here was a sanguine air about Jonathan Ainsley as he walked into Alexander's office at Harte Enterprises.

Being an egotist who was convinced he was smarter and shrewder than everyone else, it never occurred to him that his double-dealing might have been uncovered.

"Hello, Alexander," he said, strolling nonchalantly across the room, shaking his cousin's hand. "Sarah told me she's been asked to come to this meeting too. What's it all about, then?"

Alexander sat down in the chair behind his desk and said, "There are some important matters I have to discuss. It won't take long." Alexander's clear blue eyes, so intelligent and honest, rested on Jonathan, but only briefly. He shuffled the papers on his desk, filled with contempt and loathing for the other man.

Walking over to the sofa, Jonathan sat down, lit a cigarette, and lolled back against the leather cushions. He glanced at the door as Emily came in, and gave her a warm smile. This was entirely fraudulent, since he disliked Emily. But the feeling in no way matched his virulent hatred for Paula, and that hatred flared when she hove into view, stood in the doorway a split second later.

Bising, he greeted Emily with a degree of cordiality, but his voice turned a shade colder as he said to Paula, "You're not involved in the day-to-day running of Harte Enterprises, so what are you doing here?"

"Alexander invited me, since I have a family matter to talk about."

"Ah yes, family matters do seem to preoccupy you these days, don't they, Paula?" he said, his sardonicism echoing. He lowered himself into a chair, muttering, "Not the will again, I hope."

"No, not that," Paula replied, her voice calm, betraying nothing. She followed Emily over to the sofa and sat down.

Ever since his bitter outburst at the reading of the will, Jonathan had dropped all pretense with her. He did not bother to conceal his animosity and a minute ago she had seen the.antipathy flickering. She.had.also noted that his anxiety had slipped through the bland taqa.de he was trying so hard to hold in place. Paula looked down at her hands, half-smiling to herself. Her presence had unnerved him, try though he had not to show it. After a second or two she lifted her head, studied him surreptitiously, her eyes objective. How attractive his appearance was. So fair of coloring and line of feature. Yes, he was very clean-cut, and there were times, such as now, that he had the look of an innocent choirboy. Yet she knew he was a schemer who would stop at nothing to gain his own ends.

Sarah swept in grandly, scanned the room. "Hello, everyone," she murmured coolly, and then spoke to Alexander directly:

"I'm in rather a hurry. I have a luncheon date at one o'clock with a very important buyer. I hope this isn't going to take long."

"No, it won't," Alexander said. "I intend to make our meeting as short as possible."

"Oh, good." Sarah swung away from the desk, looked at Emily and Paula on the sofa, and purposely chose a chair near Jonathan. Sitting back, she offered Alexander a sweet smile.

He stared at her for the longest moment. Not an eyelash flickered and his face was suddenly cold and implacable. Sarah's smile slipped and she frowned at him, obviously puzzled by his manner.

"It seems odd to me," Alexander began, "that Stonewall Properties has such severe, such grave, financial problems." He focused on Jonathan. "Bad management, do you suppose?"

Jonathan felt a tightening of his stomach muscles and all of his senses were alerted for trouble. Secure in the knowledge that he could not be linked to Stonewall, he managed to keep a composed demeanor. He shrugged. "How would I know? And don't tell me you've dragged us here to discuss another company?"

"Why yes, that is one of the reasons." Alexander leaned forward, peering at Sarah. "Were you aware that Stonewall Properties is likely to go belly-up in the near future?" Sarah opened her mouth and closed it swiftly. The disturbing information about the secret company, which she had invested so much money in, had stunned her. She did not doubt its truth, since it came from the reliable Alexander. She was anxious to speak to Jonathan alone, but she dreaded tackling him. He could be so difficult, and now it was fear of his wrath that made her hold her tongue.

Alexander continued to regard her unwaveringly. She had paled under this fixed observation and her eyes were suddenly alarmed. He knew Sarah would crack if he increased the pressure.

