When the mists rolled out in the morning--if it was still morning--it was to the tune of an insistent hotel chime. Si rolled over on his back and growled, "_Zo-ro-as-ter_, cut that out. What do you want?" The hotel communicator said softly, "Checking-out time, sir, is at two o'clock." Si groaned. He couldn't place the last of the evening at all. He didn't remember coming back to the hotel. He couldn't recall where he had separated from, what was her name ... Natalie. He vaguely recalled having some absinthe in some fancy club she had taken him to. What was the gag she'd made? Absinthe makes the heart grow fonder. And then the club where they had the gambling machines. And the mists had rolled in on him. Mountains of the Moon! but that girl could drink. He simply wasn't that used to the stuff. You don't drink in Space School and you most certainly don't drink when in space. His binges had been few and far between. He said now, "I don't plan on checking out today. Don't bother me." He turned to his pillow. The hotel communicator said quietly, "Sorry, sir, but your credit balance does not show sufficient to pay your bill for another day." Si Pond shot up, upright in bed, suddenly cold sober. His eyes darted about the room, as though he was seeing it for the first time. His clothes, he noted, were thrown over a chair haphazardly. He made his way to them, his face empty, and fished about for his credit card, finding it in a side pocket. He wavered to the teevee-phone and thrust the card against the screen. He demanded, his voice as empty as his expression, "Balance check, please." In less than a minute the robot-voice told him: "Ten shares of Inalienable Basic. Current cash credit, forty-two dollars and thirty cents." The screen went dead. He sank back into the chair which held his clothes, paying no attention to them. It couldn't be right. Only yesterday, he'd had twelve shares of Variable Basic, immediately convertible into more than fifty thousand dollars, had he so wished to convert rather than collect dividends indefinitely. Not only had he the twelve shares of Variable Basic, but more than a thousand dollars to his credit. He banged his fist against his mouth. Conceivably, he might have gone through his thousand dollars. It was possible, though hardly believable. The places he'd gone to with that girl in the Chinese get-up were probably the most expensive in Greater Metropolis. But, however expensive, he couldn't possibly have spent fifty thousand dollars! Not possibly.