‘A rescue—a rescue!’ cried Kitty Mooney. ‘Pam and I are going to rescue Colonel Clapperton.’
‘From his wife,’ gasped Pamela Cregan.
‘We think he’s a pet…’
‘And she’s just awful—she won’t let him do anything,’ the two girls exclaimed.
‘And if he isn’t with her, he’s usually grabbed by the Henderson woman…’
‘Who’s quite nice. But terribly old…’
They ran out, gasping in between giggles. ‘A rescue—a rescue…’
II
That the rescue of Colonel Clapperton was no isolated sally, but a fixed project, was made clear that same evening when the eighteen-year-old Pam Cregan came up to Hercule Poirot, and murmured: ‘Watch us, M. Poirot. He’s going to be cut out from under her nose and taken to walk in the moonlight on the boat deck.’
It was just at that moment that Colonel Clapperton was saying: ‘I grant you the price of a Rolls-Royce. But it’s practically good for a lifetime. Now my car—’
‘My car, I think, John.’ Mrs Clapperton’s voice was shrill and penetrating.
He showed no annoyance at her ungraciousness. Either he was used to it by this time, or else—
‘Or else?’ thought Poirot and let himself speculate.
‘Certainly, my dear, your car,’ Clapperton bowed to his wife and finished what he had been saying, perfectly unruffled.
‘Voilà ce qu’on appelle le pukka sahib,’ thought Poirot. ‘But the General Forbes says that Clapperton is no gentleman at all. I wonder now.’
There was a suggestion of bridge. Mrs Clapperton, General Forbes and a hawk-eyed couple sat down to it. Miss Henderson had excused herself and gone out on deck.
‘What about your husband?’ asked General Forbes, hesitating.
‘John won’t play,’ said Mrs Clapperton. ‘Most tiresome of him.’
The four bridge players began shuffling the cards.
Pam and Kitty advanced on Colonel Clapperton. Each one took an arm.
‘You’re coming with us!’ said Pam. ‘To the boat deck. There’s a moon.’
‘Don’t be foolish, John,’ said Mrs Clapperton. ‘You’ll catch a chill.’
‘Not with us, he won’t,’ said Kitty. ‘We’re hot stuff!’
He went with them, laughing.
Poirot noticed that Mrs Clapperton said No Bid to her initial bid of Two Clubs.
He strolled out on to the promenade deck. Miss Henderson was standing by the rail. She looked round expectantly as he came to stand beside her and he saw the drop in her expression.
They chatted for a while. Then presently as he fell silent she asked: ‘What are you thinking about?’
Poirot replied: ‘I am wondering about my knowledge of English. Mrs Clapperton said: “John won’t play bridge.” Is not “can’t play” the usual term?’
‘She takes it as a personal insult that he doesn’t, I suppose,’ said Ellie drily. ‘The man was a fool ever to have married her.’
In the darkness Poirot smiled. ‘You don’t think it’s just possible that the marriage may be a success?’ he asked diffidently.
‘With a woman like that?’
Poirot shrugged his shoulders. ‘Many odious women have devoted husbands. An enigma of nature. You will admit that nothing she says or does appears to gall him.’ Miss Henderson was considering her reply when Mrs Clapperton’s voice floated out through the smoking-room window.
‘No—I don’t think I will play another rubber. So stuffy. I think I’ll go up and get some air on the boat deck.’
‘Good night,’ said Miss Henderson. ‘I’m going to bed.’ She disappeared abruptly.
Poirot strolled forward to the lounge—deserted save for Colonel Clapperton and the two girls. He was doing card tricks for them and noting the dexterity of his shuffling and handling of the cards, Poirot remembered the General’s story of a career on the music hall stage.
‘I see you enjoy the cards even though you do not play bridge,’ he remarked.
‘I’ve my reasons for not playing bridge,’ said Clapperton, his charming smile breaking out. ‘I’ll show you. We’ll play one hand.’
He dealt the cards rapidly. ‘Pick up your hands. Well, what about it?’ He laughed at the bewildered expression on Kitty’s face. He laid down his hand and the others followed suit. Kitty held the entire club suit, M. Poirot the hearts, Pam the diamonds and Colonel Clapperton the spades.
‘You see?’ he said. ‘A man who can deal his partner and his adversaries any hand he pleases had better stand aloof from a friendly game! If the luck goes too much his way, ill-natured things might be said.’