He had a game of chess with his host after dinner. As a rule he was a slow and meditative player, scanning the pieces doubtfully, and suspecting a snare in every promising chance. But that evening he played as if by instinct, without hesitation. Everything was clear to him, and he pressed his adversary closely. Mr. Hayes frowned over his calculations, apprehending defeat, though the game as yet had taken no decisive turn. Presently Barbara came softly sweeping towards them in her black draperies, set down her uncle's coffee-cup at his elbow, and paused by Harding's side to watch the contest. Her presence sent a thrill through him which disturbed his clear perception of the game. It made a bright confusion in his mind, such as a ripple makes in lucid waters. He put out his hand mechanically towards the pawn which he had previously determined to move. "Dear me!" said Barbara, strong in the traditional superiority of the looker-on, "why don't you move your bishop?" Reynold moved his bishop. Quick as lightning Mr. Hayes made his answering move, and, when it was an accomplished fact, he said-- "Thank you, Barbara." Reynold and Barbara looked at each other. The aspect of affairs was entirely changed. A white knight occupied a previously guarded square, and simply offered a ruinous choice of calamities. "Oh, what have I done?" the girl exclaimed. Reynold laughed his little rough-edged laugh. "Nothing," he said. "Don't blame yourself, Miss Strange. You only asked me why I didn't move my bishop. I ought to have explained why I _didn't_. Instead of which--I _did_. It certainly wasn't your fault." Barbara lingered and bit her under-lip as she gazed at the board. "I've spoilt your game," she said remorsefully. "I think I'd better go now I've done the mischief." "No, don't go!" Harding exclaimed, and Mr. Hayes, rubbing his hands, chimed in with a mocking-- "No, don't go, Barbara!" The girl looked down with an angry spark in her eyes. "Well, I'll give you some coffee," she said to the young man; "you haven't had any yet." "And then come back, Barbara!" her uncle persisted. She did come back, flushed and defiant, determined to fight the battle to the last. But for her obstinacy Mr. Hayes would have had an easy triumph, for young Harding's defence collapsed utterly. Apparently he could not play a losing game, and a single knock-down blow discouraged him once for all. Barbara, taking her place by his side, showed twice his spirit, and at one time seemed almost as if she were about to retrieve his fallen fortunes. Mr. Hayes ceased to taunt her, and sat with a puckered forehead considering his moves. He kept his advantage, however, in spite of all she could do, and presently unclosed his lips to say "Check!" at intervals. But it was not till he had uttered the fatal "Mate!" that his face relaxed. Then he got up, and made his niece a little bow. "Thank you, Barbara!" he said, and walked away to the fire-place.