The next day Prokop woke up with a terribly heavy head and at first could
not realize where exactly he was; he waited for the sound of the clucking
of the chickens or the resonant barking of Honzik. Slowly he realized
that he was no longer in Tynice; that he was in bed in the hotel to
which Carson had brought him completely drunk, roaring like an animal.
Only when he put his head under a stream of cold water did he recall the
happenings of the evening and could have sunk through the ground with
shame.
They drank even during the meal, but only a little, enough to make them
both very red in the face, and then went somewhere in the car along the
edge of some woods so as to clear their heads. Prokop chattered the whole
time without respite while Carson chewed the end of his cigar, nodded
from time to time and said: “You will be a big man.” “Big man,” “big
man,” echoed in Prokop’s head like the note of a gong; if only in such
glory he could be seen by ... that girl with the veil! He nearly burst
with importance in talking to Carson, who only nodded his head like a
mandarin and added fuel to the flame of his insane pride. In his ardour
Prokop nearly fell out of the car; he was explaining his conception of
the World Institute for Destructive Chemistry, Socialism, Marriage,
the Education of Children and other nonsense. But in the evening they
began with a vengeance. Where it was they drank, God alone knows; it was
terrible. Carson, his face inflamed and his hat pushed down over his
eyes, paid for all sorts of strangers, while some girls were dancing.
Somebody broke some glasses and Prokop, sobbing, told Carson about his
terrible love for the mysterious woman. On remembering this, Prokop
clutched his head with shame and mortification.
Then they put him, shouting “Krakatit,” into the car. Heaven knows where
they went; they dashed along endless roads, while beside Prokop there
jumped up and down a fiery red spot which must have been Mr. Carson with
his cigar. Mr. Carson, who hiccoughed “quicker, Bob” or something of the
sort. Suddenly at a corner two lights rushed at them, some voices cried
out, the car swung off the road, and Prokop was thrown head first on the
grass, which brought him to his senses. There was a sound of several
violently disputing voices, accusations of drunkenness. Mr. Carson swore
terribly and muttered “now we must go back,” upon which, with thousands
of precautions, they carried Prokop, as if he were seriously wounded,
into the other car. Mr. Carson sat down next to him and they set out for
home, Bob remaining with the injured vehicle. Half-way back the seriously
wounded man began to sing rowdily, and just before reaching Prague found
that he was thirsty again. They were obliged to go with him to several
bars before he quieted down.
Prokop studied his disfigured face in the glass with dark aversion.
In this painful occupation he was interrupted by the hotel porter who,
with due apologies, brought him a registration form to fill up. Prokop
put down the necessary particulars and hoped that he had dealt with the
matter; but scarcely had the porter read his name than he became excited
and begged Prokop not to leave the room. A certain gentleman from abroad
had asked him to telephone to him at his hotel the moment he learned that
Eng. Prokop had arrived. If Mr. Eng. would allow it, etc. Mr. Eng. was so
furious with himself that he would have allowed him to cut his throat. He
sat down to wait, painfully resigning himself to enduring the pain in his
head. In a quarter of an hour the porter was back and handed him a card.
On it was printed:
SIR REGINALD CARSON
President of the International
Wireless Corporation
LONDON
“Show him in,” ordered Prokop, and he was extremely surprised that that
fellow Carson had not told him the evening before about his honours and
that to-day he should have arrived so ceremoniously; he was also a little
curious to see how Carson would look after that wild night. Then his
eyes simply started out of his head with astonishment. There came into
the room a completely strange gentleman, a good foot taller than the Mr.
Carson of yesterday.
“Very glad to see you,” said the strange gentleman slowly, and bowed just
as low as if he had been a telegraph pole.
Prokop made an indeterminate noise and gave him a seat. The gentleman
sat down on it squarely and began very leisurely to peel off a pair of
magnificent kid gloves. He was a very tall and extraordinarily serious
gentleman with a horse-like face with very precise lines on it. In his
tie-pin was an enormous Indian opal, on his gold watch-chain an antique
cameo. He had the enormous feet of a golf player, and was, in brief,
every inch an English gentleman. Prokop was stupefied. “Please?” he
managed to say finally, when the silence had become unbearable.
The gentleman was in no hurry. “Without doubt,” he began slowly in
English, “without doubt you must have been surprised when you first came
across my announcement in the paper. I assume that you are Eng. Prokop,
the author of some extremely interesting articles on explosives.”
Prokop nodded silently.
