r for waste
water. Plumbing, and such luxuries, apparently hadn't existed for
years--except for the small cistern and worn water-recovery plant in the
basement, beside the tired-looking weeds in the hydroponic tanks that
tried unsuccessfully to keep the air breathable.

"What about a lock on the door?" Gordon asked.

"What good would it do you? Got a different way here, we have. One
credit a week, and you get Mother Corey's word nobody busts in. And it
sticks, cobber--one way or the other."

Gordon paid, and tossed his pouch on the filthy bed. With a little work,
the place could be cleaned enough.

He pulled the cards out of his pouch, trying to be casual. Mother Corey
stood staring at the pack while Bruce Gordon changed out of his airsuit,
gagging faintly as the full effluvium of the place hit him. "Where does
a man eat around here?"

Mother Corey pried his eyes off the cards and ran a thick tongue over
heavy lips. "Eh? Oh. Eat. There's a place about ten blocks back. Cobber,
stop teasing me! With elections coming up, and the boys loaded with vote
money back in town--with a deck of cheaters like that--you want to
_eat_?"

He picked the deck up fondly, while a faraway look came into his clouded
eyes. "Same ones--same identical ones I wore out nigh twenty years ago.
Smuggled two decks up here. Set to clean up--and I did, for a while." He
shook his head sadly, and handed the deck back to Gordon. "Come on down.
For the sight of these, I'll give you the lay for your pitch. And when
your luck's made or broken, remember Mother Corey was your friend first,
and your old Mother can get longer use from them than you can."

He waddled off, telling of his plans to take Mars for a cleaning, once
long ago. Gordon followed him, staring at the surrounding filth.

His thoughts were churning so busily that he didn't see the blonde girl
until she had forced her way past them on the stairs. Then he turned
back, but she had vanished into one of the rooms.

Chapter II

HONEST IZZY

A lot could be done in ten days, when a man knew what he was after. It
was exactly ten days later. Bruce Gordon stood in the motley crowd
inside the barnlike room where Fats ran a bar along one wall, and filled
the rest of the space with assorted tables--all worn. Gordon was
sweating slightly as he stood at the roulette table, where both zero and
double-zero were reserved for the house.

The croupier was a little wizened man wanted on Earth.