bridge afterward! I just fall asleep. I'm ashamed of myself, but there it is.'
They cut for partners. Mrs. Lorrimer was partnered with Anne Meredith against Major Despard and Doctor Roberts.
'Women against men,' said Mrs. Lorrimer as she took her seat and began shuffling the cards in an expert manner. 'The blue cards, don't you think, partner? I'm a forcing two.'
'Mind you win,' said Mrs. Oliver, her feminist feelings rising. 'Show the men they can't have it all their own way.'
'They haven't got a hope, the poor dears,' said Doctor Roberts cheerfully as he started shuffling the other pack. 'Your deal, I think, Mrs. Lorrimer.'
Major Despard sat down rather slowly. He was looking at Anne Meredith as though he had just made the discovery that she was remarkably pretty.
'Cut please,' said Mrs. Lorrimer impatiently. And with a start of apology he cut the pack she was presenting to him.
Mrs. Lorrimer began to deal with a practiced hand.
'There is another bridge table in the other room,' said Mr. Shaitana.
He crossed to a second door and the other four followed him into a small, comfortably furnished smoking- room where a second bridge table was set ready.
'We must cut out,' said Colonel Race.
Mr. Shaitana shook his head. 'I do not play,' he said. 'Bridge is not one of the games that amuse me.'
The others protested that they would much rather not play, but he overruled them firmly and in the end they sat down – Poirot and Mrs. Oliver against Battle and Race.
Mr. Shaitana watched them for a little while, smiled in a Mephistophelean manner as he observed on what hand Mrs. Oliver declared two no trumps, and then went noiselessly through into the other room.
There they were well down to it, their faces serious, the bids coming quickly. 'One heart.' 'Pass.' 'Three clubs.'
'Three spades.' 'Four diamonds.' 'Double.' 'Four hearts.'
Mr. Shaitana stood watching a moment smiling to himself. Then he crossed the room and sat down in a big chair by the fireplace. A tray of drinks had been brought in and placed on an adjacent table. The firelight gleamed on the crystal stoppers.
Always an artist in lighting, Mr. Shaitana had simulated the appearance of a merely firelit room. A small shaded lamp at his elbow gave him light to read by if he so desired. Discreet floodlighting gave the room a subdued glow. A slightly stronger light shone over the bridge table from whence the monotonous ejaculations continued.
'One no trump' – clear and decisive – Mrs. Lorrimer.
'Three hearts' – an aggressive note in the voice – Doctor Roberts.
'No bid' – a quiet voice – Anne Meredith's.
A slight pause always before Despard's voice came. Not so much a slow thinker as a man who liked to be sure before he spoke.
'Four hearts.'
'Double.'
His face lighted up by the flickering firelight, Mr. Shaitana smiled. He smiled and he went on smiling. His eyelids flickered a little.
His party was amusing him.
'Five diamonds. Game and rubber,' said Colonel Race. 'Good for you, partner,' he said to Poirot. 'I didn't think you'd do it. Lucky they didn't lead a spade.'
'Wouldn't have made much difference, I expect,' said Superintendent Battle, a man of gentle magnanimity.
He had called spades. His partner, Mrs. Oliver, had had a spade, but 'something had told her' to lead a club – with disastrous results.
Colonel Race looked at his watch.
'Ten past twelve. Time for another?'
'You'll excuse me,' said Superintendent Battle. 'But I'm by way of being an 'early to bed' man.'
'I, too,' said Hercule Poirot.
'We'd better add up,' said Race.
The result of the evening's five rubbers was an overwhelming victory for the male sex. Mrs. Oliver had lost three pounds and seven shillings to the other three. The biggest winner was Colonel Race.
Mrs. Oliver, though a bad bridge player, was a sporting loser. She paid up cheerfully.
'Everything went wrong for me tonight,' she said. 'It is like that sometimes. I held the most beautiful cards yesterday. A hundred and fifty honors three times running.' She rose and gathered up her embroidered evening bag, just refraining in time from stroking her hair off her brow.
'I suppose our host is next door,' she said.
She went through the communicating door, the others behind her.
Mr. Shaitana was in his chair by the fire. The bridge players were absorbed in their game.
'Double five clubs,' Mrs. Lorrimer was saying in her cool, incisive voice.
'Five no trumps.'
'Double five no trumps.'
Mrs. Oliver came up to the bridge table. This was likely to be an exciting hand.
Superintendent Battle came with her.
Colonel Race went toward Mr. Shaitana, Poirot behind him. 'Got to be going, Shaitana,' said Race.
Mr. Shaitana did not answer. His head had fallen forward and he seemed to be asleep. Race gave a momentary whimsical glance at Poirot and went a little nearer. Suddenly he uttered a muffled ejaculation, bent forward. Poirot was beside him in a minute, he, too, looking where Colonel Race was pointing – something that might have been a particularly ornate shirt stud – but was not.
Poirot bent, raised one of Mr. Shaitana's hands then let it fall. He met Race's inquiring glance and nodded. The latter raised his voice.
'Superintendent Battle, just a minute.'
The superintendent came over to them. Mrs. Oliver continued to watch the play of five, no trumps doubled.
Superintendent Battle, despite his appearance of stolidity, was a very quick man. His eyebrows went up and he said in a low voice as he joined them. 'Something wrong?'
With a nod Colonel Race indicated the silent figure in the chair.
