finger in his back."

Magnan looked at the man. "Maybe you'd better, uh, cut his throat," he
said.

Illy rolled his eyes.

"That's a very un-Nenni-like suggestion, Mr. Magnan," Retief said. "If
we have any trouble finding the casino, I'll give it serious thought."

There were few people in the narrow street. Shops were shuttered,
windows dark.

"Maybe they heard about the coup," Magnan said. "They're lying low."

"More likely, they're at the palace picking up their knives."

They rounded a corner, stepped over a man curled in the gutter snoring
heavily and found themselves at the foot of a long flight of littered
stone steps.

"The Drunkard's Stairs are plainly marked," Magnan sniffed.

"I hear sounds up there," Retief said. "Sounds of merrymaking."

"Maybe we'd better go back."

"Merrymaking doesn't scare me," Retief said. "Come to think of it, I
don't know what the word means." He started up, Magnan behind him.

* * * * *

At the top of the long stair a dense throng milled in the alley-like
street.

A giant illuminated roulette wheel revolved slowly above them. A
loudspeaker blared the chant of the croupiers from the tables inside.
Magnan and Retief moved through the crowd toward the wide-open doors.

Magnan plucked at Retief's sleeve. "Are you sure we ought to push right
in like this? Maybe we ought to wait a bit, look around...."

"When you're where you have no business being," Retief said, "always
stride along purposefully. If you loiter, people begin to get curious."

Inside, a mob packed the wide, low-ceilinged room, clustered around
gambling devices in the form of towers, tables and basins.

"What do we do now?" Magnan asked.

"We gamble. How much money do you have in your pockets?"

"Why ... a few credits." Magnan handed the money to Retief. "But what
about the man Zorn?"

"A purple cutaway is conspicuous enough, without ignoring the tables,"
Retief said. "We've got a hundred credits between us. We'll get to Zorn
in due course, I hope."

"Your pleasure, gents," a bullet-headed man said, eyeing the colorful
evening clothes of the diplomats. "You'll be wantin' to try your luck at
the Zoop tower, I'd guess. A game for real sporting gents."

"Why ... ah ..." Magnan said.

"What's a zoop tower?" Retief asked.

"Out-of-towners, hey?" The bullet-headed man shifted his dope-stick to
the other corner of his mouth. "Zoop is a great little game. Two teams
of p