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?