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 from the management. The gate leading outside directly from the castle is back there on the main road and to the left, please.”

Prokop went along the main road and to the left, please, until he was brought up by a large gate with a grating in it. The old doorkeeper went forward to open it for him. “Have you a ticket, please?”

“What sort of ticket?”

“A pass.”

“What sort of pass?”

“A ticket, giving you permission to go out.”

Prokop became furious. “Am I in a prison, then?”

The old man shrugged his shoulders regretfully: “I was instructed this morning, please.”

Poor wretch, thought Prokop, as if he could prevent anyone going out! A movement of the hand

From the window of the doorkeeper’s house there looked out a familiar face, recalling that of Bob. Prokop left his train of thought unfinished, turned back, and wandered again towards the castle. The devil, he said to himself, they’re up to some curious tricks; it almost looks as if one were a prisoner here. Good; I’ll discuss this with Carson. To begin with, I’m not going to take any notice of their hospitality and shan’t join them at dinner. I’m not going to sit down with those young ladies who laughed at me behind my back on the tennis court. Infinitely dejected, Prokop returned to the rooms which had been assigned to him and threw himself down on a divan, giving himself up to his anger. A moment later Mr. Paul knocked at the door and