“I can’t see it. We’ve had Lensmen in here dozens of times, for one reason or another, business and social both, and they’ve always shot straight pool. Besides, all they’re getting is money, and what in all eleven hells of Telemanchia would the Patrol want of our _money_? If they wanted us for anything they’d come and get us, but they wouldn’t give a cockeyed tinker’s damn for our _money_. They’ve already got all the money there is!” “That’s so, too. Money . . . hm, money in gobs and slathers. . . . Oh, you think . . . the Mob? D’ya s’pose it’s got so big for its britches it thinks it can take _us_ on?” “I wouldn’t think they could be _that_ silly. It’s a lot more reasonable, though, than that the Patrol would be horsing around this way.” “But how? Great Kalastho, _how_?” “How do I know? Snoopers, as you said—or perceivers, or any other ringers they could ring in on us.” “Nuts!” the assistant retorted. “Just who do you figure as ringers? The Vegian isn’t a snooper, she’s just a gambling fool. No Chickladorian was ever a snooper, or a perceiver either, and these people are just about all regular customers. And _everybody’s_ winning. So just where does that put you?” “Up the creek—I know. But dammit, there’s _got_ to be snoopery or some other funny stuff _somewhere_ in this!” “Uh-uh. Did you ever hear of a perceiver who could read a deck or spot a gimmick from half a block away?” “No, but that doesn’t mean there aren’t any. But what stops me is what can we _do_ about it? If the Mob _is_ forted up in that hotel across the street or somewhere beside or behind us . . . there isn’t a damn thing we can do. They’d have more gunnies than we could send in, even if we knew exactly where they were, and we can’t send a young army barging around without anything but a flimsy suspicion to go on—the lawmen would throw us in the clink in nothing flat. . . . Besides, this Mob idea isn’t exactly solid, either. How’d they get their cut from all these people? Especially the Vegian?” “The Vegian, probably not; the rest, probably so. They could have passed the word around that this is the big day. Anybody’d split fifty-fifty on a cold sure thing.” “Uh-uh. I won’t buy that, either. I’d’ve known about it—somebody would have leaked. No matter how you figure it, it doesn’t add up.” “Well, then?” “Only one thing we can do. Close down. While you’re doing that I’ll go shoot in a Class A Double Prime Urgent to top brass.” Hence Vesta’s croupier soon announced to his clientele that all betting was off, at least until the following day. All guests would please leave the building as soon as possible. For a couple of minutes Vesta simply could not take in the import of the announcement. She was stunned. Then: