These red-headed
women are the very devil, Guy, after they've got you landed--also
before, but in a different way."
"What's your game, Madeline?" he smiled. It had pleased her suddenly to
veer around and resume the play; and far be it from him to balk her.
"I'll admit you have me guessing."
"I thought you believed me, Guy. My game was you--and I've lost."
"Nonsense!" he replied. "I was inclined to think so at first; your fine
acting and man's conceit, I reckon. But my conceit has been punctured,
and you've slipped a bit in your acting; therefore, to descend to the
extremely common-place, the jig is up."
"And the next lead is yours!" she laughed back.
"That is precisely why I asked you the game--so I could make an
intelligible lead."
"Ask Mrs. Clephane!" she suggested.
"I'll do it," said he--and bowed himself out.
"Do it? Of course, you'll do it," Madeline Spencer gritted, as the door
closed behind him. "I've no chance, it seems, against a red-haired
woman. The other one also had red hair." She seized a vase from the
table at her hand, and hurled it across the room. It crushed in
fragments against the wall. "Damn Mrs. Clephane!" she said softly.
XXI
THE KEY-WORD
Promptly at ten o'clock Marston walked into Carpenter's office and sent
in his card.
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