But he addressed the room at large. "What really baffles me, though, is how they managed to get into this state. Stonewall

have closed an amazing number of genuinely good deals. I can't imagine why they are foundering so badly. Unless, of course, somebody has had a hand in the till."

Rattled by this remark, Sarah cried, "Do you think that's possible, and if—"

Jonathan interjected peremptorily, "Now look here, Alexander, let's forget about the problems at Stonewall and get on with our own business."

"Oh, but Stonewall is our business," Alexander said in a murderously quiet voice. "And you know it, since Stonewall Properties is your company, Jonathan."

There was an involuntary gasp from Sarah, and then she shrank back in the chair.

Jonathan laughed dismissively and threw Alexander a look that was both challenging and threatening. "What bloody nonsense you do talk. I've never heard anything so preposterous."

"Jonathan, I know everything there is to know about Stonewall. The company is jointly owned by you and Sebastian Cross, and Sarah has invested a great deal of money in it. It's run by Cross and Stanley Jervis, along with a number of straw men put in there by you. Cross and you formed the company in 1968. You've been channeling real estate deals intended for Harte Enterprises into your own company. You've lost us an enormous amount of business, important and highly profitable business, Jonathan, and you queered Grandy's pitch when she was in negotiations with Aire Communications. I'm. appalled. You have been disloyal and a traitor to this company. You have betrayed Grandy's trust in you, and therefore I have no alternative but to—"

"Just try to prove it!" Jonathan shouted angrily, leaping to his feet. He slapped both his hands on the edge of Alexander's desk and bent over it, glaring into his cousin's face. "You'll have the greatest difficulty doing so. There is not one shred of evidence to support or substantiate these ridiculous accusations."

"You're absolutely wrong. I have all the evidence I need," Alexander shot back evenly, but his tone was glacial, his look condemning. He patted the file of folders on his desk, which in fact had nothing to do with Stonewall, and said, with a thin smile, "It's all here, Jonathan. Then, of course, there is your partner in"—Alexander lifted his hands and shrugged—"shall we say, crime, for want of a better word. Yes, there she sits in stunned silence..-. Sarah Lowther."

"Now you're trying to bring poor Sarah into this plot of yours," Jonathan shouted. "Yes, that's what it is—a plot to discredit us both. You've always been out to get me, Alexander Barkstone, ever since we were kids. And Sarah as well. But you're not going to get away with it. I'll see you in hell first. I shall fight for my rights, and for Sarah's. So just beware," he threatened.

Alexander leaned back in the chair, and his blue eyes, so cold and hard a second before, instantly changed when he gave Sarah a look of pity. "Yes, poor Sarah indeed," he remarked softly. "You've been duped, I'm afraid. Your money has gone down the drain, Sarah. Sad for you, really, but there's nothing you can do about it now."

"A-A-Alexander," Sarah stammered, "I-I-I don't—"

"Be quiet, and let me do all the talking, Sarah dear. He's a crafty devil. He'll trap you into saying the wrong thing." Jonathan brought his blazing eyes back to the other man. His lip curled. "You're the biggest bastard alive!"

"All right, that's enough!" Alexander was on his feet behind the desk. "Don't you dare call me a bastard."

"Cut you to the quick, have I?" Jonathan laughed nastily. "But that's what you undoubtedly are, and so is that sister of yours. You would do well to remember that it is your mother who sleeps around, not mine."

"You're fired!" Alexander exclaimed, his anger spiraling into pure rage.

"You can't fire me." Jonathan threw back his head and guffawed. "I'm a shareholder in this company and—"

"Your holdings in this company have been considerably reduced," Alexander interrupted in a steadier tone, taking full control of himself. "By exactly seven percent." He lifted the top folder and took out the share certificates, waved them under Jonathan's nose. "I just retrieved these... last Friday. It cost Harte Enterprises exactly four million pounds to pay off your loan to the finance company you borrowed from, ut I was happy to do it in order to get these shares back."

