"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 players buy into the pot. Each player takes a lever; the object is to make the ball drop from the top of the tower into your net. Okay?"
"What's the ante?"
"I got a hundred-credit pot workin' now, gents."
Retief nodded. "We'll try it."