Curiosity Read Free Page B

good as they think they are.”
    â€œWell, I guess you won’t find out unless you play me.”
    â€œI could watch you play against someone else.”
    â€œNo one else has taken the bet.”
    The Frenchman glanced around the room. “No? Then I shall.” He gestured to the chair opposite him and I sat. “What happened to your face? You look as though someone has been beating you with a stick.”
    â€œOn the way here, I was knocked down and robbed.”
    â€œAh, quel dommage . So they took all your money?”
    â€œI didn’t have any to take. They stole my chessboard.”
    â€œWhy, the deuced scoundrels!” put in Mr. Peach, one of the regulars, who was playing a game at the next table. “Was it your father’s Oriental set?”
    I nodded glumly.
    â€œDid you report it to the gendarmes?” asked the Frenchman.
    Mr. Peach gave a humorless laugh. “You’re not in Paree, monsoor. We have a total of twenty-four constables to patrol the entire city; they’re not likely to bother with anything so minor as the theft of a chess set.” To me he said, “I hear the Reverend Goodspeed has fallen on hard times.”
    â€œHe’s in debtors’ prison.”
    Mr. Peach shook his head sadly. “I wish I could help him, but I don’t dare. If my customers got wind of it, they’d take their business somewhere else.”
    The Frenchman gave him a disdainful glance, then turned to me. “ Eh bien , if you’ve lost your board, we shall have to rent one, shan’t we?”
    â€œYou can use ours,” said Mr. Peach. “I was about to lose, anyway.”
    â€œNo, no, m’sieur . It might distress your customers if you helped the son of such a notorious criminal. I am sorry, my boy; I don’t know your name.”
    â€œRufus Goodspeed.”
    He shook my hand. “They call me Mulhouse. Excuse-moi .” He sought out the proprietor and returned with a simple wooden chess set. “Pardon me for being blunt, Rufus, but you say you have no money and your father is in debtors’ prison. How will you settle the wager, if you should lose?”
    Like any good chess player, I had my next move already planned. “I’ll do a week’s work for you, whatever kind you want, without pay.”
    â€œHmm. Again, pardon me for saying so, but you don’t look very strong.”
    â€œI’m not. But I am very clever.”
    Mulhouse grinned wryly. “Yes, I’ve no doubt you are.” He swiftly set up the board. “Do you prefer Black or White?”
    In case you don’t know, White has the advantage of the first move. But I didn’t want it to seem as if I needed the advantage. “Black, if it’s all the same to you.”
    A move-by-moveaccount of a chess game is like a blow-by-blow account of a bare-knuckle boxing match. All you want to hear about are the knockdown blows, and perhaps a little about the style of each fighter. Did he dance around the ring, feinting and dodging, like Country McCloskey? Or did he pound steadily, relentlessly at his opponent, like Yankee Sullivan?
    Mulhouse’s style was nothing like mine. He was all flash and daring, sacrificing pieces without a qualm to further his ends. My strategy was straight out of Philidor’s manual. I was methodical and careful, and reluctant to part with so much as a pawn. According to Philidor, pawns were not expendable; they were crucial. Instead of putting my big pieces into play, I concentrated on advancing my pawns, using them as a sort of protective wall. Mulhouse seized a few, but one made it all the way to White’s home row where, like some poor girl from a fairy tale, it was transformed into a queen. From that point on, the game was mine.
    Like my father, Mulhouse accepted his fate gracefully. He seemed more surprised than upset. As he slid the coins across the table, he said, “ Another game? With a larger