CHAPTER XVIII
Mr. carson sat down and lit a very fat cigar, after which he reflected for a time. “Tchah!” he said at last. “So it exploded with you also. When was that? The date?”
“I can’t say now.”
“The day of the week?”
“I don’t know. I think . . . two days after Sunday.”
“Tuesday then. And at what time?”
“About . . . some time after ten in the evening.”
“Correct.” Mr. Carson thoughtfully blew out some smoke.
“With us it exploded . . . as you were pleased to express it, ‘by itself’ . . . on Tuesday at ten thirty-five. Did you notice anything at the time?”
“No. I was asleep.”
“Aha! It also explodes on Fridays, about half-past ten. On Tuesdays and Fridays. We tested it,” he explained in answer to Prokop’s fascinated look. “We left a milligram of Krakatit lying exposed and watched it day and night. It exploded on Tuesday and Friday at half-past ten. Seven times. Once also on a Monday at ten twenty-nine. So.”
Prokop was inwardly horrified.
“A sort of blue spark appears on it,” added Mr. Carson, absorbed, “and then it explodes.”
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