"Good shot, but a bit short, I'm afraid," whispered Dick, as Bob stood aside for Trevanion to drive. Trevanion also hit his ball clean, but it was a trifle to the left. A little later they saw that both balls were on the green, although Bob's was several yards the nearer. Trevanion examined the ground carefully. He felt that much depended on the approach putt. If he laid himself dead, he was sure he could not be beaten. Every one stood breathless while the ball ran over the hummocky ground. "By gosh, it's too merry!" gasped George Tresize. But he had not accounted for a steep ascent. The ball rested less than two feet from the hole; Trevanion's three was safe. Bob also carefully examined his ground, and then played his ball. It went to the lip of the hole, and then half-hanging over, stopped. For a second the little company held its breath, and then gave a gasp. The ball fell in. "Beastly fluke!" muttered Trevanion, between his set teeth. "A great putt!" cried Dick. "All square and one to play," cried the Admiral. Bob felt his heart bound as he addressed the ball for the last drive. What if after all he should miss it! A mist hung before his eyes. But no, he would not miss, and a second later he watched the ball as it soared over the hazard. Trevanion's was only a few yards behind. It required but a chip shot to reach the green, which lay in a hollow just over a turf-grown hedge, and guarded by a bunker. They had now reached the final stage of the game. One shot might win or lose the match. Evidently Trevanion realised this as he took his mashie. More than one saw his cigarette tremble between his lips; there could be no doubt that he was greatly excited. Perhaps his nerves played him tricks, or perhaps in his anxiety he looked up before he hit his ball. Anyhow he missed it, and he found himself badly bunkered. Bob's chance had come, and he took advantage of it. His ball pitched over the hedge, and then rolled towards the hole. He had a possible three. Trevanion, on the other hand, failed to get out of the bunker at the first shot, and got too far with the second. Bob had won the match. "Jolly hard luck, getting into the bunker, Trevanion," he said; but the other did not speak. For the moment he was too chagrined. "Nancarrow wins the match on the last green; now for tea," shouted the Admiral. "Bob, my boy, you've played a great game. I congratulate you." "A very fine game, Nancarrow," said Trevanion, who, like the sportsman he was, had got over his disappointment. "You played the last fourteen holes like a book." "Pardon me," said a voice, "I hope I shall not be considered to indrude, but may I alzo congratulate you, sir. I am not English, I am sorry to say, but I take advantage of the _Entente Cordiale_. You haf given me much pleasure in watching you." The stranger bowed as he spoke, and produced his card. "Allow me," he continued, as he presented it to Bob.