"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."