Boyd said nothing at all, but marched off. Malone noticed, however, that his step was neither as springy nor as confident as it had been before. For himself, Malone was sure that he could not walk at all.
Maybe, he thought hopefully, the floor would open up and swallow them all. He tried to imagine explaining the loss of $20,000 to Burris and some congressmen, and after that he watched the floor narrowly, hoping for the smallest hint of a crack in the palazzo marble.
"May I raise the whole five thousand?" the Queen said.
"It's okay with me," the dealer said. "How about the rest of you?"
The four grunts he got expressed a suppressed eagerness. The Queen took the new chips Boyd had brought her and shoved them into the center of the table with a fine, careless gesture of her hand. She smiled gaily at everybody. "Seeing me?" she said.
Everybody was.
"Well, you see, it was this way," Malone muttered to himself, rehearsing. He half-thought that one of the others would raise again, but no one did. After all, each of them must be convinced that he held a great hand, and though raising had gone on throughout the hand, each must now be afraid of going the least little bit too far and scaring the others out.
"Mr. Congressman," Malone muttered. "There's this game called poker.
You play it with cards and money. Chiefly money."
That wasn't any good.
"You've been called," the dealer said to the first man, who'd opened the hand a year or so before.