The croupier took a last long drowning breath and his rake started to pull in the teels. "Okay, lady, okay. The guy's shacked up right now in Residential, Number 327. With somebody else's wife. That what you want to know? That what you wanted me to say?" The woman didn't answer. She let her eyes slit contemptuously for an instant before she turned, moved away from the table, and went quickly toward the lock that led to the spacelators outside. * * * * * Artie Sterling pulled the woman's arms from around his neck. "Look, baby," he said. His handsome forehead wrinkled, a little annoyed. "Arthur...." "Time to be shoving off, baby." "Shoving off?" The woman's large brown eyes balled with dismay. "Yeah. Frankly ..." he lifted his shoulders lightly "... frankly, the only reason I dropped in tonight was to sort of say goodbye. Get it?" "Arthur!" There was shock in the woman's voice. "Yeah. Look. Let's not push it into a corner like somebody's unwanted asteroid. Let's look at the thing. We've been slicker than the skids on the spacelator, baby, but it can't last forever. Sooner or later that husband of yours is gonna open his dopey eyes. And then what?" He made a little mocking shudder. "And baby, if there's anything I _don't_ want, it's to tangle with the Chief of all Space Security." He grinned at the small figure of the woman beside him. "Up to now it's been great laughs on dull nights, but you know something? Every now and then I ask myself: suppose this guy, this Chief of Security--your husband, you know--suppose one of these nights he should get off a little early. Suppose he should come home an hour or two before we expect him?" "Oh!" The woman smiled nervously. "That what's worrying you, honey? That's silly. John never does that. Never comes home early. Forget it." Artie Sterling raised an impatient eyebrow. How do you tell off a dame when she doesn't want to believe it? He untangled himself from the woman's arms. He got to his feet. He said sharply: "Look, baby. Here it is: it's done, see? Great fun, like I said, but it's done. Gone. Burned out like the hulls of hell. I'm shoving off." That one did it. The woman was suddenly aware of it. He could tell that by the way her eyes shot open and then dulled quickly. That's the way they all act at first. They get over it, of course, but at first it's always like that. He watched her get to her feet. Admiringly. He still appreciated the neat little figure she had. Still admitted she was a doll to look at. He watched her go to a black metallic desk against a wall. Open the center drawer. He said protesting: "Baby, I don't want that bracelet back I gave you. Hell, that's a souvenir. Keep it. When old Artie gives a gal something he means it." "I'm not giving back the bracelet, Arthur." The woman's hand went into the drawer, came out again. The hand held a heat gun. "No, Arthur. Not the bracelet." "Baby!" Utter shock laved the handsome man's features.