CHAPTER LII
The paths of the world twist in a curious way. If you were to follow out all your steps and all the journeys you have made, what an intricate design they would make! For by his steps every one traces out his map of the world.
By the time that Prokop found himself standing in front of the grille before the factories at Grottup, it was already evening. The factory consisted of a great stretch of sheds, illuminated by the dull globes of arc lamps; the lights were still showing from one or two windows. Prokop thrust his head through the bars of the grille and cried: “Hallo!”
The doorkeeper, or perhaps the guard, came up. “What do you want? It’s forbidden to enter.”
“Excuse me, is Mr. Engineer Thomas still with you?”
“What do you want with him?”
“I must speak to him.”
“. . . Mr. Thomas is still in the laboratory. You can’t see him.”
“Tell him . . . tell him that his friend Prokop is waiting for him . . . that he has something which he wishes to give him.”
“Get farther away from the grille,” muttered the man, and called some one.
A quarter of an hour later some one in a long white coat came up to the grille.
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