He immediately became agitated and forgot our game; you could almost hear the throbbing of his pride. He had had no idea that Czentovic was on board. Czentovic absolutely had to play him. He had never in his life played against a world champion except once in a simultaneous game with forty others; even that had been terribly exciting, and he had almost won. Did I know the champion personally? I said I didn’t. Wouldn’t I talk to him and ask him over? I refused on the grounds that, to the best of my knowledge, Czentovic was not very open to making new acquaintances. Besides, what would tempt a world champion to bother with third-rate players like us?

Now I should never have made that remark about third-rate players to someone as proud as McConnor. He sat back in anger and brusquely declared that he for his part could not believe that Czentovic would refuse an invitation from a gentleman; he would see to that. At his request I provided him with a brief description of the world champion, and, abandoning our board, he rushed after Czentovic along the promenade deck with unbridled impatience. I felt again that anyone with such broad shoulders was not to be deterred once he had put his mind to something.

I waited in some anxiety. After ten minutes, McConnor returned. He was not in good spirits, it seemed to me.

“Well?” I asked.

“You were right,” he responded, with some annoyance. “Not a very pleasant gentleman. I introduced myself, told him who I was. He didn’t even care to shake hands. I tried to explain to him how honored and proud all of us here on board would be if he would play us in a simultaneous game. But he was damn stiff-necked about it; said he was sorry, but he had contractual obligations toward his agent expressly prohibiting him from playing without a fee during his tour. He says his minimum is two hundred fifty dollars a game.”

I laughed. “Who would have thought that pushing black and white pieces around was such a lucrative business. Well, I hope you took your leave just as politely.”

But McConnor was deadly earnest. “The game is set for tomorrow afternoon at three. Here in the smoking lounge. I hope we won’t let ourselves be thrashed too easily.”

“What? You gave him two hundred fifty dollars?” I exclaimed in consternation.

“Why not? C’est son métier. If I had a toothache and there happened to be a dentist on board, I wouldn’t ask him to pull my tooth free of charge.

The man is quite right to set hefty prices; in every field, the real experts are also the best at business. And as far as I’m concerned, the more straightforward the deal, the better. I’d rather pay cash than have Mr. Czentovic do me a favor and be obliged to him. Anyway, I’ve lost more than two hundred fifty dollars in an evening at our club, and I wasn’t playing a world champion. For ‘third-rate’ players it’s no disgrace to be flattened by a Czentovic.”

I was amused to see how deeply I had wounded McConnor’s self-esteem with that single innocent phrase “third-rate player.” But as he was of a mind to pay for the expensive business, I wasn’t about to find fault with his misplaced pride, which would enable me to meet the object of my curiosity at last. We lost no time in informing the four or five gentlemen who had identified themselves as chess players of the impending event, and, in advance of the match, we reserved not only our table but the adjoining ones too so as to minimize any disruption by people passing through.

The next day our little group turned out at the appointed hour in full strength.