"Yes," said Rafferty. He was surprised; it was a rank amateur's trick to ask to look at a hand that had been tossed in. Coming from a cool customer like Steel, it didn't make much sense.

But slowly Rafferty began to fathom the way his opponent's mind worked. And slowly, as his genius for the game asserted itself, Rafferty began to win.

By 2100 his pile of chips totalled near fifty thousand. It was enough to pay off Walsh and still come out with a comfortable profit for the evening's work—but Rafferty didn't want to quit. He didn't play the game that way.

He decided to go for a killing. He had Steel figured, now and he could take the house for a fortune.

Nursing three jacks and a pair of fours, he pushed the betting higher and higher. Steel kept right with him.

"Three thousand? I'll see you and raise one."

Without letting expression cross his face, Rafferty pushed a few more credits out. Then a few more. Then a few more. Five thousand credits hung on this deal, now.

He remained totally blank-faced. That was the secret of poker: never to tip off an opponent to anything. Steel was good, but Steel kept giving himself away.

Like now, for instance. Perhaps the shill didn't know it, but his right eyebrow was twitching faintly. So far, every time Steel had bluffed a weak hand, that eyebrow had twitched.

Well, now Rafferty had him. He had a full house; it was going to take a bunch of fancy cards to top it. And Steel was almost certainly bluffing.

"Six thousand," Rafferty said.

"Seven."

"Seven five."

It reached nine. Finally Rafferty said, "Okay. What do you have?"

Casually Steel lowered his hand. Jack, Queen, Queen, Queen, Queen. That made four Queens.

He hadn't been bluffing.

And Rafferty was out nine thousand credits.

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