a violent and frightfully sensitive oil, the incarnation of swiftness and inflammability. And now here it was, transparent as water and fluid as ether; a terrible and incalculable destructive agent. He looked round to see where he had placed the flask containing this nameless substance. She laughed, took it out of his hand and held it clasped in her hands on her lap.
Outside Mr. Holz suddenly cried “Stop” to somebody. Prokop ran out. Oncle Rohn was standing extremely near the explosive trap.
Prokop went up to him. “What do you want?”
“Minna,” said Oncle Charles sweetly, “she’s not well and so”
Prokop made a face. “Come and fetch her,” he said and led him in.
“Ah, Oncle Charles!’ The Princess greeted him kindly. “Come and look, this is frightfully interesting.”
Oncle Rohn looked carefully at her and about the room and was evidently relieved. “You shouldn’t have come, Minna,” he said reproachfully.
“Why not?” she objected innocently.
He looked helplessly at Prokop. “Because . . . because you are feverish.”
“I’m better now,” she said quietly.
“But still you shouldn’t . . .” said le bon prince, frowning seriously.
“Mon Oncle, you know that I always do what I want to,” she said, making an end to this family scene. At that moment Prokop was removing from a chair a little box containing some explosives. “Do sit down,” he said politely to Rohn.
