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Updated: June 17, 2025
"I'm ready to quit, and I think the least we can do, considering that we have spoiled Colonel Ashley's day, is to ask him if he won't share with us the bottle I won from you on the water hazard." "Done!" exclaimed Garrigan.
"Yes, it's pretty poor fishing," mused the colonel, when Garrigan had gone off to engage in a game of billiards with some insistent friends, whose advent the detective was thankful for, as he wanted to be alone.
Do you know how many hours, minutes and seconds the average human being has passed in sleep when he reaches the age of forty-five years?" and Garrigan smiled quizzically. "No, sir," answered Colonel Ashley, "I do not." "Neither do I," confessed Mr. Garrigan as he sank down in a chair beside the colonel and accepted the glass from a tray which the much-buttoned club attendant held out to him.
"I don't know, and I don't much care." Then, when cigars were glowing and the smoke arose in graceful clouds, an aroma as of incense shrouding the two as they gazed out on the afternoon throngs, Garrigan remarked: "I didn't know you were here. In fact, I didn't know you were a member of this club."
And then, as the electric lights began to sparkle, as had the diamonds on some of the over-dressed women in the afternoon, he arose and started out. "Will you be dining here, sir?" asked one of the stewards. "Mr. Garrigan asked me to inquire, sir, and, if you were, to say that he would appreciate it if you would be his guest." "Thank him for me, and tell him I can't stay."
"My name is Sharwell Tom Sharwell, and this is Bruce Garrigan. I thought I had seen you at the club. Pray excuse our interruption of your sport. We had no idea any one was fishing here." "It's entirely my fault," declared the colonel, as he removed his cap and bowed, a courtesy the two golfers, after a moment of hesitation, returned. "I was taking chances when I threw in here."
"Yes, Miss Carwell was kind enough to secure a visitor's card for me." "Then let's forget our sorrows; drown them in the bubbling glasses with hollow stems!" cried Garrigan, gayly. "Here, Shag," called the colonel, as he gave his rod to his colored servant. "I don't know when I'll be back." "Well said!" exclaimed Sharwell. Then they adjourned to the nineteenth hole.
"And it looks, now, as though the captain rather had the edge on Harry, in spite of the fast color of Harry's car." "That's right," admitted Garrigan. "Is it true what I've heard about both of them-that each hopes to place the diamond hoop of proprietorship on the fair Viola?" "I guess if you've heard that they're both trying for her, it's true enough," answered Sharwell.
'm always right!" cried Garrigan "And it may interest you to know that the total precipitation, including rain and melted snow in Yuma, Arizona, for the calendar year 1917, was three and one tenth inches, being the smallest in the United States." "It doesn't interest me a bit, Bruce!" laughed Sharwell.
"He'd been drinking a little too much for a man to play his best, especially on a hot day," ventured another. "He must have been taken ill from that, and the excitement of trying to win over the major, and it affected his heart." "Never knew him to have heart disease," declared Bruce Garrigan. "Lots of us have it and don't know it," commented Tom Sharwell.
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