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"The price is five hundred thousand dollars."

"What!"

"The exact amount," said Mr. Farwell, complacently, "that we should expect to receive, gross, after developing the property and selling it at acreage figures."

"And you won't take into consideration the desirability of having the club in Warwick? You've still got three or four hundred acres. Won't the club help you sell them? Is n't it worth something to your company to keep the club alive?"

"Not a nickel," denied Mr. Farwell. "Land is land. The only price I can make is the one I quoted, and the very best I can do is to give you an option until the first of September."

"Mortgage?" asked Corbett.

"Two hundred thousand, the balance in cash."

"But, look here, you must know the status of the club tract. In the market it is n't worth more than sixty per cent. of what you ask for it. We could n't get a second mortgage of any size; you 're virtually demanding three hundred and fifty thousand cash!"

"Precisely," agreed Mr. Farwell, without enthusiasm.

Bowker reflected upon the terms.

"Out of the question," he stated flatly. "The club is n't a bank, Mr. Farwell. We 've very few wealthy members. We want men who play golf; it 's been something of a strain to pay the overhead as it is. Even so, I think we might come to some agreement on the basis of an increased rental-"

"No," said Mr. Farwell, yawning slightly; "we 're selling the property. It 's immaterial whether you or some one else takes it off our hands; but we 're selling. If you want a little leeway, if you want to put it up to your members, we 'll arrange for a formal option. Unless you decide to buy, we shall have to make arrangements to begin developing in the near future. Just one thing more: please don't come to us with counter-propositions, because we can't entertain them. We'll take a first mortgage at two hun

dred thousand, and four hundred thousand cash. If you like, we 'll undertake to secure a second mortgage for you on commission, but we can't carry it ourselves. That, I think, covers it." Corbett drew a long, long breath. "It seems so. I suppose you want real money for your option, too?" Mr. Farwell was pained.

"My dear Mr. Corbett, you misunderstand me completely. This is nothing but. a straightforward business plan to sell land which we own; you 're taking it as a personal matter. On the contrary, you can have your option at the minimum legal consideration—o one dollar, technical, nom

inal."

"Have it drawn," said Bowker.

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"Now? Why sha'n't I mail it to you?" "We'd better take it with us,' said Bowker. "We 'd better show it to the governing board. If we told 'em your price, and had nothing in the way of proof, they 'd think we were joking."

"Just as you like," conceded Mr. Farwell, smiling faintly. "If you'll wait perhaps ten minutes-" He summoned a stenographer; Corbett looked at Bowker, Bowker glared at Corbett.

"I was going out to play," said the president under his breath. "Wonder if we ought to go down town and see the banks?"

"Wait until it rains," advised Bowker. "Too good a day to see bankers. Are you made up for the afternoon?"

"Not yet."

"We need a man. Want to come in?" "Gladly. What are you doing?" "Oh, around eighty-five." "Really?"

"Fairly regularly."

"I have n't had a club in my hand for two weeks, but I 'll do about ninety."

"Bet you the caddy hire you don't." "No-o," declined the president, cautiously; "I have n't touched a club for so long. But I'll tell you what I will do: I'll bet the caddy hire you are n't under a hundred."

"No," said Bowker. "You see, I just bought a new mid-iron; I 'm likely to be

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a bit off this afternoon. Oh, are you ready for us?"

"Sign here, please," said Mr. Farwell, cheerfully.

By the first of August the Warwick Club was gloomily contemplating the prospect of dissolution. Committees and subcommittees were appointed and disbanded with the celerity which obtains in Balkan politics; money was subscribed, pledges were taken, promises were made, and the total amount involved was n't a quarter of the amount required. Bowker had toured the banks, and returned in discomfiture.

"They all admit," he said savagely, "that in a few years the land will be worth that much, but they can't see it now. I'm through, fellows. I 've done everything I can. It's no use. The best thing for us to do is to get our names up for some other club as soon as we can."

"I'm afraid so," granted Horton, the club champion. "There really was n't much use trying; you can't raise four hundred thousand among four hundred members in a club of this kind."

"When you 're all through talking," said Corbett, "I'll tell you something I've been holding back. I know one man -a person who might finance the whole thing for us; he has the money."

"Don't wake me up," said Bowker, softly.

"Perfectly true," insisted Corbett. "And the reason I 'm waiting is because I don't know what to do."

"It ought to be easy," said Horton. "Simply go in and ask him for a loan of four hundred thousand for a few years. What 's simpler than that?"

"Sarcasm aside," reprimanded the president, "nothing could be simpler than that.'

"You mean you know a possible way out of this mess, and you have n't even begun to negotiate?"

"That 's exactly what I mean. The man happens to be a sort of relative of my wife. Nine or ten million, I supposeretired a few years ago. He was in steel. Incidentally, he 's buying nothing but realestate just now."

Bowker sat up.

"Well, what have you been doing?"

