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The man in the dinner jacket blocked their way.

"May I help you?" he asked.

"We want to go in there," Penny said.

"That's a private party, I'm afraid, madam."

"Oh, come on. I've been in there before."

"Are you a club member?"

"I'm not, but if there's a club, my father probably is."

"And your name, madam?"

"My maiden name was Detweiler," Penny said.

That rang a bell, Matt thought, if widening eyes and raised eyebrows are any criteria.

"First name?"

"Richard. H. Richard."

"Just a moment, please, madam," the man in the dinner jacket said. He pulled open a cabinet door in the wall Matt hadn't noticed-it was covered with wallpaper-and spoke softly into a telephone. After a moment, he hung up and pushed the door closed.

"Sorry for the delay, Miss Detweiler," he said as he pulled the door open. "Good luck!"

"Mrs. Payne,"Penny corrected him, smiling

sweetly at Matt.

There were very few people in the room, although croupiers stood waiting for customers behind every table.

Do you call the guys who run the craps games and the blackjack " croupiers" too? Matt wondered. Or does that term apply only to roulette? If not, what do you call the guy who runs the craps table? The crapier?

"Roulette all right with you, Penny?"

"It's fine with me," she replied. "But I'm surprised, I thought you would be a craps shooter."

Matt took out his wallet. He had one hundred-dollar bill and four fifties and some smaller bills.

The hundred must be left over from the Flamingo in Las Vegas. I never take hundreds from the bank. You can never get anyone to change one.

He put the hundred-dollar bill on the green baize beside the roulette wheel.

"Nickels," he said.

The croupier slid a small stack of chips to him.

He placed two of them on the board, both on One to Twelve. The croupier spun the wheel, twenty-three came up, and he picked up Matt's chips.

Matt made the same bet again.

"There's a marvelous story," Penny said. "A fellow brought a girl here, or to a place like this, and gave her chips, and she said, 'I don't know what to bet,' so he said, 'Bet your age,' so she put fifty dollars on twenty-three. Twenty-nine came up. The girl said, 'Oh,shit!

"

The croupier laughed softly. Matt didn't understand. Penny saw this: "The moral of the story, Matthew darling, is 'Truth pays off.'"