"I appeal to the judges." "Very well. We will leave it to the judges." I consulted with Rupert Bailey. It seemed to me that Arthur Jukes was entitled to the verdict. Rupert, who, though an amiable and delightful companion, had always been one of Nature's fat-heads, could not see it. We had to go back to our principals and announce that we had been unable to agree. "This is ridiculous," said Ralph Bingham. "We ought to have had a third judge." At this moment, who should come out of the hotel but Amanda Trivett! A veritable goddess from the machine. "It seems to me," I said, "that you would both be well advised to leave the decision to Miss Trivett. You could have no better referee." "I'm game," said Arthur Jukes. "Suits _me_," said Ralph Bingham. "Why, whatever are you all doing here with your golf-clubs?" asked the girl, wonderingly. "These two gentlemen," I explained, "have been playing a match, and a point has arisen on which the judges do not find themselves in agreement. We need an unbiased outside opinion, and we should like to put it up to you. The facts are as follows:..." Amanda Trivett listened attentively, but, when I had finished, she shook her head. "I'm afraid I don't know enough about the game to be able to decide a question like that," she said. "Then we must consult St. Andrews," said Rupert Bailey. "I'll tell you who might know," said Amanda Trivett, after a moment's thought. "Who is that?" I asked. "My _fiance_. He has just come back from a golfing holiday. That's why I'm in town this morning. I've been to meet him. He is very good at golf. He won a medal at Little-Mudbury-in-the-Wold the day before he left." There was a tense silence. I had the delicacy not to look at Ralph or Arthur. Then the silence was broken by a sharp crack. Ralph Bingham had broken his mashie-niblick across his knee. From the direction where Arthur Jukes was standing there came a muffled gulp. "Shall I ask him?" said Amanda Trivett. "Don't bother," said Ralph Bingham. "It doesn't matter," said Arthur Jukes. 8 _The Heel of Achilles_ On the young man's face, as he sat sipping his ginger-ale in the club-house smoking-room, there was a look of disillusionment. "Never again!" he said. The Oldest Member glanced up from his paper. "You are proposing to give up golf once more?" he queried. "Not golf. Betting on golf." The Young Man frowned. "I've just been let down badly. Wouldn't you have thought I had a good thing, laying seven to one on McTavish against Robinson?" "Undoubtedly," said the Sage. "The odds, indeed, generous as they are, scarcely indicate the former's superiority. Do you mean to tell me that the thing came unstitched?" "Robinson won in a walk, after being three down at the turn. "Strange! What happened?"