Prokop looked at Mr. Carson in amazement. He was surprised to find that
his face was no longer an insipid one, glowing with kindliness; it had
grown serious and severe, the eyes of this zealous man had disappeared
behind his heavy lids and only for an instant now and then did they flash
out sharply. “Don’t be foolish,” he said emphatically. “Sell us Krakatit
and the thing is done.”
“But how do you know...?” said Prokop hoarsely.
“I’ll tell you everything, honestly everything. Mr. Thomas came to us;
he brought four ounces and the formula. Unfortunately he was not able to
tell us the process. Neither he nor our chemists have so far been able to
discover it, to discover how to make the stuff. Some sort of a trick, eh?”
“Yes.”
“H’m. Maybe we may come upon it without your assistance.”
“You won’t.”
“Mr. Thomas ... knows something about it, but keeps it a secret. He
worked for us behind locked doors. He’s a terribly bad chemist, but more
artful than you are. At least he doesn’t blurt out what he knows. Why did
you tell him? All he knows is to cadge money out of people. You should
have come yourself.”
“I didn’t send him to you,” muttered Prokop.
“Aha!” said Mr. Carson, “extremely interesting. Your Mr. Thomas came to
us——”
“Where exactly?”
“To us. Factories in Balttin. Do you know it?”
“No.”
“A foreign concern. Marvellously up to date. An experimental laboratory
for new explosives. We make keramit, methylnitrate, and such things.
Chiefly military, you see? You’ll sell us Krakatit. Yes?”
“No. And is Thomas still with you?”
“Aha! Mr. Thomas; wait, that’s amusing. Now he comes to us and says:
This is the legacy of my friend, Prokop, a chemist of genius; he died
in my arms, and with his last breath, aha! he bequeathed it me. Aha!
magnificent,—what?”
Prokop only smiled wryly. “And is Thomas still ... in Balttin?”
“Wait a moment. Naturally, to begin with we kept him ... as a spy. We get
hundreds of them, you know. And we had this powder, Krakatit, tested.”
“And the result?”
Mr. Carson raised his hands to heaven. “Magnificent!”
“What’s the speed of detonation? How did you find Q? And t? The figures!”
Mr. Carson let his hands fall, so that they slapped on his knees and
opened his eyes very wide. “What figures, man! The first attempt
... fifty per cent starch ... and the crusher gauge was blown to
smithereens. One engineer and two assistants ... also in smithereens.
Would you believe it? Attempt No. 2 ... a Trauz block, ninety per cent
vaseline, and bang! The roof went up and one workman was killed; nothing
of the block remained but a fragment. Then we let the soldiers have a
go at it; they laughed at us ... said we knew as much about it as ... a
village blacksmith. We gave them a little; they rammed it into a gun with
a lot of sawdust. Splendid results. Seven gunners blown up including a
N.C.O. ... they found one leg three kilometres away. Twelve dead in two
days, there’s figures for you. Aha! magnificent, eh?”
Prokop wanted to say something, but gulped it down. Twelve dead in two
days—the devil!
Mr. Carson rubbed his knees and glowed with pleasure. “The third day we
gave it a rest. It makes a bad impression, you know, when ... you have
many such incidents. Then we only took a little Krakatit ... about three
decigrams ... in glycerine and that sort of thing. The idiot of a lab.
boy left a pinch lying about in the night when the laboratory was shut——”
“It exploded?” cried Prokop.
“Yes. At ten thirty-five. The laboratory chemist was torn to shreds,
not to speak of a couple of blocks of buildings.... About three tons of
methylnitrate went up with it—in short about sixty killed. Naturally
enough a tremendous investigation and all the rest of it. It turned out
that nobody had been in the laboratory and that evidently it must have
exploded——”
“—by itself,” interrupted Prokop, scarcely breathing.
“Yes. Was it the same with you?”
Prokop nodded gloomily.
“There you are,” said Carson quickly. “And not without a reason. Terribly
dangerous stuff. Sell it to us and you won’t have to worry any more. What
would you have done with it?”
“And what would _you_ have done with it?” said Prokop through his teeth.
“We’ve ... made arrangements about that. What does it matter blowing up a
few fellows—but it would be a pity if you were to suffer.”
“But the Krakatit in the porcelain box didn’t explode,” said Prokop,
still obstinately reflecting.
“Thank God, no. I should think not!”
“And it was at night,” Prokop reflected further.
“At ten thirty-five, precisely.”
“And ... those few grains of Krakatit were lying on a zinc ... on a metal
plate,” Prokop went on.
“It was nothing to do with that,” burst out the little man with a
worried expression, and he bit his lips and started pacing up and down
the laboratory. “It was ... perhaps only oxidization,” he said after a
moment. “Some sort of chemical process. It didn’t explode when mixed with
glycerine.”
“Because it isn’t a conductor,” jerked out Prokop. “Because it doesn’t
ionize—I don’t know.”
Mr. Carson stopped and stood over him with his hands behind his back.
