news to impart, I'm afraid, Dirk Courtney smiled urbanely. The ladies are with me, and he spread his cards face up on the green baize. The four queens in their fanciful costume stared up with wooden expressions, and the other players peered at them for a moment, and then one at a time, with expressions of disgust, discarded their own hands.
Dennis Petersen was the last to concede defeat, and his face was stricken, his hand shook. And then with a sound that was almost a sob, he let his cards flutter from his fingers, pushed back his chair and blundered towards the door.
Halfway there, he stopped suddenly as he recognized the gaunt forbidding figure of his brother-in-law. He stared at him for a moment, the lips still trembling, blinking his bloodshot eyes; then he shook his head as though doubting his senses. You here? Oh yes, Dirk called from the table where he was gathering and stacking the ivory chips. Did I forget to mention that I had invited Ronald? Forgive me, he told the other players, I will be back in a short while. He stood from the table, brushed away the clinging hands of one of the women, and came to take the elbows of Ronald Pye and his brother-in-law in a friendly grip, and to guide them out of the drawing-room, down the long flagged passage to his study.
Even at midday, the room was cool and dark, thick stone walls and heavy velvet drapes, dark wooden panelling and deep Persian and Oriental carpeting, sombre smoky-looking oil paintings on the panelling, one of which Ronald Pye knew was a Reynolds, and another a Turner, heavy chunky furniture, with coverings of chocolate-coloured leather, it was a room which always depressed Ronald Pye. He always thought of it as the centre of the web in which he and his family had slowly entangled themselves.
Dennis Petersen slumped into one of the leather chairs, and after a moment's hesitation, Ronald Pye took the one facing him and sat there stiffly, disapprovingly.
Dirk Courtney splashed single malt whisky into the glasses that were set out on a silver tray on the corner of the big mahogany desk, and made a silent offer to Ronald Pye, who shook his head primly.
instead, he carried a glass of the glowing amber liquor to Dennis who accepted it with trembling hands, gulped a mouthful and then blurted thickly, Why did you do it, Dirk? You promised that nobody would know I was here, and you invited-'he glanced across at the grim countenance of his brother-in-law.
Dirk chuckled. I always keep my promises, just as long as it pays me to do so. He lifted his own glass. But between the three of us there should be no secrets. Let's drink to that. When Dirk lowered his glass, Ronald Pye asked, Why did you invite me here today? We have a number of problems to discuss, the first of which is dear Dennis here. As a poker player, he makes a fine blacksmith. How much? Ronald Pye asked quietly. Tell him, Dennis, Dirk invited him, and they waited while he studied the remaining liquor in his glass.
Well? said Ronald Pye again. Don't be shy, Dennis, the old cocky diamond, Dirk encouraged him. Dennis mumbled a figure without looking up.
Ronald Pye shifted his weight in the leather chair, and his mouth quivered. It's a gambling debt. We repudiate itShall I ask one or two of the young ladies who are my guests here to go down and give your sister a first-hand account of some of the other little tricks Dennis has been up to? Did you know that Dennis likes to have them kneel over-'Dirk, you wouldn't, bleated Dennis. You're not going to do that- and he sank his face into his hands. You will have a cheque tomorrow, said Ronald Pye softly. Thank you, Ronny, it really is a pleasure to do business with you. Is that all? Oh no, Dirk gritmed at him. By no means. He carried the crystal decanter across to Dennis and recharged his glass. We have another little money matter to discuss.
He filled his own glass with whisky and held it to the light.
Bank business, he said, but Ronny Pye cut in swiftly. I think you should know that I am about to retire from the Bank. I have received an offer for my remaining shares, I am negotiating for a vineyard down in the Cape. I will be leaving Ladyburg and taking my family with me. No, Dirk shook his head, smiling lightly. You and I are together for ever. We have a bond that is unbreakable.
I want you with me always, somebody I can trust, perhaps the only person in the world I can trust. We share so many secrets, old friend. Including murder. They both froze at the word, and slowly colour drained from Ronald Pye's face. John Anders and his boy, Dirk reminded them, and they both broke in together. The boy got away-'He's still alive. Not for much longer, Dirk assured them. My man is on the way to him now. This time tomorrow there will be no further trouble from him. You can't do it, Dennis Petersen shook his head vehemently. Why, in God's name? Let it be. Ronald Pye was begging now, suddenly all the stiffness going out of his bearing. Let the boy alone, we have enough-No. He has not left us alone, Dirk explained reasonably. He has been actively gathering information on all of us and all our activities. By a stroke of fortune I have learned where he is and he is alone, in a lonely place They were silent now, and while he waited for them to think it out, Dirk flicked the stub of his cheroot on to the fireplace and lit another. What more do you want from us, now? Ronald asked at last. Ah, so at last we can discuss the matter in a businesslike fashion? Dirk propped himself on the edge of the desk and picked up an antique duelling pistol that he used as a paper weight. He spun in on his finger as he talked. I am short of liquid funds for the expansion programme that I began five years ago. There has been a decline in sugar prices, a reduction in the Bank's investment flow, but you know all this, of course. Ronald Pye nodded cautiously. We have already agreed to adapt the land purchases to our cash flow, for the next few years at least. We will be patient. I am not a patient man, Ronny. We are short two hundred thousand a year over the next three years. We have agreed to cut down, Ronald Pye went on, but Dirk was not listening. He twirled the pistol, aimed at the eye of the portrait above the fireplace and snapped the hammer on the empty cap. Two hundred thousand a year for three years is six hundred thousands of sterling, Dirk mused aloud, and lowered the pistol. Which is by chance exactly the amount paid by me to you for your shares, some ten years ago. No, said Ronald Pye, with an edge of panic in his voice. That's mine, that's my personal capital, it has nothing to do with the Bank. You've done very nicely with it too, Dirk congratulated him. Those Crown Deep shares did you proud, an excellent buy. By my latest calculations, your personal net worth is not much less than eight hundred thousand. In trust for my family, my daughter and my grandchildren, said Ronny, his voice edged with desperation.
I need that money now, Dirk spoke reasonably. What about your own personal resources? Ronald Pye demanded desperately. Stretched to their limit, my dear Ronald, all of it invested in land and sugar. You could borrow on-job, but why should I borrow from strangers, when a dear and trusted friend will make the loan to the Ladyburg Farmers Bank. What finer security than that offered by that venerable institution? A loan, dear Ronald, merely a loan. No. Ronald Pye came to his feet. That money is not mine. it belongs to my family. He turned to his brotherin-law. Come. I will take you home. Smiling that charming, sparkling smile, Dirk aimed the duelling pistol between Dennis Petersen's eyes. Stay where you are, Dennis, he said, and snapped the hammer again. It's all right, said Ronald Pye to Dennis. We can break away now. If you stick with me. Ronald was panting a little, and sweating like a runner. If he accuses us of murder, he accuses himself also. We can prove that we were not the planners, not the ones who gave the orders. I think he is bluffing. It's a chance we will have to take to be rid of him. He turned to face Dirk now, and there was the steel of defiance in his eyes. To be rid of this monster.
Let him do his worst, and he damns himself as much as he does us. How well conceived a notion! Dirk laughed delightedly. And I do really believe that you are foolish enough to mean what you say. Come, Dennis. Let him do his worst. Without another glance at either of them, Ronald Pye stalked to the door. Which of your grandchildren do you cherish most, Ronny, Natalie or Victoria? Dirk asked, still laughing.
