“Two small hearts,” he said. “I don’t remember which. Anyway, I remember very well indeed that I had the king and the queen and the jack, the nine, and two little ones.”
“Half a second,” I said, “I want to mail a letter.”
When I came back to him, he was still murmuring:
“My partner held the ace of clubs and the queen. The jack was out, but I didn’t know where the king was—”
“You didn’t?” I said in contempt.
“No,” he repeated in surprise, and went on murmuring:
“Diamonds had gone round once, and spades twice, and so I suspected that my partner was leading from weakness—”
“I can well believe it,” I said—“sheer weakness.”
“Well,” he said, “on the sixth round the lead came to me. Now, what should I have done? Finessed for the ace, or led straight into my opponent—”
“You want my advice,” I said, “and you shall have it, openly and fairly. In such a case as you describe, where a man has led out at me repeatedly and with provocation, as I gather from what you say, though I myself do not play bridge, I should lead my whole hand at him. I repeat, I do not play bridge. But in the circumstances, I should think it the only thing to do.”