For the first time that night Rafferty's composure left him. "C-Clubs,"
he stammered.
"Spades," Steel said sweetly, and put down the eight to Queen,
inclusive and consecutive.
It just didn't figure, Rafferty thought glumly. He wasn't as annoyed
over the wild improbability of two straight flushes the same hand as he
was because he had failed to guess Steel's facial reaction properly.
He'd been dead wrong.
He got wronger. Steel sat calmly without saying a word except when
necessary, and gobbled in the chips. It seemed to Rafferty that Steel
was reading his every move.
He was holding two pair, and played it big. Steel stayed right with
him, and when the payoff came:
"Three fours."
Three fours won. But Steel wouldn't have ridden that far on the trio
unless he knew pretty well that Rafferty didn't have much to show. He
seemed to _know_. And as the game progressed, he grew less and less
readable himself. It was a strange reversal for Rafferty, who was
accustomed to detect his opponent's idiosyncrasies within three deals
and to play them mercilessly from then on.
"Two kings," Rafferty said.
"Two aces."
Rafferty looked down at his pile of chips and counted them. Eight
hundred credits left. Eight hundred lousy credits.
It was just enough to book passage to Aldebaran. Rafferty slumped in
his chair.
The gambler in him urged him to go on, to try to win the thirty
thousand he needed and clear out. But another part of him told him
it was futile; Steel was getting sharper and sharper, and it was
inevitable he'd lose even the remaining eight hundred. He didn't want
that to happen.
He rose stiffly.
"Had enough?" Steel asked.
"I think so."
"I hope I haven't discouraged you. We can still play some more, if you
like?"
"What's the use?" Rafferty said hollowly. "I can't win. And at least
this way I'll be on Aldebaran tomorrow when Walsh and his gunmen come
looking for me."
"What's that?"
"Never mind." Rafferty turned away, scooping up his remaining chips.
He cashed them in and shambled out the door, still unable fully to
understand that for the first time in his life he had met his master
at the poker table.
* * * * *
After Rafferty was gone, the impeccable usher came over to Steel, who
was sitting patiently by the huge pile of chips.
"You clean him out?"
"Just about," Steel said. "He had a little left to book passage with."
"It looked bad for a while, there. He was better than a hundred
thousand ahead of you."
"It took me some time to detect his playing patterns," the house
man said. "He was very, very good. He's the best player I've ever
encountered."
"But he couldn't beat you, natch!"
"Hardly. Once I had penetrated his defenses, he was at my mercy." Steel
rose, smiling blandly. "I took 9200 credits from him. It's thirsty
work. How about a drink?"
"Sure thing," the impeccable man said. "I guess I can spare a drink for
the best house operator this casino has." He took an oilcan from his
jacket and inserted it at the back of Steel's neck. The robot grinned
happily at the lubrication; his soft photonic eyes beamed.
"I enjoy playing poker," Steel said. "But someday you must enlarge my
circuits so I can take part in planet-faro too. It looks like a very
interesting game."