No one wanted to play. Usually Rafferty could count on some fool millionaire anxious to try to best the great Rafferty at five-card stud. Not today, though. There were no takers.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Rafferty; I couldn't seem to promote a game. But the planet-faro—"
"Poker," Rafferty said.
"Would you object to playing a two-handed game with one of our employees?" the usher asked suddenly. "Naturally he'll be staked by the house, and I think you'll find him fit competition for you."
Rafferty chewed at his lip. He needed the money—and if the house operator was staked by the casino, it might be possible to cart off quite a load.
"Okay," he grunted. "Bring on your shill."
The usher led him to a small, highly-polished card table in the back, and signalled to a man waiting to one side.
"Mr. Steel, this is Mr. Rafferty."
"Hello," Rafferty said.