“Yes, dear, I know what you mean,” she said. “But it rather depends on what kind of a hand you have to start with, doesn’t it?”
“You’ll never get the big hands if you don’t go for them,” urged Caroline.
“Well, we must all play our own way, mustn’t we?” said Miss Gannett. She looked down at her counters. “After all, I’m up, so far.”
Caroline, who was considerably down, said nothing.
East Wind passed, and we set to once more. Annie brought in the tea things. Caroline and Miss Gannett were both slightly ruffled as is often the case during one of these festive evenings.
“If you would only play a little quicker, dear,” said Caroline, as Miss Gannett hesitated over her discard. “The Chinese put down the tiles so quickly it sounds like little birds pattering.”
For some minutes we played like the Chinese.
“You haven’t contributed much to the sum of information, Sheppard,” said Colonel Carter genially. “You’re a sly dog. Hand in glove with the great detective, and not a hint as to the way things are going.”
“James is an extraordinary creature,” said Caroline. “He cannot bring himself to part with information.”
She looked at me with some disfavour.
“I assure you,” I said, “that I don’t know anything. Poirot keeps his own counsel.”
“Wise man,” said the colonel with a chuckle. “He doesn’t give himself away. But they’re wonderful fellows, these foreign detectives. Up to all sorts of dodges, I believe.”