CHAPTER XXVII
A GAME THAT WAS NEVER PLAYED
WARDEN RAND groped in the darkness for the lamp on the table, as, followed by Doctor Kreelmar, he entered the sitting room of his home.
"Guess Janet must have gone for a walk," said he. "Got a match, Kreelmar?"
Doctor Kreelmar produced the match, lighted it and handed it to the warden.
"Give you a bishop and a pawn to-night," volunteered the warden off-handedly, but chuckling inwardly to himself as he removed the lamp chimney. "Beat you too easily last time."
"You'll do what!" snapped the irascible little doctor, who was a very keen chess player and quite, if not more than, the equal of the warden.
"Bishop and a pawn," repeated the warden composedly, replacing the chimney and adjusting the wick with emphasised deliberation. "Get the board and the men—you know where they are—on top of the bookcase. I'll be back in a moment—left my cigars up-stairs"—and he hurried from the room.
With a snort, the doctor crossed to the bookcase, jerked the board and the box of chessmen from the top, and returned to the table. He slapped the board open, dumped the boxful of men over it, and began to sort out the black and white pieces—carefully setting up the white ones with which he was to play. This done,
266
