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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Grand Babylon Hotel, by Arnold
+Bennett
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost
+no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or re-use it
+under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this
+eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: The Grand Babylon Hotel
+
+Author: Arnold Bennett
+
+Release Date: December 14, 2008 [EBook #2813]
+Last Updated: November 1, 2016
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: UTF-8
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE GRAND BABYLON HOTEL ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by David Reed, and David Widger
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+THE GRAND BABYLON HÔTEL
+
+By Arnold Bennett
+
+
+
+T. Racksole & Daughter
+
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+
+Chapter One.   THE MILLIONAIRE AND THE WAITER
+
+Chapter Two.   HOW MR RACKSOLE OBTAINED HIS DINNER
+
+Chapter Three.   AT THREE A.M.
+
+Chapter Four.   ENTRANCE OF THE PRINCE
+
+Chapter Five.   WHAT OCCURRED TO REGINALD DIMMOCK
+
+Chapter Six.   IN THE GOLD ROOM
+
+Chapter Seven.   NELLA AND THE PRINCE
+
+Chapter Eight.   ARRIVAL AND DEPARTURE OF THE BARONESS
+
+Chapter Nine.   TWO WOMEN AND THE REVOLVER
+
+Chapter Ten.   AT SEA
+
+Chapter Eleven.   THE COURT PAWNBROKER
+
+Chapter Twelve.   ROCCO AND ROOM NO. 111
+
+Chapter Thirteen.   IN THE STATE BEDROOM
+
+Chapter Fourteen.   ROCCO ANSWERS SOME QUESTIONS
+
+Chapter Fifteen.   END OF THE YACHT ADVENTURE
+
+Chapter Sixteen.   THE WOMAN WITH THE RED HAT
+
+Chapter Seventeen.   THE RELEASE OF PRINCE EUGEN
+
+Chapter Eighteen.   IN THE NIGHT-TIME
+
+Chapter Nineteen.   ROYALTY AT THE GRAND BABYLON
+
+Chapter Twenty.   MR SAMPSON LEVI BIDS PRINCE EUGEN GOOD MORNING
+
+Chapter Twenty-One.   THE RETURN OF FÉLIX BABYLON
+
+Chapter Twenty-Two.   IN THE WINE CELLARS OF THE GRAND BABYLON
+
+Chapter Twenty-Three.   FURTHER EVENTS IN THE CELLAR
+
+Chapter Twenty-Four.   THE BOTTLE OF WINE
+
+Chapter Twenty-Five.   THE STEAM LAUNCH
+
+Chapter Twenty-Six.   THE NIGHT CHASE AND THE MUDLARK
+
+Chapter Twenty-Seven.   THE CONFESSION OF MR TOM JACKSON
+
+Chapter Twenty-Eight.      THE STATE BEDROOM ONCE MORE
+
+Chapter Twenty-Nine.   THEODORE IS CALLED TO THE RESCUE
+
+Chapter Thirty.   CONCLUSION
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+Chapter One THE MILLIONAIRE AND THE WAITER
+
+‘YES, sir?’
+
+Jules, the celebrated head waiter of the Grand Babylon, was bending
+formally towards the alert, middle-aged man who had just entered the
+smoking-room and dropped into a basket-chair in the corner by the
+conservatory. It was 7.45 on a particularly sultry June night, and
+dinner was about to be served at the Grand Babylon. Men of all sizes,
+ages, and nationalities, but every one alike arrayed in faultless
+evening dress, were dotted about the large, dim apartment. A faint odour
+of flowers came from the conservatory, and the tinkle of a fountain. The
+waiters, commanded by Jules, moved softly across the thick Oriental
+rugs, balancing their trays with the dexterity of jugglers, and
+receiving and executing orders with that air of profound importance of
+which only really first-class waiters have the secret. The atmosphere
+was an atmosphere of serenity and repose, characteristic of the Grand
+Babylon. It seemed impossible that anything could occur to mar the
+peaceful, aristocratic monotony of existence in that perfectly-managed
+establishment. Yet on that night was to happen the mightiest upheaval
+that the Grand Babylon had ever known.
+
+‘Yes, sir?’ repeated Jules, and this time there was a shade of august
+disapproval in his voice: it was not usual for him to have to address a
+customer twice.
+
+‘Oh!’ said the alert, middle-aged man, looking up at length. Beautifully
+ignorant of the identity of the great Jules, he allowed his grey eyes to
+twinkle as he caught sight of the expression on the waiter’s face.
+‘Bring me an Angel Kiss.’
+
+‘Pardon, sir?’
+
+‘Bring me an Angel Kiss, and be good enough to lose no time.’
