When the Lion Feeds

Francois came up to the Candy Deep just after midday with the news that the Portuguese, after beating three of his sponsors into insensibility, had left on the noon coach back to Kimberley.

Duff uncocked his rifle. Thanks, Franz, we were waiting lunch for him. I thought he might call on us. Have you counted the takings? Yes, your commission is in that paper bag on the table. Thanks, man, let's go down and celebrate. You go and have one for us. Hey, Duff, you promised - Sean started. I said later, in three or four weeks time. Now we've got a little work to do, like digging a trench fifty feet deep and three hundred yards long. rWe could start first thing tomorrow. You want to be rich, don't you? asked Duff.

Sure, but You want nice things, like English suits, French champagne andYes, butWell, stop arguing, get off your fat arse and come with me!

The Chinese use firecrackers to keep the demons away.

Duff and Sean applied the same principle. They kept the mill running; as long as its clunking carried across the valley to the ears of their creditors all was well. Everyone accepted the fact that they were working a payable reef and left them alone, but the money they fed into the front of the mill had halved its value by the time it came out of the other side in those pathetic little yellow pellets.

In the meantime they cut their trench, teaxiing into the earth in a race against Settlement Day. They fired dynamite and as the last stones dropped back out of the sky they were in again, coughing with the fumes, to clear the loosened rock and start drilling the next set of holes. it was summer, the days were long, and while it was light they worked. Some evenings they lit the last fuses by lantern light.

Sand fell through the hour-glass faster than they had bargained for, the money dribbled away and on the fifteenth of February Duff shaved himself, changed his shirt and went to see Candy about another loan. Sean watched him walk away down the slope. They had sold the horses a week before, and he said a small prayer, the first for many years.

Duff came back in the late morning. He stood on the edge of the trench and watched Sean tamping in the charges for the next cut. Sean's back was shiny with sweat; each individual muscle standing out in relief, swelling and subsiding as he moved. That's the stuff, laddie, keep at it Sean looked up with dust-reddened eyes. How much? he asked. Another fifty, and this is the last, or so she threatens. Sean's eyes fastened on the package Duff held under his arm. What's thatV He could see the stains seeping through the brown paper and the saliva flooded out from under his tongue. Prime beef chops, no mealie meal porridge for lunch today Duff grinned at him. Meat. Sean caressed the word. Underdone, bleeding a little as you bite it, a trace of garlic, just enough salt. And you beside me, singing in the wilderness, agreed Duff. Cut out the poetry, light those fuses and let's go and eat. An hour later they walked side by side along the bottom of their trench, Mbejane and his Zulus crowding behind them. Sean belched. Ah, pleasant memory, I'll never be able to look another plate of mealie meal in the face again. They reached the end, where the freshly broken earth and rock lay piled. Sean felt the thrill start in his hands, tingle up his arms and squeeze his lungs. Then Duff's fingers were biting into his shoulder; he could feel them trembling.

It looked like a snake, a fat grey python crawling down one wall of the trench, disappearing under the heap of new rabble and out the other side.

Duff moved first, he knelt and picked up a piece of the reef, a big grey mottled lump of it and he kissed it.

It must be it, hey, Duff? It must be the Leader? It's the end of the rainbow. No more mealie meal, Sean said softly and Duff laughed. Then Sean laughed. Wildly, crazily, together they howled their triumph.

Let me hold it again, said Sean.

Duff passed it across to him. Hell, it's heavy There'snothing heavier, agreed Duff. Must be all of fifty pounds. Sean held the bar in two hands, it was the size of a cigar box. More! We've retrieved all our losses in two days working. And some to spare, I'd say. Sean placed the gold bar on the table between them. It shone with little yellow smiles in the lantern light and Duff leaned forward and stroked it; its surface felt knobbly from the rough casting.

I can't keep my hands off it, he confessed sheepishly. I can't either! Sean reached out to touch it. We'll be able to pay Candy out for the claims in another week or two Duff started. What you say? I said we'd be able to pay Candy out. I thought I wasn't hearing things Duff patted his arm indulgently. Listen to me, laddie, I'll try and put it simply. How long have we got the option on these claims for? Three years. Correct, now the next question. How many people on these fields have any money?

Sean looked mystified. Well, we have now and and...

No one else, that is until Hradsky gets back, Duff finished for him. What about the Heyns brothers?

They've cut open the Leader Reef. Certainly, but it won't do them any good, not until their machinery arrives from England. Go on! Sean wasn't quite sure where Duff was leading. Instead of paying Candy out now we are going to use this, , he patted the gold bar, land all its little brothers to buy up every likely claim we can lay, our hands on.

For a start there are Doc Sutherland's claims between us and the Jack and Whistle. Then we are going to order a couple of big ten-stamp mills and when those are spilling out gold we'll use it to buy land, finance brick works, engineering shops, transport companies and the rest. I've told you before there are more ways of making gold than digging for it Sean was staring at him silently.

Have you got a head for heights? asked Duff.

Sean nodded. You're going to need it, because we are going up where the eagles fly, you are about to be a party to the biggest financial killing this country has ever seen. Sean lit one of Candy's cigars; his hand was a little unsteady. Don't you think it would be best to, well, not try and go too quickly. Hell, Duff, we've only been working the Leader for two daysAnd we've made a thousand pounds, Duff interrupted him. Listen to me, Sean, all my life I've been waiting for an opportunity like this. We're the first in on this field, it's as wide open as the legs of a whore. We're going to go in and take it. The next morning Duff had the good fortune to find Doc Sutherland early enough to talk business with him, before he began the day's drinking. Another hour would have been too late. As it was Doc knocked over his glass and fell out of his chair before he finally signed away twenty-five claims to Sean and Duff. The ink was hardly dry on the agreement before Duff was riding down to Fereira's Camp to look for Ted Reynecke who held the claims on the other side of the Cousin Jock. Up on the Candy Deep Sean nursed the mill and bit his nails. Within seven days Duff had bought over one hundred claims and committed them to forty thousand pounds in debts. Duff, you're going mad. Sean pleaded with him. We'll lose everything again. How much have we pulled out of the Candy Deep so far? Four thousand. Ten percent of what we owe in ten days, and with a miserable little four-stamp mill at that. Hold on to your hat, laddie, tomorrow I'm going to sign up for the forty claims on the other side of the Jack and Whistle. I would have had them today but that damned Greek is holding out for a thousand pounds apiece. I'll have to give it to him, I suppose Sean clutched his temples. Duff, please, man, we're in over our necks already! Stand back, laddie, and watch the wizard workIng! going to bed, I suppose I'll have to take your shift again in the morning if you're determined to spend tomorrow ruining us. That's not necessary, I've hired that Yankee, Curtis.

You know, your sparring partner. It turns out he's a miner and he's willing to work for thirty a month. So you can come to town with me and watch me make you rich. I'm meeting the Greek at Candy's Hotel at nine o'clock.

Duff was talking and Sean sat silently on the edge of his chair; at ten the Greek had still not put in an appearance, Duff was moody and Sean was garrulous with relief. At eleven Sean wanted to go back to the mine. It's an omen, Duff, God looked down and he saw us sitting here all ready to make a terrible mistake. "No, " he said, , I can't let them do it, i'll have the Greek break a leg, I can't let it happen to such nice boys. " Why don't you go and join a Trappist monastery? Duff checked his watch. Come on, let's go! Yes, sir! Sean stood up with alacrity. We'll get back in plenty of time to clean the tables before lunch. we're not going home, we're going to look for the Greek. Now listen, Duff I'll listen later, come on. They rode across to the Bright Angels, left the horses outside and walked in together. It was dark in the canteen after the sunshine-outside, but even in the gloom a group at one of the tables caught their attention immediately.

The Greek sat with his back to them; the line of his parting seemed to be drawn with white chalk and a ruler through the oily black waves of his hair. Sean's eyes switched from him to the two men that sat across the table from him. Jews, there was no mistaking it, but there any similarity ended. The younger one was thin with smooth olive skin drawn tight across the bold bones of his cheeks; his lips were very red and his eyes, fringed with girl's lashes, were toffee-brown and melting. In the chair beside him was a man with a body that had been shaped in wax then held near a hot flame. Shoulders rounded to the verge of deformity drooped down over a pearshaped body; with difficulty they supported the great Taj Mahal domed head. His hair was styled in the fashion of Friar Tuck, thick only around the ears. But the eyes, the flickering yellow eyes, there was nothing comical about them. Hradsky, hissed Duff, then his expression changed. He smiled as he walked across to the table. Hello, Nikky, I thought we had an appointment The Greek twisted quickly in his chair. Mr Charleywood, I'm sorry, I was held up. So I see, the woods are full of highway-men. Sean saw the flush start -to come up out of Hradsky's collar then sink back again.

Have you sold? Duff asked.

The Greek nodded nervously. I'm sorry, Mr Charleywood, but Mr Hradsky paid my price and no haggling, cash money, too!

Duff let his eyes wander across the table. Hello, Norman. How's your daughter? This time the flush escaped from Hradsky's shirt and flooded over his face. He opened his mouth, his tongue clucked twice, then he closed it again.

Duff smiled, he looked at the younger Jew. Say it for him, Max. The toffee eyes dropped to the table top. Mr Hradsky's daughter is very well. I believe she married soon after my involuntary departure from Kimberley. That is correct. Wise move, Norman, much wiser than having your bully boys run me out of town. That wasn't very nice of you.

No one spoke. We must get together some time and have a chat about old times. Until then, Fa, fa, fare ye we, we, well On the way back to the mine Sean asked, He's got a daughter? If she looks like him you were lucky to escape. She didn't, she was like a bunch of ripe grapes with the bloom on them. I can hardly credit it. Neither could 1. The only conclusion I could reach was that Max did that job for him as well rWhat's the story about MaxVHe's the Court Jester. Rumour has it that after Hradsky has finished hanging it out, Max shakes it for him. Sean laughed and Duff went on, But don't underestimate Hradsky. His stutter is his only weakness and with Max to talk for him he's overcome that. Beneath that monumental skull is a brain as quick and merciless as a guillotine. Now that he's arrived on this goldfield there's going to be some action; we'll have to gallop to keep up with him. Sean thought for a few seconds, then, Talking about action, Duff, now that we've lost the Greek's claims and won't have to use all our ready money satisfying him, let's give some thought to ordering new machinery to work the claims we have got.

Duff grinned at him. I sent a telegram to London last week. There'll be a pair of brand new ten-stamp mills on the water to us before the end of the month. Good God, why didn't you tell me? You were worried enough as it was, I didn't want to break your heart Sean opened his mouth to blast Duff out of the saddle, Duff winked at him before he could talk and Sean's lips trembled. He felt the laughter in his throat, he tried to stop it but it swamped him. How much is it going to cost us? he howled through his mirth. If you ask that question once more, I'll strangle you, Duff laughed back at him. Rest content in the knowledge that if we're going to have enough to honour the bills of lading when those mills arrive at Port Natal, we'll have to run a mountain of Leader Reef through our little rig during the next few weeks. What about the payments on the new claims? That's my department, I'll worry about that And so their partnership crystallized; their relationship was established over the weeks that followed. Duff with his magic tongue and his charming, lopsided grin was the one who negotiated, who poured the oil on the storm waters churned up by impatient creditors. He was the storehouse of mining knowledge which Sean tapped daily, he was the conceiver of schemes, some wild, others brilliant. But his fleeting nervous energy was not designed to bring them to fruition. He lost interest quickly and it was Sean who finally rejected the least likely Charleywood brain children and adopted the others that were more deserving; once he had made himself stepfather to them he reared them as though they were his own. Duff was the theorist, Sean the practician. Sean could see why Duff had never found success before, but at the same time he recognized that without him he would be helpless. He watched with profound admiration the way that Duff used the barely sufficient flow of gold from the Candy Deep to keep the mill running, pay the tradesmen, meet the claim monies as they fell due and still save enough for the new machinery. He was a man juggling with live coals: hold one too long and it burns, let one fall and all fall. And Duff, deep-down-uncertain Duff, had a wall to put his back against. His speech never showed it but his eyes did when he looked at Sean. Sometimes he felt small next to Sean's big body and bigger determination, but it was a good feeling: like being on a friendly mountain.

They put up new buildings around the mill: storerooms, a smelting house and cabins for Sean and Curtis.

Duff was sleeping at the Hotel again. The location for the Natives sprawled haphazard down the back slope of the ridge, retreating a little each week as the white mountain of the mine dump grew and pushed it back. The whole valley was changing. Hradsky's new mills arrived and stood up along the ridge, tall and proud until their own dumps dwarfed them. Johannesburg, at first a mere pattern of surveyors pegs, sucked the scattered encampments onto her grassy chequerboard and arranged them in a semblance of order along her streets.

The Diggers Committee, its members tired of having to scrape their boots every time they went indoors, decreed public latrines be erected. Then, flushed with their own audacity, they built a bridge across the Natal Spruit, purchased a water cart to lay the dust on the streets of Johannesburg and passed a law prohibiting burials within half a mile of the city centre. Sean and Duff as members of the Committee felt it their duty to demonstrate their faith in the goldfield, so they bought twenty five plots of ground in Johannesburg, five pounds each to be paid within six months. Candy recruited all her customers and in one weekend of frantic effort they razed her Hotel to the ground, packed every plank and sheet of iron onto their wagons, carried it a mile down the valley and re-erected it on her own land in the centre of the township. During the party she gave them on that Sunday night they nearly succeeded in dismantling it for the second time. Each day the roads from Natal and the Cape fed more wagons, more men into the Witwatersrand goldfield. Duff's suggestion that the Diggers Committee levy a guinea a head from all newcomers to help finance the public works was reluctantly rejected, the general feeling being that if it led to civil rebellion there were more newcomers than Committee members and no one fancied being on the losing side.

One morning, when he came out to the mine, Duff brought a telegram with him. He handed it to Sean without comment. Sean read it. The machinery had arrived.

Good God, it's three weeks early. They must have had a downhill sea, or a following wind or whatever it is that makes ships go faster muttered Duff.

Have we got enough to pay the bill? asked Sean. No. What are we going to do? I'll go and see the little man at the bank, He'll throw you out in the street! I'll get him to give us a loan on the claims! How the hell are you going to do that, we haven't paid for them yet. That's what you call financial genius. I'll simply point out to him that they're worth five times what we bought them for. Duff grinned. Can you and Curtis carry on here without me for today while I go and arrange it? You arrange it and I'll happily give you a month's holiday. When Duff came back that afternoon he carried a paper with him. It had a red wax seal in the bottom corner, across the top it said Letter of Credit, and in the middle, standing out boldly from the mass of small print, was a figure that ended in an impressive string of noughts.

You're a bloody marvel, said Sean.

Yes, I am rather, aren't I! agreed Duff.

The Heyns brothers machinery was on the same ship.

lock and Duff rode down to Port Natal together, hired a hundred wagons and brought it all back in one load.

I'll tell you what Al do With You, Jock, I'll wager you that we get our mills producing before you do. Loser pays for the transport on the whole shipment, Duff challenged him when they reached Johannesburg where, in Candy's new bar-room, they Were washing the dust out of their throats. You're on! , I, ll go further, I'll put up a side bet of five hundred.

Sean prodded Duff in the ribs.

Gently, Duff, we can't afford it. But Jock had already snapped up the bet.

What do you mean we cane afford it? whispered Duff. We've got nearly fifteen hundred pounds left on the letter of credit-Sean shook his head. No, we haven't. Duff pulled the paper from his inside pocket and taPPed sean's nose with it. There, read for yourself. Sean took it out of Duff's hand.

Thanks, old chap, I'll go and pay the man now. What man? The man with the wagons.

What wagons? The wagons that you and Jock hired in Port Natal. I've bought them. The hell you say! It was your idea to start a transport business. just as soon as they've offloaded they'll be on their way again to pick up a shipment of coal from Dundee. Duff grinned at him. Don't you ever forget an idea? All right, laddie, off you go, we'll just have to win the bet, that's all. One of the mills they placed on the Candy Deep, the other on the new claims beyond the Cousin Jock Mine.

They hired two gangs from among the unemployed in Johannesburg. Curtis supervised one of them and Sean the other, while Duff darted back and forth keeping an eye on both. Each time he passed the Cousin Jock he spent a few minutes checking Trevor and Jock's progress. They've got the edge on us, Sean; their boilers are up and holding pressure already, he reported fretfully, but the next day he was smiling again. They didn't mix enough cement in the platform, it started to crumble as soon as they put the crusher on it.

They'll have to cast it again. That set them back three or four days. The betting down in the canteens fluctuated sharply with each change of fortune. Francois came up to the Candy Deep one Saturday afternoon. He watched them work, made a suggestion or two, then remarked, They're giving three-to-one against you at the Bright Angels; they, reckon the Heynses, will be finished by next weekend. Go down and put another five hundred pounds on for me, Duff told him, and Sean shook his head despairingly. Don't worry, laddie, we can't lose, that amateur mining engineer, Jock Heyns, has assembled his crusher jaws all arse-about-face. I only noticed it this morning he's in for a surprise when he tries to start up. He'll have to strip the whole damn rig. Duff was right, they brought both their mills into production a comfortable fifteen hours before the Heyns brothers. Jock rode over to see them with his jaw on his chest. Congratulations. Thanks, Jock, did you bring your cheque book?

That's what I came to talk about. Can you give me a little time? Your credit's good, Sean assured him, come and have a drink and let me sell you some cooPAh, yes, I heard your wagons arrived back this morning. What price are you charging? Fifteen pounds a hundredweight. Good God. You bloody bandit, I bet it cost you less than five shillings a hundredweight. A man's entitled to a reasonable profit, protested Sean.

It had been a long hard pull up to the top of the hill but Sean and Duff had arrived at last and from there it was downhill all the way. The money poured in.

The geological freak that had bowed the Leader Reef away from the Main across the Candy Deep claims had, at the same time, enriched it, injected it full of the metal.

Francois was there one evening when they put the ball of amalgam into the retort. His eyes bulged as the mercury boiled away; he stared at the gold the way a mAn watches a naked woman. Gott! I'm going to have to call you two thunders "Mister from now on. Have you ever seen richer reef, Francois? Duff gloated.

Francois shook his head slowly. You know my theory about the reef being the bed of an old lake, well this bears it out. The kink in your reef must have been a deep trench along the bottom of the lake. It would have acted as a natural gold trap. Hell, man, what luck. With your eyes closed you have picked the plum out of the pudding.

The Jack and Whistle is half as rich as this. Their overdraft at the bank dropped like a barometer in a hurricane; the tradesmen started greeting them with a smile; they gave Doc Sutherland a cheque which would have kept even him in whisky for a hundred years. Candy kissed them both when they paid her out in full, plus interest at seven percent. Then she built herself a new Hotel, double storied, with a crystal chandelier in the dining-room and a magnificent bedroom suite on the second floor done out in maroon and gold. Duff and Sean rented it immediately but with the express understanding that if ever the Queen visited Johannesburg they would allow her to use it. In anticipation Candy called it the Victoria Rooms.

Francois, with a little persuasion, agreed to take over the running of the Candy Deep. He moved his possessions, one chest of clothes and four chests of patent medicines, across from the Jack and Whistle. Timothy Curtis was the manager of the mill on the new claims; they named it the Little Sister Mine. Although not nearly as rich as the Candy Deep it was producing a sweet fortune each month, for Curtis worked as well as he fought.

By the end of August Sean and Duff had no more creditors: the claims were theirs, the mills were theirs and they had money to invest. We need an office of our own here in town. We can't run this show from our bedrooms complained Sean. You're right, agreed Duff, we'll build on that corner plot nearest the market square. The plan was for a modest little four-room building, but it finally expanded to two stories, stinkwood floors, oak panelling and twenty rooms. What they couldn't use they rented. The price of land has trebled in three months, said Sean, and it's still moving. You're right, now's the time to buy, Duff agreed. You're starting to think along the right lines, It was your idea. Was it? Duff looked surprised. Don't you remember your "up where the eagles fly" speech? Don't you forget anything? asked Duff.

They bought land: one thousand acres at Orange Grove and another thousand around Hospital Hill. Their transport wagons, now almost four hundred strong, plied in daily from Port Natal and Lourenqo Marques. Their brickfields worked twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week, to try to meet the demand for building materials.

