diamonds. This was immediately doubled by the original declarer of
no-trumps. My partner said "No," my other opponent said "No," and I,
thinking it couldn't be worse, switched into my other best suit and made it
two hearts. The doubler passed and I felt the glow of pride which comes to
the successful strategist. This was frozen instantly by my partner's
declaration of two no-trumps.

If Mr. SMILLIE were suddenly transformed into a Duke I am certain he would
not look so genuinely horror-struck as my partner did when I laid my hand
upon the table. Yet, as I pointed out, it was his own beastly convention,
so I just washed my hands of it and leaned back and watched him hurl forth
his cards as Zeus hurled the thunder-bolts about.

Then, of course, the other convention had to have its innings. My partner
went one no-trump, and I began to look up my five suit. In the meantime the
next player on the declaring list doubled the no-trump. This was very
confusing. Was he playing my partner's convention and asking _his_ partner
for his best suit? I hesitated; but orders are orders, so, having five
spades to the nine, I declared two spades. My left-hand enemy said "No"; my
partner said "No"; and the doubler--well, he doubled again. This time my
partner, being Dummy, hurled down all his thunder-bolts--thirteen small
ones--at once. When it was all over he explained at some length that he did
not wish ever to be taken out of an opponent's double. I expect this was
another convention he was going to tell me about when he was interrupted in
the overture to the rubber. Anyway he hadn't told me, and I at some slight
cost--five hundred--had nobly carried out his programme.

When eventually the final blow fell and we, with the aid of the club
secretary, were trying to add up the various columns of figures, the waiter
brought up the evening papers. I seized one and, looking at the chief