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.