There was a flurry of sound and movement around the playing tables. Willie sprang up.
"Lysmov's agreed to a draw!" he informed them a moment later. "The gangster!"
"Gangster because he puts you in equal first place with Votbinnik, both of you ahead of the Machine?" Great inquired gently.
"Ahh, he could have beat Binny, giving me sole first. A Russian gangster!"
Doc shook a finger. "Lysmov could also have lost to Votbinnik, Willie, putting you in second place."
"Don't think evil thoughts. So long, pals."
As Angler clattered down the stairs, Simon Great signed the waiter for more coffee, lit a fresh cigarette, took a deep drag and leaned back.
"You know," he said "it's a great relief not to have to impersonate the hyperconfident programmer for awhile. Being a psychologist has spoiled me for that sort of thing. I'm not as good as I once was at beating people over the head with my ego."
"You didn't do too badly," Doc said.