fter some intricate manoeuvres, in
which he had the advantage of advice from the crowd, it eventually fell
on his head, and I scored the ace. I had now only to make one point to
reach the game, and I effected this by a high-kicking service that left
my opponent petrified.

During the set Mr. Crawl gradually got into his game, and, thanks to a
strong instinct of self-preservation, he succeeded in returning, when up
at the net, many of my drives at his chest and head which I had thought
were sure of their mark. His play in the last rally, when the score
stood at "5 games to 0 and 40 love" in my favour, called forth loud
applause, and I had to do all I knew to prevent him winning an ace which
might have resulted in his eventually capturing the game.

At this point an incident occurred which has been variously reported.
The facts are that, before embarking on the second set, Mr. Gorman Crawl
petitioned the referee that I should be required to remove my tie. The
tie referred to is my well-known tennis tie. It is a Mascot, as I
associate all my successes on the court during the past four years with
this tie. It is a large scarlet bow with vivid green and white spots the
size of halfpenny pieces, arranged astigmatically. Mr. Crawl said the
cravat held his eye and put him off his game, and complained that there
were so many spots in front of him that he did not know which was the
ball. I am glad to be able to add the testimony of such a first string
man as Mr. Gorman Crawl to the merits of the "Lowly Patent Tennis Tie"
(Registered No. 273125/1911, price _2s. 9d._, of all Gunsmiths and
Sports Outfitters). I explained to the referee that the tie was a
well-known patent and that, if he ruled it out and disqualified the tie,
a promising industry would be irretrievably ruined. The referee
naturally declined to take such a responsibility and ordered the game to
proceed, and we took our places on the course. When, however, I faced
Mr. Crawl I found that he had pulled down the sleeve of his shirt over
his hand and buttoned it round the handle of his racket. The effect was
most disconcerting, for the racket appeared to be part of his body--as
if, in fact, he had two elbow joints, and the face of the bat was the
palm of his hand. Moreover it was impossible to anticipate the direction
of his shots. When forty love had been scored against me I appealed to
the referee. The result of that interview was that M. Gorman Crawl
courteously unbut