It took Sean almost a week to dissuade Duff from building an Opera House but he succeeded and instead they joined most of the other members of the Diggers Committee in financing a different type of pleasure palace. At Duff's suggestion they called it the Opera House. They recruited the performers not from the great companies of Europe but from the dock areas of Capetown and Port Natal and chose as the conductor a Frenchwoman of vast experience named Blue Bessie after the colour of her hair.

The Opera House provided entertainment on two levels.

For the members of the Committee and the other emergent rich there was a discreet side entrance, a lavishly furnished lounge where one could buy the finest champagne and discuss the prices on the Kimberley Stock Exchange, and beyond the lounge were a series of tastefully decorated retiring-rooms. For the workers there was a bare corridor to queue in, no choice for your money and a five-minute time limit. In one month the Opera House produced more gold than the Jack and Whistle mine.

By December there were millionaires in Johannesburg: Hradsky, the Heyns brothers, Karl Lochtkamper, Duff Charleywood, Sean Courtney and a dozen others. They owned the mines, the land, the buildings and the city: the aristocracy of the Witwatersrand, knighted with money and crowned with gold.

A week before Christmas, Hradsky, their unacknowledged but undoubted king, called them all to a meeting in one of the private lounges of Candy's Hotel. Who the hell does he think he is, complained Jock Heyns, ordering us round like a bunch of kaffirs. Verdammt Juden! agreed Lochtkamper.

But they went, every last man of them, for whatever Hradsky did had the smell of money about it and they could no more resist it than a dog can resist the smell of a bitch in season.

Duff and Sean were the last to arrive and the room was already hazed with cigar smoke and tense with expectation. Hradsky sagged in one of the polished leather armchairs with Max sitting quietly beside him; his eyes flickeried when Duff walked in but his expression never changed. When Duff and Sean had found chairs Max stood up. Gentlemen, Mr Hradsky has invited you here to consider a proposition. They leaned forward slightly in their chairs and there was a glitter in their eyes like hounds close upon the fox. From time to time it is necessary for men in your position to find capital to finance further ventures and to consolidate past gains, on the other hand those of us who have money lying idle will be seeking avenues for investment. Max cleared his throat and looked at them with his sad brown eyes. Up to the present there has been no meeting-place for these mutual needs such as exists in the other centres of the financial world. Our nearest approach to it is the Stock Exchange at Kimberley which, I'm sure you will agree, is too far removed to be of practical use to us here at Johannesburg. Mr Hradsky has invited you here to consider the possibility of forming our own Exchange and, if you accept the idea, to elect a chairman and governing body. Max sat down and in the silence that followed they took up the idea, each one fitting it into his scheme of thinking, testing it with the question How will I benefit?.

Ja, it's darn fine idea. Lochtkamper spoke first. Yes, it's what we needCount me in. While they schemed and bargained, setting the fees, the place and the rules, Sean, watched their faces. The faces of bitter men, happy men quiet ones and big bull-roarers but all with one common feature, that greedy glitter in the eyes. It was midnight before they finished.

Max stood upGentlemen, Mr Hradsky would like you to join him in a glass of champagne to celebrate the formation of our new enterprise. This I can't believe; the last time he paid for drinks was back in sixty, declared Duff. Quickly somebody find a waiter before he changes his mind.

Hradsky hooded his eyes to bide the hatred in them.

With its own Stock Exchange and bordel Johannesburg became a city. Even Kruger recognized it; he deposed the Diggers Committee and sent in his own police force, sold monopolies for essential mining supplies to members of his family and Government, and set about revising his tax laws with special attention to mining profits. Despite Kruger's efforts to behead the gold-laying goose, the city grew, and overflowed the original Government plots and spread brawling and blustering out into the surrounding veld.

Sean and Duff grew with it. Their way of life changed swiftly; their visits to the mines fell to a weekly inspection and they left it to their hired men. A steady river of gold poured down from the ridge to their offices on Eloff Street, for the men they hired were the best that money could find.

Their horizons closed in to encompass only the two panelled offices, the Victoria Rooms and the Exchange.

Yet within that world Sean found a thrill that he had never dreamed existed. He had been oblivious to it during the first feverish months; he had been so absorbed in laying the foundations that he could spare no energy for enjoying or even noticing it.

Then one day he felt the first voluptuous tickle of it.

He had sent to the bank for a land title document he needed, expecting it to be delivered by a junior clerk but instead the sub-manager and a senior clerk filed respectfully into his office. It was an exquisite physical shock and it gave him a new awareness. He noticed the way men looked at him as he passed them on the street.

He realized suddenly that over fifteen hundred human beings depended on him for their livelihood.

There was satisfaction in the way a path cleared for him and Duff as they crossed the floor of the Exchange each morning to take their places in the reserved leather armchairs of the members lounge. When Duff and he leaned together and talked quietly before the trading began, even the other big fish watched them. Hradsky with his fierce eyes hooded by sleepy lids, Jock and Trevor Heyns, Karl Lochtkamper, any of them would have given a day's production from their mines to overhear those conversations.

Buy! said Sean. Buy! Buy! Buy! cUrnoured the pack and the prices jumped as they hit them, then slumped back as they sucked their money away and put it to work elsewhere.

Then one March morning in 1886 the thrill became so acute it was almost an orgasm. Max left the chair at Norman Hradsky's side and crossed the lounge towards them. He stopped in front of them, lifted his sad eyes off the patterned carpet and almost apologetically proffered a loose sheaf of papers. Good morning, Mr Courtney. Good morning, Mr Charleywood. Mr Hradsky has asked me to bring this new share issue to your attention. Perhaps you would be interested in these reports, which are, of course, confidential, but he feels they are worthy of your support.

You have power when you can force a man who hates you to ask for your favours. After the first advance by Hradsky they worked together often. Hradsky never acknowledged their existence by word or look. Each morning Duff called a cheerful greeting across the full width of the lounge, Hello, chatterbox, or Sing for us, Norman. Hradsky's eyes would flicker and he would sag a little lower into his chair, but before the bell started the day's trading Max would stand up and come across to them, leaving his master staring into the empty fireplace. A few soft sentences exchanged and Max would walk back to Hradsky's side.

Their combined fortunes were irresistible: in one wild morning's trading alone they added another fifty thousand to their store of pounds.

An untaught boy handles his first rifle like a toy. Sean was twenty-two. The power he held was a more deadly weapon than any rifle, and much sweeter, more satisfying to use. It was a game at first with the Witwatersrand as a chessboard, men and gold for pieces. A word or a signature on a slip of paper would set the gold jingling and the men scampering. The consequences were remote and all that mattered was the score, the score chalked up in black figures on a bank statement. Then in that same March he was made to realize that a man wiped off the board could not be laid back in the box with as much compassion as a carved wooden knight.

Karl Lochtkamper, the German with a big laugh and a happy face, laid himself open. He needed money to develop a new property on the east end of the Rand; he borrowed and signed short-term notes on his loans, certain that he could extend them if necessary. He borrowed secretly from men he thought he could trust. He was vulnerable and the sharks smelt him out.

Where is Lochtkamper getting his money? asked Max.

Do you know? asked Sean. No, but I can guess.

Then the next day Max came back to them again. He has eight notes out. Here is the list, he whispered sadly. Mr Hradsky will buy the ones that have a cross against them. Can you handle the rest?

Yes, said Sean.

They closed on Karl on the last day of the quarter; they called the loans and gave him twenty-four hours to meet them. Karl went to each of the three banks in turn. I'm sorry, Mr Lochtkamper, we have loaned over our budget for this quarter. liver Hradsky is holding your notes, I'm sorry. I'm sorry, Mr Lochtkamper, Mr Charleywood is one of our directors. Karl Lochtkamper rode back to the Exchange. He walked across the floor and into the lounge for the last time. He stood in the centre of the big room, his face grey, his voice bitter and broken. Let Jesus have this much mercy on you when your time comes. Friends! My friends! Sean, how many times have we drunk together? And you, Duff, was it yesterday you shook my hand? Then he went back across the floor, out through the doors. His suite in the Great North Hotel wasn't fifty yards from the Exchange. In the members lounge they heard the pistol shot quite clearly.

That night Duff and Sean got drunk together in the Victoria rooms. Why did he have to do it? Why did he have to kill himself? He didn't, answered Duff. He was a quitter. if I'd known he was going to do that, my God, if only I'd known. Damn it, man, he took a chance and lost, it's not our fault. He would have done the same to us. I don't like this, it's dirty. Let's get out, Duff! Someone gets knocked down in the rush and you want to cry "enough! It's different now somehow, it wasn't like this at the start. Yes, and it'll be different in the morning. Come on, laddie, I know what you need. Where are we going? To the Opera House. What will Candy say? Candy doesn't have to know. Duff was right; it was different in the morning. There was the usual hurly-burly of work at the office and some tense action at the Exchange. He thought about Karl only once during the day and somehow it didn't seem to matter so much. They sent him a nice wreath.

He had faced the reality of the game he was playing. He had considered the alternative which was to get out with the fortune he had already made; but to do that would mean giving up the power he held. The addiction was already seated too deeply, he could not deny it. So his subconscious opened, sucked in his conscience and swallowed it deep down into its gut. He could feel it struggling there sometimes, but the longer it stayed swallowed the more feeble those struggles became. Duff comforted him: Duff's words were like a gastric juice that helped to digest that lump in the gut and he had not yet learned that what Duff said and what Duff did were not necessarily what Duff believed.

Play the game without mercy, play to win.

Duff stood with his back to the fireplace in Sean's office smoking a cheroot while they waited for the carriage to take them up to the Exchange. The fire behind him silhouetted his slimly tapered legs with the calves encased in polished black leather. He still wore his top coat, for the winter morning was cold. It fell open at his throat to show a diamond that sparkled and glowed in his cravat.

you get used to a woman somehow, he was saying.

I've known Candy four years now and yet it seems I've been with her all my life. she's a fine- girl Sean agreed absently as he dipped his pen and scribbled his signature on the document n front of him. I'm thirty-five now, Duff went on. If I'm ever to have a son of my own Sean laid down the pen deliberately and looked up at Duff. him; he was starting to grin. The man said to me once "They take you into their soft little minds"- and again he said "They don't share, they possess". Is this a new tune I hear?

Duff shifted uneasily from one foot to the other. Things change, he defended himself. I'm thirty five You're repeating yourself Sean accused and Duff smiled weakly.

Well, the truth is.

He never finished the sentence; hooves beat urgently in the street outside and both their faces swung in the direction of the window. Big hurry! said Sean coming quickly to his feet. Big trouble! He crossed to the window. It's Curtis, and by his face it's not good news he brings. There were voices outside the door raised in agitation and the quick rush of feet, then Timothy Curtis burst into the room without knocking. He wore a miner's overall and splattered gumboots. We've hit a mud rush on the ninth level. How bad? Duff snapped. Bad enough, it's flooded right back to number eight. Jesus, that will take two months at least to clear, Sean exclaimed. Does anyone else in town know, have you told anyone? I came straight here, Cronje and five men were up at the face when it blew. Get back there immediately, ordered Sean, but ride quietly, we don't want the whole world to know there's trouble. Don't let a soul off the property. We must have time to sell out. Yes, Mr Courtney. Curtis hesitated. Cronje and five others were hit by the rush. Shall I send word to their wives. Can't you understand English? I don't want a whisper of this to get out before ten o'clock. We've got to have time. But, Mr Courtney! Curtis was appalled. He stood staring at Sean and Sean felt the sick little stirring of guilt.

Six men drowned in treacle-thick mud... He made an irresolute gesture with his hands.

We can't -'He stopped and Duff cut in.

they're dead now, and they'll be just as dead when we tell their wives at ten o'clock. Get going, Curtis. They sold their shares in the Little Sister within an hour of the start of trading and a week later they bought them back at half the price. Two months later the Little Sister was back on full production again.

They split their land at Orange Grove into plots and sold them, all but a hundred acres and on that they started building a house. Into the designing of it they poured their combined energy and imagination. With money Duff seduced the horticulturist of the Capetown Botanical Gardens and brought him up by express coach. They showed him the land.

Make me a garden, said Duff. The whole hundred acres? Yes. It'll cost a pretty penny. That is no problem.

The carpets came from Persia, the wood from the Knysna forests and the marble from Italy. On the gates at the entrance to the main drive they engraved the wordsAt xanadu did Kublai Khan a stately pleasure dome decree. As the gardener had predicted, it all cost a pretty penny. Each afternoon when the Exchange closed they would drive up together and watch the builders at work.

One day Candy came with them and they showed it off to her like two small boys.

This will be the ballroom. Sean bowed to her. May I have the pleasure of this dance? Thank you, sir she curtsied, then swept away on his arm across the unsanded boards.

This will be the staircase, Duff told her, marble black and white marble, and there on the main landing in a glass case will be Hradsky's head, beaLififully mounted with an apple in his mouth. They climbed laughing up the rough concrete rampThis is Sean's room, the bed is being made of oak, thick oak to withstand punishment. They trooped with linked arms down the passage. And this is my room, I was thinking of a solid gold bath but the builder says it's too heavy and Sean says it's too vulgar. Look at that view; from here you can see out across the whole valley. I could he in bed in the mornings and read the prices on the Exchange floor with a telescope. It's lovely, Candy said dreamily. You like it?

Oh, yes. It could be your room too. Candy started to blush and then her face tightened with annoyance. He was right, you are vulgar. She started for the door and Sean fumbled for his cigars to cover his embarrassment. With two quicksteps Duff caught her and turned her to face him. You sweet idiot, that was a proposal! Let me go. Near to tears she twisted in his hands. I don't think you're funny! Candy, I'm serious. Will you marry me? The cigar dropped out of Sean's mouth but he caught it before it hit the ground. Candy was standing very still, her eyes fastened on Duff's face. Yes or no, will you marry me?

She nodded once slowly and then twice very fast.

Duff looked at Sean over his shoulder. Leave us, laddie.

On the way back to town Candy had regained her voice.

She chattered happily and Duff answered her with his lopsided grin. Sean hunched morosely in one corner of the carriage. His cigar was burning unevenly and he threw it out of the window. You'll let me keep the Victoria rooms, I hope, Candy There was a silence.

What do you mean? asked Duff.

Two's company, Sean answered.

Oh, no, Candy exclaimed. It's your house as well. Duff spoke sharply, I give it to you, a wedding present.

Oh, shut up, Duff grinned, it's big enough for all of us. Candy crossed quickly to Sean's seat and put her hand on his shoulder. Please, we've been together a long time. We'd be lonely without you.

Sean grunted. Please! He'll come, said Duff. Please. Oh, well Sean frowned ungraciously.

They went racing at Milnerton. Candy with a hat full of ostrich feathers, Sean and Duff with pearl grey toppers and gold heads on their canes. You can pay for your wedding gown by putting fifty guineas on trade Wind! She can't lose -'Duff told Candy. What about Mr Hradsky's new filly? I've heard she's a good bet, Candy asked and Duff frowned. You want to go over to the enemy? I thought you and Hradsky were almost partners Candy twirled her parasol. From the nimours I've heard you work with him all the time. Mbejane slowed the carriage as they ran into the crush of pedestrians and coaches outside the Turf Club gates. Well you've heard wrong both times. His Sun Dancer will never hold trade Wind over the distance, she's bred too light in the legs. Frenchified with Huguenot blood; she'll fade within the mile. And as far as Hradsky being our partner, we throw him an occasional bone. Isn't that right, Sean? Sean was watching Mbejane's back. The Zulu, in loin clothes only and his spears laid carefully on the boards at his feet, was handling the horses with an easy fan:iiliarity.

They cocked their ears back to catch his voice, deep and soft, as he talked to them.

Isn't that right, Sean? Duff repeated. Of course, agreed Sean vaguely. You know, I think I'll get Mbejane a livery. He looks out of place in those skins. Well, some of the other horses from the same stud were stayers. Sun Honey won the Cape Derby twice and Eclipse showed up the English stock in the Metropolitan Handicap last year, Candy argued.

i IHuh, Duff smiled his superiority, well, you can take my word for it that trade Wind will walk the main race today and he'll be back in his stable before Sun Dancer sees the finishing post. Maroon and gold, the same as our racing colours, ean muttered thoughtfully. That would go very wel with his black skin, perhaps a turban with an ostrich feather in it. What the hell are you talking about?

complained Duff.

livery. Mbejane They left the carriage in the reserved area and went through to the members grandstand, Candy sailing prettily between her escorts. Well, Duff, we've got the nicest looking woman here today. Thank you. Candy smiled up at Sean.

Is that why you keep trying to look down the front of her dress? challenged Duff.

You filthy-minded beast. Sean was shocked. Don't deny, it, I Candy teased, but I find it very flattering, you're welcome. They moved through the throng of butterfly-coloured dresses and stiffly-suited men. A ripple of greetings moved with them. Morning, Mr Courtney. The accent was on theMister. How's your trade Wind for the big race? Put your pants on himHello, Duff, congratulations on your engagement. Thanks, Jock, it's time you took the plunge as well. They were rich, they were young, they were handsome and all the world admired them. Sean felt good, with a

pretty girl on his arm and a friend walking beside him. There's Hradsky, let's go across and engage in a little hog-baiting, Duff suggested.

Why do you hate him so much? Candy asked softly. Look at him and answer your own question. Have you ever seen anything more pompous, joyless and unlovable? Oh, leave him alone, Duff, don't spoil the day.

Let's go down to the paddock. Come on" Duff steered them across to where Hradsky and Max were standing alone by the rail of the track. Salome, Norman, and peace to you also, Maximilian Hradsky nodded and Max murmured sadly; his lashes touched his cheeks as he blinked. I noticed you two chatting away and thought I would come across and listen to your stimulating repartee. He received no answer and went on. I saw your new filly exercising on the practice track yesterday evening and I said to myself, Norman's got a girl friend, that's what it is, he's bought a hack for his lady. But now they tell me you are going to race her. Oh, Norman, I wish you'd consult me before you do these silly things. You're an impetuous little devil at times. Mr Hradsky is confident that Sun Dancer will make a reasonable showing today, Max murmured. I was about to offer you a side bet, but being a naturally kind-hearted person, I feel it would be taking an unfair advantage. A small crowd had gathered round them listening with anticipation. Candy tugged gently at Duff's elbow trying to lead him away. I thought five hundred guineas would be acceptable to Norman. Duff shrugged. But let's forget it Hradsky made a fierce little sign with his hands and Max interpreted smoothly. Mr Hradsky suggests a thousand. Rash, Norman, extremely rash. Duff sighed.

But I suppose I must accommodate you. They walked down to the refreshment pavilion. Candy was quiet awhile, then she said, An enemy like Mr Hradsky is a luxury that even you two gods can't afford.

Why don't you leave him alone? It's a hobby of Duff's, explained Sean as they found seats at one of the tables. Waiter, bring us a bottle of Poi Roger. Before the big race they went down to the paddock. A steward opened the wicket gate for them and they passed into the ring of circling horses. A gnome in silk of maroon and gold came to meet them and touched his cap then stood awkwardly, fingering his whip. He looks good this morning, sir. The little man nodded at trade Wind. There was a dark patch of sweat on the horse's shoulder and he mouthed the snaffle, lifting his feet delicately. Once he snorted and rolled his eyes in mock terror. He's got an edge on him, sir, eager kind of, if you follow me.

I want you to win, Harry, said Duff. So do I, sir, I'll do my best. There's a thousand guineas for you if you do. A thousand the jockey repeated on an outgoing breath.

Duff looked across to where Hradsky and Max were standing talking to their trainer. He caught Hradsky's eye glanced significantly at Hradsky's honey-coloured filly and shook his head sympathetically.

Win for me, Harry, he said softly.

That I will, sir!

