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CHAPTER TEN | VARIOUS PARTIES CONVERGING ON THE SEA-2-3
My partner was the young dark one. I play a fair hand at bridge, but I must have been rank bad that night. They saw that they had got me puzzled, and that put them more than ever at their ease. I kept looking at their faces, but they conveyed nothing to me. It was not that they looked different; they were different. I clung desperately to the words of Peter Pienaar. Then something awoke me. The old man laid down his hand to light a cigar. He didn't pick it up at once, but sat back for a moment in his chair, with his fingers tapping on his knees. It was the movement I remembered when I had stood before him in the moorland farm, with the pistols of his servants behind me. A little thing, lasting only a second, and the odds were a thousand to one that I might have had my eyes on my cards
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