"Very well, Bela, very well, it will be done. Compose yourself."
Grabo did not at once return to his table—he could not have endured to sit still for the moment—but paced along the line of tables, snatching looks at the other games in progress. When he looked back at the big electric board, he saw that the Machine had made a move although he hadn't heard it punch the clock. He rushed back and studied the board without sitting down. Why, the Machine had made a stupid move, he saw with a rush of exaltation. At that moment the last screen being folded started to fall over, but one of the gray-smocked men caught it deftly. Grabo flinched and his hand darted out and moved a piece.
He heard someone gasp. Vanderhoef.
It got very quiet. The four soft clicks of the move being fed into the Machine were like the beat of a muffled drum.
There was a buzzing in Grabo's ears. He looked down at the board in horror.
The Machine blinked, blinked once more and then, although barely twenty seconds had elapsed, moved a rook.
On the glassy gray margin above the Machine's electric board, large red words flamed on:
CHECK! AND MATE IN THREE
Up in the stands Dave squeezed Sandra's arm. "He's done it! He's let himself be swindled."