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 out: “Honzik, quiet!” The door opened and, scarcely able to move his tongue, Prokop inquired, “Is the doctor at home?”

A moment of silence; then the young voice said, “Come in.”

Prokop stood in the warm sitting-room. On the table was a lamp, supper was laid, there was a smell of beech wood. An old gentleman with his spectacles pushed up on to his forehead rose from the table, came over to Prokop and said: “Well, what can I do for you?”

Prokop tried to remember dully what exactly it was that he had come for. “I that is to say ” he began, “is your son at home?”

The old gentleman looked at Prokop attentively. “He isn’t. What do you want with him?”

“George ” mumbled Prokop, “I’m his friend and I am bringing him  I have to give him ” He hunted about in his pocket and found the sealed package. “It’s an important matter and  and”

“George is in Prague,” the old gentleman interrupted him. “But do sit down.”

Prokop was profoundly astonished. “But he said he said  that he was coming here. I mu—must give him” The floor began to sway beneath his feet and he started to slip forward.

“A chair, Annie,” shouted the old gentleman in an extraordinary voice.

Prokop still had time to hear himself cry out before he collapsed on to the ground. A boundless, darkness swept over him and then there was nothing.