Cards on the Table Read Free Page A

Such a chance for explorers, I always think. They could come home and kill off all their rich old uncles with some new drug that no one’s ever heard of.”
    â€œYou should go to civilization, not to the wilds for that,” said Despard. “In the modern laboratory, for instance. Cultures of innocent-looking germs that will produce bona fide diseases.”
    â€œThat wouldn’t do for my public,” said Mrs. Oliver. “Besides one is so apt to get the names wrong—staphylococcus and streptococcus and all those things—so difficult for my secretary and anyway rather dull, don’t you think so? What do you think, Superintendent Battle?”
    â€œIn real life people don’t bother about being too subtle, Mrs. Oliver,” said the superintendent. “They usually stick to arsenic because it’s nice and handy to get hold of.”
    â€œNonsense,” said Mrs. Oliver. “That’s simply because there arelots of crimes you people at Scotland Yard never find out. Now if you had a woman there—”
    â€œAs a matter of fact we have—”
    â€œYes, those dreadful policewomen in funny hats who bother people in parks! I mean a woman at the head of things. Women know about crime.”
    â€œThey’re usually very successful criminals,” said Superintendent Battle. “Keep their heads well. It’s amazing how they’ll brazen things out.”
    Mr. Shaitana laughed gently.
    â€œPoison is a woman’s weapon,” he said. “There must be many secret women poisoners—never found out.”
    â€œOf course there are,” said Mrs. Oliver happily, helping herself lavishly to a mousse of foie gras .
    â€œA doctor, too, has opportunities,” went on Mr. Shaitana thoughtfully.
    â€œI protest,” cried Dr. Roberts. “When we poison our patients it’s entirely by accident.” He laughed heartily.
    â€œBut if I were to commit a crime,” went on Mr. Shaitana.
    He stopped, and something in that pause compelled attention.
    All faces were turned to him.
    â€œI should make it very simple, I think. There’s always an accident—a shooting accident, for instance—or the domestic kind of accident.”
    Then he shrugged his shoulders and picked up his wineglass.
    â€œBut who am I to pronounce—with so many experts present….”
    He drank. The candlelight threw a red shade from the wineonto his face with its waxed moustache, its little imperial, its fantastic eyebrows….
    There was a momentary silence.
    Mrs. Oliver said:
    â€œIs it twenty-to or twenty past? An angel passing … My feet aren’t crossed—it must be a black angel!”

Three
A G AME OF B RIDGE
    W hen the company returned to the drawing room a bridge table had been set out. Coffee was handed round.
    â€œWho plays bridge?” asked Mr. Shaitana. “Mrs. Lorrimer, I know. And Dr. Roberts. Do you play, Miss Meredith?”
    â€œYes. I’m not frightfully good, though.”
    â€œExcellent. And Major Despard? Good. Supposing you four play here.”
    â€œThank 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.
    â€œWomen against men,” said Mrs. Lorrimer as she took her seatand began shuffling the cards in an expert manner. “The blue cards, don’t you think, partner? I’m a forcing two.”
    â€œMind you win,” said Mrs. Oliver, her feminist feelings rising. “Show the men they can’t have it all their own way.”
    â€œThey haven’t got a hope, the poor dears,” said Dr. Roberts