something firmly into her head, nothing dislodges it.

 

“And you think M. Poirot has the same idea,” said Miss Ganett thoughtfully.

“It’s a curious coincidence, but I was out for a walk this afternoon on the

Cranchester road, and he passed me in a car coming from that direction.”

 

We all looked at each other.

 

“Why, dear me,” said Miss Ganett suddenly, “I’m Mah Jong all the time, and I

never noticed it.”

 

Caroline’s attention was distracted from her own inventive exercises.

 

She pointed out to Miss Ganett that a hand consisting of mixed suits and too

many Chows was hardly worth going Mah Jong on. Miss Ganett listened

imperturbably and collected her counters.

 

“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 Ganett. She looked

down at her counters. “After all, I’m up, so far.”