Smit was frowning now, suddenly wary. “I don’t know what—”
“Shut up and listen to me.” Jamie’s voice was like a whiplash.
Jamie could see the wheels turning in Smit’s mind. He was trying to reconcile the face of the white-haired man in front of him with the eager youth of a year before.
“I’m still alive, and I’m rich—rich enough to hire men to burn this place down and you with it. Are you with me so far, Smit?”
Smit started to protest his ignorance, but he looked into Jamie McGregor’s eyes and saw the danger there. Smit said cautiously, “Yes, sir…”
“Van der Merwe pays you to send prospectors to him so he can cheat them out of what they find. That’s an interesting little partnership. How much does he pay you?”
There was a silence. Smit was caught between two powerful forces. He did not know which way to jump.
“How much?”
“Two percent,” he said reluctantly.
“I’ll give you five. From now on when a likely prospect comes in, you’ll send him to me. I’ll finance him. The difference is that he’ll get his fair share and you’ll get yours. Did you really think Van der Merwe was paying you two percent of what he made? You’re a fool.”
Smit nodded. “Right, Mr. Trav—Mr. McGregor. I understand.”
Jamie rose to his feet. “Not completely.” He leaned over the table. “You’re thinking of going to Van der Merwe and telling him about our little conversation. That way, you can collect from both of us. There’s only one problem with that, Smit.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “If you do, you’re a dead man.”
7
Jamie was getting dressed when he heard a tentative knock at the door. He listened, and it was repeated. He walked over to the door and opened it. Margaret stood there.
“Come in, Maggie,” Jamie said. “Is something wrong?” It was the first time she had come to his hotel room. She stepped inside, but now that she was face to face with him, she found it difficult to speak. She had lain awake all night, wondering how to tell him the news. She was afraid he might never want to see her again.
She looked into his eyes. “Ian, I’m going to have your baby.”
His face was so still that Margaret was terrified that she had lost him. And suddenly his expression changed to such joy that all her doubts were instantly wiped out. He grabbed her arms and said, “That’s wonderful, Maggie! Wonderful! Have you told your father?”
Margaret pulled back in alarm. “Oh, no! He—” She walked over to the Victorian green-plush sofa and sat down. “You don’t know Father. He—he would never understand.”
Jamie was hurriedly putting on his shirt. “Come on, we’re going to tell him together.”
“Are you sure everything will be all right, Ian?”
“I’ve never been surer of anything in my life.”
Salomon van der Merwe was measuring out strips of biltong for a prospector when Jamie and Margaret strode into the shop. “Ah, Ian! I’ll be with you in a moment.” He hurriedly finished with the customer and walked over to Jamie. “And how is everything this fine day?” Van der Merwe asked.
“It couldn’t be better,” Jamie said happily. “Your Maggie’s going to have a baby.”
There was a sudden stillness in the air. “I—I don’t understand,” Van der Merwe stuttered.
“It’s very simple. I’ve gotten her pregnant.”
The color drained from Van der Merwe’s face. He turned wildly from one to the other. “This—this isn’t true?” A maelstrom of conflicting emotions whirled through Salomon van der Merwe’s head. The terrible shock of his precious daughter losing her virginity…getting pregnant…He would be the laughing stock of the town. But Ian Travis was a very wealthy man. And if they got married quickly…
Van der Merwe turned to Jamie. “You’ll get married immediately, of course.”
Jamie looked at him in surprise. “Married? You’d allow Maggie to marry a stupid bairn who let you cheat him out of what belonged to him?”
Van der Merwe’s head was spinning. “What are you talking about, Ian? I never—”
“My name’s not Ian,” Jamie said harshly. “I’m Jamie McGregor. Dinna you recognize me?” He saw the bewildered expression on Van der Merwe’s face. “Nae, a course you don’t. That boy is dead. You killed him. But I’m not a man to hold a grudge, Van der Merwe. So I’m giving you a gift. My seed in your daughter’s belly.”