Delay in Transit Read Online Free PDF

he had drawn,
determinedly and deliberately he sat down. The chair broke. The dealer
grinned weakly as a waiter brought him another stool.
     
     
"They still think it may be a defective circuit," whispered
Dimanche.
     
     
The dealer sat down and sprang up from the new chair in one motion. He
gazed bitterly at the players and paid them.
     
     
"He had a blank hand," explained Dimanche. "He made contact with the
broadcasting circuit long enough to erase, but not long enough to put
anything in its place."
     
     
The dealer adjusted his coat. "I have a nervous disability," he
declared thickly. "If you'll pardon me for a few minutes while I take
a treatment--"
     
     
"Probably going to consult with the manager," observed Cassal.
     
     
"He is the manager. He's talking with the owner."
     
     
"Keep track of him."
     
     
     
     
A blonde, pretty, perhaps even Earth-type human, smiled and wriggled
closer to Cassal. He smiled back.
     
     
"Don't fall for it," warned Dimanche. "She's an undercover agent for
the house."
     
     
Cassal looked her over carefully. "Not much under cover."
     
     
"But if she should discover--"
     
     
"Don't be stupid. She'll never guess you exist. There's a small lump
behind my ear and a small round tube cleverly concealed elsewhere."
     
     
"All right," sighed Dimanche resignedly. "I suppose people will always
be a mystery to me."
     
     
The dealer reappeared, followed by an unobtrusive man who carried a
new stool. The dealer looked subtly different, though he was the same
person. It took a close inspection to determine what the difference
was. His clothing was new, unrumpled, unmarked by perspiration. During his
brief absence, he had been furnished with new visual projector equipment,
and it had been thoroughly checked out. The house intended to locate
the source of the disturbance.
     
     
Mentally, Cassal counted his assets. He was solvent again, but in other
ways his position was not so good.
     
     
"Maybe," he suggested, "we should leave. With no further interference from
us, they might believe defective equipment is the cause of their losses."
     
     
"Maybe," replied Dimanche, "you think the crowd around us is composed
solely of patrons?"
     
     
"I see," said Cassal soberly.
     
     
He stretched his legs. The crowd pressed closer, uncommonly aggressive
and ill-tempered for mere spectators. He decided against leaving.
     
     
"Let's resume play." The dealer-manager smiled blandly at each player. He
didn't suspect any one person -- yet.
     
     
"He might be using an honest deck," said Cassal hopefully.
     
     
"They don't have that kind," answered Dimanche. He added absently:
"During his conference with the owner, he was given authority to handle
the situation in any way he sees fit."
     
     
Bad, but not too bad. At least Cassal was opposing someone who had
authority to let him keep his winnings, *if he could be convinced*.
     
     
The dealer deliberately sat down on the stool. Testing. He could endure
the charge that trickled through him. The bland smile spread into a
triumphant one.
     
     
"While he was gone, he took a sedative," analyzed Dimanche. "He also
had the strength of the broadcasting circuit reduced. He thinks that
will do it."
     
     
"Sedatives wear off," said Cassal. "By the time he knows it's me, see
that it has worn off. Mess him up."
     
     
     
     
The game went on. The situation was too much for the others. They played
poorly and bet atrociously, on purpose. One by one they lost and dropped
out. They wanted badly to win, but they wanted to live even more.
     
     
The joint was jumping, and so was the dealer again. Sweat rolled down
his face and there were tears in his eyes. So much liquid began to
erode his fixed smile. He kept replenishing it from some inner source
of determination.
     
     
Cassal looked up. The crowd had drawn back, or had been forced back by
hirelings who mingled with them. He was alone with the dealer at the
table. Money was piled high around