"Thinking," said Corbett. "I don't doubt for a minute that if I could get my man out here, let him look over the land, investigate values, and all that, he 'd help. us out at a profit to himself. Of course I can't say what he would do, but I think he 'd be willing to give us cash and take a bond and mortgage. Perhaps he 'd even buy the property outright and keep on leasing it to us. It's only a chance-"

"Then why have n't you done something about it?"

Corbett grinned in deprecation.
"He plays golf."

"Well, is n't that all the better?"

"Hardly. Let me explain. Cuylerthat's the man's name-Cuyler 's sixtyseven years old. He took up the game ten years ago. Up to that time he could n't even talk about it intelligently; to-day his improvement is inconceivable."

"Plays well, does he?"

"No," said Corbett; "talks. Honestly, he could give Jerry Travers two adjectives a hole, and beat him without half trying. You listen to him before he goes out or after he comes back, and you'll think he broke the course record. the meantime-"

"Yes?"

But in

"I've played this game for a good many years," said Corbett, "and I 've seen some wonderful exhibitions. I've seen men lose their tempers, and I 've seen them break their clubs. I've heard some alibis that would have given Ananias material for another couple of centuries. But when John Cuyler gets up to the teewell, it's a new chapter."

"Still, I don't see your argument."

"If I brought him out here," explained Corbett, patiently, "he 'd have to be entertained. He's been a big man, an important man; he's always had attention, and he loves it. There 'd have to be a luncheon before the game-incidentally, he never plays in the morning. If he were n't entertained, he 'd never forget it; so that it would n't do to prejudice him unfavorably before the start. All right. During luncheon he 'd begin to talk. He'd talk some of the best golf you ever heard in

your life; and he 's so constituted that he sees the events of last month through a golden haze. If he made a certain hole in seven, he'll estimate that if he 'd putted another inch to the right, he 'd have been down in six. Morally he 's sure it was

six. Fine! Then a little later he'll remember that his drive was a few yards in the rough, and it cost him a stroke to get out. If his drive had been straight, he 'd have saved the stroke. Good! He knows he could have made a five instead of a six if he 'd tried a little harder. Morally at least a five. Then if his approach had been thirty yards farther-you ought to get the idea by this time. I've played Montclair with him when he made a hundred and twenty-one; two weeks afterward it was ninety-nine; about this time he 'll say he did Montclair in eighty-three, and he'll describe every stroke in detail!" "He 's on the road to be a regular player," said Bowker.

"To continue. He recites these things and then goes out, and for three or four holes he'll put in a string of alibis that 'll stagger you. Then when he sees that it won't do-sky-high! What he 'll say or what he'll do is beyond me to imagine. I'll tell you this much: he invests in a good many schemes, he plays a good deal of golf, but there is n't a case on record when he was sold on the links. It can't be done. Furthermore, he 's never yet done business with a man he played with beforehand. He's too much chagrined and mortified and full of conscience. And certainly he would n't consider buying this golf property without playing here. If he does, and if he plays his best game, he won't better a hundred and twenty, because this is the stiffest course in the district. During the round he 'll say some things that 'll stop business right there. I know. Why, we were playing Montclair with a man who thought he was persuading Cuyler to come in with him on a scheme which would, and eventually did, net three hundred per cent. Before we got off, Cuyler talked in the low eighties. He was twenty-nine for four holes. On the fifth he accused the other man of sneezing so as to spoil a

Now, that 's Remember,

putt, and it was all over. the only chance I have. we 're not asking for a loan of personalty; we want cash. If you want to risk your peace of mind, I'll risk mine, and we 'll have him out here-"

"If he happened to have some luck," said Horton, slowly, "it would n't hurt us, would it?"

"We might use the ladies' tees," added Bowker. "That would cut ten strokes off his score."

"What's the best he 's ever done?" "Why, a hundred and four or five." "That 's at least a hundred and twenty on this course," said Horton.

"A hundred and ten from the short tees, though," persisted Bowker.

Corbett, who had been drumming on the table with his fountain-pen, suddenly ceased.

"Wait a second."

"A mortal thought, is it?"

"Possibly. I wonder-"

"Don't disturb him!" said Horton. Corbett brought his hand in startling contact with the champion's knee.

"I've got it!"

"I realize that; you did n't need to flatten it out entirely."

"No, listen! All we need is a thousand dollars and three weeks' time-"

"I'll contribute the time," said Bowker.

The president beamed beatifically upon them.

"Both of you be here at nine o'clock Monday morning without fail. By the way, how much confidence do you think the club has in me?"

"All there is. Why?"

"Because on Sunday night," stated Corbett, "the club-house and the links close up tight for three weeks by virtue of the authority vested in me-for the good of the people and all that sort of thing. The club-house and course will close for three solid weeks, and I don't intend to give anybody any reasons."

FROM the moment that they sat down to lunch with Mr. Cuyler both Horton and

Bowker recognized the truth of the president's description of him. He was a short, stout man, forceful and incisive; his manner invited, and yet defied, contradiction. "A pretty course- -a pretty course from up here," he began. "Looks too easy, though; not enough trouble. two? That's fair enough. young fellows crack eighty right along. I'm not in your class; I'm satisfied with eighty-five or so. Bob, did you hear I've got to quit?"

