He hadn't been bluffing.
And Rafferty was out nine thousand credits.
He kept his composure, but inwardly he was disturbed. By all rights Steel had to be bluffing—but there they were, four queens.
The game progressed. A few curious onlookers had gathered. By playing cautiously, Rafferty started piling up chips again. His winnings mounted to a hundred thousand, hundred fifty. He had Steel figured now for sure.
But it wasn't as sure as all that.
Rafferty staked five thousand on a straight flush. Steel saw him and added five hundred on top of it.
"I'll go with you," Rafferty said. "Here's another thousand." Straight flush, Queen high. Only three hands could possibly beat him—and one of them was a royal flush. It didn't seem likely. Besides, the lower corner of Steel's mouth was drawn back, as it usually was when he had a fairly good hand and was playing it big.
The chips flew out madly. Rafferty watched the pile grow; neither man would let the cat die. Ten, twelve thousand credits now. Fifteen. In thirty years of poker, Rafferty had never had fifteen thousand credits riding on one hand. But he was sure he had it.
"What are you holding?" Steel asked finally.