The groom led the big stallion across to them and Sean flicked the jockey up into the saddle. Good luck. Harry settled his cap and gathered up the reins; he winked at Sean, his hobgoblin face wrinkling in a grin. There's no better luck than a thousand guineas, sir, if you follow me. Come on. Duff caught Candy's arm. Let's get a place at the rail. They hustled her out of the paddock and across the members enclosure. The rail was crowded but a place opened for them respectfully and no one jostled them. I can't understand you two, Candy laughed breathlessly. You make an extravagant bet, then you fix it so you can get nothing even if you win Money's not the problem, Duff assured her. He won that much from me at Klabejas last night, Sean commented. If trade Wind beats the filly his prize will be the look on Hradsky's face, the loss of a thousand guineas will hurt him like a kick between the legs. The horses came parading past, stepping high next to the grooms who held them, then they turned free and cantered back, dancing sideways, throwing their heads, shining in the sunlight like the bright silk upon their backs. They moved away round the curve of the track.

The crowd rustled with excitement, a bookmaker's voice carried over the buzz. Twenty-to-one bar two. Sun Dancer at fives. trade Wind even money. Duff showed his teeth as he smiled. That's right, you tell the people. Candy twisted her gloves nervously and looked up at Sean. You there in the grandstand, can you see what they're doing? They're in line now, moving up together, it looks as though they'll get away first time, Sean told her without taking his binoculars from his eyes. Yes, there they go they're away! Tell me, tell me, commanded Candy, pounding Sean's shoulder.

qiarryls showing in front already, can you see the filly, Duff VI saw a flash of green in the pack, yes, there she is lying sixth or seventh. What horse is that next to trade Wind? That's Hamilton's gelding, don't worry about him, he won't last to the turn. The frieze of horses, their heads going like hammers and the dust lifting pale and thin behind them, were framed by the guide rail and the white mine dumps beyond them. Like a string of dark beads they moved up the back stretch and then bunched in the straight. trade Wind's still there, I think he's making ground the gelding's finished and no sign of the filly yet. Yes! There she is, Duff, wide on the outside. She's moving up. Come on, my darling -'Duff half whispered. Let's see you foot it now. She's clear of the pack, she's coming up, Duff, she's coming up fast, Sean warned.

Come on, trade Wind, hold her off, Duff pleaded. Keep her there, boy. The pounding of the hooves reached them now, a sound like distant surf, but rising sharply. The colours showed, emerald green above a honey skin and maroon and gold leading on the bay.

trade Wind, come on trade Wind, shrieked Candy.

Her hat flopped over her eyes as she hopped; she ripped it off impatiently and her hair tumbled to her shoulders. She's catching him, Duff! Give him the whip, Harry, for Christ's sake, the whip, man. The hoof beats crescendoed, thundered up to them, then passed. The filly's nose was at Harry's boot, creeping steadily forward, now level with trade Wind's heaving shoulder. The whip, God damn you, screamed Duff, give him the whip. Harry's right arm moved, fast as a mamba, crack, crack; they heard the whip above the howling crowd, above the drumming of hooves and the bay jumped at its sting. Like a pair in harness the two horses swept over the finishing line.

Who won? Candy asked as though she were in pain.

I couldn't see, damn it Duff answered. Nor could I - Sean took out his handkerchief and wiped his forehead. That didn't do my heart any good as Francois would say. Have a cigar, Duff. Thanks, I need one. Everyone in the crowd was turned to face the board above the judges box and an uneasy silence held them. Why do they take such a long time to make up their minds? complained Candy. I'm so upset that I can only last a minute before I visit the Ladies Room.

The numbers are going up, shouted Sean. Who is it? Candy jumped to try and see over the heads of the crowd then stopped hurriedly with an expression of alarm on her face. Number Sixteen, bellowed Duff and Sean together, it's trade Wind! Sean punched Duff in the chest and Duff leaned over and snapped Sean's cigar in half. Then they caught Candy between them and hugged her. She let out a careful shriek and fought her way out of their arms. Excuse me, she said and fled. Let me buy you a drink. Sean lit the mutilated stump of his cigar. No, it's my honour, I insist. Duff took his arm and they walked with big satisfied grins towards the pavilion.

Hradsky was sitting at one of the tables with Max. Duff walked up behind him, lifted his top hat off his head with one hand and with the other ruffled Hradsky's few remaining hairs. Never mind, Norman, you can't win all the time. Hradsky turned slowly. He retrieved his hat and smoothed back his hair, his eyes glittered yellow.

He's going to talk, whispered Duff excitedly.

agree with you, Mr Charleywood, you can't win all the time, said Norman Hradsky. It came out quite clearly with only a small catch on the Vs', they were always difficult letters for him. He stood up, put his hat back on his head and walked away. I will have a cheque delivered to your office early on Monday morning, Max told them quietly without taking his eyes off the table. Then he stood up and followed Hradsky.

Sean came through from the bathroom, his beard in wild disorder and a bath-towel round his waist. The famous Duke of York He had ten thousand men He marched them up to the top of the hill And he marched them down again. He sang as he poured bay nirn from a cut-glass bottle into his cupped hands and rubbed it into his hair. Duff sat in one of the gilt chairs watching him. Sean combed his hair carefully then smiled at himself in the mirror.

You magnificent creature, Sean told his reflection.

You're getting fat Duff granted.

Sean looked hurt. It's muscle. You've got a backside on you like a hippopotamus Sean removed his towel and turned his back to the mirror; he surveyed it over his shoulder.

I need a heavy hammer to drive a long nail, he protested. Oh, no, groaned Duff. Your wit at this time of the morning is like pork for breakfast, heavy on the stomach Sean took a silk shirt out of his drawer, held it like a toreador's cape, made two passes and swirled it onto his back with a half veronica. Ole! applauded Duff wryly. Sean pulled on his trousers and sat to fit his boots.

You're in a nice mood this morning, he told Duff. I've just come through an emotional hurricane! What's the trouble? Candy wants a church wedding. Is that bad? Well, it's not good. Why? Is your memory so short? oh, you mean your other wife. That's right, my other wife. Have you told Candy about her? Good God, no. Duff looked horrified.

Yes, I see your problem, what about Candy's husband?

Doesn't that even the score between you? No, he has gone to his reward. Well, that's convenient. Does anyone else know you're married already? Duff shook his head.

What about Francois? No, I never told him. Well, what's your problem Go down to church and marry her.

Duff looked uncomfortable.

I don't mind marrying a second time in a magistrate's court, it would only be a couple of old Dutchmen I'd be cheating, but to go into a church -'Duff shook his head.

I'd be the only one who'd know, said Sean. You and the headman. Duff! Sean beamed at him. Duff, my boy, you have scruples, this is amazing!

Duff squirmed a little in his chair.

Let me think. Sean held his forehead dramatically. Yes, yes, it's coming to me, that's it. Come on, tell me.

Duff sat on the edge of his chair. Go to Candy and tell her it's all fixed, not only are you prepared to marry her in a church but you're even going to build your own church. That's wonderful, Duff murmured sarcastically, that's the way out of my difficulties all right. Let me finish. Sean started filling his silver cigar case. You also tell her that you want a civil ceremony as well believe that's what royalty do. Tell her that! it should win her over. I still don't follow you. Then you build your own chapel up at Xanadu, we can find a distinguished-looking character, dress him up in a dog collar and teach him the right words. That keeps Candy happy. Immediately after the service the priest takes the coach for Capetown. You take Candy down to the magistrate's office and that keeps you happy Duff looked stunned then slowly his face broke into a great happy smile. Genius, pure inspired genius Sean buttoned his waistcoat. Think nothing of it. And now if you'll excuse me I'll go and do some work, one of us has to make sufficient to allow you to indulge these strange fancies of yours. Sean shrugged on his coat, picked up his cane and swung it. The gold head gave it a balance like a handmade shotgun.

The silk next to his skin and the halo of bay rum round his head made him feel good.

He went down the stairs. Mbejane had the carriage waiting for him in the Hotel yard. The body tilted slightly at Sean's weight and the leather upholstery welcomed him with a yeilding softness. He lit his first cigar of the day and Mbejane smiled at him. I see you, Nkosi. I see you also, Mbejane, what is that lump on the side of your head? Nkosi, I was a little drunk, otherwise that ape of a Basuto would never have touched me with his fighting stick Mbejane rolled the carriage smoothly out of the yard and into the street.

What were you fighting aboutV Mbejane shrugged. Must a man have a reason to fight? It is usual. It is in my memory that there was a woman, said Mbejane.

That is also usual, who won this fight? The man bled a little, his friends took him away. The woman, when I left, was smiling in her sleep. Sean laughed, then ran his eyes over the undulating plain of Mbejane's bare back. It was definitely not in keeping. He hoped his secretary had remembered to speak to the tailor. They pulled up in front of his offices. One of his clerks hurried down off the veranda and opened the door of the carriage. Good morning, Mr Courtney. Sean went up the stairs with his clerk running ahead of him like a hunting dog. Good morning Mr Courtney, another polite chorus from the row of desks in the main office. Sean waved his cane at them and went through into his own office. His portrait leered at him from above the fireplace and he winked at it. What have we this morning, Johnson? These requisitions, sir, and the pay cheques, sir, and development reports from the engineers, sir, and... Johnson was a greasy-haired little man in a greasylooking alpaca coat; with each sir he made a greasy little bow. He was efficient so Sean hired him, but that didn't mean he liked him. You got a stomach ache, Johnson? No, sir. Well, for God's sake, stand up straight, man.

Johnson shot to attention. Now let's have them one at a time. Sean dropped into his chair. At this time of the day came the grind. He hated the paper work and so he tackled it with grim concentration, making random checks on the long rows of figures, trying to associate names with faces and querying requisitions that appeared exorbitant until finally he wrote his signature between the last of Johnson's carefully pencilled crosses and threw his pen onto the desk. What else is there? Meeting with Mr Maxwell from the Bank at twelvethirty, sirAnd then?

The agent for Brooke Bros. at one, and immediately after that Mr MacDougal, sir, then you're expected up at the Candy Deep mine. Thank you, Johnson, I'll be at the Exchange as usual this morning if anything out of the ordinary comes up. Very good, Mr Courtney. just one other thing.

Johnson pointed at the brown paper parcel on the couch across the room. From your tailor. Ah! Sean smiled. Send my servant in here. He walked across and opened the parcel. Within a few minutes Mbejane filled the doorway. Nkosi? Mbejane, your new uniform. Sean pointed at the clothes laid out on the couch. Mbejane's eyes switched to the gold and maroon finery, his expression suddenly dead. Put it on, come on, let's see how you look.

Mbejane crossed to the couch and picked up the jacket. These are for me? Yes, come on, put it on. Sean laughed.

Mbejane hesitated, then slowly he loosened his loin cloth and let it drop. Sean watched him impatiently as he buttoned on the jacket and pantaloons, then he walked in a critical circle around the Zulu. Not bad, he muttered, and then in Zulu, Is it not beautiful? Mbejane wriggled his shoulders against the unfamiliar feel of the cloth and said nothing. Well, Mbejane, do you like it? When I was a child I went with my father to trade cattle at Port Natal. There was a man who went about the town with a monkey on a chair, the monkey danced and the people laughed and threw money to it. That monkey had such a suit as this. Nkosi, I do not think he was a very happy monkey. The smile slipped off Sean's face, You would rather wear your skins?

rwhat I wear is the dress of a warrior of Zululand.

There was still no expression on Mbejane's face. Sean opened his mouth to argue with him but before he could speak he lost his temper. You'll wear that uniform, he shouted. You'll wear what I tell you to wear and you'll do it with a smile, do you hear me? Nkosi, I hear you. Mbejane picked up his loin cloth of leopard tails and left the office. When Sean went out to the carriage Mbejane was sitting on the driver's seat in his new livery. All the way to the Exchange his back was stiff with protest and neither of them spoke. Sean glared at the doorman of the Exchange, drank four brandies during the morning rode back to his office again at noon scowling at Mbejane's -still protesting back, shouted at Johnson, snapped at the bank manager, routed the representative from Brooke Bros. and drove out to the Candy Deep in a high old rage. But Mbejane's silence was impenetrable and Sean couldn't re-open the argument without sacrifice of pride. He burst into the new administrative building of the Candy Deep and threw the staff into confusion.

Where's Mr du Toit? he roared. He's down the Number Three shaft, Mr Courtney. What the hell is he doing down there? He's supposed to be waiting for me here. He didn't expect you for another hour, sir. Well, get me some overalls and a mining helmet, don't just stand there. He clapped the tin hat on his head and stamped his heavy gumboots across to the Number Three shaft. The skip dropped him smoothly five hundred feet into the earth and he climbed out at the tenth level. Where's Mr du Toit! he demanded of the shift boss at the lift station. He's up at the face, sir. The floor of the drive was rough and muddy; his gumboots squelched as he set off down the tunnel. His carbide lamp lit the uneven rock walls with a flat white light and he felt himself starting to sweat. Two natives pushing a cocopan back along the railway lines forced him to flatten himself against one wall to allow them to pass and while he waited he felt inside his overalls for his cigar case. As he pulled it out it slipped from his hand and plunked into the mud. The cocopan was gone by that time so he stooped to pick up the case. His ear came within an inch of the wall and a puzzled expression replaced his frown of annoyance. The rock was squeaking. He laid his ear against it. It sounded like someone grinding his teeth. He listened to it for a while trying to guess the cause; it wasn't the echo of shovels or drills, it wasn't water. He walked another thirty yards or so down the drive and listened again.

Not so loud here but now the grinding noise was punctuated with an occasional metallic snap like the breaking of a knife blade. Strange, very strange; he had never heard anything like it before. He walked on down the drive, his bad mood lost in his preoccupation with this new problem. Before he reached the face he met Francois. Hello, Mr Courtney. Sean had long since given up trying to stop Francois calling him that. Gott, I'm sorry I wasn't there to meet you. I thought you were coming at three. That's all right, Francois, how are you? My rheumatism's been giving me blazes, Mr Courtney, but otherwise I'm all right. How's Mr Charleywood? He's fine. Sean couldn't restrain his curiosity any longer. Tell me something, Franz, just now I put my ear against the wall of the drive and I heard an odd noise, I couldn't make out what it was. What kind of noise? A sort of grinding, like, like... I Sean searched for words to describe it, like two pieces of glass being rubbed together. Francois's eyes flew wide open and then began to bulge, the colour of his face changed to grey and he caught Sean's arm.

, whererBack along the drive.

The breath jammed in Francois's throat and he struggled to speak through it, shaking Sean's arm desperately. Cave-in! he croaked. Cave-in, man!

He started to run but Sean grabbed him. Francois struggled wildly. Francois, how many men up at the face? Cave-in. Francois's voice was now hysterically shrill. Cave-in. He broke Sean's grip and raced away towards the lift station, the mud flying from his gumboots. His terror infected Sean and he ran a dozen paces after Francois before he stopped himself. For precious seconds he wavered with fear slithering round like a reptile in his stomach; go back to call the others and perhaps die with them or follow Francois and live. Then the fear in his belly found a mate, a thing just as slimy and cold; its name was shame, and shame it was that drove him back towards the face. There were five blacks and a white man there, bare-chested and shiny with sweat in the heat. Sean shouted those two words at them and they reacted the way bathers do when someone on the beach shouts shark. The same moment of paralysed horror, then the panic. They came stampeding back along the tunnel. Seanran with them, the mud sucked at Ins heavy boots and his legs were weak with easy living and riding in carriages. One by one the others passed him.

"Wait for me, he wanted to scream. Wait for me. He slipped on the greasy footing, scraping his shoulder onthe the rough wall as he fell, and dragged himself up again, mud plastered in his beard, the blood burning in his ears.

Alone now he blundered on down the tunnel. With a crack like a rifle shot one of the thick shoring timbers broke under the pressure of the moving rock and dust smoked from the roof of the tunnel in front of him. He staggered on and all around him the earth was talking, groaning, protesting, with little muffled shrieks. The timbers joined in again, crackling and snapping, and as slowly as a theatre curtain the rock sagged down from above him.

The tunnel was thick with dust that smothered the beam of his lamp and rasped his throat. He knew then that he wasn't going to make it but he ran on with the loose rock starting to fall about him. A lump hit his mining helmet and jarred him so that he nearly fell. Blinded by the swirling dust fog he crashed at full run into the abandoned cocopan that blocked the tunnel, he sprawled over the metal body of the trolley with his thighs bruised from the collision. Now I'm finished, he thought, but instinctively he pulled himself up and started to grope his way around the cocopan to continue his flight. With a roar the tunnel in front of him collapsed. He dropped on his knees and crawled between the wheels of the COCOPan, wriggling under the sturdy steel body just an instant before the roof above him collapsed also. The noise of the fall around him seemed to last for ever, but then it was over and the rustling and grating of the rock as it settled down was almost silence in comparison. His lamp was lost and the darkness pressed as heavily on him as the earth squeezed down on his tiny shelter. The air was solid with dust and he coughed; he coughed until his chest ached and he tasted salty blood in his mouth. There was hardly room to move, the steel body of the trolley was six inches above him, but he struggled until he managed to open the front of his overalls and tear a piece off the tail of his shirt. He held the silk like a surgical mask across his mouth and nose.

It strained the dust out of the aft so he could breathe. The dust settled; his coughing slowed and finally stopped. He felt surprise that he was still alive and cautiously he started exploring. He tried to straighten out his legs but his feet touched rock. He felt with his hands, six inches of head room and perhaps twelve inches on either side, warm mud underneath him and rock and steel all around.

He took off his helmet and used it as a pillow. He was in a steel coffin buried five hundred feet deep, He felt the first flutter of panic. Keep your mind busy, think of something, think of anything but the rock around you, count your assets, he told himself. He started to search his pockets, moving with difficulty in the cramped space. One silver cigar case with two Havanas. He laid it down next to him. One box of matches, wet. He placed it on top of the case. One pocket watch. One handkerchief, Irish linen, monogrammed. One comb, tortoishell, a man is judged by his appearance. He started to comb his beard but found immediately that though this occupied his hands it left his mind free. He put the comb down next to his matches. Twenty-five pounds in gold sovereigns - He counted them carefully, yes, twenty-five. I shall order a bottle of good champagne. The dust was chalky in his mouth so he went on hurriedly, and a Malay girl from the Opera.

No, why be mean, ten Malay girls. I'll have them dance for me, that'll pass the time. I'll promise them a sovereign each to bolster their enthusiasm.

He continued the search, but there was nothing else. Gumboots, socks, well-cut trousers, shirt torn I'm afraid, overalls, a tin hat, and that's all. With his possessions laid out carefully beside him and his cell explored he had to start thinking. First he thought about his thirst. The mud in which he lay was too thick to yield water. He tried straining it through his shirt without success, and then he thought about air. It seemed quite A fresh and he decided that sufficient was filtering in from the loosely packed rock around him to keep him alive.

To keep him alive, alive until the thirst killed. Until he died curled up like a foetus in the warm womb of the earth. He laughed, a worm in a dark warm womb. He laughed again and recognized it as the beginnings of panick!

he thrust his fist into his mouth to stop himself, biting down hard on his knuckles. It was very quiet, the rock had stopped moving. How long will it take? Tell me, Doctor. How long have I got? I Well, you are sweating. You'll lose moisture quite rapidly. I'd say about four days, he answered himself. What about hunger, Doctor? Oh, no, don't worry about that, you, will be hungry, of course, but the thirst will kill you And typhoid, or is it typhus, I can never remember.

What about that, Doctor? If there were dead men trapped in here with you there'd be a good chance, but you're alone, you know Do you think I'll go mad, Doctor, not immediately, of course, but in a few days? Yes, you'll go mad. I've never been mad before, not that I know of anyway, but I think it will help to go mad now, don't you? If you mean, will it make it easier, well, I don't know!

now you're being obscure, but I follow you. You mean in that sleep of madness what dreams will come?

You mean, will madness be more real than reality? You mean, will dying mad be worse than dying thirsty? But then I may beat the madness. This cocoPan might buckle under the strain, after all there must be thousands of tons of rock bearing down on it. That's quite clever, you know, Doctor; as a medical man you should appreciate it.

