hat
could be unfolded into a portable desk. He went up to Jorgensen and
asked where he could set up a temporary ticket office for Interplanet.

While I was watching over my shoulder, three or four sandeaters coming
out of the back room shoved me aside to get at him. The last I saw
before leaving was Van Etten shushing Jorgensen while McNaughton
grabbed Howlet by the tunic zipper for a sales talk.

Inside, after getting through the crowd at the _planets_ table, I
could see that a number of betters were following Meadows' plays,
making it that much worse for Jorgensen. Even Konnel had a small pile
before him, although he seemed to be losing some of Lilac's attention
to Meadows. While the little spheres spun in their orbits, the steward
counted out money into twitching palms, wrote names on slips of paper,
and placed bets. Somehow, he hit a winner every five or six bets,
which kept his stack growing.

* * * * *

I joggled Lilac's elbow and indicated Konnel.

"How about taking him out for a drink so an old customer can squeeze
in for a few plays?" I said.

The money-glow faded gradually from her eyes as she focused on me. She
took her time deciding; but from the way she snuggled up to Konnel to
whisper in his ear, it looked as if she might really be stuck on him.
He winked at me.

Such a gasp went up as we changed places that I thought my cuff must
have brushed Pluto, but it was just Meadows making a long-odds hop
from Earth to Uranus. The operator no longer even flinched before
punching the distances and bet on his little computer, and groping in
his cash drawer to pay off.

* * * * *

I stood there a few minutes, wondering if the game could be fixed
after all. Still, the man who invented it also made encoding machines
for the Earth space fleet. Meadows must be having a run of blind
luck--no time to interrupt.

On my way out, Howlet caught me at the door of the bar.

"How about some coffee?" he asked. "We'll have to start back soon.
You'll be surprised at the time. Dining room still open?"

"Always. Okay, let's sober up and watch the fountain."

Only two or three women and a dozen men sat in the restaurant now. The
part-time musicians had disappeared for a few hours of sleep before
their usual jobs. We ordered a thermos pot of coffee and Howlet asked
me about McNaughton.

"I guess it was on the level," he said when I described the man's
Commit