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diff --git a/23534.txt b/23534.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..9761eae --- /dev/null +++ b/23534.txt @@ -0,0 +1,1515 @@ +Project Gutenberg's ...Or Your Money Back, by Gordon Randall Garrett + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: ...Or Your Money Back + +Author: Gordon Randall Garrett + +Release Date: November 18, 2007 [EBook #23534] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ...OR YOUR MONEY BACK *** + + + + +Produced by Greg Weeks, Bruce Albrecht, Mary Meehan and +the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at +http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + + + + + ... OR YOUR MONEY BACK + + BY DAVID GORDON + + Illustrated by Summers + +[Transcriber note: This etext was produced from Astounding Science +Fiction, September 1959. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence +that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.] + +[Illustration: There are lots of things that are considered perfectly +acceptable ... provided they don't work. And of course everyone knows +they really don't, which is why they're acceptable.... ] + + +There are times when I don't know my own strength. Or, at least, the +strength of my advice. And the case of Jason Howley was certainly an +instance of one of those times. + +When he came to my office with his gadget, I heard him out, trying to +appear both interested and co-operative--which is good business. But I +am forced to admit that neither Howley nor his gadget were very +impressive. He was a lean, slope-shouldered individual, five-feet-eight +or nine--which was shorter than he looked--with straight brown hair +combed straight back and blue eyes which were shielded with steel-rimmed +glasses. The thick, double-concave lenses indicated a degree of myopia +that must have bordered on total blindness without glasses, and acute +tunnel vision, even with them. + +He had a crisp, incisive manner that indicated he was either a man who +knew what he was doing or a man who was trying to impress me with a +ready-made story. I listened to him and looked at his gadget without +giving any more indication than necessary of what I really thought. + +When he was through, I said: "You understand, Mr. Howley that I'm not a +patent lawyer; I specialize in criminal law. Now, I can recommend--" + +But he cut me off. "I understand that, counselor," he said sharply. +"Believe me, I have no illusion whatever that this thing is patentable +under the present patent system. Even if it were, this gadget is +designed to do something that may or may not be illegal, which would +make it hazardous to attempt to patent it, I should think. You don't +patent new devices for blowing safes or new drugs for doping horses, do +you?" + +"Probably not," I said dryly, "although, as I say, I'm not qualified to +give an opinion on patent law. You say that gadget is designed to cause +minute, but significant, changes in the velocities of small, moving +objects. Just how does that make it illegal?" + +He frowned a little. "Well, possibly it wouldn't, except here in Nevada. +Specifically, it is designed to influence roulette and dice games." + +I looked at the gadget with a little more interest this time. There was +nothing new in the idea of inventing a gadget to cheat the red-and-black +wheels, of course; the local cops turn up a dozen a day here in the +city. Most of them either don't work at all or else they're too obvious, +so the users get nabbed before they have a chance to use them. + +The only ones that really work have to be installed in the tables +themselves, which means they're used to milk the suckers, not rob the +management. And anyone in the State of Nevada who buys a license to +operate and then uses crooked wheels is (a) stupid, and (b) out of +business within a week. Howley was right. Only in a place where gambling +is legalized is it illegal--and unprofitable--to rig a game. + +The gadget itself didn't look too complicated from the outside. It was a +black plastic box about an inch and a half square and maybe three and a +half long. On one end was a lensed opening, half an inch in diameter, +and on two sides there were flat, silver-colored plates. On the top of +it, there was a dial which was, say, an inch in diameter, and it was +marked off just exactly like a roulette wheel. + +"How does it work?" I asked. + +He picked it up in his hand, holding it as though it were a flashlight, +with the lens pointed away from him. + +"You aim the lens at the wheel," he explained, "making sure that your +thumb is touching the silver plate on one side, and your fingers +touching the plate on the other side. Then you set this dial for +whatever number you want to come up and concentrate on it while the ball +is spinning. For dice, of course, you only need to use the first six or +twelve numbers on the dial, depending on the game." + + * * * * * + +I looked at him for a long moment, trying to figure his angle. He looked +back steadily, his eyes looking like small beads peering through the +bottoms of a couple of shot glasses. + +"You