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The greatest brain that ever lived, no doubt, was only a small fraction of an idea ahead of the second best. Just look at the chess-players. Leaving out the phenomenal exceptions, the nice shades that separate the skilful ones show how closely their brains approximate, almost as closely as chronometers. Such a person is a "knight-player," he must have that piece given him.
"Here!" he said, "do you know one Yada Mori Yada a Japanese? Is he one of you?" "Oh, yes!" answered one of the chess-players. "Yada, yes! We know him a very smart fellow, Yada. You know him too?" But before Ayscough could reply to this somewhat vexatious question, a man who had been left in the tearooms came hurrying up the staircase and burst in upon them. He made straight for the Inspector.
One of the chess-players lifted a stolid face. "He has been here like that several days," he said. "It's useless trying to do anything with him when he takes the fit the craving, you understand? into his head. If you want any information out of him, you'd better call again in a few hours." "Do you mean to tell me he's been here like that several days?" demanded the Inspector.
His glances followed the fairest form; his clasp lingered in the softest hand; his voice trembled as the warm breath of his partner came on his cheeks. Meanwhile the conversation between the chess-players continued. "Yes," said the baronet, "it depends only on Lucretia. And she seems pleased with Vernon: who would not be?" "Your penetration rarely deceives you, sir. I own I think with you.
In all my experience with African tribes, I have observed this want of organization in their plans. Like ignorant chess-players, they only think of the first few moves, and thus are at a loss when suddenly checked. Of course I had no intention of attacking Lokko, as I had no complaint against him; and although a Bari, he was a chief who had always behaved well to the Austrian missionaries.
The chess-players, you must observe, were placed near the chimney, beside a little work-table, which held the board and men, the Colonel at some distance, with lights upon a library table; for it is a large old-fashioned room, with several recesses, and hung with grim tapestry, representing what it might have puzzled the artist himself to explain. "Is chess a very interesting game, papa?"
The greatest brain that ever lived, no doubt, was only a small fraction of an idea ahead of the second best. Just look at the chess-players. Leaving out the phenomenal exceptions, the nice shades that separate the skilful ones show how closely their brains approximate, almost as closely as chronometers. Such a person is a "knight-player," he must have that piece given him.
Two tables in a narrow and dingier part of the room were occupied by disheveled chess-players and three or four lookers-on. Altogether there were about fifteen people in the place. Some of the conversations were carried on aloud.
Or, better yet, imagine yourself one of those subtle masters of the mysteries of the higher forms of chess the type of mind so well illustrated by the famous and historic chess-players, who could sit with their backs to a group of rivals playing fourteen men at once, calling out all the moves in turn, remembering all the positions of all the men on all the boards, and winning.
But how many persons who succeed in life have any such expert knowledge of the forces and conditions with which they have to deal, as two chess-players have of the pawns and knights and bishops and queens of the chessboard? Huxley was nearly always impressive and convincing, and there was vastly more logical force in his figures than in those of most writers.
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