that unknown wireless station is still worse; and if they both fall into the same hands, then . . . good-morning. Then Mr. Carson will pack his bag and go off to the cannibals of Tasmania. You know, I shouldn’t like to see the end of Europe.”
Prokop only rubbed his hands together between his knees. “Christ, Christ,” he whispered to himself.
“Well, yes,” said Mr. Carson. “I’m only surprised, you know, that nothing . . . nothing large has gone up in the air already. All you have to do is to press some button or other and two thousand kilometres away—bang! And there you are. What else do you expect?”
“That’s clear,” said Prokop feverishly. “Krakatit mustn’t be given up. And Thomas—Thomas must be stopped . . .”
“Mr. Thomas,” said Carson rapidly, “would sell Krakatit to the Devil himself if he paid him for it. At the present moment Mr. Thomas is one of the most dangerous people in the world.”
“My God,” muttered Prokop desperately, “what are we to do now?”
Mr. Carson waited for some time. “It\s clear,” he said finally. ‘“Krakatit must be given up.”
“N-n-no! Never!”
“Given up. Simply because it’s a . . . decipherink key. It’s the very moment to do so, my dear sir. For goodness sake give it to anybody you like, only don’t make all this fuss about it. Give it to the Swiss or to the League of Aged Virgins or to the Devil’s grandmother; it will take them six months to realize that you are not insane. Or give it to us. We’ve already set up a receiving apparatus at Balttin. Just