“I am very glad to meet you,” said Sir Reginald without haste. “I have
been wanting to see you in connection with a matter of great scientific
interest and practically of great importance for our company, the
International Wireless Corporation, whose president I have the honour to
be. It is of no less importance for the International Union for Wireless
Telegraphy, who have been so good as to elect me as their general
secretary. You will certainly be somewhat astonished,” he continued
without being out of breath, “that these important concerns should have
sent me to see you when your distinguished work is in quite another
field. Allow me.” With these words Sir Reginald opened his crocodile
leather wallet and pulled out some papers, a writing block and a gold
pencil.
“About nine months ago,” he began slowly, putting a pair of gold
pince-nez on his nose so as to see better, “the European wireless
stations noticed the fact——”
“Pardon me,” Prokop interrupted him, unable to control himself, “did you
put those announcements in the papers?”
“Certainly I did. The stations became aware, then, of certain regular
disturbances——”
“—on Tuesdays and Fridays, I know. Who told you about Krakatit?”
“I proposed to come to that later,” said this venerable gentleman
somewhat reproachfully. “Well, I will pass over the details, assuming
that to a certain extent you are informed regarding our aims and
oh—eh—ah——”
“—regarding a secret international conspiracy, eh?”
Sir Reginald opened his pale blue eyes very wide. “Excuse me, but to what
conspiracy do you refer?”
“Well, to those secret messages at night, to the secret organization
which sends them out——”
Sir Reginald cut him short. “Fantasy,” he said regretfully, “pure
fantasy. I am aware that the _Tribune_ when our company advertised such a
relatively large reward ... circulated the report——”
“I know,” said Prokop quickly, afraid that this leisurely gentleman would
begin to discuss the point.
“Yes. Pure invention. The whole business has nothing but a commercial
basis. It is in the interests of a certain person to demonstrate the
unreliability of our stations, if you understand me. He wishes to
undermine public confidence. Unfortunately our receivers and—ah—coherers
are unable to discover the particular type of waves which bring this
disturbance about. And since we have received reports to the effect that
you have in your possession a certain substance or chemical which reacts
in the most remarkable way to these disturbances——”
“Reports from whom?”
“From your colleague, Mr.—ah—Mr. Thomas. Mr. Thomas—ah.” Sir Reginald
extracted a letter from the bundle of papers he had brought with him.
“‘Dear Sir,’” he read with a certain amount of effort, “‘I have seen in
the newspapers an announcement of a reward, etc., etc. As at the present
moment it is impossible for me to leave Balttin, where I am at work in
connection with a certain discovery, and as a matter of such importance
cannot be dealt with by letter, I beg you to seek out in Prague a friend
of mine with whom I have worked for many years, Mr. Eng. Prokop, who is
in possession of a newly discovered substance, Krakatit, the tetrargon
of a certain lead salt, the synthesis of which is made by utilizing the
effect of a high frequency current. Krakatit reacts, as various exact
experiments have demonstrated, to certain mysterious disturbing waves by
a powerful explosion, from which it follows that it will have decisive
significance for determining the nature of the waves in question. In view
of the importance of the matter I would suggest, on behalf of myself and
my friend, that the reward offered should be considerably rai——’” Sir
Reginald cleared his throat. “That is really all,” he said. “We could
discuss the question of the reward separately. Signed by Mr. Thomas in
Balttin.”
“H’m,” said Prokop, possessed by a sudden serious suspicion, “that such
a personal ... unreliable ... fantastic report should suffice for the
International Wireless Corporation.”
“I beg your pardon,” retorted Sir Reginald, “needless to say we have
received very precise reports regarding certain experiments in Balttin——”
“Aha! from a certain Saxon laboratory assistant, eh?”
“No. From our own representative. I’ll read you it now.” Sir Reginald
again rummaged in his papers. “Here we are. ‘Dear Sir, the local stations
have so far been unable to overcome the disturbances in question.
Attempts at using greater power for transmission purposes have completely
failed. I have received a report from a reliable informant to the effect
that the military works in Balttin have acquired a certain quantity of
some substance——’”
There was a knock at the door. “Come in,” said Prokop, and the waiter
entered with a visiting card: “Some gentleman is asking——”
On the card were the words:
MR. CARSON
Balttin
“Show him in,” said Prokop, suddenly violently angry and completely
ignoring Sir Reginald’s gesture of protest.
A moment afterwards the Mr. Carson of yesterday, his face bearing evident
marks of lack of sleep, walked into the room and made towards Prokop,
evidently delighted to see him again.