look skeptical, counselor," he said at last. + +"I am. A man who hasn't got the ability to be healthily skeptical has no +right to practice law--especially criminal law. On the other hand, no +lawyer has any right to judge anything one way or the other without +evidence. + +"But that's neither here nor there at the moment. What I'm interested in +is, what do you want me to do? People rarely come to a criminal lawyer +unless they're in a jam. What sort of jam are you in at the moment?" + +"None," said Howley. "But I will be very soon. I hope." + +Well, I've heard odder statements than that from my clients. I let it +ride for the moment and looked down at the notes I'd taken while he'd +told me his story. + +"You're a native of New York City?" I asked. + +"That's right. That's what I said." + +"And you came out here for what? To use that thing on our Nevada +tables?" + +"That's right, counselor." + +"Can't you find any games to cheat on back home?" + +"Oh, certainly. Plenty of them. But they aren't legal. I wouldn't care +to get mixed up in anything illegal. Besides, it wouldn't suit my +purpose." + +That stopped me for a moment. "You don't consider cheating illegal? It +certainly is in Nevada. In New York, if you were caught at it, you'd +have the big gambling interests on your neck; here, you'll have both +them _and_ the police after you. _And_ the district attorney's office." + +He smiled. "Yes, I know. That's what I'm expecting. That's why I need a +good lawyer to defend me. I understand you're the top man in this city." + +"Mr. Howley," I said carefully, "as a member of the Bar Association and +a practicing attorney in the State of Nevada, I am an Officer of the +Court. If you had been caught cheating and had come to me, I'd be able +to help you. But I can't enter into a conspiracy with you to defraud +legitimate businessmen, which is exactly what this would be." + +He blinked at me through those shot-glass spectacles. "Counselor, would +you refuse to defend a man if you thought he was guilty?" + +I shook my head. "No. Legally, a man is not guilty until proven so by a +court of law. He has a right to trial by jury. For me to refuse to give +a man the defense he is legally entitled to, just because I happened to +think he was guilty, would be trial by attorney. I'll do the best I can +for any client; I'll work for his interests, no matter what my private +opinion may be." + +He looked impressed, so I guess there must have been a note of +conviction in my voice. There should have been, because it was exactly +what I've always believed and practiced. + +"That's good, counselor," said Howley. "If I can convince you that I +have no criminal intent, that I have no intention of defrauding anyone +or conspiring with you to do anything illegal, will you help me?" + +I didn't have to think that one over. I simply said, "Yes." After all, +it was still up to me to decide whether he convinced me or not. If he +didn't, I could still refuse the case on those grounds. + +"That's fair enough, counselor," he said. Then he started talking. + + * * * * * + +Instead of telling you what Jason Howley _said_ he was going to do, I'll +tell you what he _did_ do. They are substantially the same, anyway, and +the old bromide about actions speaking louder than words certainly +applied in this case. + +Mind you, I didn't see or hear any of this, but there were plenty of +witnesses to testify as to what went on. Their statements are a matter +of court record, and Jason Howley's story is substantiated in every +respect. + +He left my office smiling. He'd convinced me that the case was not only +going to be worthwhile, but fun. I took it, plus a fat retainer. + +Howley went up to his hotel room, changed into his expensive evening +clothes, and headed out to do the town. I'd suggested several places, +but he wanted the biggest and best--the Golden Casino, a big, plush, +expensive place that was just inside the city limits. In his pockets, he +was carrying less than two hundred dollars in cash. + +Now, nobody with that kind of chicken feed can expect to last long at +the Golden Casino unless they stick to the two-bit one-armed bandits. +But putting money on a roulette table is in a higher bracket by far than +feeding a slot machine, even if you get a steady run of lemons. + +Howley didn't waste any time. He headed for the roulette table right +away. He watched the play for about three spins of the wheel, then he +took out his gadget--in plain sight of anyone who cared to watch--and +set the dial for thirteen. Then he held it in his hand with thumb and +finger touching the plates and put his hand in his jacket pocket, with +the lens aimed at the wheel. He stepped up to the table, bought a +hundred dollars worth of chips, and put fifty on Number Thirteen. + +"No more bets," said the croupier. He spun the wheel and dropped the +ball. + +"Thirteen, Black, Odd, and Low," he chanted after a minute. With a +practiced hand, he raked in the losers and pushed out Howley's winnings. +There was sixteen hundred dollars sitting on thirteen now. Howley didn't +touch it. + +The wheel went around and the little ball