erect, as if he had just been taken out of a cupboard and prepared for the interview.
“Mr. Eng. Prokop, your Excellence,” said Mr. Carson, “Prince Hagen—Balttin.”
Prokop’s brow darkened and he jerked his head angrily, a movement which he evidently regarded as constituting a bow.
“Very—pleased—to welcome you,” said Prince Hagen and stretched out an inordinately long hand. Prokop again jerked his head.
“I—hope that—you will—enjoy yourself—among us,” continued the Prince, and then Prokop noticed that he was paralyzed in half his body.
“Do—honour us—with your presence at dinner,” continued the Prince, with evident anxiety on the score of his artificial teeth.
Prokop moved his feet nervously. “Excuse me, Prince,” he said finally, “but I am unable to stay here; I—I must leave this very day”
“Impossible, quite impossible,” cried Mr. Carson from behind.
“I must leave to-day,” repeated Prokop obstinately. “I only wanted . . . to ask you the whereabouts of Thomas. I should be . . . pleased to offer you in return”
“What?” cried the Prince, and looked at Mr. Carson with eyes wide with complete lack of comprehension. “What—does he want?”
“Leave that for the moment,” said Mr. Carson in Prokop’s ear. “Mr. Prokop means to say, your Excellence, that he was not prepared for your invitation. That doesn’t matter,” he went on, turning quickly to Prokop. “I’ve arranged for that. We
