Standing behind Stiffy, Oliver Meek watched in awe, scarcely breathing.
Here was life ... the kind of life one would never dream of back in the little cubby hole with its calculators and dusty books at Lunar Exports, Inc.
In the space of an hour, he had seen more money pass across the table than he had ever owned in all his life. Pots that climbed and pyramided, fortunes gambled on the flip of a single card.
But there was something else too ... something wrong about the dealing. He couldn't figure quite what it was, but he had read an article about how gamblers dealt the cards when they didn't aim to give the other fellow quite an even break. And there had been something about Luke's dealing ... something that he had read about in that article.
Across the table Luke grimaced.
"I'll have to call you," he announced. "I'm afraid you're too strong for me."
Stiffy slapped down his hand triumphantly.
"Match that, dang you!" he exulted. "The kind of cards I been waiting for all night."
He reached out a gnarled hand to rake in the coins but Luke stopped him with a gesture.
"Sorry," he said.