“Oh, Peter Pienaar,” I groaned inwardly, and for a moment I was very near damning myself for a fool and asking their pardon.
“Meantime I vote we have a game of bridge,” said the plump one. “It will give Mr Hannay time to think over things, and you know we have been wanting a fourth player. Do you play, sir?”
I accepted as if it had been an ordinary invitation at the club. The whole business had mesmerized me. We went into the smoking-room where a card-table was set out, and I was offered things to smoke and drink. I took my place at the table in a kind of dream. The window was open and the moon was flooding the cliffs and sea with a great tide of yellow light. There was moonshine, too, in my head. The three had recovered their composure, and were talking easily—just the kind of slangy ta
