“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.
XXI
“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 someone 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
