Honeybath's Haven by Michael Innes

frequently remarks in public parks. A spare, grey-haired man of military bearing was involved with it. Honeybath wondered whether this might be Colonel Dacre, more pacifically employed than was his wont. His bearing was conventional but his behaviour was a little out-of-the-way; he was moving from hole to hole, removing each little flag in turn, kneeling down, and peering into the small cavity thus revealed. From this mysterious activity he abruptly desisted on marking Honeybath’s approach.
    â€˜Good morning to you,’ he said commandingly. ‘Are you the man from the Patent Office?’
    â€˜No, sir, I am not.’ Honeybath was considerably surprised by this unexpected question. ‘I have no connection whatever with such an institution.’
    â€˜Ah! Well, I wrote to the Patent Office more than a week ago, and have been expecting them to send a fellow down.’
    â€˜Indeed, sir. I fear the only sort of fellow I am is an Honorary Fellow of my old Cambridge college.’ Honeybath made this slightly unsuitable communication with some asperity. To be classed as a fellow was much the same thing as being expected to wind clocks. ‘I regret,’ he added, ‘cheating your expectation in the matter.’
    â€˜It may be just as well. I am not sure that an application to the Patent Office hasn’t been a mistake at this stage. I understand them to guarantee confidentiality, but one can never be certain of these things nowadays. There is a lot one can never be certain of. The increased use of plastics, for example. You know how these holes are constructed?’
    â€˜I can’t say that I do.’
    â€˜The hole is punched out with the kind of affair one uses to plant daffodils and so forth. Then a small receptacle is inserted, the lip of which lies just below the level of the turf. It has to be fairly heavy, in order that a socket in its base may be capable of supporting the flag. You follow me?’
    â€˜Perfectly, sir.’
    â€˜I have taken it for granted, therefore, that these receptacles are invariably made of iron or steel. But the horrid thought has occurred to me that plastics may be coming in. I am relieved to find that it is not so. If, that is to say, one may go by the layout here. Plastic, you must understand, would entirely defeat my design. Observe this ball.’ The military man suddenly held up a golf-ball. ‘It is nothing less, sir, than a guided missile. It embodies a homing device. Or rather, it will shortly do so. There are one or two technical hitches, so far. The space available being so small, I am coming to think the mechanism will have to be transistorized. But the principle will be clear to you. Once you have reached the green, you may strike the ball with your putter pretty well in any direction you like. It will home on the hole, attracted by the only metallic object within its range, and simply drop into place.’
    â€˜I see.’ Honeybath felt that he saw a good deal. He was in the presence of the Mad Scientist of popular fiction. ‘Might it not be possible so to refine upon your device that success could infallibly beachieved straight from the tee? Golf has always seemed to me rather a slow affair. You are to be congratulated, sir, on an invention that will so notably speed up the game.’
    â€˜Precisely. But, of course, there are other possibilities.’ The features of the inventor of the transistorized golf-ball suddenly transformed themselves into an expression of extreme cunning. ‘Employed with restraint and discretion, my device would pretty well put the Open Championship within the grasp of any moderately competent player. It is conceivable that I may myself be that personage. The idea has attracted me since boyhood.’
    Honeybath thought that this was probably true. He also thought that he had handled a potentially difficult situation with tolerable address. But this didn’t mean that he wanted to spend