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Deference, which is not so good.”
    â€œIf I’m to play chess,” I said, “why don’t you test my skill?”
    â€œThere, you see? The boy shows no respect.”
    â€œHe has a point, though,” said Mulhouse. “Instead of playing phrenology with his head, why don’t you just play him at chess?”
    â€œI hardly think he could be very accomplished, at his age. How old are you, boy? Nine?”
    â€œTwelve.”
    â€œAll the same. The best we can hope for is that he may be taught to play passably, and that could take many months—years, even.”
    â€œI told you I’d found a chess player, Johann, not a prospective chess player.”
    â€œAll right, all right, have it your way. Help me find the chessboard.”

T HEY SPENT THE NEXT LITTLE WHILE searching the cluttered office for the board, and another while locating the scattered chessmen—most of them, anyway. We had to substitute a thimble for one of the rooks, and cigar stubs for two of the pawns.
    It was clear at once that Maelzel was a strong player, and one who was used to winning. When it was my move, he drummed his fingers on the desk, as if I were taking far too long. I did my best to ignore him and to play in my usual careful fashion. Each time his turn came, he took only a moment to consider, then made his move quickly and confidently.
    But halfway through the game, when I took his thimble with my cigar stub, his confidence began to falter. When I captured his queen, he gave a low whistle. He knew it was over. Many players—and I admit, I am one of them—will refuse to accept defeat; they go on stubbornly fighting to the last man. But, though Maelzel might dislike losing, he had sense enough to see that it was inevitable.
    â€œI concede,” he said, and held out his hand. I shook it cautiously, knowing that his thick fingers could easily crush my spindly ones. Maelzel turned to the Frenchman. “Did he defeat you that easily?”
    â€œOh, yes. Twice.”
    Maelzel stared at me for a time, drumming his fingers as if he were again waiting for me to move. But the next move was clearly his. Finally he stood up, took off his carpenter’s apron, and draped it neatly over the back of his chair. “Very well. You may begin by picking up the chess pieces and putting them where I can find them next time.”
    â€œDoes this mean I have the job?”
    â€œPerhaps.” The man turned to Mulhouse. “ Was hast du ihm gesagt?” I knew enough German to understand the meaning: What have you told him?
    â€œNothing except that chess is involved.”
    â€œSehr gut.” Maelzel leaned down and put his face close to mine. “Before I take you on as an apprentice—What is your name?”
    â€œRufus.”
    He pursed his lips in a disapproving look. “Did no one teach you to address your elders as sir ?”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œWell, they should have. Before I take you on as apprentice, Rufus, there is one thing you must know.” He spoke to me with exaggerated care, as though I were a young child, or an idiot. “Inside that room—” He gestured toward the inner door. “—is a closely guarded secret, a secret known only to myself and Mulhouse and my craftsman, Jacques. Once you step into the room, Rufus, you will become a party to that secret. But—and this is the important part—you must never breathe a word to anyone about what goes on there. Do you understand?”
    â€œYes.”
    He peered into my eyes as though trying to read my thoughts, and I had the uneasy feeling that perhaps he actually could. “Hmm,” he said at last. He placed a hand on my head again, only this time his fingers did not massage it; they closed upon it like the claws of some giant raptor. “I found one other spot on your skull that seems quite prominent—the one denoting Secretiveness, or Discretion. I hope for your sake that I