“One moment,” Prokop stopped him, “allow me to introduce you. Mr. Carson,
Sir Reginald Carson.”
Sir Reginald drew himself up but remained seated with unruffled dignity;
but Mr. Carson, whistling with surprise, sank into a chair like a man
whose legs have suddenly failed him. Prokop leaned against the door and
stared at both of them with uncontrolled hostility. “Well?” he asked
finally.
Sir Reginald began to put his papers away in his wallet. “Undoubtedly,”
he said slowly, “it would be better for me to visit you some other time——”
“Please stay,” Prokop interrupted him. “Excuse me, gentlemen, are you by
any chance related?”
“Certainly not,” said Mr. Carson. “On the contrary.”
“Which of you is the real Carson?”
Nobody answered; there was a painful silence.
“Ask this gentleman,” said Sir Reginald coldly, “perhaps he will show you
his papers.”
“With the greatest pleasure,” hissed Mr. Carson, “but after the other
gentleman has done so first. So.”
“And which of you inserted that announcement in the papers?”
“I,” said Mr. Carson without the least hesitation, “my inspiration, my
dear sir. I see that even in our sphere one comes across the unheard-of
depravity of exploiting some one else’s idea. So.”
“Allow me,” Sir Reginald turned to Prokop with real moral indignation,
“this is really too much. What would it have looked like if still another
announcement had been made under another name! I was therefore obliged to
accept the situation created by the other gentleman.”
“Aha!” burst out Mr. Carson aggressively, “and so the gentleman assumed
my name for his purposes!”
“All I want to say is,” Sir Reginald defended himself, “that this
gentleman is simply not named Carson.”
“What is his name then?” asked Prokop quickly.
“... I don’t know exactly,” said Sir Reginald contemptuously through his
teeth.
“Carson,” said Prokop, turning to the engineer, “and who is this
gentleman?”
“Competition,” said Mr. Carson with bitter humour. “This is the gentleman
who wished to trap me with false documents. He certainly wanted to make
me acquainted with some very charming people.”
“With the local military police,” muttered Sir Reginald.
Mr. Carson’s eyes flashed maliciously and he coughed warningly: “I beg
you not to speak about it! Certainly——”
“Would the gentlemen like to explain anything to one another?” grinned
Prokop from the door.
“No, nothing further,” said Sir Reginald with dignity; so far he had not
considered the other Carson worthy of a single glance.
“Now,” Prokop began, “first of all I should like to thank you both for
your visit. Secondly, I am extremely glad to hear that Krakatit is in
good hands, that is to say, in my own; for if you had the slightest hope
of getting hold of it otherwise I should not have been so much in demand,
eh? I am extremely obliged to you for the information which you have
involuntarily given me.”
“Don’t exult too soon,” muttered Mr. Carson, “there remains——”
“—him?” said Prokop, indicating Sir Reginald.
Mr. Carson shook his head. “Good gracious, no! But a certain third
person——”
“Excuse me,” said Prokop, annoyed, “you don’t surely think that I believe
anything of what you told me last night?”
Mr. Carson shrugged his shoulders regretfully. “Well, as you like.”
“Thirdly,” Prokop continued, “I should be obliged if you would kindly
tell me where Thomas is at present.”
“But I told you already,” said Mr. Carson quickly, “that I am not allowed
to do so. Come to Balttin and there you are.”
“And you, sir,” Prokop turned to Sir Reginald.
“I beg your pardon,” said the latter, “but I prefer to keep that to
myself.”
“Fourthly, I entreat you not to devour one another while I go out——”
“—for the police,” said Sir Reginald. “Quite right.”
“I am delighted that you share my opinion. Pardon my locking you in while
I am away.”
“Oh, please,” said Sir Reginald politely, while Mr. Carson would have
protested desperately.
Greatly relieved, Prokop locked the door behind him and further
stationed two waiters outside it, while he himself ran off to the
nearest police-station; for he thought it best to let them know what had
happened. It transpired that the matter was not to be arranged so easily.
He was unable to accuse either of the strangers of having committed even
any crime so unimportant as that of stealing silver spoons or playing
faro; it cost him a great deal of effort to allay the suspicions of the
official at the police-station, who evidently regarded him as insane.
Finally—probably for the sake of being left in peace—he allotted Prokop a
shabby and taciturn plain clothes detective. When they reached the hotel
they found both waiters still valiantly guarding the door, surrounded
by a group consisting of the entire _personnel_ of the establishment.
Prokop unlocked the door and the detective, having blown his nose loudly,
stepped quietly into the room as if he were going to buy a pair of
braces. It was empty. Both the Carsons had disappeared.
The taciturn individual merely blew his nose again and made his way to
the bathroom, which Prokop had completely forgotten. From there there was
a window looking out on to the well of the hotel, and on the opposite
wall was a window in the wall of the lavatory. The taciturn individual
then proceeded to the lavatory. This led to another flight of steps. The
door was locked, and the key had disappeared. The detective undid the
door with a pass-key and opened it; inside he found it empty, but there
were footmarks beneath the window. The taciturn individual locked the
door again and said that he would go and fetch his superior.
His superior, an active little man and a first-rate criminal expert,
did not take long to grasp the situation. He spent a good two hours in
trying to extract from Prokop an explanation of his relation to the two
gentlemen. It appeared that he had a strong desire to arrest at least
Prokop, who had become terribly embarrassed in his explanation of his
dealings with the two foreigners. Then he questioned the doorkeeper and
the waiters and instructed Prokop to report himself at the police-station
at six o’clock that evening, intimating that he would do better not to
leave the hotel meanwhile.
Prokop spent the rest of the day in wandering about the room and
reflecting with horror that he would probably be imprisoned; for how
could he furnish an adequate explanation when he was determined not
to mention Krakatit at any cost? The devil only knew how long such a
detention might last; and then, instead of looking for her, the unknown
one with a veil ... Prokop’s eyes were full of tears; he felt so weak
and soft that he grew positively ashamed. Finally he mustered all his
determination and set out for the police-station.
They led him at once into an office which was furnished with a thick
carpet, leather arm-chairs and a large box of cigars—that of the
President. Near the writing-table Prokop was confronted with an enormous
back like that of a boxer, inclined over some papers, a back which at
the first glance inspired him with terror and submissiveness. “Sit down,
Mr. Engineer,” said the back in a friendly tone, and there turned to
Prokop a face no less monumental in build, appropriately placed on the
neck of a wild bull. The powerful gentleman studied Prokop for a moment
and then said: “Mr. Engineer, I will not force you to tell me what you
have decided, after consideration, to keep to yourself. I know about your
work. I have the impression that the matter had to do with a certain
explosive prepared by you.”
“Yes.”
“The substance has a certain ... shall we say military significance?”
“Yes.”
The powerful gentleman got up and shook hands with Prokop. “I should just
like to express my thanks to you, Mr. Engineer, for not selling it to
foreign agents.”
“Is that all?” breathed Prokop.
“Yes.”
“Have you arrested them?” Prokop burst out.
“Why?” smiled the gentleman. “We have no right to do so. So far it is
only a matter of your secret and not of one belonging to our army....”
Prokop took the delicate hint and became confused. “The matter ... hasn’t
yet matured....”
“I believe you. I have confidence in you,” said the powerful man and
again shook his hand.
That was all.