I can't think what's the matter with you to-night."
"I'm very sorry," said Eve, and put down the nine of spades.
Mrs. Rastall-Retford glared.
"This is absurd," she cried. "You _must_ have the ace of clubs. If
you have not got it, who has? Look through your hand again. Is it
there?"
"No."
"Then where can it be?"
"Where can it be?" echoed Peter, taking another bite.
"Why--why," said Eve, crimson, "I--I--have only five cards. I ought to
have six."
"Five?" said Mrs. Rastall-Retford "Nonsense! Count again. Have you
dropped it on the floor?"
Mr. Rastall-Retford stooped and looked under the table.
"It is not on the floor," he said. "I suppose it must have been missing
from the pack before I dealt."
Mrs. Rastall-Retford threw down her cards and rose ponderously. It
offended her vaguely that there seemed to be nobody to blame. "I shall
go to bed," she said.
* * * * *
Peter stood before the fire and surveyed Eve as she sat on the sofa.
They were alone in the room, Mr. Rastall-Retford having drifted
silently away in the wake of his mother. Suddenly Eve began to laugh
helplessly.
He shook his head at her.
"This is considerably sharper than a serpent's tooth," he said.
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