372 | John W. Warner IV AU was quiet at 0300 hours. Psychic poker was not for the timid. Since no ones mind could be read except Gwafas, Bea had discreetly marked the cards the old fashioned way as her father had taught her years ago, not for cheating per se, that was beneath a Sunderland, but in order to tell if someone else was. Stew and Lew had been used to cheating psychically for centuries thought Bea, but they had not noticed the slight tell she had used by indenting the edge ever so slightly with a fingernail. Now they were playing for very high stakes. So they have gold fever, eh? Gwafa had long since dropped out. He dealt. All right madame, messieurs, the game is Follow the Queen, Aces high. The bullet pile had grown to three hundred seventy plus. Each bullet is now worth a Reichsbank-issue gold bar of 11.33 kilos. AU agreed? Bon. How much is your fuddy-duddy father worth again? asked Stew. We have ways of checking you know. Bankers we know weU. Bea leaned in and took a firm tone. Twelve million pounds or so at the Bank of England, his estate, and another ten in a Swiss account. Two for myself. Im good for it, my word upon it. Can you teU if Im lying? Lew looked into her eyes. Shes not lying, I can teU that at least, the rest is a murky mess. She definitely drinks from Lokis golden cup. A trickster, eh? Pick up the cards then, snarled Stew. 0430 hours. AUs quiet with fecund and feral Drummy back there. After many hands, Bea pushed her entire pile to the center. AU in, gents. I count 465 chips. Dont do it brother, said a frustrated Lew having folded. Youve an incurable passion for losing money. SUence, dog. Overly confident and fuming with machismo and boredom, Stew went aU in. And everything I owe you as weU. I caU. Bea deftly flipped a Queen, then lay down a winning wildcard hand. Thats how its done back at Cambridge. Stew fumed hotter. T dont buy it. My cards are perfect. Wheres the book?