watch him. It was a frosty night, the bare branches of the trees stretched into the fog, there was a slimy and chilly feeling in the air. A quarter of an hour later some one came up to the grille—a pale youth, evidently suffering from lack of sleep, with a face the colour of curds.
“Mr. Thomas says that he thanks you very much and that he can’t come and that you mustn’t wait,” he announced mechanically.
“Wait,” said Prokop impatiently through his teeth. “Tell him that I must see him, that . . . that it’s a question of his life. And that I will give him anything that he wants if . . . if he will only let me know the name and address of the lady from whom I brought him the parcel. You understand?”
“Mr. Thomas only told me to say that he thanks you very much,” repeated the lad in a sleepy voice, “and that you are not to wait.
“But—the devil,” groaned Prokop through his teeth, “I’ll explain when he comes and shan’t move until then. And tell him that he must leave his work or that . . . he’ll go up in the air, see?”
“Please,” said the youth dully.
“Ask him to come here! And to give me that address, only that address, and say that then I’ll give him everything, have you understood?”
“Please.”
“Well, go then, quickly, for heayen’s”
He waited in feverish impatience. Was that the step of a human being within? He had a sudden vision of Daimon, twisting his violet mouth and staring at the blue sparks of his apparatus. And this idiot Thomas didn’t come! He was preparing
