And then one evening young Bingo came back from the links with a disturbing story. He had been in the habit of giving Harold mild exercise in the afternoons by taking him out as a caddie.

At first he seemed to think it humorous, the poor chump! He bubbled over with merry mirth as he began his tale.

“I say, rather funny this afternoon,” he said. “You ought to have seen Steggles’s face!”

“Seen Steggles’s face? What for?”

“When he saw young Harold sprint, I mean.”

I was filled with a grim foreboding of an awful doom.

“Good heavens! You didn’t let Harold sprint in front of Steggles?”

Young Bingo’s jaw dropped.