clattered around the rim and +finally fell into a slot. + +"Thirteen, Black, Odd, and Low," said the croupier. This time, he didn't +look as nonchalant. He peered curiously at Howley as he pushed out the +chips to make a grand total of fifty-one thousand two hundred dollars. +The same number doesn't come up twice in succession very often, and it +is very rare indeed that the same person is covering it both times with +a riding bet. + +"Two thousand limit, sir," the croupier said, when it looked as though +Howley was going to let the fifty-one grand just sit there. + +Howley nodded apologetically and pulled off everything but two thousand +dollars worth of chips. + +The third time around, the croupier had his eyes directly on Howley as +he repeated the chant: "Thirteen, Black, Odd, and Low." Everybody else +at the table was watching Howley, too. The odds against Howley--or +anyone else, for that matter--hitting the same number three times in a +row are just under forty thousand to one. + +Howley didn't want to overdo it. He left two thousand on thirteen, raked +in the rest, and twisted the dial on his gadget over a notch. + +Everyone at the table gasped as the little ball dropped. + +"That was a near miss," whispered a woman standing nearby. + +The croupier said: "Fourteen, Red, Even, and Low." And he raked in +Howley's two thousand dollars with a satisfied smile. He had seen runs +of luck before. + +Howley deliberately lost two more spins the same way. Nobody who was +actually cheating would call too much attention to himself, and Howley +wanted it to look as though he were trying to cover up the fact that he +had a sure thing. + +He took the gadget out of his pocket and deliberately set it to the +green square marked 00. Then he put it back in his pocket and put two +thousand dollars on the Double Zero. + + * * * * * + +There was more than suspicion in the croupier's eyes when he raked in +all the bets on the table except Howley's. It definitely didn't look +good to him. A man who had started out with a fifty-dollar bet had +managed to run it up to one hundred seventy-four thousand two hundred +dollars in six plays. + +Howley looked as innocent as possible under the circumstances, and +carefully dropped the dial on his gadget back a few notches. Then he bet +another two thousand on High, an even money bet. + +Naturally, he won. + +He twisted the dial back a few more notches and won again on High. + +Then he left it where it was and won by betting on Red. + +By this time, of course, things were happening. The croupier had long +since pressed the alarm button, and five men had carefully surrounded +Howley. They looked like customers, but they were harder-looking than +the average, and they were watching Howley, not the wheel. Farther back +from the crowd, three of the special deputies from the sheriff's office +were trying to look inconspicuous in their gray uniforms and white +Stetsons and pearl-handled revolvers in black holsters. You can imagine +how inconspicuous they looked. + +Howley decided to do it up brown. He reset his gadget as surreptitiously +as possible under the circumstances, and put his money on thirteen +again. + +"Thirteen, Black, Odd, and Low," said the croupier in a hollow voice. + +The five men in evening dress and the three deputies moved in closer. + +Howley nonchalantly scraped in his winnings, leaving the two thousand on +the thirteen spot. + +There was a combination of hostility and admiration in every eye around +the table when the croupier said, "Thirteen, Black, Odd, and Low" for +the fifth time in the space of minutes. And everyone of those eyes was +turned on Jason Howley. + +The croupier smiled his professional smile. "I'm sorry, ladies and +gentlemen; we'll have to discontinue play for a while. The gentleman has +broken the bank at this table." He turned the smile on Howley. +"Congratulations, sir." + +Howley smiled back and began stacking up over three hundred thousand +dollars worth of plastic disks. It made quite a pile. + +One of the deputies stepped up politely. "I'm an officer, sir," he said. +"May I help you carry that to the cashier's office?" + +Howley looked at the gold star and nodded. "Certainly. Thanks." + +[Illustration] + +The other two deputies stepped up, too, and the three of them walked +Howley toward the cashier's office. Behind them came the five men in +dinner jackets. + +"You'll have to step into the office to cash that much, sir," said one +of the deputies as he opened the door. Howley walked in as though he +hadn't a care in the world. He put his chips on the desk, and the +deputies followed suit, while one of the dinner-jacketed men closed the +door. + +Then one of the deputies said: "I believe this gentleman is carrying a +gun." + +He had his own revolver out and had it pointed at Howley's middle. +"Carrying a concealed weapon is illegal in this city," he went on. "I'm +afraid we'll have to search you." + +Howley didn't object. He put his hands up high and stood there while his +pockets were frisked. + +"Well, well," said the deputy coolly. "What on Earth is this?" + +It was Howley's gadget, and the dial still