Part 32 (1/2)

”Jane?”

”And Jane.”

”And Agnes?”

”Agnes,” I said, ”is right.”

”H'm!” said Vincent Jopp. And for the first time since I had known him I thought that he was ill at ease.

The day of the final dawned bright and clear. At least, I was not awake at the time to see, but I suppose it did; for at nine o'clock, when I came down to breakfast, the sun was s.h.i.+ning brightly. The first eighteen holes were to be played before lunch, starting at eleven.

Until twenty minutes before the hour Vincent Jopp kept me busy taking dictation, partly on matters connected with his wheat deal and partly on a signed article dealing with the Final, ent.i.tled ”How I Won.” At eleven sharp we were out on the first tee.

Jopp's opponent was a nice-looking young man, but obviously nervous. He giggled in a distraught sort of way as he shook hands with my employer.

”Well, may the best man win,” he said.

”I have arranged to do so,” replied Jopp, curtly, and started to address his ball.

There was a large crowd at the tee, and, as Jopp started his down-swing, from somewhere on the outskirts of this crowd there came suddenly a musical ”Boo!” It rang out in the clear morning air like a bugle.

I had been right in my estimate of Vincent Jopp. His forceful stroke never wavered. The head of his club struck the ball, despatching it a good two hundred yards down the middle of the fairway. As we left the tee I saw Amelia Merridew being led away with bowed head by two members of the Greens Committee. Poor girl! My heart bled for her. And yet, after all, Fate had been kind in removing her from the scene, even in custody, for she could hardly have borne to watch the proceedings.

Vincent Jopp made rings round his antagonist. Hole after hole he won in his remorseless, machine-like way, until when lunch-time came at the end of the eighteenth he was ten up. All the other holes had been halved.

It was after lunch, as we made our way to the first tee, that the advance-guard of the Mrs. Jopps appeared in the person of Luella Mainprice Jopp, a kittenish little woman with blond hair and a Pekingese dog. I remembered reading in the papers that she had divorced my employer for persistent and aggravated mental cruelty, calling witnesses to bear out her statement that he had said he did not like her in pink, and that on two separate occasions had insisted on her dog eating the leg of a chicken instead of the breast; but Time, the great healer, seemed to have removed all bitterness, and she greeted him affectionately.

”Wa.s.sums going to win great big champions.h.i.+p against nasty rough strong man?” she said.

”Such,” said Vincent Jopp, ”is my intention. It was kind of you, Luella, to trouble to come and watch me. I wonder if you know Mrs.

Agnes Parsons Jopp?” he said, courteously, indicating a kind-looking, motherly woman who had just come up. ”How are you, Agnes?”

”If you had asked me that question this morning, Vincent,” replied Mrs.

Agnes Parsons Jopp, ”I should have been obliged to say that I felt far from well. I had an odd throbbing feeling in the left elbow, and I am sure my temperature was above the normal. But this afternoon I am a little better. How are you, Vincent?”

Although she had, as I recalled from the reports of the case, been compelled some years earlier to request the Court to sever her marital relations with Vincent Jopp on the ground of calculated and inhuman brutality, in that he had callously refused, in spite of her pleadings, to take old Dr. Bennett's Tonic Swamp-Juice three times a day, her voice, as she spoke, was kind and even anxious. Badly as this man had treated her--and I remember hearing that several of the jury had been unable to restrain their tears when she was in the witness-box giving her evidence--there still seemed to linger some remnants of the old affection.

”I am quite well, thank you, Agnes,” said Vincent Jopp.

”Are you wearing your liver-pad?”

A frown flitted across my employer's strong face.

”I am not wearing my liver-pad,” he replied, brusquely.

”Oh, Vincent, how rash of you!”

He was about to speak, when a sudden exclamation from his rear checked him. A genial-looking woman in a sports coat was standing there, eyeing him with a sort of humorous horror.

”Well, Jane,” he said.