My apprehensions were justified. Mitchell topped his ball. It rolled twenty yards into the rough, and nestled under a dock-leaf. His mouth opened, then closed with a snap. He came over to where Millicent and I were standing.
“I didn’t say it!” he said. “What on earth happened then?”
“Search men’s governing principles,” said Millicent, “and consider the wise, what they shun and what they cleave to.”
“Exactly,” I said. “You swayed your body.”
“And now I’ve got to go and look for that infernal ball.”
“Never mind, darling,” said Millicent. “Nothing has such power to broaden the mind as the ability to investigate systematically and truly all that comes under thy observation in life.”
“Besides,” I said, “you’re three up.”
“I shan’t be after this hole.”
He was right. Alexander won it in five, one above bogey, and regained the honour.
Mitchell was a trifle shaken. His play no longer had its first careless vigour. He lost the next hole, halved the sixth, lost the short seventh, and then, rallying, halved the eighth.
The ninth hole, like so many on our links, can be a perfectly simple four, although the rolling nature of the green makes bogey always a somewhat doubtful feat; but, on the other hand, if you foozle your drive, you can easily achieve double figures. The tee is on the farther side of the pond, beyond the bridge, where the water narrows almost to the dimensions of a brook. You drive across this water and over a tangle of trees and undergrowth on the other bank. The distance to the fairway cannot be more than sixty yards, for the hazard is purely a mental one, and yet how many fair hopes have been wrecked there!
Alexander cleared the obstacles comfortably with his customary short, straight drive, and Mitchell advanced to the tee.
I think the loss of the honour had been preying on his mind. He seemed nervous. His up-swing was shaky, and he swayed back perceptibly. He made a lunge at the ball, sliced it, and it struck a tree on the other side of the water and fell in the long grass. We crossed the bridge to look for it; and it was here that the effect of Professor Rollitt began definitely to wane.
“Why on earth don’t they mow this darned stuff?” demanded Mitchell, querulously, as he beat about the grass with his niblick.
“You have to have rough on a course,” I ventured.
“Whatever happens at all,” said Millicent, “happens as it should. Thou wilt find this true if thou shouldst watch narrowly.”
“That’s all very well,” said Mitchell, watching narrowly in a clump of weeds but seeming unconvinced. “I believe the Greens Committee run this bally club purely in the interests of the caddies. I believe they encourage lost balls, and go halves with the little beasts when they find them and sell them!”
Millicent and I exchanged glances. There were tears in her eyes.
“Oh, Mitchell! Remember Napoleon!”
“Napoleon! What’s Napoleon got to do with it? Napoleon never was expected to drive through a primeval forest. Besides, what did Napoleon ever do? Where did Napoleon get off, swanking round as if he amounted to something? Poor fish! All he ever did was to get hammered at Waterloo!”
Alexander rejoined us. He had walked on to where his ball lay.
“Can’t find it, eh? Nasty bit of rough, this!”
“No, I can’t find it. But tomorrow some miserable, chinless, half-witted reptile of a caddie with pop eyes and eight hundred and thirty-seven pimples will find it, and will sell it to someone for sixpence! No, it was a brand-new ball. He’ll probably get a shilling for it. That’ll be sixpence for himself and sixpence for the Greens Committee. No wonder they’re buying cars quicker than the makers can supply them. No wonder you see their wives going about in mink coats and pearl necklaces. Oh, dash it! I’ll drop another!”
“In that case,” Alexander pointed out, “you will, of course, under the rules governing match-play, lose the hole.”
“All right, then. I’ll give up the hole.”
“Then that, I think, makes me one up on the first nine,” said Alexander. “Excellent! A very pleasant, even game.”
“Pleasant! On second thoughts I don’t believe the Greens Committee let the wretched caddies get any of the loot. They hang round behind trees till the deal’s concluded, and then sneak out and choke it out of them!”
I saw Alexander raise his eyebrows. He walked up the hill to the next tee with me.
“Rather a quick-tempered young fellow, Holmes!” he said, thoughtfully. “I should never have suspected it. It just shows how little one can know of a man, only meeting him in business hours.”
I tried to defend the poor lad.
“He has an excellent heart, Alexander. But the fact is—we are such old friends that I know you will forgive my mentioning it—your style of play gets, I fancy, a little on his nerves.”
“My style of play? What’s wrong with my style of play?”
“Nothing is actually wrong with it, but to a young and ardent spirit there is apt to be something a trifle upsetting in being, compelled to watch a man play quite so slowly as you do. Come now, Alexander, as one friend to another, is it necessary to take two practice-swings before you putt?”
“Dear, dear!” said Alexander. “You really mean to say that that upsets him? Well, I’m afraid I am too old to change my methods now.”
I had nothing more to say.
As we reached the tenth tee, I saw that we were in for a few minutes’ wait. Suddenly I felt a hand on my arm. Millicent was standing beside me, dejection written on her face. Alexander and young Mitchell were some distance away from us.
“Mitchell doesn’t want me to come round the rest of the way with him,” she said, despondently. “He says I make him nervous.”
I shook my head.
“That’s bad! I was looking on you as a steadying influence.”
“I thought
