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It must be said that Charles Giddian Duff had tricked his old friend, Karl, out of a considerable amount of his fortune. He did this by way of using a distant location in the south of Florida, and by knowing in advance that his close friend, like so many other trusting investors, was not likely to visit this remote area of the state to see the land being sold first-hand.
Karl, a most proud member of a once-wealthy aristocratic European family, was far too embarrassed by the simplicity of the nefarious misrepresentation in Charles’ real-estate investment to ever bring his former friend’s scheme to the light of day by way of a public scandal. Thus, although greatly perturbed with the sudden loss of most of his life’s savings, Karl never sought legal counsel for his rightful gripe. He did, however, demand a face-to-face meeting with Charles Duff in an effort to come to some gentleman’s agreement.
In this private engagement, he used every moral approach humanly possible to rectify the situation, to lessen the impact of his losses. All he eventually received for this call for a just and reasonable solution was the actual paperwork to the rather worthless land.
“You are a man of principles, an educated adult, Karl,” the callous and hard Mr Duff said in an even voice. “I see no reason to forego my windfall and let you keep the money you invested. I did not force your hand in any way. You signed the legal agreement of your own free will. A man of your stature ought to know what he is getting himself into. I think it unbecoming of you to be begging. The money is mine; the land, in title, is yours to do as you please. I think I’ll even keep the old suitcase you carried it in. Who knows, it might be useful one day.”
Unable to sway his old friend to some act of mercy, Karl began to vociferously curse Charles Duff.
“I curse you to die within the swampland of this failed investment!” the woebegone man yelled. “But first, I damn you to languish in utmost agony as you find yourself back in that very mire and muck you sold me and my kin! Not a penny shall you hold back, you cursed devil, from the rightful inheritance I intend to pass on to my son! That, you godless heathen, I swear upon my grave!”
Upon this oath being spoken, the ‘cursed’ Mr Duff, not being a superstitious individual by nature, openly laughed at Karl’s lamentations and the demoniac oath the man cast upon him in his anger.
“Laugh now, you bastard,” Karl screamed with vehemence, “But you are now a cursed man! That I swear upon my soul and, if need be, I’ll take this oath to my grave!”
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