“I’m pretty sure of it, Storm. He’s the best dealer they have. He’s been dealing a long time. He knows cards.” “Well, if you’re done passing out compliments, how about calling a play?” the dealer suggested. “QX. We’ll take the eight for one M . . . and it _is_ the eight, you notice . . . let it ride . . . throw the six—without looking, of course . . . we’ll take the jack for two M’s. . . .” The host, accompanied by no less a personage than the manager himself, had come up. They stood quietly and listened as Cloud took three bills out of the box, leaving one, and went on: “The next card is either a five or a trey. That M there is to find out which it is.” “Are you sure of that?” the manager asked. “Not absolutely, of course,” Cloud admitted. “There’s one chance in approximately fourteen million that both my partner and I are wrong.” “Very good odds. But since you lose in either case, why bet?” “Because if it’s a trey, she solved your system first. If it’s a five, I beat her to it.” “I see, but that isn’t necessary.” The manager took the remaining cards out of the rack, and, holding them carefully and firmly, wrapped the M-note tightly around them. Then, picking up the two small stacks of played cards, he handed the whole collection to Cloud, at the same time signalling the dealer to go ahead with his game. “We’ll be smothered in a crowd very shortly, and I would like very much to play with you myself. Will you, sir and madame, be gracious enough to continue play in private?” “Gladly, sir,” Joan assented, at Cloud’s questioning glance. “If it would not put you out too much.” “I am delighted,” and, beckoning to a hovering waiter, he went on: “We will have refreshments, of course. In uniform, you might possibly prefer soft drinks? We have some very good Tellurian ginger ale.” “That’d be fine,” Cloud said, even while he was thinking at the Lensman in contact with his mind: “Safe enough, don’t you think? He couldn’t be thinking of any rough stuff yet.” “Perfectly safe,” Nordquist agreed. “He’s just curious. Besides, he’s in no shape to handle even the _Vortex Blaster_ alone, to say nothing of the task force he knows would be here two hours after anything happened to either of you.” The four strolled in friendly fashion to the suggested private room. As soon as they were settled: “You said the top card would be either a five or a trey,” the manager said. “Shall we look?” It was the trey of spades. “Congratulations, Joanie, a mighty swell job. You really clobbered me on that one.” He shook her hand vigorously, then handed the bill to the manager. “Here’s your M-note, sir.” “I couldn’t think of it, sir. No tipping, you know. . . .” “I know. Not a tip, but your winnings. I called the play, remember. Hence, I insist.” “Very well, if you insist. But don’t you want to look at the next one?” “No. It’s the ace of hearts—can’t be anything else.”