I
“NO, sir,” said Mr. Wellaway, positively, “this is not the club at all. This is not the sort of club. The club I mean has a heavier head—heavier and flatter.”
The clerk looked here and there among the racks of golf-clubs, but his general manner was that of hopelessness. There seemed to be thousands of golf-clubs in the racks, and he had shown Mr. Wellaway club after club, each seeming to fit the description Mr. Wellaway had given, but in vain. Mr. Wellaway looked up and down the shop.
“If I could remember the name of the clerk,” he said, “he would know the club. He sold one of them to Mr. ——” He hesitated. “Now I can’t remember his name. A rather large man with a smooth face. He has a small wart or a wen just at the side of his nose. You didn’t wait on such a man last week, did you?”
“I can’t recall him by the description,” said the clerk.
“Pshaw, now!” said Mr. Wellaway, with vexation. “I know his name as well as I know my own! I would forget my own if people didn’t mention it to me once in a while. It is peculiar how a man can remember faces and forget names, isn’t it?”
“Yes, it is,” said the clerk. “If you just look through these clubs yourself, you may be able to find what you want. Was the name of the clerk you had in mind Mills? Or Waterson? Or Frazer?”
“It might be Frazer,” said Mr. Wellaway, doubtfully.
“If it was Frazer,” said the clerk, “he left here last Saturday.”
“But couldn’t you look up Frazer’s sales and see what kind of driver he sold? But of course you can’t if I don’t remember the name of the man he sold it to, can you?”