secret powers and, that you may know,” roared Mr. Carson, “it has also Krakatit, so!”
Prokop jumped up like a madman. “What!”
“Krakatit. Nine grammes and thirty-five decigrammes. All that we had left.”
“What did you do with it?” said Prokop fiercely.
“Experiments. We handled it as carefully as if . . . as if it were something very precious. And one evening”
“What?”
“It disappeared. Including the porcelain box.”
“Stolen?”
“Yes,”
“And who—who”
“Obviously the Martians,” grinned Mr. Carson. “Unfortunatey through the base collusion of a lab. boy who has disappeared—of course with the porcelain box.”
“When did that happen?”
“Well, just before they sent me here in search of you. An educated man, a Saxon. He left us not even a grain of powder. Now you know why I came.”
“And you think that it fell into the hands . . . of these mysterious people?”
Mr. Carson only snorted.
“How do you know?”
“I am certain. Listen,” said Mr. Carson, jumping about on his short legs, “do I look like a timid person?”
“N—no.”
“But I tell you that this frightens me. Honestly, I’m terrified. Krakatit . . that’s bad enough; and
