Nights were kind on Arpagus. Soft breezes from the hills dispelled the lingering heat of the day and spread the scent of scattered herbs. At dusk lanterns blazed into life on roofs and walls; things of beauty which threw vivid patches of vibrant color over the paths and buildings. Warm hues which made a pleasant contrast to the shimmering glow of starlight which silvered the terrain with a nacreous sheen. A combination which created the illusion of space, brightness and warm, safe comfort.

One Dumarest could appreciate as he walked down the narrow street which led towards the landing field. He felt exhilarated, too wakeful for sleep, too impatient to sit idle as the hours dragged by. The exhilaration was that of a gambler who, staking all, knew he was certain to win. The deal with Polletin was safe enough; the cargo would not be released without the authorization in his pocket and in a few hours they would be on their way to turn it into cash. The money, once gained, could be safeguarded and even if Telwig didn't buy others would. There was no way he could lose. The only thing in doubt was the extent of his profit.

The street widened as it rose to open into a small, oval clearing holding a bench, the statue of a woman, a fountain which threw a tinted spray. Flowers scented the air with a sickly perfume. Halting, he looked at the town.

It lay before him, a mass of warm patches and silver glow; mansions of the wealthy flanked by smaller dwellings, dwarfed by the soaring bulk of the hotel and the cathedral-like grandeur of the casino, the whole slashed with streets, roads, and narrow lanes. The casino was to be expected; on Arpagus gambling was a way of life. The hotel catered to transients; merchants, traders and speculators who dealt in cargos and stocks, futures and commodities. Gamblers little different from those who courted fortune in the casino.