He had moved to king's pawn. I was about to give the usual reply, but when he said that my hand faltered on the piece.
"Within four-and-twenty hours? What makes you think that?"
Keeley winked.
"I've heard something, that's all. It's your move."
I moved.
He brought his knight out. I fancy that I brought mine. But I am not sure. I found that, after all, I was not sufficiently recovered to do myself justice over a chessboard. I am more than his match as a rule. I have played him three weeks in succession--one night a week--without his ever winning a game. But on that occasion I was not a foeman worthy of his steel. He beat me with even ridiculous ease. And directly he had won he began again.
"You're fond of murders, aren't you?"
"Fond of murders, Keeley! What do you mean?"
"I've heard you say more than once that you like a first-class murder."
"I don't remember ever having said anything of the sort. It seems incredible that I could have done. It would have been in direct opposition to all my principles."