“Drukker, Professor Dillard tells us, foresaw the outcome when you and he were discussing the situation last night.”
I could not understand why Vance referred so pointedly to this episode, knowing as he did how sore a point it was with Pardee. Markham, also, frowned at what appeared to be an unforgivably tactless remark on Vance’s part.
Pardee colored, and shifted in his chair.
“Drukker talked too much last night.” The statement was not without venom. “Though he’s not a tournament player, he should know that such discussions are taboo during unfinished games. Frankly, though, I put little stock in his prophecy. I thought my sealed move had taken care of the situation, but Drukker saw farther ahead than I did. His analysis was uncannily profound.” There was the jealousy of self-pity in his tone, and I felt that he hated Drukker as bitterly as his seemingly mild nature would permit.
“How long did the game last?” Vance asked casually.
“It was over a little after one o’clock. There were only fourteen moves in last night’s session.”
“Were there many spectators?”
“An unusually large number, considering the late hour.”
Vance put out his cigarette and got up. When we were in the lower hall on our way to the front door he halted suddenly and, fixing Pardee with a gaze of sardonic amusement, said:
“Y’ know, the black bishop was at large again last night around midnight.”