AN EVENING AT MAH JONG
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 they're wonderful fellows, these foreign detectives. Up to all sorts of dodges, I believe."
"Pung," said Miss Ganett, in a tone of quiet triumph. "And Mah Jong."
The situation became more strained. It was annoyance at Miss Ganett's going Mah Jong for the third time running which prompted Caroline to say to me as we built a fresh wall:—
"You are too tiresome, James. You sit there like a dead head, and say nothing at all!"
"But, my dear," I protested, "I have really nothing to say—that is, of the kind you mean."
[199]
