Maculay laughed. "Baby doll," he laughed, "when you've been trained by the best mathematician in the solar system, you remember the sequence of the cards, evolve a formula of probabilities regarding the shuffling, and then play them according to absolute mathematics. In Red Dog, if there's a Heart Six to beat, each and every card played changes the formula as it lands; if you know your mathematics, you can compute your chances about as well as the Interplanetary Life Insurance Company can compute your expectancy."

"But I spoiled your game."

"That game was ruined anyway."

"It was fun," said Ava, taking a fine pull at the drink.

"A nice shindy, m'lady. And far more better than the game they'd have played once they grabbed me."

"But where will we play tomorrow night?"

"Venus is full of places," chuckled Maculay. "Fact is, the evening is young. Wait'll I collect me a fresh shirt; and I'll have to forget the white jacket since it's a mess. But we can see a bit more Venusian Night Life."

"Done!"

Maculay emerged from the dressing room a few moments later. "By the way, m'lady, what's your name?"

"Ava Longacre."

"I'm—"

"I know. Cliff Maculay."

"Such is fame," sighed Cliff. "You know me?"

Ava nodded. "I've met you before," she said. A faint, subdued recollection of her previous meeting with Clifford Maculay stirred her. She recalled, very dimly, the upsurge of emotion, the pounding of her heart, the complete relaxation of defensive mechanism. Something had been started but never finished, before. Now it was all past, gone, and a new day was yet to be born. "Someone gave me a message for you, but I've forgotten it."

"Maybe we can bring it back," chuckled Maculay. He took her by the arm and led her from the room.

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