Mother Earth was saved but, alas, the child was stillborn, she bore down too hard. Sean had spoken aloud, and now he felt foolish. He picked up a piece of stone and tapped the cocopan with it. It sounds firm enough. A most pleasing noise, really. He beat harder on the metal body, one, two, three, one, two, three, then dropped the stone. Soft as an echo, distant as the moon, he heard his taps repeated. His whole body stiffened at the sound, and he started to shiver with excitement. He snatched up the stone: three times he rapped, and three times the answer came back to him. They heard me, sweet merciful Christ, they heard me. He laughed breathlessly. Dear Mother Earth, don't bear down, please don't bear down. Just be patient. Wait a few days and by Caesarian they'll take this child out of your womb. Mbejane waited until Sean disappeared down the Number Three shaft before he took off his new jacket. He folded it carefully on the driver's seat next to him. He sat and enjoyed the feel of the sun on his skinfor a while, then he climbed off the carriage and went to the horses. He took them one at a time to the through for water then returned them to their harnesses, buckling them in loosely. He picked up his spears from the footboard and moved across to a patch of short grass next to the administrative building. He sat down and went to work on the blade, humming softly to himself as he honed. At last he ran an expert thumb along each edge, grunted, shaved a few hairs off his forearm, smiled contentedly and laid his spears beside him in the grass. He lay back and the sun warmed him to sleep.

The shouting woke him. He sat up and automatically checked the height of the sun. He had slept an hour or more. Duff was shouting and Francois, mud-splattered and frightened-looking, was answering him. They were standing together in front of the administrative building.

Duff's horse was sweating. Mbejane stood up and went across to them; he listened closely, trying to understand their staccato voices. They went too fast for him, but

something was wrong, that much he knew. It's caved in almost to the Number Ten lift station Francois said.

You left him in there, accused Duff. I thought he was following me, but he turned back. What for, why did he turn back? To call the others -'Have you started clearing the drive? No, I was waiting for you You stupid bloody idiot, he might be alive in there...

every minute is vital. But he hasn't a chance, Mr Charleywood, he must be deadShut up, damn you. Duff swung away from him and started running towards the shaft. There was a crowd gathered beneath the high steel structure of the head gear, and suddenly Mbejane knew it was Sean. He caught up with Duff before he reached the shaft. Is it the Nkosi? Yes. What has happened? The rock has fallen on him Mbejane pushed his way into the skip next to Duff and neither of them spoke again until they reached the tenth level. They went down the drive, only a short way before they reached the end. There were men there with crowbars and shovels standing undecided, waiting for orders, and Mbejane shouldered a path through them. He and Duff stood together in front of the new wall of broken rock that sealed the tunnel, and the silence went on and on. Then Duff turned on the white shift-boss. Were you at the face? Yes. He went back to call you, didn't he? Yes. And you left him there? The min couldn't look at Duff I thought he was following us, he muttered. You thought only of your own miserable skin, Duff told him, you filthy little coward, you slimy yellow bastard, you,.

Mbejane caught Duff Is arm and Duff stopped his tirade.

They all heard it then, clink, clink, clink. It's him, it must be him! whispered Duff, he's alive! He snatched a crowbar from one of the natives and knocked against the side of the tunnel. They waited, their breathing the only sound, until the answer came back to them louder and sharper than before. Mbejane took the crowbar out of Duff's hands. He thrust it into a crack in the rock jam and his back muscles bunched as he heaved.

The bar bent like a liquorice stick, he threw it away and went at the stone with his bare hands. You! Duff snapped at the shift-boss. We'll need timber to shore up as we clear the fall, get it. He turned to the natives. Four of you working on the face at one time the rest of you carry the stone away as we loosen it.

Do you want any dynamite? asked the shift-boss. And bring the rock down a second time? Use your brains, man. Go and get that timber and call Mr du Toit while you're at the surface. In four hours they cleared fifteen feet of tunnel, breaking the larger stabs of stone with sledge hammers and prising the pieces out of the jam. Duff's body ached and his hands were raw. He had to rest. He walked slowly back to the lift station and there he found blankets and a huge dish of soup. Where did this come from? Candy's Hotel, sir. Half Johannesburg is waiting at the head of the shaft. Duff huddled into a blanket and drank a little. of the soup. Where's du Toit? I couldn't find him, sir.

Up at the face Mbejane worked on. The first four natives came back to rest and fresh men took their place.

Mbejane led them, grunting an order occasionally but otherwise reserving his strength for the assault on the rock. For an hour Duff rested and when he returned to the head of the tunnel Mbejane was still there. Duff watched him curl his arms round a piece of stone the size of a beer keg, brace his legs and tear the stone out of the jam. Earth and loose rock followed it burying Mbejane's legs to the knees and Duff jumped forward to help him.

Another two hours and Duff had to rest again. This time he led Mbejane back with him, gave him a blanket and made him drink a little soup. They sat next to each other with their backs against the Wall of the tunnel and blankets over their shoulders. The shift-boss came to Duff. Mrs Rautenbach sent this down for you, sir It was a half-bottle of brandy. Tell her, thank you Duff pulled the cork with his teeth and swallowed twice. it brought the tears into his eyes, he offered the bottle to Mbejane.

It is not fittingl Mbejane demurred.

Drink Mbejane drank, wiped the mouth of the bottle carefully on his blanket and handed it back. Duff took another swallow and offered it again but Mbejane shook his head.

A little of that is strength, too much is weakness.

There is work to do now Duff corked the bottle.

How long before we reach him? asked Mbejane. Another day, maybe two. A man can die in two days, mused the Zulu. Not one with a body like a bull and a temper like a devil, Duff assured him. Mbejane smiled and Duff went on groping for his words in Zulu.

"You love him, Mbejane? Love is a woman's word Mbejane inspected one of his thumbs; the nail was torn loose, standing up like a tombstone; he took it between his teeth, pulled it off and spat it onto the floor of the drive. Duff shuddered as he watched. Those baboons will not work unless they are driven. Mbejane stood up. Are you rested? Yes, lied Duff, and they went back to the face.

Sean lay in the mud with his head on the hard pillow of the helmet. The darkness was as solid as the rock around him. He tried to imagine where the one ended and the other began, by doing that he could stop himself feeling his thirst so strongly. He could hear the ring of hammer on stone and the rattle of rock falling free but it never seemed to come any closer. The whole side of his body was stiff and sore but he could not turn over, his knees caught on the cocopan every time he tried and the air in his little cave was starting to taste stale, his head ached.

He moved again, restlessly, and his hand brushed the small pile of sovereigns. He struck at them, scattering them into the mud. They were the bait that had led him into this trap. Now he would give them, and all the millions. of others, for just the feel of the wind in his beard and the sun in his face. The darkness clung to him, thick and cloying as black treacle; it seemed to fill his nose, his throat and eyes, smothering him. He groped and found the matchbox. For a few seconds of light he would burn up most of the precious oxygen in his cave and call it fair exchange, but the box was sodden. He struck match after match but the wet heads crumbled without a spark and he threw them away and clenched his eyelids to keep the darkness out. Bright colours formed in front of his closed eyes, moving and rearranging themselves until suddenly and very clearly they formed a picture of Garrick's face.

He hadn't thought about his family for months, he had been too busy reaping the golden harvest, but now memories crowded back. There were so many things he had forgotten. Everything else had become unimportant when compared with power and gold, even lives, men's lives, had meant nothing. But now it was his own life, teetering on the edge of the black cliff.

The sound of the sledge-hammers broke into his thoughts again. There were men on the other side of the blocked tunnel trying to save him, working their way into the treacherous rock pile which might collapse again at any minute. People were more valuable than the poisonous metal, the little gold discs that lay smugly beside him in the mud while men struggled to save him.

He thought of Garry, crippled by his careless shotgun, father to the bastard he had sired, of Ada whom he had left without a word of goodbye, of Karl Lochtkamper with the pistol in his hand and half his head splattered across the floor of his bedroom, of other nameless men dead or broken because of him.

Sean ran his tongue across his lips and listened to the hammers; he was certain they were nearer now. If I get out of here, it'll be different. I swear it Mbejane rested for four hours in the next thirty-six. Duff watched the flesh melt off him in sweat. He was killing himself, Duff was worn out; he could no longer work with his hands but he was directing the teams who were shoring up the reclaimed tunnel. By the second evening they had cleared a hundred feet of the drive. Duff paced it out and when he reached the face he spoke to Mbejane. How long since you last signalled to him?

Mbejane stepped back with a sledge-hammer in his tattered hands; its shaft was sticky and brown with blood. An hour ago and even then it sounded as though there were but the length of a spear between us. Duff took a crowbar from one of the other natives and tapped the rock. The answer came immediately, He's hitting something made of iron, Duff said. It sounds as though he's only a few feet away. Mbejane, let these other men take over. If you wish you can stay and watch but you must rest again now. For answer Mbejane lifted the hammer and swung it against the face. The rock he hit cracked and two of the natives stepped up and levered it loose with their crowbars. At the back of the hole it left in the wall they could see the corner of the cocopan. Everyone stared at it, then Duff shouted. Sean, Sean, can you hear me? Stop talking and get me out of here. Sean's voice was hoarse with thirst and dust, and muffled by the rock. He's under the cocopan. It's him. Nkosi, are you all rightVWe've found him. The shouts were picked up by the men working behind them in the drive and passed back to those waiting at the lift station. They've found him, he's all'right, they've found him. Duff and Mbejane jumped forward together, their exhaustion completely forgotten. They cleared the last few lumps of rock and with their shoulders touching knelt and peered under the cocopan. Nkosi, I see you. I see you also, Mbejane, what took you so long?

Nkosi, there were a few small stones in the way. Mbejane reached under the cocopan and with his hands under Sean's armpits pulled him out. What a hell of a place you chose to go to ground in, laddie. How are you feeling? Give me some water and I'll be all right Water, bring water, shouted Duff.

Sean gulped it, trying to drink the whole mug in one mouthful. He coughed and it shot out of his nose. Easy, laddie, easy. Duff thumped his back. Sean drank the next mugful more slowly and finished panting from the effort. That was good. Come on, we've got a doctor waiting up on top. Duff draped a blanket over his shoulders. Mbejane picked Sean up across his chest. Put me down, damn you, I haven't forgotten how to walk. Mbejane set him down gently, but his legs buckled like those of a man just out of bed from a long illness and he clutched at Mbejane's arm. Mbejane picked him up again and carried him down to the lift station. They rode up in the skip into the open. The moon's shining. And the stars, my God, they're beautiful. There was wonder in Sean's voice; he sucked the night air into his lungs but it was too rich for him and he started coughing again. There were people waiting at the head of the shaft and they crowded round them as they stepped out of the skip. How is he? Are you all right, Sean? Doc Symmonds is waiting in the office Quickly, Mbejane, said Duff, get him out of the cold.

One on either side of him they hurried Sean across to the administrative building and laid him on the couch in Francois's office. Symmonds checked him over, looked down his throat and felt his pulse. Have you got a closed carriage here? Yes, Duff answered.

Well, wrap him up warmly and get him home to bed.

With the dust and bad air he's been breathing there's serious danger of pneumonia. I'll come down with you and give him a sedative. I won't need one, Doc, Sean grinned at him.

I think I know what's best for you, Mr Courtne. Doctor Symmonds was a young man. He was the fashionable doctor among the rich of Johannesburg and he took it very seriously. Now if you please, we'll get you to your hotel. He started to pack, his instruments back into his valise. You're the doctor, Sean agreed, but before we go will you have a look at MY servant's hands, they'-re in a hell of a mess. There's hardly any meat left on them. Doctor Symmonds did not look up from what he was doing. I have no Kaffir practice, Mr Courtney, I'm sure you'll find some other doctor to attend to him when we get back to town Sean sat up slowly, he let the blankets slip off his shoulders. He walked across to Doctor Symmond held him by the throat against the wall. The doctor had a fine pair of waxed moustaches and Sean took one of them between the thumb and forefinger of his free handhe plucked it out like feathers from the carcass of a dead fowl and Doctor Symmonds, squealed. Starting now, Doctor, you have a Kaffir practice, Sean told him. He pulled the handkerchief out of Symmondstop pocket and dabbed at the little drops of blood on the doctor's bare upper lip. Be a good fellow, see to my servant.

When Sean woke the next morning the hands of the grandfather clock across the bedroom pointed at the top of their dial. Candy was in the room opening the curtains and with her were two waiters, each with a loaded tray. Good morning, how is our hero this morning? The waiters put down their trays and went out as she came across to Sean's bed.

Sean blinked the sleep out of his eyes. My throat feels as though I've just finished a meal of broken glassThat's the dust, Candy told him and laid her hands on his forehead. Sean's hand sneaked round behind her and she squeaked as he pinched her. Standing well away from the bed she rubbed her bottom and made a face at him. There's nothing wrong with you! Good, then I'll get up. Sean started to pull back the bedclothes. Not until the doctor's had a look at you, you won, tCandy, if that bastard puts one foot in this room I'll punch him so hard in the mouth his teeth will march out of his backside like soldiers.

Candy turned to the breakfast trays to cover her smile.

That's no way to talk in front of a lady. But don't worry, it isn't Symmonds. Where's Duff? Sean asked. He's having a bath, then he's coming to eat breakfast with you. I'll wait for him, but give me a cup of coffee in the meantime, there's a sweetheart. She brought the coffee to him. Your savage has been camping on my trail all morning, he wants to see you.

I've just about had to put an armed guard on this room to keep him out. Sean laughed. Will you send him in, Candy? She went to the door and stopped with a hand on the latch. It's nice to have you back, Sean, don't do anything silly like that again, will you? That's a promise, Sean assured her.

Mbejane came quickly and stood in the doorway. Nkosi, is it well with you? Sean looked at the iodinestained bandages on his hands and the maroon and gold livery without answering. Then he rolled on his back and stared at the ceiling. I sent for my servant and instead there comes a monkey on a chain. Mbejane stood still, his face expressionless but for the hurt in his eyes. Go, find my servant. You will know him by his dress which is that of a warrior of Zululand. It took a few seconds for the laughter to start rolling around in Mbejane's belly; it shook his shoulders and creased the corners of his mouth. He closed the door very softly behind him and when he came back in his loin cloth Sean grinned at him. Ah! I see you, Mbejane. And I see you also. He stood by the bed and they talked. They spoke little of the cave-in and not at all of Mbejane's part in the rescue. Between them it was understood, words could only damage it. Perhaps they would talk of it later, but not now. Tomorrow, will you need the carriage? Mbejane asked at last. Yes - go now. Eat and sleep. Sean reached out and touched Mbejane's arm. just that small physical contact that almost guilty touching, and Mbejane left him.

Then Duff came in in a silk dressing-gown and they ate eggs and steak from the trays and Duff sent down for a bottle of wine just to rinse the dust out of their throats once more. They tell me Francois is still down at the Bright Angels - he's been on the drunk ever since he got out of that shaft. When he sobers up he can come to the office and collect his pay packet Sean sat up. You're going to fire him? I'm going to fire him so high he'll only touch ground when he reaches Capetown What the hell for? demanded Sean. What for? Duff echoed. What for? For running, that's what for. Duff, he was in a cave-in at Kimberley, wasn't he? Yes, Broke his legs, didn't you say rYes.

Shall I tell you something? If it were to happen to me a second time I'd run as well.

Duff filled his wine glass without answering. Send down to the Bright Angels, tell him alcohol is bad for the liver, that should sober him, tell him unless he's back at work by tomorrow morning we'll dock it off his pay, Sean said. Duff looked at him with a puzzled expression. What is this? I had some time to think while I was down in that hole. I decided that to get to the top you don't have to stamp on everyone you meet. Ah, I understand. Duff gave his lopsided grin. A good resolution, New Year in August. Well, that's all right, you had me worried there, I thought a rock had fallen on your head. I also make good resolutionsDuff, I don't want Francois firedAll right, all right, he stays on. If you like we can open a soup kitchen at the office and turn Xanadu into a home for the aged. Oh, go and burst. I just don't think it's necessary to fire Francois, that's allWho's arguing? I agreed with you, didn't I? I have deep respect for good resolutions. I make them all the time. Duff pulled his chair up to the bed, Quite by chance I happen to have a pack of cards with me He took them out of his dressing-gown pocket. Vould you care for a game of Klabejas? Sean lost fifty pounds before he was saved by the arrival of the new doctor. The doctor tapped his chest and tu'ttutted, looked down his throat and tut-tutted, wrote out a prescription and confined him to bed for the rest of the day. He was just leaving when Jock and Trevor Heyns arrived. Jock had a bunch of flowers which he presented to Sean in an embarrassed fashion.

Then the room began to fill in earnest: the rest of the crowd from the Exchange arrived, someone had brought a case of champagne, a poker game started in one corner and a political meeting in another.

who does this Kruger think he is, anyway, God or something? You know what he said last time we went to see him about getting the vote, he said "Protest, protest I have the guns and you have not! Three Kings wins, you are holding cards! Consolidated Wits. will hit thirty you wait and see.

shillings by the end of the month. and the taxes, theyre putting another twenty percent on dynamite. a new piece at the Opera, Jock's got a season ticket on her, no one else has had a look in yet. All right, you two, stop that. If you want to fight go outside, this is a sick room. This bottle's empty, break open a new one, Duff. Sean lost another hundred to Duff and then a little after five Candy came in. She was horrified. out, all of you, outV The room emptied as quickly as it had filled and Candy wandered around picking up cigar butts and empty glasses. The vandals! Someone's burnt a hole in the carpet and look at this, champagne spilt all over the table. Duff coughed and started pouring himself another drink. Don't you think you've had enough of that, Dufford? Duff put down his glass. And it's time you went and changed for dinner. Duff winked sheepishly at Sean, but he went.

Duff and Candy came back to his room after supper and had a liqueur with him. Now to sleep, Candy commanded and went across to draw the curtains. It's still early, protested Duff with no effect. Candy blew the lamp out.

Sean was not tired, he had lain in bed all day and now his brain was overactive. He lit a cigar and smoked, listening to the street noises below his window and it was past midnight before he finally drifted off. When he woke, he woke screaming, for the darkness was on him again and the blankets pressed down on him suffocating him. He fought them off and stumbled blindly across the room.

He had to have air and light. He ran into the thick velvet curtains and they closed around his face; he tore himself free and hit the french windows with his shoulder; they burst open and he was out on the balcony, out in the cold air with the moon fat and yellow in the sky above him.

His gasping slowed until he was breathing normally again. He went back inside and lit the lamp, then he went through to Duff's empty bedroom. There was a copy of Twelfth Night on the bedside table and he took it back to his own room. He sat with the lamp at his elbow and forced his eyes to follow the printed words even though they made no sense. He read until the dawn showed grey through the open windows, then he put down the book.

He shaved, dressed and went down the back stairs into the hotel yard. He found Mbejane in the stables. Put a saddle on the grey. Where are you going, Nkosi? To the devil. Then I will come with you. No, I will be back before midday. He rode up to the Candy Deep and tied his horse outside the administration buildings. There was a sleepy clerk in the front offices.

good morning, Mr Courtney. Can I help you? Yes. Get me overalls and a helmet. Sean went to the Number Three shaft. There was a frost on the ground that crunched as he walked on it and the sun had just cleared the eastern ridge of the Witwatersrand. Sean stopped at the hoist shed and spoke to the driver. Has the new shift gone on yet? all an hour ago, sir! The man was obviously surprised to see him. the night shift finished blasting at five o'clock. Good, drop me down to the fourteenth level. The fourteenth is abandoned now, Mr Courtney, there's no one working there. yes, i know. Sean walked across to the head of the shaft. He lit his carbide lamp and while he waited for the skip he looked out across the valley. The air was clear and the sun threw long shadows. Everything stood out in sharp relief. He had not been up this early in the morning for many months and he had almost forgotten how fresh and dehcately coloured a new day was. The skip stopped in front of him. He took a deep breath and stepped into it. When he reached the fourteenth level he got out and pushed the recall signal for the skip and he was alone in the earth again. He walked up the tunnel and the echo of his footsteps went with him. He was sweating and a muscle in his cheek started to jerk; he reached the face and set the carbide lamp down on a ledge of rock. He checked to make sure his matches were in his pocket, then he blew out the lamp. The darkness came squeezing down on him.

The first half hour was the worst. Twice he had the matches in his hand ready to strike but he stopped himself.

The sweat formed cold wet patches under his arms and the darkness filled his open mouth and choked him. He had to fight for each lungful of air, suck in, hold it, breathe out. First he regulated his breathing and then slowly, slowly his mind came under control and he knew he had won. He waited another ten minutes breathing easily and sitting relaxed with his back against the side of the tunnel, then he lit the lamp. He was smiling as he went back to the lift station and signalled for the skip. When he reached the surface he stepped out and lit a cigar; he flicked the match into the square black opening of the shaft. So much for you, little hole.

