...Or Your Money Back | Page 5

be important, so I--"
"Sure, Benny. Come by my office this afternoon. And thanks again."
I hung up and started moving.

Within ten minutes, I was pulling up and parking across the street from
the Golden Casino. I locked the car and dodged traffic to get across the
street, as though I'd never heard of laws against jaywalking.
There were still plenty of people in the Casino. The bar was full, and
the dice and card games were going full blast. The slot machines were
jingling out their infernal din while fools fed coins into their insatiable
innards.
But the roulette room was closed, and a couple of be-Stetsoned
deputies were standing guard over the entrance. I headed straight for
them.
Both of them stood pat, blocking my way, so I stopped a few feet in
front of them.
"Hello, counselor," said one. "Sorry, the roulette room's closed."
I knew the man slightly. "Let me in, Jim," I said. "I want to see
Thursby."
The men exchanged glances. Obviously, the D.A. had given them
orders.
"Can't do it, counselor," said Jim. "We're not to let anyone in."
"Tell Thursby I'm out here and that I want to see him."
He shrugged, opened the door, stuck his head inside, and called to
District Attorney Thursby to tell him that I was outside. I could hear
Thursby's muffled "Damn!" from within. But when he showed up at the
door, his face was all smiles.
"What's the trouble?" he asked pleasantly.
I smiled back, giving him my best. "No trouble at all, Thursby. I just
wanted to watch the experiment."
"Experiment?" He looked honestly surprised, which was a fine piece of

acting. "We're just checking to see if the table's wired, that's all. If it is,
your client may be in the clear; maybe we can hang it on the croupier."
"And get a conspiracy charge on my client, too, eh? Well, if you don't
mind, I'd like to watch that table check myself. You know how it is."
Thursby hesitated, then he scowled. "Oh, all right. Come on in. But
stay out of the way."
I grinned. "Sure. All I want to do is protect my client's interests."
Thursby just grunted and opened the door wider to let me in. He was a
shrewd lawyer, a good D.A., and basically honest, even if he did have a
tendency to bend under pressure from higher up.
* * * * *
They were checking the table, all right. They had three specialists going
over it with everything from fine tooth combs to Geiger counters. They
found nothing. No magnets, no wires, no mechanical gimmicks.
Nothing.
It took them an hour to take that table apart, check it, and put it back
together again. When it was all over, Thursby glanced at me, then said:
"O.K., boys; that does it. Let's go."
The men looked at him oddly, and I knew why.
"Aren't you going to test my client's gadget?" I asked innocently.
Thursby looked angrily baffled for a moment, then he clamped his lips
grimly. "As long as we're here, I guess we might as well."
I knew perfectly well it was what he had intended to do all along.
"One of you guys spin that wheel," he said to the technicians. One of
them gave the wheel a spin and dropped the ball. It clattered on its
merry way and dropped into a slot. Forty-two.

Thursby took the gadget out of his pocket. It was still set at Thirteen.
The men who had surrounded Howley on the night of his arrest had
been keeping their eyes open, and they had seen how Howley had
handled the thing. Well--almost how. Thursby had the lens opening
pointed at the wheel, but his thumb and fingers weren't touching the
silver plates properly.
"Spin it again," he said.
Everyone's eyes were on the ball as it whirled, so I had time to get my
own copy of Howley's gadget out and set it at Thirteen. I hoped the
thing would work for me. I concentrated on Thirteen, making sure my
thumb and fingers were placed right.
Evidently they were. The ball fell into Thirteen, Black, Odd, and Low.
A huge grin spread over Thursby's face, but he was man enough not to
turn and grin at me. "Try it again," he said.
Thirteen, Black, Odd, and Low.
"I wonder how the thing works?" said Thursby, looking at the gadget in
a sort of pleased awe.
"You'd better be able to prove that it does work, Thursby," I said, trying
to put irritation into my voice.
This time, he did grin at me. "Oh, I think we can prove that, all right."
He turned back to the technician. "Spin it once more, Sam, and show
the defense counsel, here, how