There was my ticket back to wealth.
It could be a long, slow pull; I could wind up leaving Mars as I had left Earth. Or I could use that ticket to win it all back now. It was a desperate chance, a chance that depended on the vagaries of Dori's emotions. It was my only chance.
"Odaan," I said calmly, "you have no wife, and I see you like mine. I'll make a last bet with you. My wife against all you own—what you've won from me and your own possessions as well."
Odaan stared at me a long moment, then he turned slowly and saw Dori standing there. In that instant, I was convinced he had not been cheating.
"All right," he said, and he sounded as though he were strangling. "Deal the cards."
He drew his heat-gun and laid it on the table before him, as if warning me. Maybe he didn't know, but he suspected. I could not take a chance on cheating now; and, the way the cards had been running, I couldn't take a chance on them without cheating.
"Not cards," I said. "I'll roll the dice with you, Odaan."
He hesitated, then said:
"All right. I'll go and get the dice."
He left the room and brought them in: a pair of white dice with black spots, still sealed in their plastic box bearing the stamp of Luna-Mars Exports. That was an unshakable guarantee that they were honest dice.