Harry, his part of the work finished, watched them. The two gray heads bent lower and lower over the table until they almost touched. Everybody maintained a respectful silence. Colonel Talbot's brow was corded deeply with thought. It was a full quarter of an hour before he made a move, and then his opponent looked surprised.
"That does not seem to be your right move, Leonidas."
"But it is, Hector, as you will see presently."
"Very well. I will now choose my own course."
Lieutenant-Colonel St. Hilaire's own brow became corded and knotted as he put his whole mental energy upon the problem. Harry watched them a little while, and then strolled over to the other window, where St. Clair was looking at the ruined town.
"Curious how people can find entertainment in so slow a game," he said, nodding toward the two colonels.
"That same game has been going on for more than a year," said St. Clair, with a slight smile. "It's odd how something always breaks it up. I wonder what it will be this time. But it's an intelligent game, Harry."
"I don't think a sport is intellectual, merely because it is slow."
Lieutenant-Colonel St. Hilaire made a move, Colonel Leonidas Talbot made another, and then promptly uttered a little cry of triumph.
"My king is free! He is free! You made no royal capture, Hector!" he exclaimed joyously.