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person?”
    Mrs. Lorrimer drew herself up stiffly.
    â€œI should not care to do anything of the kind. I consider that a most improper question.”
    The superintendent looked like an abashed little boy who has been reprimanded by his grandmother.
    â€œAddress, please,” he mumbled, drawing his notebook towards him.
    â€œ111 Cheyne Lane, Chelsea.”
    â€œTelephone number?”
    â€œChelsea 45632.”
    Mrs. Lorrimer rose.
    â€œAnything you want to ask, M. Poirot?” said Battle hurriedly.
    Mrs. Lorrimer paused, her head slightly inclined.
    â€œWould it be a proper question, madame, to ask you your opinion of your companions, not as potential murderers but as bridge players?”
    Mrs. Lorrimer answered coldly:
    â€œI have no objection to answering that—if it bears upon the matter at issue in any way—though I fail to see how it can.”
    â€œI will be the judge of that. Your answer, if you please, madame.”
    In the tone of a patient adult humouring an idiot child, Mrs. Lorrimer replied:
    â€œMajor Despard is a good sound player. Dr. Roberts overcalls, but plays his hand brilliantly. Miss Meredith is quite a nice little player, but a bit too cautious. Anything more?”
    In his turn doing a conjuring trick, Poirot produced four crumpled bridge scores.
    â€œThese scores, madame, is one of these yours?”
    She examined them.
    â€œThis is my writing. It is the score of the third rubber.”
    â€œAnd this score?”
    â€œThat must be Major Despard’s. He cancels as he goes.”
    â€œAnd this one?”
    â€œMiss Meredith’s. The first rubber.”
    â€œSo this unfinished one is Dr. Roberts’?”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œThank you, madame, I think that is all.”
    Mrs. Lorrimer turned to Mrs. Oliver.
    â€œGoodnight, Mrs. Oliver. Goodnight, Colonel Race.”
    Then, having shaken hands with all four of them, she went out.

Six
T HIRD M URDERER?
    â€œD idn’t get any extra change out of her,” commented Battle. “Put me in my place, too. She’s the old-fashioned kind, full of consideration for others, but arrogant as the devil! I can’t believe she did it, but you never know! She’s got plenty of resolution. What’s the idea of the bridge scores, M. Poirot?”
    Poirot spread them on the table.
    â€œThey are illuminating, do you not think? What do we want in this case? A clue to character. And a clue not to one character, but to four characters. And this is where we are most likely to find it—in these scribbled figures. Here is the first rubber, you see—a tame business, soon over. Small neat figures—careful addition and subtraction—that is Miss Meredith’s score. She was playing with Mrs. Lorrimer. They had the cards, and they won.
    â€œIn this next one it is not so easy to follow the play, since it is kept in the cancellation style. But it tells us perhaps something about Major Despard—a man who likes the whole time to know at a glance where he stands. The figures are small and full of character.

    â€œThis next score is Mrs. Lorrimer’s—she and Dr. Roberts against the other two—a Homeric combat—figures mounting up above the line each side. Overcalling on the doctor’s part, and they go down; but, since they are both first-class players, they never go down very much. If the doctor’s overcalling induces rash bidding on the other side there is the chance seized of doubling. See—these figures here are doubled tricks gone down. A characteristic handwriting, graceful, very legible, firm.
    â€œHere is the last score—the unfinished rubber. I collected one score in each person’s handwriting, you see. Figures rather flamboyant. Not such high scores as the preceding rubber. That is probably because the doctor was playing with Miss Meredith, and she is a timid player. His calling would make her more so!
    â€œYou think, perhaps, that