“Just keep a little farther off, yes?” cried Carson, holding on to his desk. “What do I care about the park? Go”
“Wait,” Prokop interrupted him and compelled himself to explain patiently: “Let us take it that there are occasions when . . . when a person is not absolutely indifferent as to what happens,” he said quickly. “You understand me?” Rattling and clattering he crossed over to the calendar on the wall. “Tuesday, to-day is Tuesday! And here, here I have” he searched feverishly in his pockets and finally brought to light a porcelain soap box carefully tied up with a piece of string. “So far four ounces. You know what it is?”
“Krakatit? You’re bringing it to us?” said Mr. Carson, his face lit up with a sudden hope. “But then, of course”
“Nothing of the sort,”’ grinned Prokop and put the box back in his pocket. “But if you irritate me, then . . . then I shall strew it about where I want to, see?”
“See?” repeated Carson mechanically, completely crestfallen.
“Well, just see that that lad is removed from the entrance. I want to go into the park.”
Mr. Carson cast a rapid glance over Prokop and then spat on the floor. “Bah!” he said with feeling, ‘I’ve arranged this badly!”
“You have,” agreed Prokop. “But it didn’t occur to me before that I had this card in my suit. Well?”
Carson shrugged his shoulders. “For the present, God! this is no small matter! I am extremely glad
