He brought the money back. Boyd and the Queen were waiting for him, but Barbara was still in the ladies' lounge. "She's on the way out," the Queen informed him, and, sure enough, in a minute they saw the figure approaching them. Malone smiled at her, and, tentatively, she smiled back. They began the long march to the exit of the club, slowly and regally, though not by choice. The crowd, it seemed, wouldn't let them go. Malone never found out, then or later, how the news of Her Majesty's winnings had gone through the place so fast, but everyone seemed to know about it. The Queen was the recipient of several low bows and a few drunken curtsies, and, when they reached the front door at last, the doorman said in a most respectful tone: "Good evening, Your Majesty." The Queen positively beamed at him. So, to his own great surprise, did Sir Kenneth Malone. Outside, it was about four in the morning. They climbed into the car and headed back toward the hotel. Malone was the first to speak. "How did you know that was a Jack of clubs?" he said in a strangled sort of voice. The little old lady said calmly: "He was cheating." "The dealer?" Malone asked. The little old lady nodded. "In _your_ favor?" "He couldn't have been cheating," Boyd said at the same instant. "Why would he want to give you all that money?" The little old lady shook her head. "He didn't want to give it to me," she said. "He wanted to give it to the man in the cowboy's suit. His name is Elliott, by the way--Bernard L. Elliott. And he comes from Weehawken. But he pretends to be a Westerner so nobody will be suspicious of him. He and the dealer are in cahoots--isn't that the word?" "Yes, Your Majesty," Boyd said. "That's the word." His tone was awed and respectful, and the little old lady gave a nod and became Queen Elizabeth I once more. "Well," she said, "the dealer and Mr. Elliott were in cahoots, and the dealer wanted to give the hand to Mr. Elliott. But he made a mistake, and dealt the Jack of clubs to me. I watched him, and, of course, I knew what he was thinking. The rest was easy." "My God," Malone said. "Easy." Barbara said: "Did she win?" "She won," Malone said with what he felt was positively magnificent understatement. "Good," Barbara said, and lost interest at once. Malone had seen the lights of a car in the rear-view mirror a few minutes before. When he looked now, the lights were still there--but the fact just didn't register until, a couple of blocks later, the car began to pull around them on the left. It was a Buick, while Boyd's was a new Lincoln, but the edge wasn't too apparent yet. Malone spotted the gun barrel protruding from the Buick and yelled just before the first shot went off.