"The roulette table," Her Majesty said with dignity. "Precede me." They pushed their way through the crowd. Most of the customers were either excited enough, drunk enough, or both to see nothing in the least incongruous about a Royal Family of the Tudors invading the Golden Palace. Very few of them, as a matter of fact, seemed to notice the group. They were roulette players. They noticed nothing but the table and the wheel. Malone wondered what they were thinking about, decided to ask Queen Elizabeth, and then decided against it. He felt it would make him nervous to know. Her Majesty took a handful of chips. The handful was worth, Malone knew, exactly five thousand dollars. That, he'd thought, ought to last them an evening, even in the Golden Palace. In the center of the strip, inside the city limits of Las Vegas itself, the five thousand would have lasted much longer--but Her Majesty wanted the Palace, and the Palace it was. Malone began to smile. Since he couldn't avoid the evening, he was determined to enjoy it. It was sort of fun, in its way, indulging a sweet harmless old lady. And there was nothing they could do until the next morning, anyhow. His indulgent smile faded very suddenly. Her Majesty plunked the entire handful of chips--_five thousand dollars!_ Malone thought dazedly--onto the table. "Five thousand," she said in clear, cool measured tones, "on Number One." The croupier blinked only slightly. He bowed. "Yes, Your Majesty," he said. Malone was briefly thankful, in the midst of his black horror, that he had called the management and told them that the Queen's plays were backed by the United States Government. Her Majesty was going to get unlimited credit--and a good deal of awed and somewhat puzzled respect. Malone watched the spin begin with mixed feelings. There was five thousand dollars riding on the little ball. But, after all, Her Majesty was a telepath. Did that mean anything? He hadn't decided by the time the wheel stopped, and by then he didn't have to decide. "Thirty-four," the croupier said tonelessly. "Red, Even and High." He raked in the chips with a nonchalant air. Malone felt as if he had swallowed his stomach. Boyd and Lady Barbara, standing nearby, had absolutely no expressions on their faces. Malone needed no telepath to tell him what they were thinking. They were exactly the same as he was. They were incapable of thought. But Her Majesty never batted an eyelash. "Come, Sir Kenneth," she said. "Let's go on to the poker tables." She swept out. Her entourage followed her, shambling a little, and blank-eyed. Malone was still thinking about the five thousand dollars. Oh, well, Burris had said to give the lady anything she wanted. _But!_ he thought. _Did she have to play for royal stakes?_ "I am, after all, a Queen," she whispered back to him.