Aces and Knaves

out the chips I needed to reach $4,000. If the dealer was surprised at my bet he didn't show it. He dealt two cards each to the other two players, to me and to himself. His up-card was a six.
    This was the best of all possible worlds. I cautiously looked at my cards. A king and a jack. I mentally counted my money. The other players didn't take any hits and neither did I. The dealer flipped over his down card. It was a five. He dealt himself a jack. Twenty-one. I had lost.
    ***
    "Are you ready for your comeback?" Arrow asked.
    She had made me stop playing for a full half-hour to regain my composure. She had taken the loss much more lightly than I had, but of course she had a lot less to lose. I still had about $2,000, double my original stake, so I could have been in worse shape.
    "What do you think about me betting the whole thing at the next good opportunity?" I asked.
    "That would really be win or lose. No, I can't let you do that. Based on the rules of capital preservation, which you, yourself, taught me, I think your maximum bet for the moment should be $100, until you build up your capital again. Don't worry; I'll stick with you as long as it takes."
    I agreed to this strategy, went back to the table and immediately started losing. I knew there was no such thing as hot or cold, but if there had been I was an iceberg. Soon I had less than my original thousand. We took another break.
    "There's nothing wrong with your strategy," Arrow said. "You're playing the same game you were before. All I can think of is one of your own quotes: If you play games of chance long enough you'll see every combination that is statistically possible."
    "It's very comforting that my own wisdom explains why I'm dying," I said. "Well, we might as well get it over with."
    It didn't take long. I lost my last dollar as someone sang about that old Bilbao moon. Bilbao, Spain. I wished I were there instead of here. Arrow patted me on the back like a mother patting a child. She didn't say anything. There was nothing to say.
    The dealer must have pushed a button or something because James immediately appeared out of nowhere. He shook my hand and said, "I'm told you played very well. The fates just weren't with you tonight. Let's the three of us sit down for a minute. I want to ask you a question."
    I was too stunned to do anything but obey. We talked about the gods of chance until our drinks appeared, including a margarita for Arrow who had decided it was time to fall off the wagon.
    "I have a question for you," I told James. "What is it that you're always drinking? If I'm going to work for you I have to know things like that."
    "Of course you do," he said, smiling. "It's water."
    "Perrier, or some other designer brand?"
    James shook his head. "I reserve the Perrier for my guests. I drink tap water. I learned in school that water is water, H2O, and there's not much you can do to it, and since the city of San Francisco assures me that the tap water has no dangerous levels of carcinogens in it, why not? I drank it in Scotland and I can drink it here."
    If I was going to go to work for James I needed to make arrangements with him. I was about to mention that when he started talking again.
    "What I want to know," he said, "is what question you wanted to ask me that was so important that you were willing to risk having to work for me for a year to ask it. Although working for me is not going to be as bad as you seem to think."
    "It doesn't matter now," I said. I was formulating a vague plan about infiltrating James' organization from the inside and solving the murder.
    "Ask me the question, Karl. Who knows, I might even answer it."
    Why not? What could he do, fire me? Or have me killed sooner than he would, otherwise? Actually, asking the question with Arrow there was a relatively safe thing to do. I cleared my throat and said, "What I want to know is...the question is, did you have anything at all to do with the murder of Ned?"
    I watched James' face closely. He looked flabbergasted at first. Then, slowly, a smile spread across his face and he started to chuckle. Finally, he turned sober and said, "I'm glad we got this out in the open. What kind of an animal do you think I am? Okay, it's true that I prey on people, on their dreams and hopes and fears. On their abiding faith that they can beat the odds. But I don't kill them. That wouldn't be sporting."
    He sounded so sincere that he had me convinced, at least for the moment.
    Arrow said, "Karl isn't