A Damsel in Distress

Lord Belpher, who had sunk back on to the pillows at Reggie's

entrance and had been listening to his talk with only intermittent

attention, shot up in bed.

"What!"

"Absolutely! My mistake, of course, but there it was. The fellow

might have been his double."

"But you've never seen the man."

"Oh yes, I have. I forgot to tell you. I met him on the links

yesterday. I'd gone out there alone, rather expecting to have a

round with the pro., but, finding this lad there, I suggested that

we might go round together. We did eighteen holes, and he licked

the boots off me. Very hot stuff he was. And after the game he took

me off to his cottage and gave me a drink. He lives at the cottage

next door to Platt's farm, so, you see, it was the identical

chappie. We got extremely matey. Like brothers. Absolutely! So you

can understand what a shock it gave me when I found what I took to

be the same man serving bracers to the multitude the same evening.

One of those nasty jars that cause a fellow's head to swim a bit,

don't you know, and make him lose confidence in himself."

Lord Belpher did not reply. His brain was whirling. So he had been

right after all!

"You know," pursued Reggie seriously, "I think you are making the

bloomer of a lifetime over this hat-swatting chappie. You've

misjudged him. He's a first-rate sort. Take it from me! Nobody could

have got out of the bunker at the fifteenth hole better than he did.

If you'll take my advice, you'll conciliate the feller. A really

first-class golfer is what you need in the family. Besides, even

leaving out of the question the fact that he can do things with a

niblick that I didn't think anybody except the pro. could do, he's a

corking good sort. A stout fellow in every respect. I took to the

chappie. He's all right. Grab him, Boots, before he gets away.

That's my tip to you. You'll never regret it! From first to last

this lad didn't foozle a single drive, and his approach-putting has

to be seen to be believed. Well, got to dress, I suppose. Mustn't

waste life's springtime sitting here talking to you. Toodle-oo,

laddie! We shall meet anon!"

Lord Belpher leaped from his bed. He was feeling worse than ever

now, and a glance into the mirror told him that he looked rather

worse than he felt. Late nights and insufficient sleep, added to

the need of a shave, always made him look like something that

should have been swept up and taken away to the ash-bin. And as for

his physical condition, talking to Reggie Byng never tended to make

you feel better when you had a headache. Reggie's manner was not

soothing, and on this particular morning his choice of a topic had

been unusually irritating. Lord Belpher told himself that he could

not understand Reggie. He had never been able to make his mind

quite clear as to the exact relations between the latter and his

sister Maud, but he had always been under the impression that, if

they were not actually engaged, they were on the verge of becoming

so; and it was maddening to have to listen to Reggie advocating the

claims of a rival as if he had no personal interest in the affair

at all. Percy felt for his complaisant friend something of the

annoyance which a householder feels for the watchdog whom he finds

fraternizing with the burglar. Why, Reggie, more than anyone else,

ought to be foaming with rage at the insolence of this American

fellow in coming down to Belpher and planting himself at the castle

gates. Instead of which, on his own showing, he appeared to have

adopted an attitude towards him which would have excited remark

if adopted by David towards Jonathan. He seemed to spend all his

spare time frolicking with the man on the golf-links and hobnobbing

with him in his house.