"There was TK in this, but not tipping dice. Smythe is a skunk. He's no Twenty-fifth, or he wouldn't have any need to go crooked. He saw a chance to make a killing. He suggested it to Rose, who fell for it and went along. Rose decided to steal Simonetti's half of the business from his partner with Smythe's help. It was no more complicated than smuggling thousand dollar bills off the table in false bottoms of trays that drinks were being served on. Smythe was using TK to lift the bills into those false bottoms, well screened by the trays from the TV monitors. Barney was in on it, of course. And after the joint had lost enough dough that way, Rose and Simonetti would have had to sell out. Only the buyer would have been a dummy for Rose and Smythe, using money Smythe had lifted off the tables. "The whole TK business was just a smoke screen to keep matters confused," I concluded. "How come they dared send for a TK like you? Why weren't they scared you'd catch them, just like you did?" "It took a little more than TK," I reminded her. "TK is just a power, one more ability in life. It doesn't make you God. Once in a while it gives you a little more vigorish than the other guy has, that's all. And sometimes it's not enough." "But you had enough vigorish to catch them," she pointed out. "In a way," I said. "I told them TK wasn't enough--that it would take precognition. And I don't have PC. I had to bring a PC with me. You, Pheola. That's why I'm alive. Smythe would have killed me with that dart gun of his. _You_ were my vigorish!" We rode the 'copter together to the airport. Old Grand Master Maragon would sneer out of the other side of his face when I brought Pheola to him. He couldn't keep _her_ from PC training. She _had_ it. "Tell me," I asked her. "Can you always tell what I'm going to do next?" "I reckon," she said. "If I think hard about it." "But you can't _control_ what I'm going to do next, can you?" I grinned. "I wonder," she said. "Never tried, yet." "Oh, no!" I groaned. She showed me her buck teeth in a smile. "I figger first you'll have them straighten my teeth," she said. "You'd like a pretty wife." "If it's got to be," I said weakly. "That would help. I just wish there was some way to handle that hysterical sniffle of yours, that's all. But I guess that's the price you have to pay for that awful load of Psi power you have." "Oh, that," she said. "I ought to be over that by tomorrow. I hardly ever get a cold, darlin' Billy, and when I do, I throw it off in a few days." Well, I guess it's a cinch I'm no PC. THE END