As Gossett was about to drive off from the seventh tee, a telegraph boy approached the little group.
'Mr Gossett,' he said.
Gossett lowered his driver, and wheeled round, but Sigsbee had snatched the envelope from the boy's hand.
'It's all right, old man,' he said. 'Go right ahead. I'll keep it safe for you.'
'Give it to me,' said Gossett anxiously. 'It may be from the office. Something may have happened to the market. I may be needed.'
'No, no,' said Sigsbee, soothingly. 'Don't you worry about it. Better not open it. It might have something in it that would put you off your stroke. Wait till the end of the game.'
'Give it to me. I want to see it.'
Sigsbee was firm.
'No,' he said. 'I'm here to see you win this championship and I won't have you taking any risks. Besides, even if it was important, a few minutes won't make any difference.'
'Well, at any rate, open it and read it.'