“No.”
Gergue looked at him shrewdly. “Know any way he could hit at you?”
“No. Not with the truth.”
Gergue hesitated; then he asked slowly: “Know any way he could hit at you with Hetty?”
“Hetty?” Wint echoed. “Hetty Morfee?”
“Yes. Her.”
Wint was stupefied with surprise. “Good Lord, no!”
“She got any reason to be against you?”
“No. I—She’s friendly, I think. Ought to be.”
Gergue puffed at his pipe. Then he got up. “Wint,” he said, “take it for what it’s worth. I hear he’s going to hit you with her.”