Sir LancelotChapter 8
At the bewitching hour of midnight the casino was invariably at full swing. Tonight being Saturday, it was even better, Silk Weaver thought, looking about him at the multitudes of elite who had come to be swindled... expected to be swindled. The gaming tables were jammed, and the din of the slot machines in long rows lining the walls, coupled with the human roar and the even louder pitched voices of the stickmen chanting their litany in response to the fascinating dance of the red celluloid...