He woke up numb and worn out. “This … this isn’t Italy,” he stammered, surprised.
“Not yet,” said Mr. d’Hémon, “but come and have something to eat.” He led Prokop, who was dazzled by so many lights, to an isolated table. A white tablecloth, silver, warmth, a waiter like an ambassador. Mr. d’Hémon did not even sit down, but walked up and down the room looking at the tips of his fingers. Prokop, heavy and sleepy, dropped into a chair; it was a matter of complete indifference to him whether he ate or not. All the same he drank some hot soup, poked at one or two dishes, scarcely able to hold the fork, twisted a glass of wine in his fingers and burnt his throat with some scalding coffee. Mr. d’Hémon still did not sit down but went on walking up and down the room, every now and then taking a mouthful as he went along. When Prokop had finished eating he gave him a cigar and lit up himself. “So,” he said, “and now to business.
“From now,” he began, still walking up and down, “I shall be for you simply … Comrade Daimon. I will introduce you to our people; they’re not far away. You mustn’t take them too seriously; amongst them there are desperadoes, people evading justice from all the corners of the world, fanatics, babblers, doctrinaires and dilettante salvationists. Don’t ask them for their programme; they are only material which we use for our purposes. The chief thing is that we can put at your disposal an extensive secret international organization which has its branches everywhere. The only programme is direct action. Through this we’ll get hold of everybody without exception. They’re already crying for it, like children for a new toy. Anyway they’ll find the fascination of a ‘new programme of action,’ ‘destruction inside the head’ irresistible. After the first successes they’ll follow you like sheep—especially if you weed out from their leaders the people I shall indicate to you.”
He spoke smoothly like an experienced orator, that is to say thinking all the time about something else, and with such self-evident truth that he made doubt or resistance impossible. It seemed to Prokop that he had heard him on some occasion or other before.
“Your situation is unique,” Daimon continued, still walking up and down the room. “You have already rejected the proposal of a certain Government, and you behaved like a sensible man. What can I offer you compared to what you can obtain by yourself? You’d be mad to hand over your secret to anybody. You have in your possession a means by which we can overcome all the powers of the earth. I have unlimited confidence in you. Do you want fifty or a hundred million pounds? You can have them within a week. It is enough for me that at present you are the sole owner of Krakatit. Our people have fourteen and a half ounces in their possession, brought by a Saxon comrade from Balttin, but these fools haven’t the slightest understanding of what your chemistry means. They keep it like a sacred relic in a porcelain box and three times a week nearly come to blows over the question of what government building they are going to blow up into the air. Anyway, you’ll hear them. There’s no danger to you from that quarter. There’s not a scrap of Krakatit in Balttin. Mr. Thomas is evidently near to abandoning his experiments—”
“Where is George—George Thomas?” asked Prokop.
“At the Powder Works in Grottup. But they are already sick of him there with his everlasting promises. And even if by chance he does succeed in preparing it he won’t derive much benefit from the fact. I can answer for that. In short, you alone have Krakatit in your power and you won’t give it to anybody. You will have at your disposition human material and all the ramifications of our organization. I will give you a printing press which I maintain myself. And finally you will also have the use of what the newspapers refer to as the ‘Secret Wireless Station,’ that is, our illegal wireless station which, by means of so-called anti-waves or extinguishing sparks, causes your Krakatit to explode at a distance of from one to two thousand miles. Those are your cards. Do you want to play?”
“What … what do you mean?” said Prokop. “What am I to do with it all?”
Comrade Daimon stopped and looked at Prokop fixedly. “Do what you like. You will do great things. Who can suggest anything further to you?”
XLVII
Daimon drew up a chair and sat down. “Yes,” he began reflectively, “it’s almost impossible to believe it. There’s simply no analogy in history to the power which you have in your hands. You will be able to conquer the world with a handful of people, as Cortez conquered Mexico. No, that’s not the right image. With Krakatit and the wireless station you can checkmate the world. It’s amazing but it’s true. All you need is a handful of white powder and you can blow up what you like any instant you please. Who can stop you? Actually you are the uncontrolled master of the world. You will be able to give orders, without anyone even seeing you. It’s amusing. You can attack Portugal or Sweden; in three, four days they will ask for peace and you will dictate contributions, laws, frontiers, anything that occurs to you. At that moment there’s only one controlling force, and that’s you yourself.
“You think that I’m exaggerating? I’ve a lot of very efficient fellows here, capable of everything. You decide for a lark to make
