disgust, for Bingham attempted extenuation.
'It's the only way,' he said. 'You know how Jukes and I are on the
links. We are as level as two men can be. This, of course is due to his
extraordinary luck. Everybody knows that he is the world's champion
fluker. I, on the other hand, invariably have the worst luck. The
consequence is that in an ordinary round it is always a toss-up which
of us wins. The test we propose will eliminate luck. After sixteen
miles of give-and-take play, I am certain--that is to say, the better
man is certain to be ahead. That is what I meant when I said that
Arthur Jukes would shortly be leaving Leigh. Well, may I take it that
you will consent to act as one of the judges?'
I considered. After all, the match was likely to be historic, and one
always feels tempted to hand one's name down to posterity.
'Very well,' I said.
'Excellent. You will have to keep a sharp eye on Jukes, I need scarcely
remind you. You will, of course, carry a book of the rules in your
pocket and refer to them when you wish to refresh your memory. We start
at daybreak, for, if we put it off till later, the course at the other
end might be somewhat congested when we reached it. We want to avoid
publicity as far as possible. If I took a full iron and hit a
policeman, it would excite a remark.'
'It would. I can tell you the exact remark which it would excite.'
'We will take bicycles with us, to minimize the fatigue of covering the
distance. Well, I am glad that we have your co-operation. At daybreak
tomorrow on the first tee, and don't forget to bring your rule-book.'
* * * * *
The atmosphere brooding over the first tee when I reached it on the
following morning, somewhat resembled that of a duelling-ground in the
days when these affairs were sealed with rapiers or pistols. Rupert
Bailey, an old friend of mine, was the only cheerful member of the
party. I am never at my best in the early morning, and the two rivals
glared at each other with silent sneers. I had never supposed till that
moment that men ever really sneered at one another outside the movies,
but these two were indisputably doing so. They were in the mood when
men say 'Pshaw!'
They tossed for the honour, and Arthur Jukes, having won, drove off
with a fine ball that landed well down the course. Ralph Bingham,
having teed up, turned to Rupert Bailey.
'Go down on to the fairway of the seventeenth,' he said. 'I want you to
mark my ball.'
Rupert stared.
'The seventeenth!'
'I am going to take that direction,' said Ralph, pointing over the
trees.
'But that will land your second or third shot in the lake.'
'I have provided for that. I have a fiat-bottomed boat moored close by
the sixteenth green. I shall use a mashie-niblick and chip my ball
aboard, row across to the other side, chip it ashore, and carry on. I
propose to go across country as far as Woodfield. I think it will save
