't open."

The next man grinned. "Open for twenty," he said.

Malone closed his eyes. He heard the cowboy say: "I'm in," and he
opened his eyes again. The Queen was pushing two ten-dollar chips
toward the center of the table.

The next man dropped, and the dealer looked round the table. "How
many?"

The man who couldn't open took three cards. The man who'd opened for
twenty stood pat. Malone shuddered invisibly. That, he figured, meant
a straight or better. And Queen Elizabeth Thompson was going in
against at least a straight with a pair of nines, Jack high.

For the first time, it was borne in on Malone that being a telepath
did not necessarily mean that you were a good poker player. Even if
you knew what every other person at the table held, you could still
make a whole lot of stupid mistakes.

He looked nervously at Queen Elizabeth, but her face was serene.
Apparently she'd been following the thoughts of the poker players, and
not concentrating on him at all. That was a relief. He felt, for the
first time in days, as if he could think freely.

The cowboy said: "Two," and took them. It was Her Majesty's turn.

"I'll take two," she said, and threw away the three and four. It left
her with the nine of spades and the nine of hearts, and the Jack of
diamonds.

These were joined, in a matter of seconds, by two bright new cards:
the six of clubs and the three of hearts.

Malone closed his eyes. _Oh, well_, he thought.

It was only thirty bucks down the drain. Practically nothing.

Of course Her Majesty dropped at once; knowing what the other players
held, she knew she couldn't beat them after the draw. But she did like
to take long chances, Malone thought miserably. Imagine trying to fill
a full house on one pair!

Slowly, as the minutes passed, the pile of chips before Her Majesty
dwindled. Once Malone saw her win with two pair against a reckless man
trying to fill a straight on the other side of the table. But whatever
was going on, Her Majesty's face was as calm as if she were asleep.

Malone's worked overtime. If the Queen hadn't been losing so
obviously, the dealer might have mistaken the play of naked emotion
across his visage for a series of particularly obvious signals.

An hour went by. Barbara left to find a ladies' lounge where she could
sit down and try to relax. Fascinated in a horrible sort of way, both
Malone and Boyd stood, rooted to the spot, while hand after hand went
by and the ten thou