Thomas rammed and all but sank it in the left-hand pocket. "I am now," I said, "going to do a cannon off the cushion. Marker, what is my score?" "One, sir." "Then kindly get ready to put it up to three.... Rotten luck." "Wrong side," said Myra judicially. "No, I meant to hit it that side." "I mean you wanted a little running side." "This isn't Queen's Club. Go on, Thomas." Thomas, who had been chalking his cue, advanced to the table. "Hallo," he said, "where's the other ball?" I looked at the table, and there were only two balls on it! "That's an extraordinary thing," I said in amazement. "I'm almost certain we started with three." "Did you put me down?" "Certainly not; I shouldn't dream of doing such a thing. I don't say I mayn't have slipped down myself when nobody was looking. Myra, did you notice which pocket I was trying for that time?" We felt in all of them, and at last found my ball in one of the bottom ones. It must have gone there very quietly. "Score, marker?" I asked confidently, as I prepared to continue my break. "Oh, you're going over the crease," cried Myra. I took my ball back an inch. "_Will_ you tell me the score?" I said. "Stevenson (in play) three; Inman, two. Inman's two were both wides." Barely were the words out of her mouth when Inman's score was increased by a no-ball. A miss-cue they call it technically. "Three all," said Myra. "This is awfully exciting. First one is ahead, and then the other." "By the way, how many up are we playing?" "Five, aren't you?" said Myra. This roused Thomas. He had played himself in, and now proceeded to make a pretty break of seventeen. I followed. There was a collision off the middle pocket between spot and red, and both went down. Then plain was unintentionally sunk as the result of a cannon shot, and spot and red sailed into harbour. With Thomas's miss I scored eleven. Unfortunately, off my next stroke, Thomas again went down. "Billiards," he said. "You don't think I want to put the rotten thing down, do you? It's such a blessed rabbit. Directly it sees a hole anywhere it makes for it. Hallo, six more. I shall now give what they call a miss in baulk." "Oh, good miss," cried Myra, as spot rested over the middle pocket. "That was a googly. You both thought it would break the other way." The game went on slowly. When Thomas was ninety and I was ninety-nine, there was a confused noise without, and Archie and Miss Blair burst into the room. At least only Archie actually burst; Miss Blair entered sedately. "Who's winning?" cried Archie. "What an absurd question," I said. "As if we should tell you." "All right. Dahl--Miss Blair, have you ever seen billiards played really well?" "Never."