on Number One."

The croupier blinked only slightly. He bowed. "Yes, Your Majesty," he
said.

Malone was briefly thankful, in the midst of his black horror, that he
had called the management and told them that the Queen's plays were
backed by the United States Government. Her Majesty was going to get
unlimited credit--and a good deal of awed and somewhat puzzled respect.

Malone watched the spin begin with mixed feelings. There was five
thousand dollars riding on the little ball. But, after all, Her Majesty
was a telepath. Did that mean anything?

He hadn't decided by the time the wheel stopped, and by then he didn't
have to decide.

"Thirty-four," the croupier said tonelessly. "Red, Even and High."

He raked in the chips with a nonchalant air.

Malone felt as if he had swallowed his stomach. Boyd and Lady Barbara,
standing nearby, had absolutely no expressions on their faces. Malone
needed no telepath to tell him what they were thinking.

They were exactly the same as he was. They were incapable of thought.

But Her Majesty never batted an eyelash. "Come, Sir Kenneth," she said.
"Let's go on to the poker tables."

She swept out. Her entourage followed her, shambling a little, and
blank-eyed. Malone was still thinking about the five thousand dollars.
Oh, well, Burris had said to give the lady anything she wanted. _But!_
he thought. _Did she have to play for royal stakes?_

"I am, after all, a Queen," she whispered back to him.

Malone thought about the National Debt. He wondered if a million more or
less would make any real difference. There would be questions asked in
committees about it. He tried to imagine himself explaining the evening
to a group of congressmen. "Well, you see, gentlemen, there was this
roulette wheel--"

He gave it up.

Then he wondered how much hotter the water was going to get, and he
stopped thinking altogether in self-defense.

* * * * *

In the next room, there were scattered tables. At one, a poker game was
in full swing. Only five were playing; one, by his white-tie-and-tails
uniform, was easily recognizable as a house dealer. The other four were
all men, one of them in full cowboy regalia. The Tudors descended upon
them with great suddenness, and the house dealer looked up and almost
lost his cigarette.

"We haven't any money, Your Majesty," Malone whispered.

She smiled up at him sweetly, and then drew him aside. "If you were a
telepath