He walked back towards the administration building.

What he could not know was that the Number Three shaft of the Candy Deep was to take something from him just as valuable as his courage and that, next time, what it took it would not give back. But that was many years ahead.

By October Xanadu was nearly finished. The three of them drove out to it as usual one Saturday afternoon.

"The builder is only six months behind schedule, now he says he'll be finished by Christmas and I haven't found the courage yet to ask him which Christmas, Sean remarked.

It's all the alterations Candy has thought up, Duff said. She's got the poor man so confused he doesn't know whether he's a boy or a girl. Well, if you'd consulted me in the first place it would have saved a lot of trouble, Candy told them.

The carriage turned in through the marble gates and they looked around them. Already the lawns were smooth and green and the jacaranda. trees lining the drive were shoulder high. I think it's going to live up to its name, that gardener's doing a good job, Sean spoke with satisfaction. Don't you call him a gardener to his face or we'll have a strike on our hands. He's a horticulturist, Duff smiled across at him. Talking about names, Candy interrupted, don't you think Xanadu is, well, a bit outlandish? No, I do not, Sean said. I picked it myself. I think it's a darn good name. It's not dignified, why don't we call it Fair Oaks? Firstly, because there isn't an oak tree within fifty miles and secondly because it's already called Xanadu. Don't get cross, it was just a suggestion. The builder met them at the top of the drive and they began the tour of the house. That took an hour, then they left the builder and went out into the garden. They found the gardener with a gang of natives near the north boundary.

How's it going, Joubert? Duff greeted him. Not bad, Mr Charleywood, but it takes time you know. You've done a damn fine job so far. It's kind of you to say so, sir. When are you going to start laying out my maze? The gardener looked surprised; he glanced at Candy, opened his mouth, closed it again and looked once more at Candy.

oh, I told Joubert not to worry about the maze. Why did you do that? I wanted a maze, ever since I visited Hampton Court as a child I've wanted my own Maze. They are silly things, Candy told him. They just take up a lot of space and they're not even nice to look at.

Sean thought Duff was going to argue, but he didn't.

They talked to the gardener a little longer, then they walked back across the lawns in front of the house towards the chapel. Dufford, I've left my parasol in the carriage, would you mind getting it for me? Candy asked.

When Duff was gone Candy took Sean's arm. It's going to be a lovely home. We're going to be very happy here. Have you two decided on a date yet? Sean asked.

We want the house finished first so we can move straight in. I think we'll make it some time in February next year. )

They reached the chapel and stopped in front of it. It's a sweet little church. Candy spoke dreamily. And such a nice idea of Dufford's, a special church of our own! Sean shuffled uncomfortably. Yes, he agreed, it's a very romantic idea. He glanced over his shoulder and saw Duff coming back with the parasol. Candy, it's none of my business. I don't know anything about marriage, but I know about training horses you break them to the halter before you put the saddle on their backs. I don't follow you. Candy looked puzzled. What are you trying to say? Nothing, just forget it. Here comes Duff. When they got back to the hotel there was a note at the reception desk for Sean. They went through into the main lounge and Candy went off to check the menu for dinner.

Sean opened the envelope and read the note:I should like to meet you and Mr Charleywood to discuss a matter of some importance. I will be at my hotel after dinner this evening and hope that it will be convenient for you to call on me then. N. Hradsky.

Sean passed the note across to Duff.

What do you suppose he wants? He has heard of your deadly skill as a Klabejas player.

He wants to take -lessons, Duff answered. Shall we go? Of course. You know I can't resist Norman's exhilarating company. It was a superb dinner. The crayfish, packed in ice, had come up from Capetown by express coach.

Candy, Sean and I are going across to see Hradsky.

We might be back a little late, Duff told her when they were finished. As long as it's Hradsky, Candy smiled at him. Don't get lost, I have my spies at the Opera House you know. Shall we take the carriage? Duff asked Sean, and Sean noticed that he hadn't laughed at Candy's joke. It's only two blocks, we might as well walk. They walked in silence. Sean felt his dinner settling down comfortably inside him, he belched softly and took another puff from his cigar. When they had almost reached the Grand National Hotel Duff spoke.

Sean... He stopped.

Yes? Sean prompted him.

About Candy... He stopped again.

She's a fine girl, Sean prompted again. Yes, she's a fine girl. Is that all you wanted to say? Well, oh!

never mind. Let's go and see what Saul and David want.

Max met them at the door of Hradsky's suite. Good evening, gentlemen, I am so pleased you could come. Hello, Max. Duff went past him to where Hradsky was standing in front of the fireplace. Norman, my dear fellow, how are you?

Hradsky nodded an acknowledgement and Duff took hold of the lapels of Hradsky's coat and adjusted them carefully; then he picked an imaginary piece of fluff off his shoulder. You have a way with clothes, Norman. Don't you agree that Norman has a way with clothes, Sean? I know of no one else who can put on a twenty-guinea suit and make it look like a half-filled-bag of oranges. He patted Hradsky's arm affectionately. Yes, thank you, I will have a drink. He went across to the liquor cabinet and poured one for himself. Now, what can you gentlemen do for me?

Max glanced at Hradsky and Hradsky nodded.

I'll will come to the point immediately, said Max.

Duff put his glass back on top of the cabinet and dropped his grin.

Sean sat down in one of the armchairs, his expression also serious; both of them could guess what was coming. In the past, continued Max, we have worked together on numerous occasions and we have both benefited from it. The next logical step, of course, is to combine our strength, pool our resources and go on together to new greatness. I take it that you are proposing a merger? Precisely, Mr Courtney, a merger of these two vast financial ventures. Sean leaned back in his chair and started to whistle softly. Duff picked up his glass again and took a sip.

Well, gentlemen, what are your feelings on the subject? asked Max. Have you got a proposal worked out, Max, something definite for us to think about! Yes, Mr Courtney, I have. Max went to the stinkwood desk which filled one corner of the room and picked up a sheaf of papers. He carried it across to Sean. Sean scanned through it. You've done quite a bit of work here, Max. It's going to take us a day or two to work out exactly what you are offering. I appreciate that, Mr Courtney. Take as long as you wish. We have worked for a month to draw up that scheme and I hope our labours have not been in vain. I think you will find our offer very generous.

Sean stood up.

We'll contact you again in the next few days, Max.

Shall we go, Duff ?

Duff finished his drink. Goodnight, Max, look after Norman. He's very precious to us, you know. They went to their building on Eloff Street. Sean let them in through one of the side doors, lit the lamps in his office and Duff pulled up an extra chair to the desk.

By two o'clock the following morning they understood the essentials of Hradsky's offer. Sean stood up and went to open one of the windows, for the room was thick with cigar smoke. He came back and flopped onto the couch, arranged a cushion behind his head and looked at Duff. Let's hear what you've got to say Duff tapped his teeth with a pencil while he arranged his words. Let's decide first if we want to join with him If he makes it worth our while, we do! Sean answered. I agree with you, but only if he makes it worth our while. Duff Laid back in his chair. Now the next point.

Tell me, laddie, what is the first thing that strikes you about this scheme of Norman's? We get nice-sounding titles and fat cash payments and Hradsky gets control, Sean answered. You have laid your finger on the heart of it, Norman wants control. More than money, Norman wants control so that he can sit at the top of the pile, look down on everyone else and say, "All right, you bastards, what if I do stutter? " Duff stood up, he walked round the desk and stopped in front of Sean's couch. Now for my next question. Do we give him control?

'If he pays our price, then we give him control, Sean answered. Duff turned away and went across to the open window. You know I rather like the feeling of being top man myself, he said thoughtfully. Listen, Duff, we came here to make money. If we go in with Hradsky we'll make more, Sean said. Laddie, we've got so much now that we could fill this room waist deep in sovereigns. We've got more than we'll ever be able to spend and I like being top man. Hradsky's more powerful than we are, let's face up to that. He's got his diamond interests as well, so you're not top man even now. If we join him you still won't be top man but you'll be a damn sight richer Unassailable logic, Duff nodded. I agree with you then. Hradsky gets control but he pays for it; we'll put him through the wringer until he's dry. Sean swung his legs off the couch. Agreed, now let's take this scheme of his by the throat, tear it to pieces and build it up again to suit ourselves. Duff looked at his watch. It's after two o'clock. We'll leave it now and start on it when we're fresh in the morning. They had their lunch brought down to the office the next day, and ate it at the desk. Johnson, who had been sent up to the Stock Exchange with instructions to keep an eye on prices and call them immediately anything out of the ordinary happened, reported back after high change. It's been as quiet as a graveyard all day, sir, there's all sorts of rumours flying about. Seems someone saw the lights burning in this office at two o'clock this morning.

Then when you didn't come to the Exchange but sent me instead, well, I can tell you, sir, there were a lot of questions asked. Johnson hesitated, then his curiosity got the better of him. Can I help you at all, sir? He started sidling across towards the desk. I think we can manage on our own, Johnson. Shut the door as you go out, please. At half-past seven they decided it was enough for one day and they went back to the hotel. As they walked into the lobby Sean saw Trevor Heyns disappear into the lounge and heard his voice. Here they are! Almost immediately Trevor appeared again with his brother.

Hello, boys, Jock appeared surprised to see them. What are you doing here? We live here, said Duff. Oh, yes, of course. Well, come and have a drink with us. Jock smiled expansively. And then you can pump us and find out what we've been doing all day, Duff suggested.

Jock looked embarrassed. I don't know what you mean, I just thought we'd have a drink together, that's all. Thanks all the same, Jock, we've had a hard day. I think we'll just go on up to bed, Duff said. They were halfway across the lobby before Duff turned back to where the two brothers were standing.

I'll tell you boys something, he said in a stage whisper.

This is really big, it's so big it takes a while for the mind to grasp it. When you two realize that it's been right there under your noses all the time, you're going to kick yourselves They left the Heyns brothers in the lobby staring after them and went up the stairs.

That wasn't very kind, Sean laughed. They won't sleep for a week. When neither Sean nor Duff put in an appearance at the Exchange the next morning, the nimours surged round the members lounge and the prices started running amok. Reliable information that Sean and Duff had struck a rich new goldfield across the vaal sent the prices up like rocketing snipe; then twenty minutes later the denial came in and clipped fifteen shillings a share off the Courtney-Charleywood stock. Johnson ran backwards and forwards between the office and the Exchange all morning. By eleven he was so tired he could hardly talk. Don't worry any more, Johnson, Sean told him.

Here's a sovereign, go down to the Grand National and buy yourself a drink, you've had a hard morning. One of Jock. Heyns's men, who had been detailed off to watch the Courtney-Charleywood offices, followed Johnson down to the Grand National and heard him place his order with the Barman. He raced back to the Exchange and reported to Jock. Their head clerk has just gone and ordered himself a bottle of French champagne, he panted. Good God! Jock nearly jumped out of his chair and beside him Trevor signalled frantically for his clerk. Buy, he whispered in the man's ear. Buy every scrap of their script you can lay your hands on. Across the lounge Hradsky settled down a little further in his chair; he clasped his hands contentedly over the front of his stomach and he very nearly smiled.

By midnight Sean and Duff had completed their counter-proposal to Hradsky's offer. How do you think Norman will react to it? asked Sean. I hope his heart is strong enough to stand the shock, Duff grinned. The only reason that his jaw won't hit the floor is that his great gut will be in the way. Shall we go down to his hotel now and show him?

suggested Sean. Laddie, laddie. Duff shook his head sorrowfully. After all the time I've spent on your education, and you still haven't learned. What do we do then? We send for him, laddie, we make him come to us. We play him on the home ground. How does that help? Sean asked. It gives us an advantage immediately, it makes him remember that he's the one doing the asking Hradsky came down to their office at ten o'clock the next morning; he came in state driven behind a four-inhand and attended by Max and two secretaries. Johnson met them at the front door and ushered them into Sean's office. Norman, dear old Norman, I'm delighted to see you, Duff greeted him and, fully aware of the fact that Hradsky never smoked, Duff thrust a cheroot between his lips.

When everyone was seated Sean opened the meeting. Gentlemen, we have spent some time examining your proposition and in the main we find it just, fair and equitable. Hear, hear, Duff agreed politely. At the outset I want to make it quite clear, Sean went on, that Mr Charleywood and myself feel strongly that the union of our two ventures is desirable, nay! essential.

If you will forgive the quotation, "ex unitate vires". Hear, hear, hear, hear. Duff lit his cigar. As I was saying we have examined your proposition and we accept it readily and happily, with the exception of a few minor details which we have listed. Sean picked up the thick pile of paper. Perhaps you would care to glance through it and then we can proceed to the drawingup of a formal agreement. Max accepted the sheaf gingerly. If you want privacy, Mr Charleywood's office which adjoins this room is at your disposal. Hradsky took his band next door and an hour later when he led them back again they looked like a party of pallbearers. Max was on the verge of tears, he cleared the lump from his throat. I think we should examine each item separately, he said sadly, and three days later they shook hands on the deal.

Duff poured the drinks and gave each man a glass. To the new company, Central Rand Consolidated. It has been a long confinement, gentlemen, but I think we have given birth to a child of which we can be proud.

Hradsky had control, but it had cost him dearly.

Central Rand Consolidated had its christening party on the main floor of the Johannesburg Stock Exchange; ten percent of the shares were put out for sale to the public.

Before the day's dealings began the crowd had overflowed the Stock Exchange building and jammed in the street for a block in each direction. The President of the Exchange read the prospectus of Central Rand Consolidated; in the cathedral hush his every word carried clearly to the members lounge.

The bell rang and still the hush persisted.

Hradsky's authorized clerk broke the silence timidly.

sell C. R. C. s. It was nearly a massacre; two hundred men were trying to buy shares from him simultaneously. First his jacket and then his shirt disintegrated beneath the clutching hands; he lost his spectacles, crushed to powdered glass beneath the trampling feet. Ten minutes later he managed to fight his way out of the crowd and report to his masters, I was able to sell them, gentlemen. Sean and Duff laughed. They had reason to laugh, for in those ten minutes their thirty percent holding in C. R. C. had appreciate in by half a million pounds.

That year Christmas dinner at Candy's Hotel was considerably better than it had been five years previously.

Seventy-five people sat down to it at one table and by three o'clock, when it ended, only half of them were able to stand up. Sean used the banisters to get up the stairs and at the top he told Candy and Duff solemnly, I love you, I love you both desperately, but now I must sleep. He left them and set off down the corridor bouncing against the walls like a trick billiard shot until he ricocheted through the door into his suite. You'd better make sure he's all right, Dufford. A case of the blind drunk leading the blind drunk, said Duff indistinctly, and also employing the wall to wall route followed Sean down the corridor. Sean was sitting on the edge of his bed wrestling with one of his boots.

What you trying to do, laddie, break your ankle? Sean looked up and smiled beatifically. Come in, come in, all four of you. Have a drink! Thanks, I brought my own. Duff closed the door behind him like a conspirator and produced a bottle from under his coat, She didn't see me - she didn't know her little Dufford had a big beautiful bottle in his inside pocket. Vould you mind helping me with this damn boot?

Sean asked. That's a very good question, said Duff seriously as he set a course across the room.

glad you asked it. He reached the chair and dropped into it. The answer, of course, is, Yes! I would mind.

Sean let his foot drop and lay back on the bed.

Laddie, I want to talk to you, Duff said. Talk's free, help yourself. Sean, what do you think of Candy?

Lovely pair of titties, Sean opened. Sure, but a man cannot live by titties alone No, but I suppose she's also got the other basic equipment, Sean said drowsily.

laddie, I'm being serious now, I want your help. Do you think I am doing the right thing, this marriage business, I mean. Don't know much about marriage.

Sean rolled over on his face. She's calling me Dufford already, did you notice that, laddie? That's an omen, that's an omen of the most frightful portent.

Did you notice, hey? Duff waited a second for an answer which he didn't receive. That's what the other one used to call me. dufford, she'd say, I can hear it now, dufford, you're a pig"!

Duff looked hard at the bed. Are you still with me?

No answer. Sean, laddie, I need your help.

Sean snored softly.

oh, you drunken oaf said Duff miserably.

Xanadu was finished by the end of January and the wedding was set for the twentieth of February. Duff sent the Commandant and the entire police force of Johannesburg an invitation: in return they put a twenty-four hour a day guard on the ballroom of Xanadu where the wedding gifts were laid out on long trestle tables. Sean drove up with Duff and Candy on the afternoon of the tenth, as Duff put it, to make the latest count of the booty. Sean gave the constable on duty a cigar and then they went through into the ballroom. Look, oh look, squealed Candy. There's a whole lot of new presents!

one's from Jock and Trevor, Sean read the card. Open quickly, please, Dufford, let's see what they've given us. Duff prised the lid off the case and Sean whistled softly, A solid gold dinner service, gasped Candy. She picked up one of the plates and hugged it to her chest, Oh, I just don't know what to say. Sean examined the other boxes. Hey, Duff, this one will make you specially happy, "Best wishes, N.

Hradsky". This I must see, said Duff with the first enthusiasm he had shown in a month. He unwrapped the parcel. A dozen of them! Duff hooted gleefully. Norman, you priceless little Israelite, a whole dozen dish towels. It's the thought that counts, laughed Sean. Dear old Norman, how it must have hurt him to shell out for them! I'll have him autograph them and I'll frame them and hang them in the front hall. They left Candy to arrange the presents and they went out into the garden.

Have you got this mock priest organized? asked Duff. Yes, he's at a hotel in Pretoria. He's in training now he'll be able to rattle through the service like an old hand when the time comes. You don't think that faking it is just as bad as doing it properly? asked Duff dubiously.

It's a hell. of a time to think of that now, said Sean. Yes, I suppose it is. Where are you going for the honeymoon? Sean asked. We'll coach down to Capetown and take the mail boat to London, then a month or so on the Continent. Be back here about June. You should have a good time. Why don't you get married as well?

What for? Sean looked surprised. Well, don't you feel as though you're letting the old firm down a bit, me going into this alone? No, said Sean. Anyway, who is there to marry? What about that lass you brought to the races last Saturday; she's a lovely piece of work. Sean raised an eyebrow. Did you hear her giggle? Yes, I did, admitted Duff. You couldn't very well miss itCan you imagine that giggle coming at you across the breakfast table? Sean asked.

Duff shuddered. Yes, I see your point. But as soon as we get back I'll have Candy start picking you out a suitable female. I've got a better idea, you let Candy run your life and I'll run my own. That, laddie, is what I'm very much afraid is going to happen. Hradsky reluctantly agreed that the activities of the group, the mines, the workshops, the transport companies, all of them - should be suspended on the twentieth to allow their employees to attend Duff's nuptials. This meant that half the businesses on the Witwatersrand would shut down for the day. Consequently, most of the independent companies decided to close as well. On the eighteenth the wagons carrying the food and liquor started caravanning up the hill to Xanadu. Sean in a burst of benevolence that night invited the entire company from the Opera House to the wedding. He remembered it vaguely the next morning and went down to cancel the invitation but Blue Bessie told him that most of the girls had already gone into town to buy new dresses. The hell with it then, let them come. I just hope Candy doesn't guess who they are, that's all On the night of the nineteenth Candy gave them the use of the dining-room and all the downstairs lounges of the Hotel for Duffs bachelor party. Francois arrived with a masterpiece made up in the mine workshops, an enormous ball and chain. This was formally locked onto Duff's leg and the party began.

Afterwards there was a school of thought that maintained that the building contractor commissioned to repair the damage to the Hotel was a bandit and that the bill for just under a thousand pounds that he presented was nothing short of robbery. However, none of them could deny that the bok-Bok game in the dining-room, played by a hundred men, had done a certam amount of damage to the furniture and fittings; nor that the chandelier had not been able to support Mr Courtney's weight and on the third swing had come adrift from the ceiling and knocked a moderately large hole through the floor.

