# Krakatit/Chapter 37

CHAPTER XXXVII
When they reached the laboratory he wanted to slam the door in Holz’s face, so as to fortify himself inside, but Mr. Holz just had time to whisper the words: “The Princess.”
“What’s that?” said Prokop, turning round sharply.
“She has instructed me to remain with you.”
Prokop was unable to disguise his delighted surprise. “Has she paid you?”
Mr. Holz shook his head and for the first time a smile passed across his parchment-like face. “She gave me her hand,” he said respectfully. “I promised her that nothing should happen to you.”
“Good. Have you got the gun? Now you shall watch the door, Nobody must come in, you understand?”
Mr. Holz nodded and Prokop made a thorough strategical examination of the laboratory, considered as a fortress.
Fairly satisfied, he collected on the table all the metal vessels and boxes which he could get together, and further, to his great delight, discovered a heap of nails. Then he set to work.
The next morning Mr. Carson, with a fine assumption of casualness, wandered down to Prokop’s laboratory. When some distance away he made him out standing in front of the building, evidently ​practising throwing stones. “A very healthy sport,” he shouted cheerfully.
Prokop hastily put on his coat again. “Healthy and useful,” he answered readily. “What do you want me for?”
The pockets of his coat bulged out and something rattled inside them. “What have you got in your pockets?” asked Mr. Carson carelessly.
“Nitric acid,” said Prokop. “And explosives.”
“H’m. Why do you carry it in your pockets?”
“Oh, just for a joke. Is there anything you want to say to me?”
“Nothing at the moment. Particularly not at this moment,” said Mr. Carson uneasily, keeping at a fair distance. “And what have you got in those—those boxes?”
“Nails. And here,” he said, bringing a little box out of his pockets, “is some Benzoltetraoxozonid, a novelty, the dernier cri. Eh?”
“Don’t wave it about,” said Mr. Carson, retreating to a safer distance. “Is there any request you have to make?”
“Request?” said Prokop pleasantly. “I should be obliged if you would tell THEM something. To begin with, that I’m not going.”
“Good. That’s to be understood. And further?”
“And further, if anybody should inadvertently attack me . . . or try to make an assault onme . . . I hope that it isn’t your intention to murder me.”
“Certainly not. Honestly.”
“You can come nearer.”
“You won’t go up in the air?”
“I shall be careful. I only wanted to ask you ​to stop anybody entering my fortress while I’m away from it. There’s an explosive fuse on the door. Be careful; there’s a trap behind you.”
“Explosive?”
“Only Diazobenzolperchlorate. You must warn people. Nobody’s to come near here, see? Further, I’ve certain reasons . . . to believe that I’m in danger. I should be grateful to you if you would arrange for Holz to protect me personally . . . against every sort of attack. And he should be armed.”
“No,” said Carson loudly. “Holz will be transferred.”
“What?” protested Prokop. “I’m afraid to be alone, you understand? Kindly instruct him.” So saying he approached Carson threateningly, rattling as if he was made of nothing but tin and nails.
“All right then,” said Carson hastily. “Holz, you are to look after Mr. Prokop. If anybody wishes to approach him Devil take it, do what you like. Is there anything else you want?”
“Nothing for the moment. If I want anything I’ll come to you.”
“Thank you very much,” said Carson, and quickly removed himself from the dangerous area. The first thing he did was to dash to his office and telephone the necessary instructions in all directions. But there was a rattling in the corridor and Prokop burst into the room, fully charged with bombs.
“Listen,” said Prokop, white with anger. “Who gave orders that I should not be allowed into the park? If that order isn’t withdrawn immediately——”
​“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 ​that I’m able to assist you. Honestly, extremely glad. And you? Will you give us six ounces?”
“I won’t. I shall destroy it myself but . . . to begin with I want to see whether our old treaty still holds. Free movement, and all the rest, eh? You remember?”
“The old agreement,” roared Mr. Carson. “The devil take the old agreement. At that time you weren’t—you hadn’t yet relations with——”
Prokop sprang towards him, rattling loudly. “What did you say? What hadn’t I?”
“Nothing, nothing,” Mr. Carson hastened to say, blinking his eyes quickly. “I don’t know. Your private affairs are nothing to do with me. If you want to walk about the park that’s your affair, eh? Only for God’s sake go and——”
“Listen,” said Prokop suspiciously, “No cutting off the current to my laboratory. Because——”
“Good, good,” Mr. Carson assured him. “The status quo, eh? Good luck.—Ugh! a cursed fellow,” he added irritatedly when at last Prokop had left the room.
Still rattling, Prokop made his way to the park, as heavy and solid as a howitzer. In front of the castle was standing q collection of gentlemen, but no sooner had they caught sight of him in the distance than they retired in some confusion, evidently having been informed of this highly charged and furious individual; their backs expressed the highest degree of indignation that such a thing should be allowed. Then Prokop came upon Mr. Krafft walking with Egon and giving him peripatetic instruction. As soon as he saw Prokop, he left Egon and ran across ​to him. “Will you shake hands with me?” he asked, and grew red at his own heroism. “I shall certainly be dismissed for this,” he said proudly. Prokop learnt from Krafft that the report had spread through the castle like lightning that he, Prokop, was an anarchist, and that the heir to the throne was expected that very evening. . . . That they proposed to telegraph to His Excellence to postpone his arrival, and were holding a big family council about it.
Prokop approached the castle. Two flunkeys in the passage flew out of his path and pressed themselves against the wall, allowing this charged, clanging assailant to pass without a word. The family council was being held in the large hall. Oncle Rohn was anxiously walking up and down, the elder members were tremendously excited about the perversity of anarchists, the fat cousin was silent, and some other gentlemen were warmly advocating that soldiers should be sent against this wild person: he would either have to give himself up or be shot. At that moment the doors opened and Prokop crashed into the room. His eyes sought the Princess. She was not there, but all the rest of the company stood up rigid with terror, awaiting the worst. Prokop addressed Rohn in a hoarse voice: “I’ve only come to tell you that nothing will happen to the royal heir. Now you know.” He nodded sharply and walked out of the room as solid as a statue.