+
+‘If it’s an American drink, I fear we don’t keep it, sir.’ The voice of
+Jules fell icily distinct, and several men glanced round uneasily, as if
+to deprecate the slightest disturbance of their calm. The appearance of
+the person to whom Jules was speaking, however, reassured them somewhat,
+for he had all the look of that expert, the travelled Englishman, who
+can differentiate between one hotel and another by instinct, and who
+knows at once where he may make a fuss with propriety, and where it is
+advisable to behave exactly as at the club. The Grand Babylon was a
+hotel in whose smoking-room one behaved as though one was at one’s club.
+
+‘I didn’t suppose you did keep it, but you can mix it, I guess, even in
+this hotel.’
+
+‘This isn’t an American hotel, sir.’ The calculated insolence of the
+words was cleverly masked beneath an accent of humble submission.
+
+The alert, middle-aged man sat up straight, and gazed placidly at Jules,
+who was pulling his famous red side-whiskers.
+
+‘Get a liqueur glass,’ he said, half curtly and half with good-humoured
+tolerance, ‘pour into it equal quantities of maraschino, cream, and
+crême de menthe. Don’t stir it; don’t shake it. Bring it to me. And, I
+say, tell the bar-tender--’
+
+‘Bar-tender, sir?’
+
+‘Tell the bar-tender to make a note of the recipe, as I shall probably
+want an Angel Kiss every evening before dinner so long as this weather
+lasts.’
+
+‘I will send the drink to you, sir,’ said Jules distantly. That was his
+parting shot, by which he indicated that he was not as other waiters
+are, and that any person who treated him with disrespect did so at his
+own peril.
+
+A few minutes later, while the alert, middle-aged man was tasting the
+Angel Kiss, Jules sat in conclave with Miss Spencer, who had charge of
+the bureau of the Grand Babylon. This bureau was a fairly large chamber,
+with two sliding glass partitions which overlooked the entrance-hall and
+the smoking-room. Only a small portion of the clerical work of the great
+hotel was performed there. The place served chiefly as the lair of Miss
+Spencer, who was as well known and as important as Jules himself. Most
+modern hotels have a male clerk to superintend the bureau. But the Grand
+Babylon went its own way. Miss Spencer had been bureau clerk almost
+since the Grand Babylon had first raised its massive chimneys to heaven,
+and she remained in her place despite the vagaries of other hotels.
+Always admirably dressed in plain black silk, with a small diamond
+brooch, immaculate wrist-bands, and frizzed yellow hair, she looked now
+just as she had looked an indefinite number of years ago. Her age--none
+knew it, save herself and perhaps one other, and none cared. The
+gracious and alluring contours of her figure were irreproachable; and in
+the evenings she was a useful ornament of which any hotel might be
+innocently proud. Her knowledge of Bradshaw, of steamship services, and
+the programmes of theatres and music-halls was unrivalled; yet she never
+travelled, she never went to a theatre or a music-hall. She seemed to
+spend the whole of her life in that official lair of hers, imparting
+information to guests, telephoning to the various departments, or
+engaged in intimate conversations with her special friends on the staff,
+as at present.
+
+‘Who’s Number 107?’ Jules asked this black-robed lady.
+
+Miss Spencer examined her ledgers.
+
+‘Mr Theodore Racksole, New York.’
+
+‘I thought he must be a New Yorker,’ said Jules, after a brief,
+significant pause, ‘but he talks as good English as you or me. Says he
+wants an “Angel Kiss”--maraschino and cream, if you please--every night.
+I’ll see he doesn’t stop here too long.’
+
+Miss Spencer smiled grimly in response. The notion of referring to
+Theodore Racksole as a ‘New Yorker’ appealed to her sense of humour, a
+sense in which she was not entirely deficient. She knew, of course, and
+she knew that Jules knew, that this Theodore Racksole must be the unique
+and only Theodore Racksole, the third richest man in the United States,
+and therefore probably in the world. Nevertheless she ranged herself at
+once on the side of Jules.
+
+Just as there was only one Racksole, so there was only one Jules, and
+Miss Spencer instinctively shared the latter’s indignation at the
+spectacle of any person whatsoever, millionaire or Emperor, presuming to
+demand an ‘Angel Kiss’, that unrespectable concoction of maraschino and
+cream, within the precincts of the Grand Babylon. In the world of hotels
+it was currently stated that, next to the proprietor, there were three
+gods at the Grand Babylon--Jules, the head waiter, Miss Spencer, and,
+most powerful of all, Rocco, the renowned chef, who earned two thousand
+a year, and had a chalet on the Lake of Lucerne. All the great hotels in
+Northumberland Avenue and on the Thames Embankment had tried to get
+Rocco away from the Grand Babylon, but without success. Rocco was well
+aware that even he could rise no higher than the maître hotel of the
+Grand Babylon, which, though it never advertised itself, and didn’t
+belong to a limited company, stood an easy first among the hotels of
+Europe--first in expensiveness, first in exclusiveness, first in that
+mysterious quality known as ‘style’.
