"Why—until he weakens, and we get things fixed."
"And if he beats your game?"
"He'll hate himself first, and then we'll have to reorganize our plans."
"Then I guess I'll get busy on the other plans."
"I shall be beaten?"
Gordon glanced away towards the window. His eyes had become reflective.
"It's the only thing I can see," he said slowly. "He'll finish by insulting you. I know his kind. He'll insult you, sure. And I—well, I shall just as surely pretty near kill him. And then we'll need other—plans."