Jonathan had blanched. He stood gaping at Alexander in stupefaction. For once in his life he could think of nothing to say. For.a moment he thought he was finished, and then he exclaimed, with a scornful smirk, "I still own nine percent of this company. Furthermore, there's no way you can fire me. Under the company laws, a shareholder cannot be fired."

"Grandy made that ruling in 1968, when she drew her will and divided her one hundred percent between the four of us. However, she still owned her one hundred percent until the day she died, and, therefore, she owned the company outright. And as the sole owner of Harte Enterprises, Emma Harte could do anything she wanted, as you well know. And so, just before she went to Australia, Grandy changed all of the company laws. Actually, what she did was to reconstruct the company and cause new articles of incorporation to be drawn. Under the new company laws, I, as managing director, chairman of the board, and majority shareholder, can do practically anything I wish. I have extraordinary powers. I can buy out a shareholder, if that shareholder is agreeable. I can hire. I can fire." Alexander leaned over his desk and impaled Jonathan with his eyes. "And so I am firing you." He looked past Jonathan, fixed his gaze on Sarah. "You're also fired, Sarah. Your behavior has been as shoddy as Jonathan's."

Sarah could not speak. She seemed to have turned to stone in the chair.

"We'll see about all this bloody nonsense," Jonathan railed. "I'm going to pay a visit to John Crawford the minute I leave here, and I'm taking Sarah with me. There's—"

"Do go and see him by all means," Alexander cut in, dropping the share certificates on the desk. He slipped his hands into his trouser pockets and rocked back and forth on his heels. "He'll be perfectly happy to confirm what I've just told you. As a matter of fact, he does want a word with you anyway. He was with me at the two meetings I had with Financial Investment and Loan, and John was a little bit disturbed about the interest you owe to them. They're a shady bunch, Jonathan. You'd better pay up, and smartly."

Jonathan opened his mouth, and then snapped it shut, glaring at his cousin.

Sarah, having partially recovered, hurried to the desk. She appealed to Alexander tearfully, "I haven't done anything with my shares... I haven't done anything wrong. Why are you firing me?"

"Because you have done something wrong, Sarah. You invested in a company which was in direct competition with the real estate division of Harte Enterprises. You've been disloyal, a traitor like Jonathan. I'm sorry, but as I just told you, I cannot condone your behavior."

"But I love Lady Hamilton Clothes," she gasped, and began to sob.

"You should have thought of that when you threw your lot in with your reckless cousin here," Alexander answered steadily, quite unmoved by her tears. "And God in heaven only knows why you ever did."

Jonathan cried irately: "I intend to take this matter to another solicitor. I'm not convinced those papers Grandmother drew are quite as legal as you seem to believe."

"I can assure you that they are... very, very legal. John Crawford and Henry Rossiter, as directors of Harte Enterprises, approved them, as did I. Don't try to challenge anything Emma Harte did, because, believe me, you won't get anywhere. She outsmarted you."

Suddenly Jonathan went berserk. He yelled, "I'll get you for this, you bloody sod!" He swiveled on his heels and shook his

fist at Paula, "And you too, you bitch!"

"Get out." Alexander made a move toward Jonathan. "Before I personally take you by the scruff of your neck and throw

you out."

Paula jumped to her feet and ran to Alexander, put a restraining hand on his arm.

She stared at Jonathan and Sarah, pressing back her disgust and disdain. She said, very quietly, "How could you? How could you do it to her? She who gave you so much, who was so fair and generous. She suspected you, Jonathan, for a long time before she died, and you, Sarah, latterly. And yet she gave you both the benefit of the doubt because she had no real proof. She did not rescind your trust funds, nor did she take back the shares in Harte Enterprises she so generously gave you." Paula shook her head sorrowfully. "You are both everything Grandy loathed and despised... treacherous, devious, and dishonest, and liars and cheats besides."

