THE MURDER OF ROGER ACKROYD
and of curiously little interest. A thing that happened in India many years ago cannot compare for a moment with an event that took place in King's Abbot the day before yesterday.
It was Caroline who brought the colonel's story to a close by fortunately going Mah Jong. After the slight unpleasantness always occasioned by my corrections of Caroline's somewhat faulty arithmetic, we started a new hand.
"East Wind passes," said Caroline. "I've got an idea of my own about Ralph Paton. Three Characters. But I'm keeping it to myself for the present."
"Are you, dear?" said Miss Ganett. "Chow—I mean Pung."
"Yes," said Caroline firmly.
"Was it all right about the boots?" asked Miss Ganett. "Their being black, I mean?"
"Quite all right," said Caroline.
"What was the point, do you think?" asked Miss Ganett.
Caroline pursed up her lips, and shook her head with an air of knowing all about it.
"Pung," said Miss Ganett. "No—Unpung. I suppose that now the doctor's in with M. Poirot he knows the secrets?"
"Far from it," I said.
"James is so modest," said Caroline. "Ah! a concealed Kong."
The colonel gave vent to a whistle. For the moment gossip was forgotten.
[194]
