This match of a hundred up was played in the handsome saloon of the
"Leadswingers' Arms" yesterday afternoon before an unusually dense crowd,
who both came in just too late to secure the table. It is understood that
the game was arranged as the result of a heated discussion during lunch the
same day, in the course of which Herbert had the effrontery to tell me--I
mean, to tell James--that what I--that is, he--knew about billiards
wouldn't cover the pyramid-spot. James, who some hours later thought of a
perfectly priceless repartee, which he has since forgotten, replied with
dignity by challenging the other to an immediate game. Herbert accepted
and, hastily finishing their lunch, the two repaired to the nearest
billiard-room.
"I'm not due back at the office for another twenty minutes, so we've tons
of time," observed Herbert airily as they entered.
James looked at him, but said nothing. He had the better of the opening
manoeuvres, however, for he secured the only cue that possessed a
non-flexible tip; Herbert's was at the best of the semi-rigid type, a fact
which impelled him to declare that the place would soon resemble a popular
tea-shop. Not being pressed for an elucidation of this remark, he
volunteered one. "No tips," he explained as he tenderly chalked his.
Herbert won the toss and elected to break with spot, which appeared to be a
rounder ball than its fellow. Taking a careful and protracted aim at the
red, he only missed the object-ball by inches, his own travelling twice
round the table before finally coming to rest in baulk.
"Now then, Inman," he said, with a poor attempt at jauntiness, "score off
that if you can."
James's reply was a calculated safety-miss, which only failed of its
intention in that it left his ball about an inch away from the middle
pocket. The closeness of the contest may be gauged from the fact that at
this stage the game was called (or would have been called if the marker had
not gone out to his dinner) at one all.
"In off the white," declared Herbert, and promptly potted it. "Sorry," he
added almost before the ball was in the pocket.
[Illustration: A MASTERLY TEN-SHOT, WHICH COLLECTED ALL THREE BALLS IN THE
BOTTOM RIGHT-HAND POCKET.
[The continuous line shows the path of the striker's ball and the dotted
lines those of the object balls.]]
For some time after this episode, which chilled the atmosphere a trifle,
the exchanges were uneventful. A slight tendency towards "barracking" on
the part of the crowd was quickly stifled, however, by a brilliant effort
from James, who by means of all-round play built up an attractive break of
5.
Herbert at once responded by taking off his coat, but for several innings
contributed nothing else of note except a powerful shot which pocketed the
red ball in the fireplace. After an agreement had at last been reached
about the rule governing this particular class of stroke, both players
settled down to their work and put in some useful breaks, runs of 3, 7 and
4 by James being countered by 2, 5, 6 and 3 (twice) by Herbert. The latter
was the first to reach the 50-mark, an event which the crowd signalised by
hanging up their hats and advancing to the table. When they were informed
that the game was one of a hundred up, they seemed disposed to argue the
matter, and from this stage their attitude towards the players became
openly and impartially critical.
The latter half of the match was marked by a somewhat peculiar incident.
With the game standing at 75 all Herbert made a stroke that left the red
hovering on the brink of a pocket. He waited anxiously, but with no result.
At this point one of the crowd emitted a prodigious yawn, and it was the
intense vibration set up from this act, so James declared, that induced the
ball to topple over into the pocket. In support of his contention that no
score should ensue he pointed to a framed copy of the Rules of Billiards on
the wall that balanced a coloured advertisement of Tommy Dodd whisky, and
recited the rule on vibration. Herbert strenuously denied that any such
phenomenon had taken place, and when James appealed to its author he was
met with such an outburst of elephantine sarcasm that he refrained from
further contesting the point.
After this the luck of the play went against James, and when, the marker
having by now finished his meal, the score was actually called at 90-99 in
his opponent's favour, he might have been excused for giving up the game as
lost. With dogged determination, however, he faced the situation. His own
ball was somewhere near the centre, the red about eighteen inches from the
top left-hand pocket, and the white midway between the right-hand cushion
and the D. With an almost superhuman stroke (but _not_, as was subsequently
averred, with his eyes shut) he smote the red, and his ball travelled
rapidly up and down the table. On the down journey it glanced off the
white, after which, still going at a tremendous pace, it made a complete
tour of the table and concluded its meteoric career in the bottom
right-hand pocket. Meanwhile the red and the white had both departed on
voyages of their own, the terminus in each case being the self-same pocket.
(_See diagram._) After the balls had been taken out, examined and counted,
and James's person had been searched to see if he were concealing any, the
marker pronounced this to be a 10-shot, and the game was thus strikingly
ended in James's favour.
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[Illustration: BEHIND THE SCENES IN CINEMA-LAND.
"HOP IT, LEANDER! THE HELLESPONT'S DOWN AT THE OTHER END OF THE TANK. THIS
END'S 'FUN AT FLOUNDER BEACH.'"]
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