The Mystery of Room 75 by Fred M. White — Read

It was somewhat early in the season, for it wanted a few weeks before the August rush set in, so that the famous links at Brancaster were not unusually crowded by holiday visitors, though a large number of the usual members were present, together with a handful of enthusiasts staying at the Grand Hotel. A good many of these were personally known to Wendover, as he himself was a fine player, and his presence was hailed with enthusiasm, so that for the next day or two, at any rate, he saw little of Ran Ghose, who, however, was considerably sought after on account of his own record.

It was just as well, Wendover explained, that they should not be seen too often in one another's company, as that would only serve to excite the suspicions of John Garcia, and meanwhile, in his spare time, Wendover was keeping his eyes open. Garcia himself, pottering about in his clerical guise, played golf of a sort. It did not matter much what sort of a performer he was, seeing that there were many elderly gentlemen down there for the benefit of their health, who sauntered round the course from time to time with a club or two, and an experienced caddie, under the delusion they were playing the game. They were harmless old gentlemen for the most part, and a nuisance usually to the general body of players, but these were the crosses that golfers generally had to put up with, especially on such a famous course as Brancaster. So that John Garcia, innocently sporting behind his black coat and white collar, pottered about, no doubt arranging some deep laid scheme for the taking off of the unfortunate Parsee. He always appeared to be in everybody's way, but he was ever ready to apologize and explain that he was no exponent of the game, and that he had taken it up solely on the advice of his medical man.