"And you sold Berkeley to them?" Pete could hardly believe it. It meant that someone who was not part of their group had managed to buy into California. "Why'd you do it?" he demanded.

"They traded me Salt Lake City for it," Walt said, with morose pride. "How could I turn that down? Now I can join Colonel Kitchener's group; they play in Provo, Utah. Sorry, Pete." He looked guilty. "I was still a little stewed, I guess. Anyhow it sounded too good to turn down at the time."

Pete said, "Who'd Pendleton Associates acquire it for?"

"They didn't say."

"And you didn't ask?"

"No," Walt admitted morosely. "I didn't. I guess I should have."

Pete said, "I want Berkeley back. I'm going to track the deed down and get it back, even if I have to trade off all of Marin County. And in the meantime, I'll be looking forward to beating you at Game-time; look for me to take away everything you've got—no matter who your partner is."

Savagely, he clicked off the vidphone. The screen became dark.

How could Walt do it? he asked himself. Turn the title right over to someone outside the group—someone from the East.

I've got to know who Pendleton Associates would be representing in a deal like that, he said to himself.

He had a feeling, acute and ominous, that he knew.

III

IT WAS A very good morning for Mr. Jerome Luckman of New York City. Because—and it flashed into his mind the moment he awoke—today was the first time in his life that he owned Berkeley, California. Operating through Matt Pendleton Associates he had at last been able to obtain a choice piece of California real estate, and this meant that now he could sit in on the Game-playing of Pretty Blue Fox which met at Carmel each night. And Carmel was almost as nice a town as Berkeley.