Par seventySuppose you

"Not golf?" inquired Corbett.

"Yes, sir; doctors say so. Say it 's hurting me. I can't see it, but I look at it this way: what do they gain by making me quit? Answer, nothing at all. Can't be mercenary. Next reason, I'm not fool enough to pay a doctor-best doctor in the world-thirteen or fourteen hundred a year for advice, and then not take it. So pretty soon I'll have to stop."

Bowker kicked Horton under the table. "Er-you'll be glad to have played Warwick," said Horton, desperately.

"I dare say, sir. Heard a lot about it; very hard, they say. Long carries." "Corbett tells us you 're a long driver, though," remarked Bowker.

"Very long at times, very long indeed. Out at Montclair I was driving well-remember it, Bob?"

"You surely were," said Corbett.

"What was it I made? Eighty-nine, I think. It was a bad day, extremely bad. It's an easy course; ought to have been eighty-one or two. I'm likely to play very well or very badly, gentlemen. Don't be alarmed whatever happens. If I'm on my game, I may give you a rub."

"A great many good players do poorly the first time around Warwick," said Corbett, gravely. "There's no doubt that it's the hardest course in the East, anyway."

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"Let's be at it!" said Cuyler, impatiently.

As the quartet emerged from the clubhouse, the capitalist paused.

"How much of this is yours?" he queried.

"Over two hundred acres. The land

across the road is held at three thousand an acre, but of course, that 's developed." "Looks like a good buy. We'll talk business later, Bob. It 's better than I expected. Would n't mind having it in my own family. Well, where do we begin?"

"The first hole," said Horton, "is just over the brow of the first hill. You have a card, have n't you?"

"Thanks. Three hundred and ninety yards. How far does that rough go?"

"A hundred and eighty. It is n't the sort of rough you 're probably used to; it's simply good grass about four inches high," cautioned Horton.

"Shoot!" said Mr. Cuyler.

The champion drove prettily; Corbett and Bowker followed; the capitalist stood on the tee and waved his driver threateningly.

"I have n't had a club in my hands for nineteen days," he said, "and my hands. are cold. Never mind; I'll scratch along somehow." He drove clear across the taller grass, and was delighted to find his ball within twenty yards of Horton's.

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"Beautiful drive, Mr. Cuyler," said Bowker in his ear. "Horton 's champion of the club,-handicapped four in the national, and he hit his ball perfectly, too.' "Oh, I get 'em off now and then. Brassy, boy!" He topped it badly, but the ball rolled to the summit of the little hill, and dipped toward the hollow.

"On!" called Horton. "Good shot!" They all made fours; as they proceeded to the second tee, Mr. Cuyler was moved to eloquence.

"Any man who takes more than four on that hole," he said, "ought to be put off the course. Three hundred and ninety yards is a short hole. I could have made it with a drive and a mashy. Can't expect to use the right clubs when I don't know where the flag is." He imbedded his ball in an immense cone of sand. "Don't suppose any of you brought a pair of gloves? Well, never mind; only it ends me. Can't hold on to a club without 'em; it turns right over in my hand." He lunged powerfully, and surveyed the result for several

seconds. "Well, that 's a shot any lady 'd be proud of."

"Lady!" said Bowker. "You 're halfway to the green!" "No!"

"Look at it! It did n't carry far, but it must have rolled a hundred and fifty yards."

"I don't know what it is," said Mr. Cuyler, speaking gently, in order that Corbett would not overhear him, "but usually I get an enormous roll on the ball. Have n't the least idea what does it. Something I do to it, I suppose."

"You keep on hitting 'em the same way," said Horton, sagely, "and you'll make a good score."

"It's a fearful handicap; I don't know the distances," said Mr. Cuyler. “Play to left or right of the green?"

"Left, by all means, and well to the left."

Mr. Cuyler sliced thirty degrees to the right.

"I knew it," he said bitterly. "The caddy stood just where I could see him out of the tail of my eye. Boy, are you on exhibition? Did you mark that ball? Know where it is?" He went forward, elucidating the caddy's pedigree to him as he went. The others played up to the green; Mr. Cuyler found himself hole high, in grass to his shoe-tops. "If I only had a mashy-niblick," he accused the caddy. "This thing is n't balanced right. Still-" He chipped out to the green, and took two putts; and overcome by the realization that his score was good, he regarded the ball for several seconds and stole furtive glances at his partners. Once he made as though to speak to Corbett, but chose the part of discretion, and endeavored to look diffident.

"Did you see him play his third?" said Horton to Bowker, very loudly. “He talks about playing in the eighties. I don't believe he ever made an eighty in his life; he makes seventies." The capitalist, who had started angrily, became calmer at the conclusion of the last sentence.

"I should have been on in two," he asserted, still holding Corbett with his eye.

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