Neither of them spoke. Jonathan's face was ringed with bitter hatred, and Sarah looked as if she was going to pass out from shock.

Paula's voice took on a new note, one of calm resoluteness as she said, "I'm afraid I'm not as forgiving as Emma Harte was. She tolerated your fathers long after their treacherous treatment of her. But I will not tolerate either of you. I only have this to add... neither of you are welcome at family gatherings in the future. Please remember that."

Sarah, still white and trembling, became hysterical at Paula's words of banishment. She turned on Jonathan and cried accusingly, "This is all your fault. I should never have listened to you. I've not only lost my money, but Lady Hamilton Clothes and the family as well." She started to sob anew.

Jonathan ignored her. He leaned closer to Paula, his eyes baleful, his face contorted in a mask of hatred. "I'll get you for this, Paula Fairley. Sebastian and I will bloody well get you!"

Alexander finally lost his temper completely. He sprang past Paula, grabbed Jonathan's arm roughly, and dragged him to the door. "I think you'd better leave before I give you the thrashing of your life."

Struggling out of his cousin's tenacious grip, Jonathan yelled, "Keep your filthy hands off me, you sneaky sod. And don't think you're immune. Don't forget what I said. We'll get you too, Barkstone. If it takes all my life I'm going to make certain you get yours." Jonathan flung open the door and stormed out.

Sarah ran to Alexander, who still stood near the doorway. "What am I going to do?" she wailed, brushing her hands over her wet face.

"I really don't know, Sarah," Alexander answered in a cold and quiet voice. "I really don't know."

She looked at him helplessly, then brought her gaze to Paula and finally to Emily. She knew from their closed faces that her plight was hopeless. Cursing Jonathan under her breath, she found her handbag and left the office as quickly as she could, striving to quell her tears.

Alexander walked across the room, seated himself behind his desk and took a cigarette. He saw that his hands shook as he struck a match and lit it, and he was not surprised. 'That was all rather unpleasant," he said, "but no worse than I expected. I have to admit, I couldn't help feeling-Sarah was in over her head, and without knowing it."

"Yes," Paula agreed, and took the chair opposite his desk. She turned and glanced at Emily. "There was a moment when I actually felt sorry for her, but it passed when I thought of Gran, and the wonderful things she did for them all their lives."

"I didn't have one ounce of sympathy for Sarah!" Emily cried indignantly. "She deserved everything she got. As for Jonathan—he's despicable."

"He'll try and make trouble, but he won't succeed," Alexander announced. "He'll huff and hell puff, but he'll never blow our house down. All he did was make idle threats." Alexander grinned. "I couldn't believe it when he shook his fist at you, just like the villain in a Victorian drama."

Paula laughed nervously. "I know what you mean. On the other hand, Sandy, I don t think we should dismiss Jonathan quite so lightly. Not with Sebastian Cross—my enemy—in the background, egging him on to do heaven knows what. I've told you before, I have a very low opinion of Cross."

Alexander sat back, observing her quietly, musing on her words.

Emily hurried over and stood next to Paula. She said,. "Honestly, Alexander, Paula's right. We've not heard the last of Jonathan Ainsley, Sarah Lowther, and Sebastian Cross— not by a long shot."

Leaning over his desk, Alexander smiled warmly and confidently. "Forget the three of them, please. There's nothing they can do to us... not now or in the future. They're quite powerless."

Paula was not so sure about this, but she said, "Spoken like a true grandson of Emma Harte's." Pushing aside her worry, adopting a positive attitude, she exclaimed, "And as she would have said, let's get on with it. We've got a lot more to accomplish today. Now, Sandy, who do you have in mind to run Lady Hamilton Clothes?"

"As a matter of fact, I was thinking of putting Maggie in there. She has a good business head, and with a bit of help from the two of you..." He stopped, looked at his sister and his cousin. "Well?"

"It's a terrific idea!" Emily cried.

"I second that," said Paula.