N6.barV.7.F.b!” had some secret and unescapable significance which he was bound to recognize. So he now went where they directed him. The munition sheds were left behind, and instead were small concrete structures, all marked with numbers, evidently experimental laboratories or something of the sort, distributed amongst the sand dunes and pine woods. His path led to a completely isolated hut numbered V.7. On the door was a brass plate marked “Eng. Prokop.” Prokop brought out the key which Carson had given him and went inside.
He was confronted with a perfectly equipped laboratory for the chemistry of explosives—so complete and modern that Prokop held his breath with the delight of a specialist. On a nail there hung his old overall, in the corner was a military palliasse like the one he had had in Prague, and in the drawers of a magnificently appointed writing-table there lay, carefully classified and catalogued, all his printed articles and manuscript notes.
