crocodile leather wallet and pulled out some papers, a writing block and a gold pencil.
“About nine months ago,” he began slowly, putting a pair of gold pince-nez on his nose so as to see better, “the European wireless stations noticed the fact”
“Pardon me,” Prokop interrupted him, unable to control himself, “did you put those announcements in the papers?”
“Certainly I did. The stations became aware, then, of certain regular disturbances”
“—on Tuesdays and Fridays, I know. Who told you about Krakatit?”
“I proposed to come to that later,” said this venerable gentleman somewhat reproachfully. “Well, I will pass over the details, assuming that to a certain extent you are informed regarding our aims and oh—eh—ah”
“—regarding a secret international conspiracy, eh?”
Sir Reginald opened his pale blue eyes very wide. “Excuse me, but to what conspiracy do you refer?”
“Well, to those secret messages at night, to the secret organization which sends them out”
Sir Reginald cut him short. “Fantasy,” he said regretfully, “pure fantasy. I am aware that the Tribune when our company advertised such a relatively large reward . . . circulated the report”
“I know,” said Prokop quickly, afraid that this leisurely gentleman would begin to discuss the point.
“Yes. Pure invention. The whole business has nothing but a commercial basis. It is in the interests of a certain person to demonstrate the unre-
