Read the following passage and questions, then choose the right answer from options, the answer should be one of A, B, C, D.

<passage>:
Duane's hand flicked to his waist and hung there, poised. His dis-gun to walk up to them, then reconsidered and hurried off. Neither man paid any attention. Duane said, "Do I have to kill you?" It was only a question as he asked it, without threatening. opponent. Taller, heavier, older, he was still no more uncompromisingly belligerent than Duane, standing there. "Not at all," he repeated. "Just take your ten thousand and let it go at that. Don't make trouble. Leave Andrias out of our private argument." "Damn you!" Duane flared. "I was promised fifty thousand. I need that money. Do you think—" "Forget what I think," Stevens said, his voice clipped and angry. "I don't care about fairness, Duane, except to myself. I've done all the work on this—I've supplied the goods. My price is set, a hundred thousand Earth dollars. What Andrias promised you is no concern of thousand left. That's all you get!" Duane stared at him a long second, then nodded abruptly. "I was right the first time," he said. "I'll have swept up and pinioned Duane, holding him impotent. "Don't be a fool," he grated. "Duane—" The P.A. speaker rattled, blared something unintelligible. Neither man heard it. Duane lunged forward into the taller man's grip, sliding down to the floor. The white-haired man grappled furiously to keep his hold on Peter's gun arm, but Peter was slipping away. Belatedly, Stevens went for his own gun. He was too late. Duane's was out and leveled at him. " And the lights went out in a burst of crashing pain for Peter Duane. Someone was talking to him. Duane tried to force an eye open to see who Duane screwed his eyes tight together and grimaced. When he opened you know me, Peter?" Duane shook his head confusedly. "I don't know anything," he said. "I—I don't even know my own name." "Duane, Duane," a man's heavy voice said. "That won't wash. Don't play dumb on me." "Duane?" he said. "Duane...." He swiveled his head and saw a dark, "You play rough, Duane," he observed. "I thought you'd have trouble with Stevens. I didn't think you'd find it necessary to put him out of no skin off my nose. Give me a release on the merchandise. I've got your money here." Duane waved a hand and pushed himself dizzily erect, swinging his legs over the side of the high cot. A sheet had been thrown over him, but he Andrias straightened, turned a darkly-suspicious look on Duane. "Don't bent closer, peered at Duane. "I almost think—" he began. Then he shook his head. "No," he said. "You're lying all right. You killed Stevens to get his share—and now you're trying to hold me up. That's your last chance that just went by, Duane. From now on, I'm Andrias for instructions. "Duane here is resisting arrest," Andrias said. "Take him along. We'll fix up the charges later." while the two uniformed men shoved Duane into the back of the car, they seemed dreamlike yet somehow oddly familiar to Duane. Somewhere forgetting of the happenings of a lifetime. He'd heard of it—but never dreamed it could happen to him! My name, it seems, is Peter Duane , he thought. And they tell me that someone named Stevens. He tried to remember. Yes, there had been a white-haired man. And there had been an argument. Something to do with money, with a shipment of goods that Stevens had supplied to Duane. There has even been talk of killing.... But—murder! Duane looked at his hands helplessly. "Who's this man Andrias?" Duane whispered to the nearest guard. "You'll have plenty of chance for talking later." But the chance was a long time in coming. Duane found himself, an hour and frescoed walls. Duane wished for human companionship—particularly her. She'd seemed hurt, and she had certainly known him by first name. But perhaps she would understand. Duane sat down on a lumpy, sagging bed and buried his head in his Duane could remember the scene clearly. Could almost see the sharp, Stevens! fiber boxes—containing nothing but dehydrated dairy products and thousand yards in the direction the gun was aimed.... And that memory ended. Duane got up, stared at his haggard face in the cracked mirror over the bed. " just such a psychological trick to overawe those who came to beg favors of him. Muslini, or some such name. The trick failed to work. Duane had other things on his mind he walked waved him out. "Here I am," said Duane. "What do you want?" take it by force, if I had to. I prefer not to." He picked up a paper, handed it to Duane. "In spite of your behavior, you can keep alive. You can even collect the money for the guns—Stevens' share as well as your own. This is a release form, authorizing my men to take four forget our argument. Only, sign it now and get it over with. I'm losing patience, Duane." Duane said, without expression, "No." and there was a ragged thread of incomplete control to his voice as he spoke. "I'll have your neck for this, Duane," he said softly. Duane looked at the man's eyes. Death was behind them, peeping out. Mentally he shrugged. What difference did it make? "Give me the pen," he said shortly. mottled anger fade from his face and leave it without expression. He handed the paper to Duane without a word. He gave him a pen, watched him scrawl his name. "That," he said, "is better." He paused a moment ruminatively. "It "Naturally," he said, "there will have to be a revision of terms. I offered a hundred and ten thousand Earth-dollars. I would have paid it—but you made me angry. You'll have to pay for that." Duane said, "I've paid already. I've been dragged from pillar to post by you. That's enough. Pay me what you owe me, if you want any more of the same goods!" stepped around the desk, confronting Duane. "I almost think you really Duane said, "You're ready, then...." He took time to think it over, but he knew that no thought was Duane saw his danger, and reacted. His foot twisted around Andrias' ankle his hands at the other's throat gripped tighter. He lunged But Andrias, unconscious already, tumbled back with Duane on top of Duane got up, retrieving the two heat guns, and stared at him. They tell me I killed Stevens the same way Duane stepped over the unconscious man and looked around the room. It Andrias over and searched his pockets. More money—the man must have had a fortune within reach at all times—and a few meaningless papers. Duane took the release he had signed and tore it to shreds. But that was only a gesture. When Andrias came to, unless Duane had managed to An idea bloomed in Duane's brain. He looked, then, at unconscious Andrias—and the idea withered again. Duane's fingers Duane's head, butting Andrias in the face, had drawn a " No ," Duane thought. " Duane's foot lashed out and the door slammed shut Duane's balled left Duane took a deep breath and let the man drop to the floor. But he paused only a second now he had two unconscious men on his hands and

<question>:
Why were Duane and Stevens fighting?

<options>:
A Andrias had promised Stevens $100,000
B Stevens wanted to keep $50,000 of Duane's money
C Stevens wanted to keep $40,000 of Duane's money
D Duane had been promised $50,000

<answer>:

C