pointed to Thirteen--Black, +Odd, and Low. + + * * * * * + +The next morning, I went down to the jail in response to a phone call +from Howley. The special deputies had turned him over to the city police +and he was being held "under suspicion of fraud." I knew we could beat +that down to an "attempt to defraud," but the object was to get Howley +off scott-free. After Howley told me the whole story, I got busy pushing +the case through. As long as he was simply being held on suspicion, I +couldn't get him out on bail, so I wanted to force the district attorney +or the police to prefer charges. + +Meanwhile, I made sure that Howley's gadget had been impounded as +evidence. I didn't want anyone fiddling with it before the case went to +court--except, of course, the D. A. and his men. There wasn't much I +could do to keep it out of _their_ hands. + +After throwing as much weight around as I could, including filing a +petition for a writ of habeas corpus with Judge Grannis, I went over to +Howley's hotel with a signed power of attorney that Howley had given me, +and I got a small envelope out of the hotel safe. It contained a baggage +check. + +I went over to the bus depot, turned over the check to the baggage +department, and went back to my office with a small suitcase. I locked +myself in and opened the case. Sure enough, it contained three dozen of +the little gadgets. + +Then I sat down to wait. By noon, Judge Grannis had issued the writ of +habeas corpus, and, rather than release Jason Howley, the police had +booked him, and District Attorney Thursby was getting the case ready for +the grand jury. There was over a quarter of a million dollars at stake, +and the men behind the Golden Casino were bringing pressure to bear. If +Howley wasn't convicted, they'd have to give him his money--and that was +the last thing they wanted to do. A quarter of a million bucks isn't +small potatoes, even to a gambling syndicate. + +It wasn't until early on the morning of the third day after Howley's +arrest that I got a tip-off from one of my part-time spies. I scooped up +the phone when it rang and identified myself. + +"Counselor? Look, this is Benny." I recognized the voice and name. Benny +was one of the cabbies that I'd done favors for in the past. + +"What's the trouble, Benny?" + +"Oh, no trouble. I just got a little tip you might be interested in." + +"Fire away." + +"Well, the D.A. and some of his boys went into the Golden Casino about +ten minutes ago, and now they're closin' up the place. Just for a little +while, I understand. Hour, maybe. They're chasin' everyone out of the +roulette room." + +"Thanks, Benny," I said, "thanks a lot." + +"Well, I knew you was working on that Howley case, and I thought this +might 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 it works." + +The technician did as he was told. "Thirteen, Black, Odd, and Low," he +chanted, grinning. + +"Let's try another number," Thursby said. He turned the dial to One. And +this time, when he pointed it, his fingers were touching the plates in +the right places. + +"Just a minute," I said. "Let me spin that thing." + +"Be my guest, counselor," said Thursby. + +I spun the wheel and scooted the ball along the rim. It dropped into a +slot. One, Red, Odd, and Low. I looked as disappointed and apprehensive +as I could. + +"Co-incidence," I said. "Nothing more. You haven't proved anything." + +Thursby's grin widened. "Of course I haven't," he said with a soothing, +patronizing tone. "But I don't have to prove anything until I get to +court." + +Then he looked at the technicians and jerked his head toward the door. +"Let's go, boys. Maybe the counselor wants to look over the table for +himself. Maybe he thinks we've got it rigged." + +There was a chorus of guffaws as they walked out. I just stood there, +scowling, trying to keep from laughing even harder than they were. + + * * * * * + +Jason Howley sat next to me at the defense table, just inside the low +partition that divided the court from the public. There weren't many +people in the auditorium itself; listening to some poor dope get himself +sentenced for cheating at gambling is considered pretty dull +entertainment in the State of Nevada. + +Thursby had managed to push the indictment through the grand jury in a +hurry, but, as he sat across the room from me at the prosecution table, +I thought I could detect a false note in the assumed look of confidence +that he was trying to wear. + +Howley tapped me on the shoulder. I turned around, and he whispered: +"How much longer?" + +I tapped my wrist watch. "Couple minutes. Judge Lapworth is one of those +precisionists. Never a moment late or early. Getting jumpy?" + +He shook his head gently and smiled. "No. You've handled this even +better than I'd have imagined. You thought of things I didn't even know +existed. I'm no lawyer; I can see that." + +I returned the smile. "And I don't invent gimmicks, either. So what?" + +His eyes looked at me from behind the distorting negative lenses. "I've +been wondering, counselor--why are you so interested in this? I mean, I +offered you a pretty good fee, and all