Again Prokop did not realize that he was being addressed.
“Mr. Prokop is a scientist,” said Carson warmly. “He’s discovered atomic explosions and that sort of thing. A marvellous mind. Compared with him we’re nothing but helps in the kitchen. Scraping potatoes. But he,” and Mr. Carson whistled with amazement, “he’s a pure magician. If you want him to he’ll prepare hydrogen from bismuth. So, madame.”
The half-closed grey eyes glanced casually at Prokop, who stood still, thoroughly embarrassed and furious with Carson.
“Very interesting,” said the Princess and at once looked elsewhere. “Ask him to teach me about these things some time. We meet again then at mid-day, eh?”
Prokop bowed just in time and Carson dragged him off into the park. “Race,” he said appreciatively. “That woman has breeding. Haughty, eh? Wait till you know her better.”
Prokop stopped. “Listen, Carson, so that you will get it clear. I don’t intend to get to know anybody better. I am going away to-day or to-morrow, you understand?”
Mr. Carson chewed a piece of grass. “A pity,” he said. “It’s very nice here. Well, it can’t be helped.”
“The long and short of it is, where is Thomas?”
“Wait until you are leaving. How did you like the old man?”
“What interest have I in him?” growled Prokop.