“You’re very astute,” he said appreciatively. “You deserve to get a lot
of money. It’s a pity you’re stuck here.”
“Is Thomas still in Balttin?” asked Prokop, exerting all his strength so
as to appear indifferent.
Something flashed behind Mr. Carson’s spectacles. “We’ve got our eye on
him,” he said evasively. “He certainly won’t come back here. Come to us
... you may find him, if—you—want him so very badly,” he said slowly and
emphatically.
“Where is he?” repeated Prokop obstinately, making it quite clear that he
would talk of nothing else.
Mr. Carson waved his hand airily. “Well, he’s made off,” and he gave
Prokop an inscrutable glance.
“Made off?”
“Faded away. He wasn’t supervised carefully enough, and he was an artful
bird. He undertook to prepare Krakatit for us. Experimented with it ...
about six weeks. Cost us a frightful amount of money. Then disappeared,
the rotter. Didn’t know what to do,—what? Knows nothing.”
“And where is he?”
Mr. Carson bent over Prokop. “A rotter. Now he is offering Krakatit to
some other state. And at the same time he stole our methylnitrate, the
swine. Now he is playing the same trick on them.”
“Where?”
“Mustn’t say. Honestly, I mustn’t. And when he bolted I went, aha! to
visit your grave. Piety—what? Chemist of genius, unknown to anyone here.
That was a job if you like. Had to keep on advertising in papers like an
idiot. Naturally the others got on to it, see? You understand me?”
“No.”
“Come and have a look,” said Mr. Carson briskly, and crossed to the
opposite wall. “Here,” he said and tapped the boarding.
“What is it?”
“A spy-hole. Some one came here.”
“And who shot at him?”
“Well, I did. If you had crept through the window the same way a
fortnight ago some one ... would have let fly at you.”
“Who?”
“That’s all the same, this or that state. A good many foreign powers,
my friends, have been knocking at this door. And meanwhile you were
somewhere, aha! catching fish, eh? Marvellous fellow! But listen, my
dear sir,” he said with sudden seriousness, “kindly give up coming here.
Never, do you understand?”
“Rubbish!”
“Wait. You won’t find a grenadier waiting for you. Very
unpretentious-looking people. Nowadays this sort of thing ... is done
very discreetly.” Mr. Carson stopped near the window and drummed with his
fingers on the glass. “You can’t believe how many letters I got in answer
to my advertisement. About six Prokops introduced themselves.... Come and
look, quick!”
Prokop came over to the window. “What is it?”
Mr. Carson silently pointed at the road with his short finger. On it
a young man was twisting about on a bicycle in a desperate attempt to
maintain his equilibrium, each wheel exhibiting a strong inclination to
go in a different direction. Mr. Carson looked at Prokop inquiringly.
“Apparently learning to ride,” said Prokop doubtfully.
“Frightfully inept, eh?” said Mr. Carson and opened the window. “Bob.”
The youth on the bicycle stopped instantly: “Yessr.”
“Go to the town for our car!” said Mr. Carson in English.
“Yessr.” And the young cyclist whisked off towards the town.
Mr. Carson turned away from the window. “An Irishman. Very smart lad.
What was I going to say? Aha! About six Prokops appeared—meetings in
different places, especially at night—amusing, eh? Read this.”
“Come to my laboratory at ten o’clock to-night, Eng. Prokop,” read Prokop
as if in a dream. “But this is ... practically ... my handwriting!”
“You see,” grinned Carson. “My friend, things are warm. Sell the stuff,
and be left in peace!”
Prokop shook his head.
Mr. Carson gave him a heavy, fixed look. “You can ask ... let us say ...
twenty million. Sell us Krakatit.”
“No.”
“You will get everything back. Twenty million. Sell it, man!”
“No,” said Prokop heavily. “I don’t want anything to do ... with your
wars.”
“What’s your position here? A chemist of genius ... and lives in a wooden
hut! That’s the way your countrymen appreciate you! I know. A great man
has no countrymen. Don’t let yourself be worried! Sell it and——”
“I don’t want to.”
Mr. Carson stuck his hands into his pockets and yawned. “Wars! Do you
think they can be stopped? Pche! Sell it and don’t worry. You’re a
scientist ... what does the rest matter to you? Wars! Don’t be silly.
While people have nails and teeth——”
“I shan’t sell it,” said Prokop through his teeth.
Mr. Carson shrugged his shoulders. “As you like. We shall discover it
ourselves. Or Thomas will. Good.”
There was a moment of silence. “It’s all the same to me,” said Mr.
Carson. “If you prefer it we’ll offer it to France, to England, where you
like, even to China. Together, see? No one would buy it here. You would
be a fool to sell it for twenty million. Trust Carson, eh?”
Prokop shook his head decisively.
“Character,” said Mr. Carson appreciatively. “All honour to it. I like
that sort of thing enormously. Listen, I’ll tell you. An absolute secret.
I swear it.”
“I’m not asking you for your secrets,” muttered Prokop.
“Bravo. A discreet fellow. Just my type, my dear sir.”