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 Ganett were both slightly ruffled as is often the case during

one of these festive evenings.

 

“If you would only play a leetle quicker, dear,” said Caroline, as Miss Ganett

hesitated over her discard. “The Chinese put down the tiles so quickly it sounds

like little birds pattering.”

 

For some few 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 can _not_ bring himself

to part with information.”

 

She looked at me with some disfavor.

 

“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