Since breaking his arm he had turned to games with the feverish eagerness of one who looks for something absorbing to fill an unrestful mind.

It was Seaver's skill in chess that had at first attracted Bertram to the man long ago; but Bertram could beat him easily--too easily for much pleasure in it now.
So they did not play chess often these days.

Bertram had found that, in spite of his injury, he could still take part in other games, and some of them, if not so intricate as chess, were at least more apt to take his mind off himself, especially if there were a bit of money up to add zest and interest.
As it happened, however, Bertram learned one day that Arkwright could play chess--and play well, too, as he discovered after their first game together.

This fact contributed not a little to such success as Arkwright was having in his efforts to wean Bertram from his undesirable companions; for Bertram soon found out that Arkwright was more than a match for himself, and the occasional games he did succeed in winning only whetted his appetite for more.

Many an evening now, therefore, was spent by the two men in Bertram's den, with Billy anxiously hovering near, her eyes longingly watching either her husband's absorbed face or the pretty little red and white ivory figures, which seemed to possess so wonderful a power to hold his attention.