There they were well down to it, their faces serious, the bids coming quickly.
“One heart.”
“Pass.”
“Three clubs.”
“Three spades.”
“Four diamonds.”
“Double.”
“Four hearts.”
(…)
And the raised voice was his official voice, so different that all the heads at the
bridge table turned to him, and Anne Meredith’s hand remained poised over an
ace of spades in dummy.
“I’m sorry to tell you all,” he said, “that our host, Mr. Shaitana, is dead.”
Agatha Christie
You must be logged in to post a comment.