that, but it seems to me you're +taking an unusual interest in the case." + +I grinned at him. "Mr. Howley, my profession is Law--with a capital L. +The study of the Law isn't like the study of physics or whatever; these +are manmade laws--commands, not descriptions. They don't necessarily +have anything to do with facts at all. Take the word 'insanity,' for +instance; the word isn't even used by head-shrinkers any more because +it's a legal definition that has nothing whatever to do with the +condition of the human mind. + +"Now, any such set of laws as that can't possibly be self-consistent and +still have some use on an action level. A lawyer's job is to find the +little inconsistencies in the structure, the places where the pieces +have been jammed together in an effort to make them look like a +structured whole. To find, in other words, the loopholes and use them. + +"And when I find a loophole, I like to wring everything I can out of it. +I'm enjoying this." + +Howley nodded. "I see. But what if something--" + +I held up my hand to silence him, because the door to the judges' +chambers opened at that moment, and Judge Lapworth came in as the +bailiff announced him. We all stood up while the bailiff intoned his +"Oyez, oyez." + +Thursby made a short preliminary speech to the jury, and I requested and +was granted permission to hold my own opening statement until the +defense was ready to present its case. + +Thursby was looking worried, although it took a trained eye to see it. I +was pretty sure I knew why. He had been pushed too hard and had gone too +fast. He'd managed to slide through the grand jury too easily, and I had +managed to get the trial date set for a week later. Thursby's case was +far from being as tight as he wanted it. + + * * * * * + +I just sat still while the prosecution brought forth its witnesses and +evidence. The croupier, the deputies, several employees of the Golden +Casino, and a couple of patrons all told their stories. I waived +cross-examination in every case, which made Thursby even edgier than he +had been. + +When he called in the head of the technicians who had inspected the +table at the casino, I made no objection to his testimony, but I made my +first cross-examination. + +"Mr. Thompson, you have stated your qualifications as an expert on the +various devices which have been used to illegally influence the +operation of gambling devices in this state." + +Thursby said: "Oh, if the Court please, I should like to remind counsel +for the defense that he has already accepted the qualifications of the +witness." + +"I am not attempting to impugn the qualifications of the witness," I +snapped. + +Judge Lapworth frowned at Thursby. "Are you making an objection, Mr. +District Attorney?" + +Thursby pursed his lips, said, "No, Your Honor," and sat down. + +"Proceed with the cross-examination," said the judge. + +"Mr. Thompson," I said, "you have testified that you examined the table +at the Golden Casino for such devices and found none. Is that right?" + +"That's right," he said positively. + +"Have you seen the device labeled People's Exhibit A, which was found by +the officers on the person of the defendant?" + +"Well ... yes. I have." + +"Have you examined this device?" + +Thursby was on his feet. "Objection, Your Honor! This material was not +brought out in direct examination!" + +"Sustained," said Judge Lapworth. + +"Very well, Your Honor," I said. Then I turned back to Thompson. "As an +expert in this field, Mr. Thompson, you have examined many different +devices for cheating gambling equipment, haven't you?" + +"Yes, I have." + +"How many, would you say?" + +"Oh ... several hundred." + +"Several hundred different _types_?" + +"No. Several hundred individual devices. Most of them are just +variations of two or three basic types." + +"And you are familiar with the function of these basic types and their +variations?" + +"I am." + +"You know exactly how all of them work, then?" + +He saw where I was heading. "Most of them," he hedged. + +Thursby saw where I was heading, too, and was sweating. I'd managed to +get around his objection. + +"Have you ever examined any which you could not understand?" + +"I ... I don't quite know what you mean." + +"Have you ever," I said firmly, "come across a device used in cheating +which you could not comprehend or explain the operation of?" + +Thursby stood up. "Same objection as before, Your Honor." + +"Your Honor," I said, "I am merely trying to find the limitations of the +witness' knowledge; I am not trying to refute his acknowledged ability." + +"Overruled," said Judge Lapworth. "The witness will answer the +question." + +I repeated the question. + +"Yes," Thompson said in a low voice. + +"More than once?" + +"Only once." + +"Only once. You did find one device which didn't operate in any fashion +you can explain. Is that right?" + +"That's right." + +"Can you tell me what this device was?" + +Thompson took a deep breath. "It was People's Exhibit A--the device +taken from the defendant at the time of his arrest." + +There was a buzz in the courtroom. + +"No more questions," I said, turning