“Um-m . . . never thought of it . . . _random_ numbers . . . Oh, I see. Yes, she can. Especially the most-played one, that over-and-under-seven thing. And with a little telepathy thrown in, I can do the same with any crooked game they’ve got except a magnetically-controlled wheel; and I could do a fair job on that.” “Better and better. You and Miss Janowick, then; and be sure and bring Vesta the Vegian along.” “Vesta? Um . . . Maybe, at that. Adolescent Vegians not only can be, but are, interested in everything that goes on, everywhere. They’re born gamblers, and she’s already got a reputation for throwing money around regardless—and she’s rich enough to afford it. And in a winning streak she’ll stir up so much excitement that nobody will pay any attention to anybody else. However, things being what they are, I’ll have to be mighty careful about letting her go on a gambling spree.” “Not too much so. Just hint that you won’t fire her if she takes a fling or two at the tables and she’ll be so happy about it and love you so much that she won’t even think of wondering why.” And so it proved. After a long discussion of details with the Lensman, Cloud went to sleep. The following afternoon he went back to the ship and sought out Vesta, whom he found slinking dejectedly about with her tail almost dragging on the floor. Scarcely had he begun his suggestion, however, when: “_Really_, chief?” Vesta’s tail snapped aloft, her pointed ears quivered with eagerness. She hugged him ecstatically, burying her face in the curve of his neck and inhaling deeply. “You zmell _zo_ wonderful, chief—but a wonderful man like you would _have_ to smell zo, wouldn’t he? I thought you’d smack me bow-legged if I even hinted at wanting to lay a ten-cento chip on the line. But I _know_ I can beat the games they’ve got on _this_ planet . . . and besides, I’ve been gone half a year and haven’t spent a hundred credits and I’ve learned nine languages including your cursed English. . . .” She took out her book of Travelers’ Cheques and stared at it thoughtfully. “Maybe, though, just to be on the safe side, I’d better tear one of these out and hide it in my room. It’d be _awful_ to have to call my mother for jet fare home from the ’port. She and dad both’d yowl to high heaven—they’d claw me ragged.” “Huh? But listen!” Cloud was puzzled. “If you shoot such a terrific wad as that, what possible difference would it make whether you had plane fare for a few hundred miles left or not?” “Oh, lots,” she assured him. “They don’t expect me to have much of any of my allowance left when I get home, and I never intended to, anyway. But _anybody_ with half a brain is expected to be able to get home from a party—_any_ kind of a party—without crying for help, and without walking, either; so I’ll go hide one of these slips.” “If _that’s_ all that’s bothering you, no matter,” Cloud said quickly. “You’ve got another pay day coming before we get to Vegia, you know.”