She was looking past Phil when she finished. He swiveled his head and saw Miss Phoebe Filmer with a rather scared looking young man. But Phoebe, in a half off-the-bosom chartreuse evening gown, looked even more frightened, her face almost as green as her green-blonde hair. Perhaps she had heard Mitzie's last remark. Then she recognized Phil, and astonishment was added to her fright. Phil smiled at her with a somewhat forced reassuringness. At that moment Phoebe's escort called her attention to an empty booth back toward the door, and the two of them hurried toward its haven with the eagerness of skimmers who have overreached themselves. Phil felt remarkably bucked up. He snared an empty chair from the next table and found himself an empty glass and filled it from the tall, slim pitcher. Llewellyn, who, like the others had a half-inch in the bottom of his glass, caught Buck's attention and rolled his eyes significantly toward the ceiling. The white made eerie half-moons under the irises. "Just rip 'em off," Mitzie repeated with conviction. Carstairs said, with a quietly scathing coldness, "Mitz, quit playing the solicitous little mother to Llewellyn, Buck and me." He carefully smoothed his bangs, as an ancient judge might have adjusted his wig before pronouncing sentence. "It's quite clear that you spilled our plans to this clown, and that he told the police so that they were waiting for us when we knocked over the first sales-robot." "Quite," Llewellyn said, while Buck nodded. "And if I hadn't insisted on putting a new charge in the rocket assist," Carstairs continued, "we'd have been nabbed." "It was just a coincidence," Mitzie asserted sharply. "First time we ever had a coincidence," Carstairs observed. "Personally, I don't believe there are such things." Phil took a deep drink. It seemed mild, sweet stuff, compared to the adulterated whiskey Juno had fed him. That is, it seemed so for the first two or three seconds. Then he felt the top of his head balloon outward, pear-wise, like Carstairs'. The dark songstress was singing some song the refrain of which was, Darling, I'm queer for you. I'm really strange, quite out of any ordinary range.... Carstairs continued quietly, "Mitz, we let you into the gang, we initiated you, although we knew you were a psychoanalyst's daughter and doubtful material--" Mitzie glared at him. "Initiated me?" she said. "I'll say you did!" "Be that as it may," Carstairs asserted slowly, "you betrayed the gang tonight. At the best you acted irresponsibly." His words came slower still. "Your irresponsibility lost us a wad of dough." He paused for a long cruel moment. "You're out, Mitz. "Out," Carstairs repeated. "Definitely," Llewellyn agreed. "Yeah," Buck said, rubbing Ortie's lean snoot. Phil put his elbows on the table. "Gentlemen," he said quietly, "you say you are out a wad of dough? I am in a position to remedy that."