away. Then, before Thompson could +leave the stand, I turned back to him. "Oh, just one moment, Mr. +Thompson. Did you examine this device carefully? Did you take it apart?" + +"I opened it and looked at it." + +"You just looked at it? You didn't subject it to any tests?" + +Thompson took a deep breath. "No." + +"Why not?" + +"There wasn't anything inside it to test." + + * * * * * + +This time, there was more than just a buzz around the courtroom. Judge +Lapworth rapped for order. + +When the room was quiet, I said: "The box was empty, then?" + +"Well, no. Not exactly empty. It had some stuff in it." + +I turned to the judge. "If the Court please, I would like to have the +so-called device, Exhibit A, opened so that the members of the jury may +see for themselves what it contains." + +[Illustration] + +Judge Lapworth said: "The Court would like very much to see the internal +workings of this device, too. Bailiff, if you will, please." + +The bailiff handed him the gadget from the exhibit table. + +"How does it open?" asked the judge. He turned to Thompson. "Will the +witness please open the box?" + +Reluctantly, Thompson thumbed the catch and slid off the top. + +The judge took it from him, looked inside, and stared for a long moment. + +I had already seen the insides. It was painted white, and there were +inked lines running all over the inside, and various pictures--a ball, a +pair of dice, a roulette wheel--and some other symbols that I didn't +pretend to understand. + +Otherwise, the box was empty. + +After a moment, Judge Lapworth looked up from the box and stared at +Thursby. Then he looked at Thompson. "Just what tests _did_ you perform +on this ... this thing, Mr. Thompson?" + +"Well, Your Honor," Thompson said, visibly nervous, "I checked it for +all kinds of radiation and magnetism. There isn't anything like that +coming from it. But," he added lamely, "there wasn't much else to test. +Not without damaging the box." + +"I see." His honor glared at Thursby, but didn't say anything to him. He +simply ordered the box to be shown to the jury. + +Thursby was grimly holding his ground, waiting. + +"Have you any more questions, counselor?" the judge asked. + +"No, Your Honor, I have not." + +"Witness may step down," said his honor to Thompson. + + * * * * * + +Thursby stood up. "If the Court please, I would like to stage a small +demonstration for the members of the jury." + +The Court gave permission, and a roulette wheel was hauled in on a small +table. + +I watched with interest and without objection while Thursby demonstrated +the use of the gadget and then asked each of the jurors in turn to try +it. It was a long way from being a successful demonstration. Some of the +jurors didn't hold the thing right, and some of those that did just +didn't have the mental ability required to use it. But that didn't +bother Thursby. + +"Your Honor, and Gentlemen of the Jury," he said, "you are all aware +that a device constructed for the purpose of cheating at any gambling +game is not necessarily one hundred per cent infallible. It doesn't have +to be. All it has to do is turn the odds in favor of the user. + +"You are all familiar with loaded dice, I'm sure. And you know that +loading dice for one set of numbers merely increases the probability +that those numbers will come up; it does not guarantee that they will +come up every time. + +"It is the same with marked cards. Marking the backs of a deck of cards +doesn't mean that you will invariably get a better hand than your +opponent; it doesn't even mean that you will win every hand. + +"The device taken from the defendant at the Golden Casino does not, as +you have seen, work every time. But, as you have also seen, it certainly +_does_ shift the odds by a considerable percentage. And that, I submit, +is illegal under the laws of this state." + +He went on, building on that theme for a while, then he turned the trial +over to the defense. + +"Call Dr. Pettigrew to the stand," I said. + +I heard Thursby's gasp, but I ignored it. + +A chunky, balding man with a moon face and an irritated expression came +up to be sworn in. He was irritated with me for having subpoenaed him, +and he showed it. I hoped he wouldn't turn out to be hostile. + +"You are Dr. Herbert Pettigrew?" I asked. + +"That is correct." + +"State your residence, please." + +"3109 La Jolla Boulevard, Los Angeles, California." + +"You are called 'Doctor' Pettigrew, I believe. Would you tell the Court +what right you have to that title?" + +He looked a little miffed, but he said: "It is a scholarly title. A +Doctorate of Philosophy in physics from Massachusetts Institute of +Technology." + +"I see. Would you mind telling the Court what other academic degrees you +have?" + +He reeled off a list of them, all impressive. + +"Thank you, doctor," I said. "Now, what is your present occupation?" + +"I am a Professor of Physics, at the University of California in Los +Angeles." + +I went on questioning him to establish his ability in his field, and by +the time I was finished, the jury was pretty well impressed with his +status in the scientific brotherhood. And not once did