Neither did anyone dispute the fact that after Jock Heyns had tried unsuccessfully for half an hour to shoot a glass off the top of his brother's head with champagne Forks, the resulting ankle-deep lake of wine in the one-lounge made it necessary for the floor to be relaid. Nevertheless they felt that a thousand was a little bit steep. On one point, however, everyone agreed, it was a memorable party.

At the beginning Sean was worried that Duff's heart wasn't in it for Duff stood by the bar with the metal ball under one arm listening to the lewd comment, with a lopsided grin fixed on his face. After seven or eight drinks Sean stopped worrying about him and went off to have his way with the chandelier. At midnight Duff talked Francois into releasing him from his chains and he slipped out of the room. No one, least of all Sean, noticed him go.

Sean could never remember how he got up to bed that night but next morning he was tactfully awakened by a waiter with a coffee tray and a note.

What time is it? asked Sean as he unfolded the note. Eight o'clock, baas. No need to shout, muttered Sean. His eyes focused with difficulty for the pain in his head was pushing them out of their sockets. Dear Best Man, This serves as a reminder that you and Duff have an appointment at eleven o'clock. I am relying on you to get him there, whole or in pieces. Love Candy The brandy fumes in the back of his throat tasted like chloroform, he washed them out with coffee and lit a cigar which started him coughing, and every cough nearly took the top off his head. He stubbed out the cigar and went to the bathroom. Half an hour later he felt strong enough to wake Duff. He went across the sitting-room and pushed open Duffs door, the curtains in the room were still drawn. He pulled them open and was nearly blinded by the sunlight that poured in through them. He turned to the bed and frowned with surprise. He walked slowly across and sat on the edge of it. He must have slept in Candy's room, Sean muttered as he looked at the unused pillows and neatly tucked blankets. it took a few seconds for him to find the fault in his reasoning. Then why did she write that note? He stood up, feeling the first twinge of alarm. A picture of Duff, drunk and helpless lying out in the yard or knocked over the head by one of the busy Johannesburg footpads; came very clearly to mind. He ran across the bedroom and into the sitting-room. Halfway to the door he saw the envelope propped up on the mantelpiece and he took it down. What is this, a meeting of the authors guild? he muttered. The place is thick with letters. The paper crackled as he opened it and he recognized Duff's back sloping hand. The first the worst, the second the same. I'm not going through with it. You're the best man so make my excuses to all the nice people. I'll be back when the dust has settled a little.

Sean sat down in one of the armchairs, he read through it twice more- Then he exploded. Damn you, Charleywood, "make my excuses". You craven bastard. Walk out and leave me to sweep up the mess. He rushed across the room with his dressing-gown flapping furiously round his legs. You'll make your own damned excuses, even if I have to drag you back on the end of a rope. Sean ran down the back stairs. Mbejane was in the stable yard talking to three of the grooms.

Where is Nkosi Duff? Sean roared.

They stared at him blankly.

Where is he? Sean's beard bristled. The baas took a horse and went for a ride, answered one of the grooms nervously.

`When? bellowed Sean. In the night, perhaps seven, eight hours ago. He should be back soon. Sean stared at the groom, breathing heavily. Which way did he go? Baas, he did not say.

Eight hours ago, he could be fifty miles away by now.

Sean turned and went back to his room. He threw himself on the bed and poured another cup of coffee. This is going to break her up badly -'He imagined the tears and the chaos of undisciplined grief. Oh, hell, damn you to hell, Charleywood! He sipped the coffee and thought about going as well, taking a horse and getting as far away as possible. It's no mess of my making, I want no part of it. He finished the coffee and started dressing. He looked in the mirror to comb his hair and saw Candy standing alone in the chapel, waiting while the silence turned to murmuring and then to laughter. Charleywood, you pig Sean scowled. I can't let her there, it'll be bad enough without that. I'll have to tell her. He picked up his watch from the dressing-table, it was past nine. Damn you, Charleywood. He went down the passage and stopped outside Candy's door. He could hear women's voices inside and he knocked before he went in. There were two of Candy's friends and the coloured girl Martha. They stared at him. Where's Candy? In the bedroom, but you mustn't go in. It's bad luck. It's the worst bloody luck in the world, agreed Sean.

He knocked on the bedroom door.

Who is it? Sean. You can't come in what do you want? Are you decent? Yes, but you mustn't come in. He opened the door and looked in on a confusion of squealing females. Get out of here, , he said harshly, I have to speak to Candy alone. They fled and Sean closed the door behind them. Candy was in a dressing-gown. Her face was quick with anticipation; her hair was pulled back and hung shiny and soft.

She was beautiful, Sean realized. He looked at the frothy pile of her wedding-dress on the bed. Candy, bad news, I'm afraid. Can you take it! He spoke almost roughly, hating it, hating every second of it.

He saw the bloom on her face wither until her expression was dead, blank and dead as a statue. He's gone, said Sean. He's run out on you. Candy picked up a brush from her dressing-table and started stroking it listlessly through her hair. It was very quiet in the room. I'm sorry, Candy. She nodded without looking at him; instead she was looking down the lonely corridor of the future. It was worse than tears would have been, that silent acceptance.

Sean scratched the side of his nose, hating it. I'm sorry, I wish I could do something about it He turned to the door. Sean, thank you for coming and telling me There was no emotion in her voice; like her face it was dead.

That's all right Sean said gruffly.

He rode up to Xanadu. There were people clustered about the marquees on the lawn; by the quality of their laughter he could tell they were drinking already. The sun was bright and as yet not too hot, the band was playing from the wide veranda of the mansion, the women's dresses were gay against the green of the lawns. Gala dayfluttered the flags above the tents. Gala day shouted the laughter.

Sean rode up the drive, lifting his hand in brief acknowledgement of the greetings that were shouted to him. From the vantage point of his horse's back he spotted Francois and Martin Curtis, glasses in hand, standing near the house talking to two of the Opera girls. He gave his horse to one of the native grooms and strode across towards them. Hello, boss, called Curtis. Why so glum, you're not the one getting married. They all laughed. Francois, Martin, come with me pleaseWhat's the trouble, Mr Courtney? Francois asked as he led them aside. The party's over, Sean said grimly. "There'll be no wedding.

They gaped at him. Go around and tell everybody. Tell them they'll get their presents back-, He turned to leave them.

What's happened, boss? Curtis asked.

tell them that Candy and Duff changed their minds. Do you want us to send them home?

Sean hesitated. Oh, the hell with it, let them stay let them all get sick drunk. just tell them there'll be no wedding.

He went up to the house. He found the pseudo-priest waiting nervously in the downstairs study. The man's adam's apple had been rubbed raw by the starch-stiff dog collar.

We won't need you, Sean told him.

He took out his cheque book, sat down at the desk and filled in a cheque form. That's for your trouble. Now get out of town Thank you, Mr Courtney, thank you very much. The man looked mightily relieved; he started for the door. My friend, Sean stopped him. If you ever breathe a word about what we planned to do today, I'll kill you. Do I make myself clear? Sean went through to the ballroom, he slipped a small stack of sovereigns into the constable's hand. Get all these people out of here. He gestured with his head at the crowds that were wandering among the tables looking at the gifts. Then lock the doors. He found the chef in the kitchen. Take all this food outside, give it to them now. Then lock up the kitchens. He went round the house closing the doors and drawing the curtains. When he walked into the study there was a couple on the big leather couch and the man's hand was under the girl's skim; she was Oggling. This isn't a whore house, Sean shouted at them and they left hurriedly. He sank into one of the chairs. He could hear the voices and the laughter from outside on the lawn, the band was playing a Strauss waltz. It irritated him and he scowled at the marble fireplace. His head was aching again and the skin of his face felt dry and tight from the night's debauch. What a mess, what a bloody mess, he said aloud After an hour he went out and found his horse. He rode out along the Pretoria Road until he had passed the last houses, then he turned off into the veld. He cantered into the sea of grass with his hat pushed back an his head so the sun and the wind could find his face. He sat relaxed and loose in the saddle and let his horse pick its own way.

in the late afternoon he came back to Johannesburg and left his horse with Mbejane in the stableyard. He felt better; the exercise and the fresh air had cleared his head and helped him to see things in truer perspective. He ran himself a deep hot bath, climbed into it and while he soaked the last of his anger at Duff smoothed out. He had control of himself again. He got out of the bath and towelled, then he slipped on his gown and went through to the bedroom. Candy was sitting on his bed. Hello, Sean. She smiled at him, a brittle smile. Her hair was a little tangled now, her face was pale and unrouged. She had not changed from the dressing-gown he had seen her in that morning. Hello, Candy! He picked up the cut-glass bottle of bay nim and rubbed some into his hair and beard. You don't mind me coming to see you, do you? No, of course not. He started combing his hair. I was about to come and see you myself. She drew her legs up under her in the double-jointed manner of women that is impossible for a man to copy. Can I have a drink, please? I'm sorry, I thought you never touched the stuff. Oh, today is special. She laughed too gaily. it's my wedding day, you know. He poured the brandy without looking at her. He hated this suffering and he felt his anger at Duff coming back strongly. Candy took the drink and sipped it. She pulled a face. it tastes awful.

that'll do you good!

To the bride, she dranc it down quickly.

Another one? asked Sean. No thanks She stood up and went across to the window. It's getting dark now, I hate the darkness. Darkness distorts things so; what is bad in the daylight is unbearable at night. I'm sorry, Candy, I wish I could help you She whirled and came to him, her arms circled tight round his neck and her face pale and frightened pressed to his chest.

Oh, Sean, please hold me, I'm so afraid!

He held her awkwardly. I don't want to think about it. Not now, not now in the darkness, she whispered. Please help me. Please help me not to think about it I'll stay with you. Don't get yourself upset. Come and sit down. I'll get you another drink. No, no, she clung to him desperately. I don't want to be alone. I don't want to think. Please help me! I can't help you, I'll stay with you but that's all I can do. Anger and pity mixed together in Sean like charcoal and saltpetre; his fingers tightened hard on her shoulders, digging into the flesh until they met bone. Yes, hurt me. That way I'll forget for a while. Take me to the bed and hurt me, Sean, hurt me deep. Sean caught his breath. You don't know what you're saying, that's crazy talk. It's what I want, to forget for a little. Please, Sean, please. I can't do that, Candy, Duff's my friend. He's finished with me and I with him. I'm your friend too. Oh, God, I'm so alone. Don't you leave me too. Help me, Sean, please help me. Sean felt his anger slide down from his chest and flare up, cobra-headed, from his thighs. She felt it also. Yes, oh please, yes. He picked her up and carried her to the bed. He stood over her while he tore off his gown. She moved on the bed shedding her clothing and spreading herself to meet him, to take him in and let him fill the emptiness. He covered her quickly bayoneting through the soft veil and into the warmth of her body. There was no desire in it, it was cruel and hard drawn out to the frontiers of endurance. For him an expression of anger and pity; for her an act of renunciation. Once was not enough. Again and yet again he took her, until there were brown smudges on the bedclothes from his bleeding back, until her body ached and they lay entwined, wet and tired from the fury of it.

In the quiescence of after-passion Sean spoke softly. It didn't help, did it? Yes, it did. Physical exhaustion had weakened the barriers that held back her grief. Still holding onto him, she started to cry.

A street lamp outside the room threw a silver square of light on the ceiling. Sean laid on his back and watched it, listening to Candy's sobs. He recognized the moment they reached their climax and followed their decline into silence. They slept then and later before the day woke together as if by arrangement. You are the only one who can help him now Candy said.

Help him do what? asked Sean. Find what he is looking for. Peace, himself, whatever you want to call it. He's lost, you know, Sean. He's lost and lonely, almost as lonely as I am. I could have helped him, I'm sure I could. Duff lost? Sean asked cynically. You must be mad! Don't be so blind, Sean, don't be misled by the big talk and the grand manner. Look at the other things. Like what? asked Sean.

She didn't answer for a while. He hated his father, you know. I guessed as much from the little he told me The way he revolts at any discipline. His attitude to Hradsky, to women, to life. Think about it, Sean, and then tell me if he acts like a happy man. Hradsky did him a disservice once, he just doesn't like him, Sean defended Duff. Oh, no, it's much deeper than that. In a way Hradsky is an image of his father. He's so broken up inside, Sean, that's why he clings to you. You can help him Sean laughed outright. Candy, my dear, we like each other that's all, there are no deep and dark motives in our friendship. Don't you start getting jealous of me now Candy sat up and the blankets slipped down to her waist. She leaned towards Sean and her breasts swung forward, heavy, round and silver-white in the half light.

There's a strength in you, Sean, a kind of solid sureness in you that you haven't discovered yet. Duff has recognized it and so will other unhappy people. He needs you, he needs you very badly. Look after him for me, help him to find what he seeks. Oh! Nonsense, Candy, Sean muttered with embarrassIr ment.

Tromise me you'll help him. It's time you went back to your room, Sean told her. People will start talking Promise me, Sean. All right, I promise.

Candy slipped out of the bed. She dressed quickly. Thank you, Sean, goodnight. For Sean, Johannesburg was poorer without Duff: the streets were not so busy, the Rand Club was drearier and the thrills at the Stock Exchange not so intense. However, there was work to do; his share and Duffs as well.

It was late every evening when the conferences with Hradsky and Max ended and he went back to the Hotel.

In the reaction from the day's tension, when His brain was numb and his eyes burned, there was little energy to spare for regret. Yet he was lonely. He went to the Opera House and drank champagne with the crowd there. One of the girls did the Can-Can on the big table in the centre of the room and when she stopped in front of Sean and Trevor Heyns, with her forehead touching her knees and her petticoats hanging forward over her shoulders, Sean let Trevor whip her pants down, a week before he would have punched Trevor in the nose rather than concede the honour.

it wasn't so much fun any more. He went home early.

The following Saturday noon Curtis and Francois came into the office for the weekly progress meeting. When they had finished and Hradsky had left, Sean suggested, Come along with me, we'll go and have a pot or twelve at the Grand National Bar, baptize the weekend so to speak.

Curtis and Francois fidgeted in their chairs.

We had arranged to meet some of the other boys down at the Bright Angels, boss. That's fine, I'll come along with you, said Sean eagerly, the prospect of being with ordinary men again was suddenly very attractive to him. He felt sickened of the company of those who shook his hand and smiled at him while they waited for a chance to wipe him off the board.

It would be good to go along with these two and talk and not stocks and shares, to laugh with men who didn't give a digginn if C. R. C. s hit sixty shillings on Monday. He'd get a little drunk with Francois and Curtis; later on perhaps he'd have a fight, an honest, snortmig, stand-up fight. God, yes, it would be good to be with men who were clean inside, even if there was dirt under their nails and the armpits of their shirts were stained with sweat.

Curtis glanced quickly at Francois. There'll be just a crowd of roughnecks down there, boss, all the diggers come in on a Saturday. that's fine, said Sean Let's go. He stood up and buttoned his dove-grey coat; the lapels were edged in black watered silk and matched the black pearl pin in his tie. He picked up his cane from the desk.

Come on, let's get moving!

They ran into the noise from the Bright Angels a block before they reached the building. Sean grimed and quickened his step like an old gun dog with the scent of the bird in its nostrils again. Francois and Curtis hurried along on either side of him. There was a big digger standing on the bar counter. Sean recognized him as one of his men from the Little Sister Mine the man's body was tilted back to balance the weight of the demijohn he held to his lips and his throat jerked regularly as he swallowed. The crowd around Ins feet were chanting: Think it, down, down, down, down, down. The digger finished, he threw the bottle against the far wall and belched like an air-locked geyser. He bowed to acknowledge the applause and then he caught sight of Sean standing in the doorway. He wiped his mouth guiltily-with the back of his hand and jumped down off the counter. The other men in the crowd turned and saw Sean and the noise tapered off. They spread out along the bar in silence. Sean led Francois and Curtis into the room. He placed a pile of sovereigns on the counter.

Set them up, barman, take the orders. Today is Saturday and it's time to tie the dog loose. Cheers, Mr Courtney. Good luck, sirGezondheid, Mr Courtney.

Their voices were subdued with respect.

drink up, men, there's plenty more where that came from. Sean stood with Francois and Curtis at the bar.

They laughed at his jokes. His voice was loud with good fellowship and his face flushed with happiness. He bought more drinks. After a while his bladder started making its presence felt and he went through the back door into the washrooms. There were men talking in there; he stopped before he rounded the edge of the screen into the room.

... what's he want to come here for, hey? This isn't the mucking Rand Club. Shh! He'll hear you, man, do YOU Want to lose your job? I don't give a tilmn. Who does he think he is, "Drink up, boys, there's plenty more where that came from, I'm the boss, boys, do as you're told, boys, kiss my arse, boys! Sean stood paralyzed. Pipe down, Frank, he'll go just nowThe sooner the better, say I, the big dandy bastard with his ten-guinea boots and gold cane. Let him go back where he belongsYou're drunk, man, don't talk so loudSure I'm drunk, drunk enough to go in there and tell him to his face..

Sean backed out through the door and walked slowly across the bar to Francois and Curtis. I hope you'll excuse me; I've just remembered there's something I've got to do this afternoon That's too bad, boss. Curtis looked relieved. Perhaps some other time, hey? Yes, perhaps some other time. They were pleased to see him when he went up to the Rand Club. Three men nearly fought one another to buy him a drink.

He had dinner with Candy that night and over the liqueurs he told her about it. She listened without interruption until he finished. They didn't want me there, I don't see what I've done to them that they should dislike me that way And it worries you? she asked. Yes, it worries me. I've never had people feel like that towards me before. I'm glad it worries you. She smiled gently at him. one day you're going to grow into quite a nice person. But why do they hate me? Sean followed his original line of thought.

They're jealous of you, you say this man said, "tenguinea boots and gold cane", that is what's behind it.

YOU are different from them now, you're rich. You can't expect them to accept that. But I've never done anything to them, he protested. You don't have to. One thing I've found in this life for everything you get you have to pay a price. This is part of the payment you have to make for success Hell, I wish Duff was here, said Sean.

Then Duff would explain to you that it doesn't matter, wouldn't he? said Candy. "Who gives a damn for them, laddie, the unwashed herd? We can do without them, " she mimicked. Sean scratched the side of his nose and looked down at the table. Please, Sean, don't ever let DUff teach you that people don't matter. He doesn't believe it himself, but he's so convincing. People are important. They are more important than gold or places or, or anything Sean looked up at her. I realized that once; when I was trapped in the Candy Deep. I saw it very clearly then in the darkness and the mud. I made a resolution. He grinned sheepishly.

I told myself I'd never hurt anyone again if I could help it. I really meant it, Candy. I felt it so strongly at the time, but, but.. Yes, I think I understand. That's a big resolution to make and a much bigger one to keep. I don't think any single experience is enough to change a person's way of thinking. It's like building a wall brick by brick. You add to it a little at a time until at last it's finished. I've told you before, Sean, that you have a strength in you. I think one day you'll finish building your wall, and when you do, it will have no weak spots.

The next Tuesday Sean rode up to Xanadu for the first time since Duff had left. Johnson and four of the clerks from the office were at work in the ballroom, packing and labelling the presents. Nearly finished, Johnson? Just about, Mr Courtney, I'll send a couple of wagons up tomorrow morning to fetch this lot. Yes, do that. I don't want them lying around here any longer. He went up the marble staircase and stood on the top landing. The house had a dead feeling to it: was new and was waiting for people to come into it and bring it to life. He went down the corridor, stopping to look at all the paintings that Candy had chosen. They were oils in soft pastels, woman's colours.

We can do without these, I'll get some with fire in them, scarlets and blacks and bright blues. He pushed open the door to his own bedroom. This was better. vivid Persian rugs on the floor, walls panelled in dark satiny wood and a bed like a polo field. He lay on the bed and looked up at the scrolled ornate plaster ceiling. I wish Duff were back, we can do some real living in this house. He went downstairs again.

Johnson was waiting at the foot of the stairs. All finished, sir. Good man! Off you go, then. He went through into the study and walked across to the gun rack. He took down a Purdey shotgun, carried it to the french windows and looked at it in the light. His nostrils flared a little at the nostalgic smell of gun oil. He brought the gun up to his shoulder, felt the true exciting balance of it and enjoyed it. He swung the barrels in an arc across the room, following the flight of an imaginary bird, and suddenly Duff's face was in his sights. Sean was taken so by surprise that he stood with the gun trained at Duff's head.

