Without letting expression cross his face, Rafferty pushed a few more credits out. Then a few more. Then a few more. Five thousand credits hung on this deal, now. He remained totally blank-faced. That was the secret of poker: never to tip off an opponent to anything. Steel was good, but Steel kept giving himself away. Like now, for instance. Perhaps the shill didn't know it, but his right eyebrow was twitching faintly. So far, every time Steel had bluffed a weak hand, that eyebrow had twitched. Well, now Rafferty had him. He had a full house; it was going to take a bunch of fancy cards to top it. And Steel was almost certainly bluffing. "Six thousand," Rafferty said. "Seven." "Seven five." It reached nine. Finally Rafferty said, "Okay. What do you have?" Casually Steel lowered his hand. Jack, Queen, Queen, Queen, Queen. That made four Queens. He hadn't been bluffing. And Rafferty was out nine thousand credits. * * * * * He kept his composure, but inwardly he was disturbed. By all rights Steel _had_ to be bluffing--but there they were, four queens. The game progressed. A few curious onlookers had gathered. By playing cautiously, Rafferty started piling up chips again. His winnings mounted to a hundred thousand, hundred fifty. He had Steel figured now for sure. But it wasn't as sure as all that. Rafferty staked five thousand on a straight flush. Steel saw him and added five hundred on top of it. "I'll go with you," Rafferty said. "Here's another thousand." Straight flush, Queen high. Only three hands could possibly beat him--and one of them was a royal flush. It didn't seem likely. Besides, the lower corner of Steel's mouth was drawn back, as it usually was when he had a fairly good hand and was playing it big. The chips flew out madly. Rafferty watched the pile grow; neither man would let the cat die. Ten, twelve thousand credits now. Fifteen. In thirty years of poker, Rafferty had never had fifteen thousand credits riding on one hand. But he was sure he had it. "What are you holding?" Steel asked finally. "Straight flush, Queen high." He started to reach for the chips. Steel's mild, purring voice interrupted him. "_What suit?_" For the first time that night Rafferty's composure left him. "C-Clubs," he stammered. "Spades," Steel said sweetly, and put down the eight to Queen, inclusive and consecutive. It just didn't figure, Rafferty thought glumly. He wasn't as annoyed over the wild improbability of two straight flushes the same hand as he was because he had failed to guess Steel's facial reaction properly. He'd been dead wrong. He got wronger. Steel sat calmly without saying a word except when necessary, and gobbled in the chips. It seemed to Rafferty that Steel was reading his every move. He was holding two pair, and played it big. Steel stayed right with him, and when the payoff came: "Three fours."