[pshrynk]

"The whole idea of playing poker," said Biggles, "Is the odds. Now, I have memorized the odds of every hand possible and have worked out a system mathematically to determine whether or not I should continue to play or 'fold,' as they say." The erstwhile spy was busy eating ropa vieja in a cantina near Harv's hotel. Harv listened, fascinated. Fascinated, because Biggles was paying fo rthe food and more to the point, beer.

"So you know what the odds are of, say three threes with two inthe hole and one three showing?"

"Er... I intend to have them all memorized by the time the tournament comes around..."

"Which is when?"

"In three days."

"Have you ever actually played poker, Biggles?"

"As a lad! I was the family champion on Christmas Holidays! I could get those pennies rolling in my direction in a hurry, let me tell you!"

"Pennies?"

"Father had a penny jar that he allowed us to use as stakes. He made us count them up afterward to see to it that none went missing."

"You ever play for actual money? With adults? Not related to you?"

"Not as such, no..."

Harv stared up into the starlit skies. He wasn't that much of a hoo-rah patriot, having flown wioth the Brits int the Great War and avoiding the US altogether while waiting on certain statutes of limitation to expire, but he just couldn't see this through without at least trying to help out. Country was country, after all.

"Maybe we should get you in a practice game or two before the big event."

"Capital idea! I'm quite keen to put my system to the test!"

"I'm sure a lot of people are..."