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 feet until he noticed that his conduct had begun to interest a soldier with a fixed bayonet who was standing on the other side.

“A hot day, eh?” said Prokop, to pass it off.

“You are not allowed here,” said the soldier; and Prokop swung round and set off farther along the barbed-wire fence. The pine wood turned into scattered young trees, behind which were a few sheds and stables, evidently the yard belonging to the castle. He looked through the fence and inside there immediately began a frightful howling, yelping and barking, and a good dozen dogs, bloodhounds and wolfhounds, hurled themselves at the fence. Four pairs of unfriendly eyes looked out of four different doors. Prokop made some sort of greeting and wished to go farther, but one of the servants ran after him, saying that “You’re not allowed here,” after which he led him back to the gate at the end of the birch wood.

All this put Prokop into a very bad frame of mind. Carson must tell him which was the way out, he decided; he was not a canary, to be kept in a cage. Making a detour to avoid the tennis court he made his way to the road through the park, along which Carson had first led him to the castle. No sooner had he reached it than a fellow in a flat cap, who looked as if he had stepped out of a film, came up to him and asked where the gentleman might be going.

“Outside,” said Prokop shortly; but “You're not allowed here!” exclaimed the fellow in the cap; “this is the road to the munition barracks and anyone who wants to go along it must have a