Don't shoot, I'll come quietly, said Duff solemnly.

Sean lowered the shotgun and carried it back to the rack.

Hello.

Hello, Duff answered, still standing in the doorway.

Sean made a pretence of fitting the gun into the rack with his back to DuffHow are you, laddie? Fine! Fine! How's everybody else? To whom do you refer, in particular? Sean asked. Candy, for one. Sean considered the question. Well, you could have damaged her more by feeding her into a stamp mill! Bad, hey? Bad, agreed Sean.

They stood in silence for a while.

I take it that you are not very well disposed towards me either, Duff said at last.

Sean shrugged his shoulders and moved across to the fireplace.

Dufford, you're a pig, he said conversationally.

Duff winced. Well, it was nice knowing you, laddie. I suppose from here on our paths diverge? Don't drivel, Duff, you're wasting; time. Pour the drinks and then you can tell me what it feels like being a pig. Also I want to discuss with you those paintings Candy has plastered along the upstairs corridor. I don't know whether to give them away or burn them. Duff straightened up from leaning against the door jamb, he tried to stop the relief showing on his face but Sean went on quickly, Before we close the lid on the subject and bury it, I want to tell you this. I don't like what you did. I can see why you did it, but I don't like it.

That's my piece said. Have you got anything to add to it?

No! said Duff. All right then. I think you'll find a bottle of Courvoisier right at the back of the cabinet behind the whisky decanter Sean went down to Candy's Hotel that evening and found Candy in her office. He's back, Candy. Oh! Candy caught her breath. How is he, Sean? A little chastened, but not muchI didn't mean that, I meant is he well? The same as ever. He had the grace to ask how you were, said Sean.

What did you tell him? asked Candy.

Sean shrugged and sat down in the chair next to her desk. He looked at the tall stacks of sovereigns that Candy was counting.

is that last night's bar takings? he asked, avoiding her question.

Yes, she answered absently.

You're rich, will you marry me? he smiled.

Candy stood up and walked across to the window. I suppose you two will be moving up to Xanadu now, she said. Sean grunted and she went on quickly. The Heyns brothers will take over the Victoria rooms they've spoken to me about it already, so don't worry about that. You'll have fun up there, it will be marvelous for you. I bet you'll have parties every night and crowds of people. I don't mind, I've gotten used to the idea now Sean stood up and went to her, he took her gently by the elbow and turned her to face him. He gave her the silk handkerchief out of his top pocket to blow her nose. Do you want to see him again, Candy?

She shook her head, not trusting her voice.

I'll look after him like I promised. He gave her a hug and turned to go.

Sean, she called after him. He looked back. You'll come to see me sometimes. We could have dinner and talk a little. You'll still be my friend, won't you? Of course, Candy, of course, my dear. She smiled damply. If you pack your things and Duff's I'll have them sent up to Xanadu for you.

Sean looked across the boardroom table at Duff, seeking his support. Duff blew a thick ring of cigar smoke. It spun and expanded like a ripple in a pond before it hit the table top and disintegrated. Duff wasn't going; to back him up, Sean realized bitterly. They had argued half the previous night. He had hoped that Duff might still change his mind. Now he knew he wouldn't. He made one last appeal.

They have asked for a ten percent wage increase. I believe they need it, prices have soared in this town, but wages have remained the same. These men have wives and children, gentlemen, can't we take that into account? Duff blew another smoke and Hradsky pulled his watch from his pocket and looked at it pointedly. Max coughed and interrupted. I think we've been over that before, Mr Courtney. Could we put it to the vote now?

Sean watched Hradsky's hand go up against him. He didn't want to look at Duff. He didn't want to see him vote with Hradsky, but he forced himself to turn his head.

Duff's hands were on the table in front of him. He blew another smoke ring and watched it hit the table top.

Those in favour of the motion? asked Max, and Duff and Sean raised their right hands together. Sean realized then how much it would have meant if Duff had voted against him. Duff winked at him and he couldn't help grinning.

That is thirty votes for, and sixty against, declared Max. Therefore Mr Courtney's motion falls to the ground. I will inform the Mineworkers, Union of the decision. Now is there any other business before we close the meeting?

Sean walked with Duff back to his own office. The only reason I supported you was because I knew Hradsky would win anyway, said Duff pleasantly. Sean snorted. He's right, of course, Duff went on unperturbed as he held open the door to Sean's office. A ten percent wage increase would jump the group working costs up ten thousand a month. Sean kicked the door closed behind them and didn't answer. For God's sake, Sean, don't carry this goodwilltowards-men attitude to absurdity. Hradsky's right Kruger is likely to slap another one of his taxes on us at any moment and we've got to finance all that new development on the East Rand. We can't let production costs creep up now. All right, gruffed Sean. It's all settled. I just hope we don't have a strike on our hands. There are ways of dealing with strikes. Hradsky has got the police on our side and we can have a couple of hunched men up from Kimberley in no time at all, Duff told him.

Duff, it's wrong. You know it's wrong. That grotesque Buddha with the little eyes knows it's wrong.

But what can I do? Damn it, what can I do? Sean exploded. I feel so bloody helpless. Well, you're the one who wanted to give him control. Duff laughed at him. Stop trying to change the world and let's go home. Max was waiting for them in the outer office. He looked nervous. Excuse me, gentlemen, could I have a word with you? Who's talking, Sean asked abruptly, you or Hradsky? It's a private matter, Mr Courtney. Max dropped his voice. Can't it wait until tomorrow? Sean pushed past him and kept going for the door. Please, Mr Courtney, it's of the utmost importance.

Max plucked desperately at Sean's arm.

What is it, Max? Duff asked. I have to speak to you alone, Max dropped his voice again and glanced unhappily at the street door.

Well, speak then, Duff encouraged him. We're alone now. Not here. Can you meet me later? Duff raised an eyebrow. What is this, Maximilian, don't tell me you are selling dirty pictures. Mr Hradsky is waiting for me at the hotel. I told him I was coming to find some papers, he'll get suspicious if I don't go back immediately. Max was nearly in tears; his Adam's apple played hide-and-seek behind his high collar, bobbing out and disappearing again. Duff was suddenly very interested in what Max had to say.

You don't want Norm in to know about this? he asked.

My goodness, no. Max came closer to tears. When do you want to meet us? Tonight, after ten o'clock when Mr Hradsky has retired Where? asked Duff. There's a side road round the east end of the Little Sister Mine dump. it's not used any more. know it, said Duff. We'll ride along there about half past ten. Thank you, Mr Charleywood, you won't regret it max scampered for the door and disappeared.

Duff adjusted his beaver at the correct angle, then he prodded Sean in the belly with the point of his cane. Smell it, suck it in Duff sniffed appreciatively and Sean did the same.

I don't smell a thing, Sean declared. The air is thick with it, Duff told him. The sweet smell of treachery. They left Xanadu just after half past nine. Duff insisted on wearing a black opera cloak. Atmosphere is vital, laddie, you can't go to a rendezvous like this dressed in dirty khaki pants and veldschoen. it would ruin the whole thing. Well, I'm damned if I'm going to get into fancy dress.

This is a very good suit. it will have to do. Can't I persuade you to wear a pistol in Your belt?

asked Duff wistfully.

No, laughed Sean.

No? Duff shook his head. You're a barbarian, laddie.

No taste, that's your trouble. They avoided the main streets on their way through Johannesburg and met the Cape road half a mile beyond the town. There was only a minute slice of moon left in the dark bowl of the sky. The stars, however, were big and by their light the white mine dumps, each the size Of a large hill, stood out like pustules on the earth's face.

Despite himself, Sean felt a little breathless with excitement, Duff Is zest was always infectious. They cantered with their stirrups almost touching, Duff's cloak billowing out behind him and the breeze of their passage fanning the tip of Sean's cigar to a fierce red spark. Slow down, Duff, the turning's just about here somewhere. It's overgrown, well miss it.

They reined to a walk.

what's the timev asked Duff.

Sean drew on his cigar and held his watch close to the glow. A quarter after ten. We're early. My bet is Maximilian will be there before us, here's the road Duff turned his horse onto it and Sean followed him. The Little Sister Mine dump rose up next to them, steep and white in the starlight. They skirted it but its bulk threw a shadow over them. Duff's horse snorted and shied and Sean gripped with his knees as his own horse danced sideways. max had stepped out from a scraggy cluster of bushes next to the road. Well met by moonlight, Maximilian, Duff greeted him. Please bring your horses off the road, gentlemen. Max was still showing signs of the afternoon's agitation. They tied their horses next to Max's among the bushes and walked across to join him. Well, Max, what's new? How are the folks? Duff asked. Before we go any further in this matter, I want you gentlemen to give me your word of honour that, whether anything comes of it or not, you will never say a word to anybody of what I tell you tonight Max was very pale, Sean thought, or perhaps it was just the starlight.

I agree to that, said Sean.

Cross my heart, said Duff.

Max opened the front of his coat and brought out a long envelope. I think if I show you these first it will make it easier to explain my proposition. Sean took the envelope from him. What are they, Max? The latest statements from all four banks at which Mr Hradsky deals. Matches, Sean, give us a light, laddie, said Duff eagerly. I have a lantern with me, Max said and he squatted down to light it. Sean and Duff squatted with him and laid the bank statements in the circle of yellow light.

They examined them in silence until at Last Sean rocked back on his heels and lit another cigar.

Well, I am glad I don't owe that much money Sean announced. Sean folded up the sheets and put them back in the envelope. He slapped the envelope into the palm of his free hand and started chuckling. Max reached across, took it from him and placed it carefully back inside his coat. All right, Max, spell it out for us said Sean. Max leaned forward and blew out the lantern. What he had to say was easier said in darkness. The large cash payment that Mr Hradsky had to make to you gentlemen and the limitation of output from his diamond mines in terms of the new cartel agreements in the diamond industry have forced him to borrow heavily on all his banks. Max stopped and cleared his throat. The extent of this borrowing you have seen. Of course, the banks demanded security for the loans and Mr Hradsky has given them his entire holding of C. R. C. shares. The banks have set a limit on the shares of thirty-five shillings each. As you know C. R. C. s are currently quoted at ninety shillings, which leaves a wide margin of safety. However, if the shares were to suffer a setback and fall in price to thirty-five shillings the banks would sell. They would share that Mr Hradsky owns in dump every single C. R. C. s onto the market. -, Go on, Max, said Duff. I'm beginning to like the sound of your voice. It occurred to me that if Mr Hradsky were temporarily absent from Johannesburg, say if he went on a trip to England to buy new machinery or something of that it would be possible for you gentlemen to force the price of C. R. C. s down to thirty-five shillings. Done correctly it would only take three or four days to accomplish. You could sell short and start rumours that the Leader Reef had pinched out at depth. Mr Hradsky would not be here to defend his interests. as soon as C. R. C. s hit thirty-five shillings the banks would off-load his shares. The price would crash and you, with ready cash available, would be in a position to buy up C. R. C.

shares at a fraction of their actual value. There is no reason why you shouldn't gain control of the group and make a couple of million to boot. There was another silence. It lasted a long time before Sean asked, What do you get out of it, Max? Your cheque for one hundred thousand pounds, Mr Courtney. Wages are going up, remarked Sean. I thought the standard pay for this type of work was thirty pieces of silver.

The rate, I believe, was set by a countryman of yours.. Shut up, snapped Duff, then more pleasantly to Max, Mr Courtney likes his little jokes. Tell me, Max, is that all you want, just the money? I'll be frank with you, it doesn't ring true. You must be a moderately rich man as it is Max stood up quickly and started towards the horses.

He hadn't reached them before he swung around. His face was in darkness but his voice was naked as he screamed at them.

Do you think I don't know what they call me, "The Court jester", "Hradsky's tongue", "Lick-arse". Do you think I like it? Do you think I enjoy crawling to him every minute of every day? I want to be free again. I want to be a man again. His voice choked off and his hands came up and covered his face. He was sobbing. Sean couldn't watch him and even Duff looked down at the ground in embarrassment. When Max spoke again it was in his usual soft and sad voice. Mr Courtney, if you wear your yellow waistcoat to the office tomorrow, I will take it as a sign that you intend to follow my suggestion and that my terms are acceptable to you. I will then make the necessary arrangements to ensure Mr Hradsky's absence from the country. He untied his horse, mounted and rode away down the track towards the Cape Road. Neither Sean nor Duff moved to stand up. They listened to the hoof-beats of Max's horse fade into the darkness, before Duff spoke. Those bank statements were genuine, I had a good look at the seals. And even more genuine was Max's emotion. Sean flicked his cigar away into the bushes. No one could act that well. it made me feel quite sick listening to him.

Hell, how can a min so cold-bloodedly betray his trust? Laddie, let's not turn this into a discussion of Max's morals. Let's concern ourselves with the facts. Norman has been delivered into our hands, neatly trussed, spiced with garlic and with a sprig of parsley behind each ear. I say let's cook him and eat him Sean smiled at him. Give me a few good reasons. I want you to convince me. The way I feel towards him after that meeting this afternoon I shouldn't be surprised if I convince easily. fOne, Duff held up a finger. Norman deserves it.

Sean nodded.

TWO, another of Duff's fingers came up. we gain control we can run things the way we want. You can indulge your good resolution and give everybody a pay rise and I'll be top man again. Yes! Sean tugged at his mustache thoughtfully.

We came here to make money, we'll never get another opportunity like this. And my last reason, but the most potent, you look so beautiful in that yellow waistcoat, laddie, I wouldn't miss seeing you in it tomorrow morning, not for a thousand C. R. C. shares. It is rather natty, admitted Sean. But listen, Duff, I don't want another Lochtkamper business. Messy, you know Duff stood up. Norman's a big boy, he wouldn't do that. Anyway, he'll still be rich, he's got his diamond mines. We'll only be relieving him of his responsibilities on the Witwatersrand.

They walked across to the horses. Sean had his foot in the stirrup when he stiffened and exclaimed, My God, I can't do it. It's all off. Why? Duff was alarmed. I spilt gravy on that waistcoat, I can't possibly wear it tomorrow. My tailor would murder me. There was no problem in arranging for Hradsky's absence someone had to go to London. There was machinery to buy for the new areas on the East Rand and they had to select two engineers from the hundred or so applicants waiting in England. Not ungraciously, Hradsky allowed himself to be elected for the job.

, well] give him a farewell party, Duff suggested to Sean during dinner that night. Well, not really a farewell party but a wake. Sean started whistling the Dead Much, and Duff tapped it out on the table with the handle of his knife.

We'll have it at Candy's Hot, Duff cut himself short. We'll have it here. We'll really laY it on for poor old Norman so afterwards he'll be able to say, "the bastards may have cleaned me out, but they certainly gave me a grand party". He -doesn't like parties, said Sean.

ITha That's an excellent reason why we should give him one, agreed Duff.

A week later when Hradsky and Max left on the morning coach for Port Natal there were fifty members of the Johannesburg Stock Exchange still in full evening dress from the night's party to wave him goodbye, Duff made a touching, if somewhat slurred, little speech and presented Hradsky with a bouquet of roses. Nervous of the crowd that milled about them, the horses bolted when the driver cracked his whip and Max and Hradsky were thrown together in an undignified heap on the rear seat of the coach. The crowd cheered them out of sight. With an arm around his shoulder Sean led Duff across the street to the office and deposited him in one of the deep leather armchairs.

Are you sober enough to talk sense! Sean asked dubiously. Sure. Always at your service as the lady said to the customer. I managed to have a word with Max last night, Sean told him. He will send us a telegram from Port Natal when he and Hradsky are safely on the mailboat. We won't start anything until we receive it. Very wise, you're the wisest chap I know, Duff grinned happily.

You'd better go to bed, Sean told him. Too far, mid Duff. I'll sleep here It was another ten days before Max's telegram arrived.

Sean and Duff were eating lunch in the Rand Club when it was delivered to their table. Sean slit open the envelope and read the message to Duff.

Sailing four o'clock this afternoon. Good luck. Max.

I'll drink to that, Duff lifted his wine glass. Tomorrow, said Sean, I'll go up to the Candy Deep and tell Francois to pull all the men out of the bottom levels of the mine. No one's to be allowed in. Put a guard at the fourteenth level, suggested Duff. That'l make it more impressive. Good idea, agreed Sean. He looked up as someone passed their table and suddenly he started to smile. Duff, do you know who that is?

Who are you talking about! Duff looked bewildered. That chap who's just gone out into the lounge, there he is, going into the lavatorie. Isn't that Elliott, the newspaper fellow? Editor of the Rand Mail, nodded Sean. Come with me, DuffWhere are we going? To get a bit of cheap publicity Duff followed Sean out of the dining-room, across the lounge and into the men's lavatories. The door of one of the closets was closed and as they walked in someone farted softly behind it. Sean winked at Duff and went across to the urinal. As he addressed himself to it he said, Well, all we can hope for now, Duff, is that Norman will be able to work a miracle in England. Otherwise, He shrugged his shoulder. Duff picked up his cue. We're taking a hell of a chance relying on that. I still say we should sell out now. C. R. C. s were at ninety-one shillings this morning so it's obvious that the story hasn't leaked out yet. But when it does you won't be able to give the bloody shares away. I say we should get out while the going's good. Sean disagreed. Let's wait until we hear from Norman. It's taking a bit of a chance, I know, but we have a responsibility to the men working for us Sean took Duffs arm and led him out of the lavatory again; at the door he added the cherry to the top of the pie. If and when C. R. C. collapses there are going to be thousands of men out of work, do you realize that?

Sean closed the door behind them and they grinned delightedly at each other.

You're a genius, laddie, whispered Duff.

I'm happy to say I agree with you, Sean whispered back.

The next morning Sean woke with the knowledge that something exciting was going to happen that day. He lay and savoured the feeling before he sent his mind out to hunt for the reason. Then he sat up suddenly and reached for the newspaper that lay folded on the coffee tray beside his bed. He shook it open and, found what he was looking for on the front page, big headlines: Is all well with the Central Rand Consolidated? Norman Hradsky's mystery The story itself was a masterpiece of journalistic evasion. Seldom had Sean seen anyone write so fluently or convincingly on a subject about which he knew nothing. It is suggested, Usually reliable sources reported and there is reason to believe', all the old phrases of no significance. Sean groped for his slippers and padded down the corridor to Duffs room.

Duff had all the blankets and most of the bed; the girl was curled up like a pink anchovy on the outskirts. Duff was snoring and the girl whimpered a little in her sleep.

Sean tickled Duffs lips with the tassel of his dressinggown cord, Duff's nose twitched and his snores gargled into silence. The girl sat up and looked at Sean with eyes wide but vacant from sleep. Quickly, run, Sean shouted at her, the rebels are coming. She leapt straight into the air and landed three feet from the bed quivering with panic. Sean ran a critical eye over her. A pretty filly, he decided, and made a mental note to take her for a trot just as soon as Duff put her out to grass. All right, he reassured her, they've gone away now. She became aware of her nakedness and Sean's frank appraisal of it. She tried to cover it with hands too small for the task. Sean picked up Duff's gown from the foot of the bed and handed it to her. Go and have a bath or somethingg sweetheart, I want to talk to Mr Charleywood With the gown on she recovered her composure and told him severely, I didn't have any clothes on, Mr Courtney. I would never have guessed, said Sean politely. It's not nice. You are too modest, I thought it was better than average. Off you go now, there's a good girl. With a saucy flick of her head she disappeared into the bathroom and Sean transferred his attention to Duff. Duff had held 4 grimly onto the threads of sleep throughout the exchange but he let go when Sean whacked him across the backside with the folded newspaper. Like a tortoise coming out of its shell his head emerged from the blankets. Sean handed him the paper and sat down on the edge of the bed. He watched Duff's face crease into laughter lines before he said..

You better get down to the Editor's office and shout at him a little, just to confirm his suspicions. I'll go up to the Candy Deep and close all the bottom levels. I'll meet you back at the Exchange at opening time and don't forget to clean that grin off your face before you show it round town. Try and look haggard, it shouldn't be difficult for you.

