“It’s possible, isn’t it,” suggested Vance, “that the working out of that combination explains the discrepancy in time between Black and White?”
“Oh, undoubtedly. Rubinstein must have been in good form not to have made the discrepancy greater. Planning the combination took him all of forty-five minutes—or I’m a duffer.”
“At what hour, would you say,” asked Vance carelessly, “did Rubinstein use up that forty-five minutes?”
“Well, let’s see. The play began at eleven: six moves before the combination started. . . . Oh, say, somewhere between half past eleven and half past twelve. . . . Yes, just about. Thirty moves before the adjournment: six moves beginning at eleven—that makes thirty-six: then on the forty-fourth move Rubinstein moved his pawn to Bishop-7-check, and Pardee resigned. . . . Yes—the working out of the combination was between eleven-thirty and twelve-thirty.”
Vance regarded the men on the board, which were now in the position they had occupied at the time of Pardee’s resignation.[28]
“Out of curiosity,” he said quietly, “I played the game through to the checkmate the other night.—I say, Mr. Arnesson; would you mind doin’ the same. I could bear to hear your comment on it.”
Arnesson studied the position closely for a few minutes. Then he turned his head slowly and lifted his eyes to Vance. A sardonic grin overspread his face.
“I grasp the point. Gad! What a situation! Five moves for Black to win through. And an almost unheard-of finale in chess. Can’t recall a similar instance. The last move would be Bishop to Knight-7, mating. In other words, Pardee was beaten by the black bishop! Incredible!”[29]
Professor Dillard put down his book.
“What’s this?” he exclaimed, joining us at the chess table. “Pardee was defeated by the bishop?” He gave Vance a shrewd, admiring look. “You evidently had good reason, sir, for investigating that chess game. Pray overlook an old man’s temper.” He stood gazing down at the board with a sad, puzzled expression.