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