“Thank God, no!” he said emphatically. “But Admiral Marston was his dearest friend, and he saw him go down with six hundred of his men. He was so close that they even shouted farewells to one another.”
“It must have been a terrible shock,” Mr. Sabin admitted. “No wonder he has suffered from it. Now you have spoken of it, I think I remember reading about his retirement. A sad thing for a man of action, as he always was. Does he remain in Norfolk all the year round?”
“He never leaves Deringham Hall,” Wolfenden answered. “He used to make short yachting cruises until last year, but that is all over now. It is twelve months since he stepped outside his own gates.”
Mr. Sabin remained deeply interested.
“Has he any occupation beyond this hobby of which you spoke?” he asked. “He rides and shoots a little, I suppose, like the rest of your country gentlemen.”
Then for the first time Wolfenden began to wonder dimly whether Mr. Sabin had some purpose of his own in so closely pursuing the thread of this conversation. He looked at him keenly. At the moment his attention seemed altogether directed to the dangerous proximity of his ball and a tall sand bunker. Throughout his interest had seemed to be fairly divided between the game and the conversation which he had initiated. None the less Wolfenden was puzzled. He could scarcely believe that Mr. Sabin had any real, personal interest in his father, but on the other hand it was not easy to understand this persistent questioning as to his occupation and doings. The last inquiry, carelessly though it was asked, was a direct one. It seemed scarcely worth while to evade it.
“No; my father has special interests,” he answered slowly. “He is engaged now upon some work connected with his profession.”
“Indeed!”
Mr. Sabin’s exclamation suggested a curiosity which it was not Wolfenden’s purpose to gratify. He remained silent. The game proceeded without remark for a quarter of an hour. Wolfenden was now three down, and with all the stimulus of a strong opponent he set himself to recover lost ground. The ninth hole he won with a fine, long putt, which Mr. Sabin applauded heartily.
They drove from the next tee and walked together after their balls, which lay within a few yards of one another.