Joan could, of course, have read either the cards, or the dealer’s mind, or both; but she was not doing either—yet. This was a game—on the side, so to speak—between her and Storm. Nor was it at all unequal, for Cloud’s uncanny ability to solve complex mathematical problems was of very little assistance here. This was a matter of more-or-less simple sequences; of series; of arrangements; and her years of cybernetic training more than made up for his advantage in speed. “Your pleasure, madame or sir? Or are you together?” “We’re together, thanks. We’ll take the next, for an M.” Cloud placed a one-thousand-credit note in the velvet-lined box. Two thin stacks of cards lay on the table at the dealer’s right; one pile face up, the other, face down. He took the top card from the rack, turned it over, and added it to the face-up stack. “The ten of clubs,” he droned, sliding a one-thousand-credit bill across the table to Cloud. “What is your pleasure, sir and madame?” “Let it ride. Two M’s in the box,” Cloud said, tossing the new bill on top of its mate. “Throw one.” “Discard one.” The dealer removed the next card and, holding it so that neither he nor the players could see its face, added it to the face-down pile. “What is your pleasure, sir and madame?” “Throw one.” “Discard one.” “We’ll take this one,” and there were four thousand credits in the box. Throw one take one, and there were eight thousand. The eight became sixteen; then thirty-two; and the dealer lost his urbanity completely. He looked just plain ugly. “Maybe that’s enough for now,” Joan suggested. “After all, we don’t want to take _all_ the man’s money.” “Tightwad’s trick, huh? Quit while yer ahead?” the dealer sneered. “Why’n’cha let ’er ride just once more?” “If you insist, we will,” Cloud said, “but I’m warning you it’ll cost you thirty two more M’s.” “That’s what _you_ think, Buster—I think different. Call your play!” “We’ll take it!” Cloud snapped. “But listen, you clever-fingered jerk—I know just as well as you do that the top card is the king of clubs, and the one below it is the trey of diamonds. So, if you want to stay healthy, move slowly and be damned sure to lift just one card, not two, and take it off the top and not the bottom!” Glaring in baffled fury, the dealer turned up the king of clubs and paid his loss. At the next table the results were pretty much the same, and at the third. At the fourth table, however, instead of pyramiding, they played only single M-bills. They lost—won—lost—lost—won—lost—won—lost. In twenty plays they were only two thousand credits ahead. “I think I’ve got it, Joan,” Cloud said then. “Coming up—eight, six, jack, five, deuce?” “Uh-uh. I don’t think so. Eight, six, jack, three, one, I think. The trey of spades and the ace of hearts. A two-and-one shift with each full cycle.” “Um . . . m. Could be . . . but do you think the guy’s that smart?”