Thursby object. + +Then I said, "Dr. Pettigrew, I believe you came to this city on a +professional matter?" + +"Yes, I did." He didn't hesitate to answer, so I figured I hadn't got +his goat too much. + +"And what was the nature of that matter?" + +"I was asked to come here by Mr. Harold Thursby, the District Attorney, +to perform some scientific tests on the ... er ... device ... the device +known as People's Exhibit A." + +"Did you perform these tests?" + +"I did." + +"At the request of District Attorney Thursby, is that right?" + +"That is correct." + +"May I ask why Mr. Thursby did not call you as a witness for the +prosecution?" + +Thursby, as I had expected, was on his feet. "Objection! The question +calls for a conclusion of the witness!" + +"Sustained," said Judge Lapworth. + +"Dr. Pettigrew," I said, "what were your findings in reference to +Exhibit A?" + +He shrugged. "The thing is a plastic box with a dial set in one side, a +plastic lens in one end, and a couple of strips of silver along two +other sides. Inside, there are a lot of markings in black ink on white +paint." He gestured toward the exhibit table. "Just what you've seen; +that's all there is to it." + +"What sort of tests did you perform to determine this, Dr. Pettigrew?" I +asked. + +He took a long time answering that one. He had X-rayed the thing +thoroughly, tested it with apparatus I'd never heard of, taken scrapings +from all over it for microchemical analysis, and even tried it himself +on a roulette wheel. He hadn't been able to make it work. + +"And what is your conclusion from these findings?" I asked. + +Again he shrugged. "The thing is just a box, that's all. It has no +special properties." + +"Would you say that it could be responsible for the phenomena we have +just seen? By that, I mean the peculiar action of the roulette wheel, +demonstrated here by the prosecution." + +"Definitely not," he stated flatly. "The box could not possibly have any +effect on either the wheel or the ball." + +"I see. Thank you, doctor; that's all. Cross-examine." + +Thursby walked over to the witness stand with a belligerent scowl on his +face. "Dr. Pettigrew, you say that the box couldn't possibly have had +any effect on the wheel. And yet, we have demonstrated that there _is_ +an effect. Don't you believe the testimony of your own senses?" + +"Certainly I do!" snapped Pettigrew. + +"Then how do you account for the behavior of the roulette wheel as you +have just seen it demonstrated in this court?" + +I suppressed a grin. Thursby was so mad that he was having trouble +expressing himself clearly. + +"In several ways!" Pettigrew said sharply. "In the first place, that +wheel could be rigged." + +Thursby purpled. "Now, just a minute! I--" + +I started to object, but Judge Lapworth beat me to it. + +"Are you objecting to the answer, Mr. District Attorney?" + +"The witness is insinuating that I falsified evidence!" + +"I am not!" said Pettigrew, visibly angry. "You asked me how I could +account for its behavior, and I told you one way! There are others!" + +"The wheel will be examined," said Judge Lapworth darkly. "Tell us the +other ways, Dr. Pettigrew." + +"Pure chance," said Pettigrew. "Pure chance, Your Honor. I'm sure that +everyone in this courtroom has seen runs of luck on a roulette wheel. +According to the laws of probability, such runs must inevitably happen. +Frankly, I believe that just such a run has occurred here. I do not +think for a minute that Mr. Thursby or anyone else rigged that wheel." + +"I see; thank you, Dr. Pettigrew," said the judge. "Any further +questions, Mr. District Attorney?" + +"No further questions," Thursby said, trying to hide his anger. + + * * * * * + +"Call your next witness," said the judge, looking at me. + +"I call Mr. Jason Howley to the stand." + +Howley sat down and was sworn in. I went through the preliminaries, then +asked: "Mr. Howley, you have seen People's Exhibit A?" + +"I have." + +"To whom does it belong?" + +"It is mine. It was taken from me by--" + +"Just answer the question, please," I admonished him. He knew his +script, but he was jumping the gun. "The device is yours, then?" + +"That's right." + +"Under what circumstances did this device come into the hands of the +police?" + +He told what had happened on the night of the big take at the Golden +Casino. + +"Would you explain to us just what this device is?" I asked when he had +finished. + +"Certainly," he said. "It's a good luck charm." + +I could hear the muffled reaction in the courtroom. + +"A good luck charm. I see. Then it has no effect on the wheel at all?" + +"Oh, I wouldn't say that," Howley said disarmingly. He smiled and looked +at the jury. "It certainly has _some_ effect. It's the only good luck +charm I ever had that worked." + +The jury was grinning right back at him. They were all gamblers at +heart, and I never knew a gambler yet who didn't have some sort of good +luck charm or superstition when it came to gambling. We had them all in +the palms of our hands. + +"What I mean is, does it have any _physical_ effect on the wheel?" + +Howley looked puzzled. "Well, I don't know about that. That's not my +field. You better ask Dr. Pettigrew." + +There was a smothered laugh somewhere in the courtroom. + +"Just how do you operate this good luck charm, Mr. Howley?" I asked. + +"Why, you just hold it so that your thumb touches one strip of silver +and your fingers touch the other, then you set the dial to whatever +number you want to come up and wish." + +"_Wish?