The Hollow by Agatha Christie Page A

Angkatell as she slipped an arm through Henrietta's on the way to the drawing-room. “What an awful thought it is that if people had less in their heads they would know better what to do with their hands! Do you think hearts or bridge or rummy or something terribly, terribly simple like animal grab?”
    “I think David would be rather insulted by animal grab.”
    “Perhaps you are right. Bridge, then. I am sure he will feel that bridge is rather worthless and then he can have a nice glow of contempt for us.”
    They made up two tables. Henrietta played with Gerda against John and Edward. It was not her idea of the best grouping. She had wanted to segregate Gerda from Lucy and if possible from John also - but John had shown determination. And Edward had then forestalled Midge.
    The atmosphere was not, Henrietta thought, quite comfortable, but she did not quite know from whence the discomfort arose. Anyway, if the cards gave them anything like a break, she intended that Gerda should win. Gerda was not really a bad bridge player - away from John she was quite average - but she was a nervous player with bad judgment and with no real knowledge of the value of her hand. John was a good, if slightly over-confident player. Edward was a very good player indeed.
    The evening wore on and at Henrietta's table they were still playing the same rubber. The scores rose above the line on either side. A curious tensity had come into the play of which only one person was unaware.
    To Gerda, this was just a rubber of bridge which she happened for once to be quite enjoying. She felt, indeed, a pleasurable excitement. Difficult decisions had been unexpectedly eased by Henrietta's over-calling her own bids and playing the hand.
    Those moments when John, unable to refrain from that critical attitude which did more to undermine Gerda's self-confidence than he could possibly have imagined, exclaimed, “Why on earth did you lead that club, Gerda?” were countered almost immediately by Henrietta's swift, “Nonsense, John, of course she had to lead the club! It was the only possible thing to do.”
    Finally, with a sigh, Henrietta drew the score towards her. “Game and rubber, but I don't think we shall make much out of it, Gerda.”
    John said, “A lucky finesse,” in a cheerful voice.
    Henrietta looked up sharply. She knew his tone. She met his eyes and her own dropped,
    She got up and went to the mantelpiece and John followed her. He said conversationally, “You don't always look deliberately into people's hands, do you?”
    Henrietta said calmly, “Perhaps I was a little obvious. How despicable it is to want to win at games!”
    “You wanted Gerda to win the rubber, you mean. In your desire to give pleasure to people, you don't draw the line at cheating.”
    “How horribly you put things! And you are always quite right.”
    “Your wishes seemed to be shared by my partner.”
    So he had noticed, thought Henrietta. She had wondered herself, if she had been mistaken. Edward was so skillful - there was nothing you could have taken hold of. A failure, once, to call the game. A lead that had been sound and obvious - but when a less obvious lead would have assured success.
    It worried Henrietta... Edward, she knew, would never play his cards in order that she, Henrietta, might win. He was far too imbued with English sportsmanship for that. No, he thought, it was just any more success for John Christow that he was unable to endure...
    She felt suddenly keyed up, alert. She didn't like this party of Lucy's.
    And then dramatically, unexpectedly, with the unreality of a stage entrance. Veronica Cray came through the window!
    The French windows had been pushed to, not closed, for the evening was warm. Veronica pushed them wide, came through them and stood there framed against the night, smiling, a little rueful, wholly charming, waiting just that infinitesimal moment before speaking so that she might be sure of her audience.
    “You must forgive me