"You'd better be able to prove that it does work, Thursby," I said, trying to put irritation into my voice.
This time, he did grin at me. "Oh, I think we can prove that, all right." He turned back to the technician. "Spin it once more, Sam, and show the defense counsel, here, how it works."
The technician did as he was told. "Thirteen, Black, Odd, and Low," he chanted, grinning.
"Let's try another number," Thursby said. He turned the dial to One. And this time, when he pointed it, his fingers were touching the plates in the right places.
"Just a minute," I said. "Let me spin that thing."
"Be my guest, counselor," said Thursby.
I spun the wheel and scooted the ball along the rim. It dropped into a slot. One, Red, Odd, and Low. I looked as disappointed and apprehensive as I could.
"Co-incidence," I said. "Nothing more. You haven't proved anything."
Thursby's grin widened. "Of course I haven't," he said with a soothing, patronizing tone. "But I don't have to prove anything until I get to court."
Then he looked at the technicians and jerked his head toward the door. "Let's go, boys. Maybe the counselor wants to look over the table for himself. Maybe he thinks we've got it rigged."