"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.