_ Just _wish_, Mr. Howley?" + +"Just wish. That's all. What else can you do with a good luck charm?" + +This time, the judge had to pound for order to stop the laughing. + +I turned Howley over to Thursby. + +The D.A. hammered at him for half an hour trying to get something out of +Howley, but he didn't get anywhere useful. Howley admitted that he'd +come to Nevada to play the wheels; what was wrong with that? He admitted +that he'd come just to try out his good luck charm--and what was wrong +with that? He even admitted that it worked for him every time-- + +And what was wrong, pray, with _that_? + +Thursby knew he was licked. He'd known it for a long time. His summation +to the jury showed it. The expressions on the faces of the jury as they +listened showed it. + +They brought in a verdict of Not Guilty. + + * * * * * + +When I got back to my office, I picked up the phone and called the +Golden Casino. I asked for George Brockey, the manager. When I got him +on the phone and identified myself, he said, "Oh. It's you." His voice +didn't sound friendly. + +"It's me," I said. + +"I suppose you're going to slap a suit for false arrest on the Casino +now, eh, counselor?" + +"Not a bit of it, George," I said. "The thought occurred to me, but I +think we can come to terms." + +"Yeah?" + +"Nothing to it, George. You give us the three hundred grand and we don't +do a thing." + +"Yeah?" He didn't get it. He had to fork over the money anyway, +according to the court order, so what was the deal? + +"If you want to go a little further, I'll tell you what we'll do. We'll +give you one of our little good luck charms, if you'll promise to call +your boys off Howley." + +"Nobody's on Howley," he said. "You ought to know better than that. In +this state, if we get whipped in court, we play it square. Did you think +we were going to get rough?" + +"No. But you kind of figured on lifting that gadget as soon as he gets +it back from the D.A., didn't you? I saw your boys waiting at his hotel. +I'm just telling you that you don't have to do that. We'll give you the +gadget. There are plenty more where that came from." + +"I see," Brockey said after a long pause. "O.K., counselor. It's a +deal." + +"Fine. We'll pick up the money later this evening, if that's O.K." + +"Sure, counselor. Anytime. Anytime at all." He hung up. + +I grinned at Howley, who was sitting across the desk from me. "Well, +that winds it up." + +"I don't get it," Howley said. "Why'd you call up Brockey? What was the +purpose of that 'deal'?" + +"No deal," I told him. "I was just warning him that killing you and +taking the gadget wouldn't do any good, that we've covered you. He won't +bother having anything done to you if he knows that the secret of the +gadget is out already." + +Howley's eyes widened behind those spectacles of his. "You mean they'd +kill me? I thought Nevada gamblers were honest." + +"Oh, they are, they are. But this is a threat to their whole industry. +It's more than that, it may destroy them. Some of them might kill to +keep that from happening. But you don't have to worry now." + +"Thanks. Tell me, do you think we've succeeded?" + +"In what you set out to do? Certainly. When we mail out those gadgets to +people all over the state, the place will be in an uproar. With all the +publicity this case is getting, it'll _have_ to work. You now have a +court decision on your side, a decision which says that a psionic device +can be legally used to influence gambling games. + +"Why, man, they'll _have_ to start investigating! You'll have every +politico in the State of Nevada insisting that scientists work on that +thing. To say nothing of what the syndicate will do." + +"All I wanted to do," said Howley, "was force people to take notice of +psionics. I guess I've done that." + +"You certainly have, brother. I wonder what it will come to?" + +"I wonder, myself, sometimes," Howley said. + +That was three and a half years ago. Neither Howley nor I are wondering +now. According to the front page of today's _Times_, the first +spaceship, with a crew of eighty aboard, reached Mars this morning. And, +on page two, there's a small article headlined: ROCKET OBSOLETE, SAY +SCIENTISTS. + +It sure is. + +THE END + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's ...Or Your Money Back, by Gordon Randall Garrett + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ...OR YOUR MONEY BACK *** + +***** This file should be named 23534.txt or 23534.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/3/5/3/23534/ + +Produced by Greg Weeks, Bruce Albrecht, Mary Meehan and +the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at +http://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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