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 Dr. Roberts. Do you play, Miss Meredith?""Yes. I'm not frightfully good, though." "Excellent. And Major Despart? 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 afterwards! 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 Dr. Roberts. "Women against men," said Mrs. Lorrimer as she took her seat and began shuffling¹ 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 feminist² feelings rising. "Show the men they can't have it all their own way." "They haven't got a hope, the poor dears," said Dr. Roberts cheerfully as he started shuffling the other pack. "Your teal, 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 remarkably³ 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 practised 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 Mephistophelian manner as he observed on what hand Mrs. Oliver declared Two No Trumps⁶, 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

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