"You're hideously rude."
"Granted. But I must place you. I won't accept you as an onlooker. Either you'll fight me or help me—or clear out. Is that plain?"
"You're worse than rude," said Lucette; "you're a beast! I always wondered why Gertrude couldn't live with you. Now I know."
"That's better," I hazarded. "We're beginning to understand each other. Now let's lay all our cards face up on the table?"
Lucette stared at me a moment, her lips pursed, dubious, her impenetrable blue eyes holding mine.
"I will, if you will," she said finally. "Let's."
It was dangerous, I knew, to take her at her word; yet I ventured.
"I've a weak hand, Lucette; but there's one honest ace of trumps in it."
"There could hardly be two," smiled Lucette.
"No; I count on that. In a pinch, I shall take the one trick essential, and throw the others away." I leaned to her and spoke slowly: "There is no reason, affecting her honor or rights, why Gertrude may not return to her home—if she so desires. I think you understand me?"