Free Cards on the Table by Agatha Christie Page B

him in astonishment. “You're joking, Monsieur Poirot. How can I possibly remember?”
    “Can't you? I should be so very grateful if you could. Take this first rubber. The first game must have resulted either in a game bid in hearts or spades, or else one or other side must have gone down fifty.”
    “Let me see - that was the first hand, Yes, I think they went out in spades.”
    “And the next hand?”
    “I suppose one or other of us went down fifty - but I can't remember which or what it was in. Really, Monsieur Poirot, you can hardly expect me to do so.”
    “Can't you remember any of the bidding or the hands?”
    “I got a grand slam - I remember that. It was doubled too. And I also remember going down a nasty smack, playing three no trumps, I think it was - went down a plenty. But that was later on.”
    “Do you remember with whom you were playing?”
    “Mrs. Lorrimer. She looked a bit grim, I remember. Didn't like my overbidding, I expect.”
    “And you can't remember any other of the hands or the bidding?”
    Roberts laughed.
    “My dear Monsieur Poirot, did you really expect I could? First there was the murder - enough to drive the most spectacular hands out of one's mind - and in addition I've played at least half a dozen rubbers since then.”
    Poirot sat looking rather crestfallen.
    “I'm sorry,” said Roberts.
    “It does not matter very much,” said Poirot slowly. “I hoped that you might remember one or two, at least, of the hands, because I thought they might be valuable landmarks in remembering other things.”
    “What other things?”
    “Well, you might have noticed, for instance, that your partner made a mess of playing a perfectly simple no trumper, or that an opponent, say, presented you with a couple of unexpected tricks by failing to lead an obvious card.”
    Doctor Roberts became suddenly serious. He leaned forward in his chair, “Ah,” he said. “Now I see what you're driving at. Forgive me. I thought at first you were talking pure nonsense. You mean that the murder - the successful accomplishment of the murder - might have made a definite difference in the guilty party's play?”
    Poirot nodded, “You have seized the idea correctly. It would be a clue of the first excellence if you had been four players who knew each other's game well. A variation, a sudden lack of brilliance, a missed opportunity - that would have been immediately noticed. Unluckily you were all strangers to each other. Variations in play would not be so noticeable. But think, Monsieur le docteur, I beg of you to think. Do you remember any inequalities - any sudden glaring mistakes - in the play of anyone?”
    There was silence for a minute or two, then Doctor Roberts shook his head. “It's no good. I can't help you,” he said frankly. “I simply don't remember. All I can tell you is what I told you before. Mrs. Lorrimer is a first-class player - she never made a slip that I noticed. She was brilliant from start to finish. Despard's play was uniformly good, too. Rather a conventional player - that is, his bidding is strictly conventional. He never steps outside the rules. Won't take a long chance. Miss Meredith -” He hesitated.
    “Yes? Miss Meredith?” Poirot prompted him.
    “She did make mistakes, once or twice, I remember - toward the end of the evening: but that may simply have been because she was tired, not being a very experienced player. Her hand shook, too -” He stopped.
    “When did her hand shake?”
    “When was it now? I can't remember - I think she was just nervous. Monsieur Poirot, you're making me imagine things.”
    “I apologize. There is another point on which I seek your help.”
    “Yes?”
    Poirot said slowly, “It is difficult. I do not, you see, wish to ask you a leading question. If I say, did you notice so and so - well, I have put the thing into your head. Your answer will not be so valuable. Let me try to get at the matter another way. If you will be so kind, Doctor Roberts,