Unfortunate, but there it
is!"
Arthur Jukes sank down on the path and buried his face in his hands. He
had the appearance of a broken man. Once more, I am bound to say, I
felt a certain pity for him. He had certainly struggled gamely, and it
was hard to be beaten like this on the post.
"Playing eleven hundred and one," said Ralph Bingham, in his odiously
self-satisfied voice, as he addressed his ball. He laughed jovially. A
messenger-boy had paused close by and was watching the proceedings
gravely. Ralph Bingham patted him on the head.
"Well, sonny," he said, "what club would _you_ use here?"
"I claim the match!" cried Arthur Jukes, springing up. Ralph Bingham
regarded him coldly.
"I beg your pardon?"
"I claim the match!" repeated Arthur Jukes. "The rules say that a
player who asks advice from any person other than his caddie shall lose
the hole."
"This is absurd!" said Ralph, but I noticed that he had turned pale.
"I appeal to the judges."
"We sustain the appeal," I said, after a brief consultation with Rupert
Bailey.
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