When Sean arrived at the Stock Exchange building the crowd had filled the street outside. Mbejane eased the landau into it and it opened to give them a passage. Sean scowled straight ahead and ignored the questions which were shouted at him from all around. Mbejane stopped the carriage outside the main entrance and four police constables held back the mob while Sean hurried across the pavement and through the double doors. Duff was there ahead of him, the centre of a turbulent circle of members and brokers. He saw Sean and waved frantically over the heads of his inquisitors. That was sufficient to switch their attention from Duff to Sean and they flocked to him, ringing him in with anxious angry faces. Sean's hat was knocked forward over his eyes and a button popped off his coat as one of them caught hold of his lapels. Is it true? the man shouted, spittle flying from his lips into Sean's face. We've got a right to know if it's true. Sean swung his cane in a full overarm stroke onto the man's head and sent him tottering backwards into the arms of those behind him. Back, you bastards, he roared at them using both the point and the edge of his cane to beat them away, scattering them across the floor until he stood alone, glowering at them with the cane still twitching restlessly in his hand. I'll make a statement later on. Until then, behave yourselves. He adjusted his hat, picked the loose thread where the button had been from his coat and stalked across to join Duff. He could see Duff's grin starting to lift the corner of his mouth and he cautioned him silently with his eyes. Grim-faced they walked through into the members, lounge.

How's it going your end? Duff kept his voice low. Couldn't be better. Sean contrived a worried expression. I've got an armed guard on the fourteenth level. When this bunch hear about that, they'll really start frothing at the mouth. When you make your statement, let it ring with obvious false confidence, Duff instructed. If it goes on like this well have the shares down to thirty-five s........

within an hour of opening. Five minutes before opening time Sean stood in the President's box and made his address to his fellow members, Duff listened to him with mounting admiration.

Sean's hearty reassurances and verbal side-stepping were enough to strike despair into the souls of the most hardened optunists.

Sean finished his speech and climbed down from the box amid a gloomy lack of applause. The bell rang and -the brokers stood singly or in small disconsolate groups about the floor. The first tentative offer was made. 11 sell C. R. C. But there was no rush to buy. Ten minutes later there was a sale recorded at eighty-five shillings, six shillings lower than the previous day's closing price. Duff leaned across to Sean. We'll have to start selling some of our own shares to get things moving, otherwise everybody's going to keep sitting on the fence. That's all right, Sean nodded, we'll buy them back later at a quarter of the price. But wait until the news about the Candy Deep gets out. It was just before ten o'clock when that happened. The reaction was sharp. In one quick burst of selling C. R. C. s dropped to sixty shillings. But there they hung, fluctuating nervously in the chaos of hope and doubt. We'll have to sell now, whispered Duff, they are short of script. We'll have to give it to them otherwise the price will stick here. Sean felt his hands trembling and he clenched them in his pockets. Duff was showing signs of the strain as well, there was a nerve jumping in his cheek and his eyes had receded into their sockets a little. This was a game with high stakes. Don't overdo it, sell thirty thousand The price of C. R. C. s sagged under the weight but levelled out at forty-five shillings. There was still another hour until high change and Sean's whole body was screwed up tight with tension. He felt the cold patches of sweat under his arms. Sell another thirty thousand, he ordered his clerk and even to himself his voice sounded wheezy. He stubbed out his cigar in the copper ashtray next to his chair; it was already half full of butts. It was no longer necessary for either of them to act worried. This time the price stuck at forty shillings and the sale of sixty thousand more of their shares failed to move it down more than a few shillings.

Someone's buying up, muttered Sean uneasily.

It looks like it, agreed Duff. I'll lay odds it's that bloody Greek Efthyvoulos. It looks as if we'll have to sell enough to glut him before they'll drop any further. By high change Duff and Sean had sold three-quarters of their holdings in C. R. C. s and the price still stood stubbornly at thirty-seven and sixpence. So tantalizingly close to the magic figure that would release a flood of Hradsky's shares onto the unprepared market, but now they were nearing the stage when they would no longer have any shares with which to force the price down that last two and sixpence.

The market closed and left Duff and Sean sitting limply in their armchairs, shaken and tired as prizefighters at the end of the fifteenth round. Slowly the lounge emptied but still they sat on. Sean leaned across and put his hand on Duffs shoulder. It's going to be all right, he said. Tomorrow it will be all right. They looked at each other and they exchanged strength, each of them drawing it from the other until they were both smiling. Sean stood up. Come on, let's go home.

Sean went to bed early and alone. Although he felt drained of energy, sleep was a long time coming to him and when it did it was full of confused dreams and punctuated with sharp jerks back into wakefulness. it was almost a relief to see the dawn define the windows as grey squares and to be released from his unrewarding rest. At breakfast he drank a cup of coffee and found that his stomach was unable to accept the plateful of steak and eggs that was offered it for it was already screwing up tight in anticipation.

of the day ahead. Duff was edgy and tired-looking as well; they spoke only a little during the meal and not at all in the carriage when Mbejane drove them down to the Exchange.

The crowd was outside the Stock Exchange again. They forced their way through it and into the building; they took their seats in the lounge and Sean looked round at the faces of his fellow members. In each of them were the marks of worry, the same darkness round the eyes and the jerkiness in movement. He watched Jock Heyns yawn extravagantly and had to do the same; he lifted his hand to cover Ins mouth and found it was trembling again He left the hand on the arm of Ins chair and kept it still.

Across the lounge Bonzo Barnes caught Sean's eye and looked away quickly, then he also gaped into a cavernous yawn. It was the tension. In the years ahead Sean would see men yawn like that while they waited for the dawn to send them against the Boer guns. Duff leaned across to him and broke his line of thought. As soon as the trading starts, we'll sell. Try and panic them. Do you agree? Sudden death, Sean nodded. He couldn't face another morning of that mental agony. Couldn't we offer shares at thirty-two shillings and sixpence and get it over with? " he asked.

Duff grinned at him. We can't do that, it, is too obvious we'll just have to go on offering to sell at best and let the price fall on its own. suppose you're right, but we'll play our high cards now and dump the rest of our shares as soon as the market opens. I don't see how the price can possibly hold after that Duff nodded. He beckoned to their authorized clerk who was waiting patiently at the door of the lounge and when the man came up to them he told him, Sell one hundred thousand C. R. C. s at best. The clerk blinked but he jotted the order down on his pad and went out onto the main floor where the other ebrokers were gathering. It was a few Minutes from the bell.

What if it doesn't work? Sean asked. The tightness in his belly was nauseating him. It must work, it's got to work, Duff whispered as much to himself as to Sean. He was twisting his fingers round the head of his cane and chewing against clenched teeth. They sat and waited for the bell and when it rang Sean jumped then reached sheepishly for his cigar case.

He heard their clerk's voice, raised sharply, I sell C. R. C. Is, and then the confused mumble of voices as the trading started. Through the lounge door he saw the recorder chalk up the first sale. Thirty-seven shillings He drew hard on Ins cigar and lay back in his chair forcing himself to relax, ignoring the restless tapping of Duff Is fingers on the arm of the chair next to him. The recorder wiped out the figures and wrote again. Thirtysix shillings. Sean blew out cigar smoke in a long jet. It's mavingI he whispered and Duff's hand clenched on the arm of the chair, his knuckles paling from the pressure of his grip. Thirty-five. The elusive number at last. Sean heard Duff sigh next to him and his voice, Now! watch it go, laddie, now the banks will come on. Get ready, laddie, get ready now. Thirty-four and six, wrote the recorder. They must come in now, said Duff again. Get ready to get rich, laddie. Their clerk was coming back across the floor and into the lounge. He stopped in front of their chairs. I managed to sell them, Sir.

Sean straightened up quickly. So soon? he asked. Yes, Sir, three big sales and I got rid of them all. I'm afraid the last was only at thirty-four and sixpence. Sean stared back at the board. The figure was still at thirty-four and sixpence.

Duff, something's going on here. Why haven't the banks come in yet? We'll force them to off-load. Duff's voice was unnaturally hoarse. We'll force the bastards. He pulled himself half out of his chair and snarled at the clerk.

Sell another one hundred thousand at thirty shillings.

The man's face went slack with surprise. Hurry, man, do you hear me? What are you waiting for? The clerk backed away from Duff, then he turned and scurried out of the lounge. Duff, for God's sake. Sean grabbed his arm. Have you gone madVWe'll force them, I muttered Duff. They'll have to seU. We haven't got another hundred thousand shares. Sean jumped up. I'm going to stop him. He ran across the lounge but before he reached the door he saw the sale being chalked up on the board at thirty shfflings. He pushed his way across the crowded floor until he reached his clerk. Don't sell any more, he whispered.

The man looked surprised. I've sold them already, Sir. The whole hundred thousand? There was horrified disbelief in Sean's voice. Yes, Sir, someone took the lot in one batch. Sean walked back across the floor in a daze. He sank into the chair beside Duff.

They re sold already. He spoke as though he didn't believe himself.

We force them, we'll force them to sell, muttered Duff again and Sean turned to him with alarm. Duff was sweating in little dewdrops across his forehead and his eyes were very bright. Duff, for God's sake, Sean whispered to him, steady, man Sean knew that they were watched by everybody in the lounge. The watching faces seemed as large as those seen through a telescope and the buzz of their voices echoed strangely in his ears. Sean felt confused: everything seemed to be in slow motion like a bad dream. He looked through into the trading floor and saw the crude number thirty still chalked accusingly against C. R. C.

Where were the banks? Why weren't they selling? We'll force them, we'll force the bastards, Duff said again Sean tried to answer him but the words wouldn't come. He looked back across the trading floor and now he knew it was a bad dream for Hradsky and Max were there, walking across the floor towards the members, lounge. Men were crowding around them and Hradsky was smiling and holding up his hands as if to fend off their questions. They came through into the lounge and Hradsky went to his chair by the-fireplace. He lowered himself into it with his shoulders sagging forward and his waistcoat wrinkled tightly around the full. bag of his body.

He was still smiling and Sean thought that his smile was one of the most unnerving things he had ever seen. He watched it with flesh-crawling fascination and beside him Duff was just as stiR and stricken. Max spoke quickly to Hradsky and then he stood up and walked across to Sean and Duff. He stopped in front of them. The clerk informs us that you have contracted to sell to Mr Hradsky five hundred thousand shares in C. R. C. s at an average price of thirty-six shillings. Max's lashes drooped sadly onto his cheeks. The total issue of C. R. C. s, as you know, is one million shares. During the last two days Mr Hradsky was able to purchase another seventy five thousand shares apart from the ones you sold to him. This makes his total holdings of C. R. C. s almost six hundred thousand shares. It seems therefore that you have sold shares that don't exist. Mr Hradsky foresees that you will have some difficulty in fulfilling your contract. Sean and Duff went on staring at him. He turned to leave them and Duff blurted out. But the banks, why didn't the banks sell? Max smiled a mournful little smile. The day he reached Port Natal Mr Hradsky transferred sufficient funds from his accounts there to liquidate his overdrafts in Johannesburg. He sent you that telegram and returned here immediately. We only arrived an hour ago. But, but, you lied to us. You tricked us! Max inclined his head. Mr Charleywood, I will not discuss honesty with a man who does not understand the meaning of the word. He went back to Hradsky's side.

Everyone in the lounge had heard him and while Duff and Sean went on sitting amongst the ruins of their fortune the struggle to buy C. R. C. shares started on the main floor. in five minutes the price was over ninety shillings and still climbing. When it reached one hundred shillings, Sean touched Duff's arm. Let's go. They stood up together and started for the door of the members lounge. As they passed Hradsky's chair he spoke.

Yes, Mr Charleywood, you can't win all the time. It came out quite clearly with only a slight catch on the c's - they were always difficult letters for Norman Hradsky.

Duff stopped, he turned to face Hradsky, his mouth open as he struggled to find a reply. His lips moved, groping, groping for words, but there were none. His shoulders drooped, he shook his head and turned away.

He stumbled once at the edge of the floor. Sean held his arm and guided him through the excited jabber of brokers.

No one took any notice of the two of them. They were bumped and jostled before they were through the crush and out onto the pavement. Sean signalled Mbejane to bring the carriage. They climbed into it and Mbejane drove them up to Xanadu.

They went through into the drawing-room. Get me a drink, please, Sean. Duff's face was grey andcrumpi looking. Sean poured two tumblers half full of brandy and carried one across to Duff. Duff drank and then sat staring into the empty glass. I'm sorry, I lost my head. I thought we'd be able to buy those shares for dirt, when the banks started sellingIt doesn't matter, Sean's voice was tired. We were smashed before that happened. Christ! What a well-laid trap it was! we couldn't have known. It was so damn cunning, we couldn't have guessed, could we, Sean? Duff was trying to excuse himself.

Sean kicked off his boots and loosened his collar. That night up at the mine dump, I would have staked my life Max wasn't lying. He lay back in the chair and stirred his brandy with a circular movement of his hand, Christ, how they must have laughed to see us stampede into the pitfall! But we aren't finished, Sean, we aren't completely finished, are we?

Duff was pleading with him, begging for a peg to hang his hope on. We'll come out of this all right, you know we will, don't you? We'll save enough out of the wreckage to start again. We'll build it all up again, won't we, Sean? Sure, Sean laughed brutally. You can get a job down at the Bright Angels cleaning out the spittoons and I'll get one at the Opera House playing the piano. aBut, but, there'll be something left. A couple of thousand even.

We could sell this house. Don't dream, Duff, this house belongs to Hradsky.

Everything belongs to him. Sean flicked the brandy that was left in his glass into his mouth and swallowed it. He stood up quickly and went across to the liquor cabinet. I'll explain it to you. We owe Hradsky a hundred thousand shares that don't exist. The only way we can deliver them is to buy them from him first and he can set his own price on them. We're finished, Duff, do you know what that means? Smashed! Broken! Sean poured brandy into his glass, slopping a little on the sideboard. Have another drink on Hradsky, it's his brandy now. Sean swept his arm round the room, pointing at the rich furniture and heavy curtains. Take a last look at this lot.

Tomorrow the Sheriff will be here to attach it; then through the due processes of the law it will he handed to its rightful owner, Mr Norman Hradsky. Sean started back towards his chair and then he stopped. The due processes of the law, he repeated softly. I wonder, it might just work. Duff sat up eagerly in his chair. You've got an idea? Sean nodded. Well, half an idea anyway. Listen, Duff, if I can save a couple of thousand out of this do you agree that we get out of here? Where to, where will we goVWe were facing north when we started. It's as good a direction as any. They say tHere's gold and ivory beyond the Limpopo for those who want it. But, why can't we stay here? We could play the stock market. Duff looked uncertain, almost afraid. Damn it, Duff, we're finished here. it's a different story playing the market when you are paying the fiddler and calling the tune, but with a mere thousand or so we'd be among the dogs fighting for the scraps under Hradsky's table. Let's get out and start again. We'll go north, hunt ivory and prospect for a new reef. We'll take a couple of wagons and find another fortune. I bet you've forgotten how it feels to sit on a horse and handle a rifle, to have the wind in your face and not a whore or a stockbroker within five hundred miles. But it means leaving everything we've worked for Duff groaned. Sweet merciful heavens, man, are you blind or just plain stupid? Sean stormed at him. You don't own anything, so how the hell can you leave something you haven't got? I'm going down to see Hradsky and try to make a deal with him. Are you coming?

Duff looked at him without seeing him, his lips were trembling and he was shaking his head. At last he was realizing the position they were in and the impact of it had dazed him. The higher you ride the further there is to fall. All right, said Sean. Wait for me here Hradsky's suite was full of talking, laughing men. Sean recognized most of them as the courtiers who used to cluster round the throne on which he and Duff had sat.

The King is dead, long live the King! They saw him standing in the doorway and the laughter and loud voices fizzled out. He saw Max take two quicksteps to the stinkwood desk in the corner, pull open the top drawer and drop his hand into it. He stood like that watching Sean.

One by one the courtiers picked up their hats and canes and hurried out of the room. Some of them mumbled embarrassed greetings as they brushed passed Sean. Then there were only the three of them left: Sean standing quietly in the doorway, Max behind the desk with his hand on the pistol and Hradsky in the chair by the fireplace watching through yellow, half-hooded eyes. Aren't you going to invite me in, Max? Sean asked and Max glanced quickly at Hradsky, saw his barely perceptible nod and looked back at Sean. Come in, please, Mr Courtney.

Sean pushed the door shut behind him. You won't need the gun, Max, the game is over. And the score is in our favour, is it not, Mr Courtney? Sean nodded. Yes, you've won. We are prepared to make over to you all the C. R. C. shares we hold. Max shook his head unhappily. I'm afraid it's not quite as easy as that. You have undertaken to sell us a certain number of shares and we must insist upon delivery M full Just where do you suggest we get them? Sean asked. You could buy them on the Stock Exchange.

NWFrom you? E

Max shrugged but made no reply. So you are going to twist the knife, are you? "

You put it very poetically, Mr Courtney, agreed Max. Have you considered the consequences of forcing us into bankruptcy I will admidt freely that the consequences to you do not concern us. Sean smiled. That was not very nice, Max, but I was talking about it from your point of view. Sequestration orders, creditors meetings, you can rest assured that the liquidator appointed will be a member of the Volksmad or a relative of one. There will be court actions and counter actions, enforced -sale of the shares in the estate and costs to pay. A liquidator with any sense at all could string it out for three or four years, all the time drawing a hand some commission. Have you thought about that, Max?

The narrowing of Max's eyes showed that he hadn't.

He looked at Hradsky with a trace of helplessness in his face, and Sean took a little comfort from that look. Now what I suggest is this, you let us draw ten thousand, take our horses and personal belongings. We in exchange will give you the rest. Shares, bank accounts, property, everything. You cannot possibly get more out of it if you force us into bankruptcy. Hradsky gave Max a message in their private facial code and Max interpreted it to Sean. Would you mind waiting outside, please, while we discuss this offer of yours. I'll go down and have a drink in the bar, said Sean. He pulled his watch from his waistcoat pocket and checked the time. Will twenty minutes be enough? Ample, thank you, Mr Courtney. Sean had his drink by himself although the bar was nowhere near empty. This was not an arrangement of his own choosing, but he was flying the fever flag of failure and so he had to take an isolation berth at one end of the bar while all the other ships steered wide of him. No one looked in his direction and the conversation that went on round him was carefully arranged so as to exclude him.

While he waited out the twenty minutes he amused himself by imagining the reactions of these his friends if he were to ask them for a loan. This helped to take the sting out of their snubs but still he felt it rankling. He looked at his watch again. The twenty minutes were up. Sean walked back along the counter towards the door. Jock and Trevor Heyns saw him coming, they turned away abruptly and immediately became absorbed in staring at the bottle-lined shelves behind the bar counter. Sean stopped level with Jock and cleared his throat deferentially. Jock, could you spare a minute? Jock turned slowly. Ah, Sean. Yes, what is it? Duff and I are leaving the Rand. I have something for you, just something to remember us by. I know Duff would want you to have it too.

Jock reddened with embarrassment. That's not necessary, he said and started to turn back to his drink. Please, Jock. Oh all right, Jock's voice was irritable. What is it? This, Sean said and stepped forward, moving his weight behind the fist. Jock's Large and whisky-flushed nose was a target to dream about. It was not one of Sean's best punches, he was out of training, but it was good enough to send jock in a spectacular back-somersault over the counter. Dreamily Sean picked up jock's glass and emptied it over Trevor's head. Next time you meet me smile and say "Hello", he told Trevor. Until then, stay out of mischief. He went up the stairs to Hradsky's suite in much better spirits. They were waiting for him.

Give me the word, Max, Sean could even grin at him. Mr Hradsky has very generously How much? Sean cut him short. Mr Hradsky will allow you to take fifteen hundred and your personal effects. As part of the agreement you will give an undertaking not to embark on any business venture on the Witwatersrand for a period of three years. That will be too soon, said Sean. Make it two thousand and you've got a deal. The offer is not open to discussion.

Sean could see they meant it. They didn't have to bargain; it was a statement. All right, I accept. Mr Hradsky has sent for his lawyer to draw up the agreement. Would you mind waiting, Mr Courtney? Not at all, Max, you forget I am a gentleman of leisure now. Sean found Duff still sitting in the chair where he had left him in the drawing-room of Xanadu. The bottle clutched in his hand was empty and he was unconscious.