"Keep track of him."
A blonde, pretty, perhaps even Earth-type human, smiled and wriggled closer to Cassal. He smiled back.
"Don't fall for it," warned Dimanche. "She's an undercover agent for the house."
Cassal looked her over carefully. "Not much under cover."
"But if she should discover—"
"Don't be stupid. She'll never guess you exist. There's a small lump behind my ear and a small round tube cleverly concealed elsewhere."
"All right," sighed Dimanche resignedly. "I suppose people will always be a mystery to me."
The dealer reappeared, followed by an unobtrusive man who carried a new stool. The dealer looked subtly different, though he was the same person. It took a close inspection to determine what the difference was. His clothing was new, unrumpled, unmarked by perspiration. During his brief absence, he had been furnished with new visual projector equipment, and it had been thoroughly checked out. The house intended to locate the source of the disturbance.
Mentally, Cassal counted his assets. He was solvent again, but in other ways his position was not so good.