A ROYAL SALUTE


"Then I take your bishop, major," said Colonel Murphy, as he made
a move that he had taken since the previous evening to consider.

"I was afraid you would," replied Major Oliphant, looking intently
at the chess-board.

Such was the way in which a long silence was broken on the morning
of the 17th of February by the old calendar.

Another day elapsed before another move was made. It was a protracted game;
it had, in fact, already lasted some months--the players being so deliberate,
and so fearful of taking a step without the most mature consideration,
that even now they were only making the twentieth move.

Both of them, moreover, were rigid disciples of the renowned Philidor,
who pronounces that to play the pawns well is "the soul of chess";
and, accordingly, not one pawn had been sacrificed without
a most vigorous defense.

The men who were thus beguiling their leisure were two
officers in the British army--Colonel Heneage Finch Murphy
and Major Sir John Temple Oliphant. Remarkably similar in
personal appearance, they were hardly less so in personal character.
Both of them were about forty years of age; both of them were tall
and fair, with bushy whiskers and mustaches; both of them were
phlegmatic in temperament, and both much addicted to the wearing
of their uniforms. They were proud of their nationality, and exhibited