Mr. Carson shook his head sympathetically. “Unpleasant, eh? I’m terribly upset that you’re dissatisfied. Did you bathe in the lake?”
“No. How do I get out?”
“By the main exit, of course. Go straight on and then to the left”
“And there I’ve to show a pass, eh? Only that I have none.”
“A pity,” said Mr. Carson. “Such pretty country round about.”
“Mostly masses of soldiers.”
“A lot of soldiers,” agreed Mr. Carson. “Well said.”
“Listen,” burst out Prokop and his forehead twitched with anger, “do you think that it’s pleasant to come upon a bayonet or a barbed-wire entanglement every few yards?”
“Where’s that?” said Mr. Carson, astonished.
“Everywhere at the edge of the park.”
“And what in God’s name is taking you to the edge of the park? You can walk about the middle; what more do you want?”
“So I am a prisoner?”
“God preserve us! So I shan’t forget it, here’s a pass for you. A laissez-passer to the factory, see? In case by any chance you would like to have a look at it.”
Prokop took the pass from him and became amazed; on it was his photograph, evidently taken the same day. “And with this I can get outside?”
“No,” said Mr. Carson quickly. “I shouldn’t advise you to. Generally speaking, I should be