+
+Situated on the Embankment, the Grand Babylon, despite its noble
+proportions, was somewhat dwarfed by several colossal neighbours. It had
+but three hundred and fifty rooms, whereas there are two hotels within a
+quarter of a mile with six hundred and four hundred rooms respectively.
+On the other hand, the Grand Babylon was the only hotel in London with a
+genuine separate entrance for Royal visitors constantly in use. The
+Grand Babylon counted that day wasted on which it did not entertain, at
+the lowest, a German prince or the Maharajah of some Indian State. When
+Felix Babylon--after whom, and not with any reference to London’s
+nickname, the hotel was christened--when Felix Babylon founded the hotel
+in 1869 he had set himself to cater for Royalty, and that was the secret
+of his triumphant eminence.
+
+The son of a rich Swiss hotel proprietor and financier, he had contrived
+to established a connection with the officials of several European
+Courts, and he had not spared money in that respect. Sundry kings and
+not a few princesses called him Felix, and spoke familiarly of the hotel
+as ‘Felix’s’; and Felix had found that this was very good for trade. The
+Grand Babylon was managed accordingly. The ‘note’ of its policy was
+discretion, always discretion, and quietude, simplicity, remoteness. The
+place was like a palace incognito. There was no gold sign over the roof,
+not even an explanatory word at the entrance. You walked down a small
+side street off the Strand, you saw a plain brown building in front of
+you, with two mahogany swing doors, and an official behind each; the
+doors opened noiselessly; you entered; you were in Felix’s. If you meant
+to be a guest, you, or your courier, gave your card to Miss Spencer.
+Upon no consideration did you ask for the tariff. It was not good form
+to mention prices at the Grand Babylon; the prices were enormous, but
+you never mentioned them. At the conclusion of your stay a bill was
+presented, brief and void of dry details, and you paid it without a
+word. You met with a stately civility, that was all. No one had
+originally asked you to come; no one expressed the hope that you would
+come again. The Grand Babylon was far above such manoeuvres; it defied
+competition by ignoring it; and consequently was nearly always full
+during the season.
+
+If there was one thing more than another that annoyed the Grand Babylon-
+-put its back up, so to speak--it was to be compared with, or to be
+mistaken for, an American hotel. The Grand Babylon was resolutely
+opposed to American methods of eating, drinking, and lodging--but
+especially American methods of drinking. The resentment of Jules, on
+being requested to supply Mr Theodore Racksole with an Angel Kiss, will
+therefore be appreciated.
+
+‘Anybody with Mr Theodore Racksole?’ asked Jules, continuing his
+conversation with Miss Spencer. He put a scornful stress on every
+syllable of the guest’s name.
+
+‘Miss Racksole--she’s in No. 111.’
+
+Jules paused, and stroked his left whisker as it lay on his gleaming
+white collar.
+
+‘She’s where?’ he queried, with a peculiar emphasis.
+
+‘No. 111. I couldn’t help it. There was no other room with a bathroom
+and dressing-room on that floor.’ Miss Spencer’s voice had an appealing
+tone of excuse.
+
+‘Why didn’t you tell Mr Theodore Racksole and Miss Racksole that we were
+unable to accommodate them?’
+
+‘Because Babs was within hearing.’
+
+Only three people in the wide world ever dreamt of applying to Mr Felix
+Babylon the playful but mean abbreviation--Babs: those three were Jules,
+Miss Spencer, and Rocco. Jules had invented it. No one but he would have
+had either the wit or the audacity to do so.
+
+‘You’d better see that Miss Racksole changes her room to-night,’ Jules
+said after another pause. ‘Leave it to me: I’ll fix it. Au revoir! It’s
+three minutes to eight. I shall take charge of the dining-room myself
+to-night.’
+
+And Jules departed, rubbing his fine white hands slowly and
+meditatively. It was a trick of his, to rub his hands with a strange,
+roundabout motion, and the action denoted that some unusual excitement
+was in the air.
+
+At eight o’clock precisely dinner was served in the immense salle
+manger, that chaste yet splendid apartment of white and gold. At a small
+table near one of the windows a young lady sat alone. Her frocks said
+Paris, but her face unmistakably said New York. It was a self-possessed
+and bewitching face, the face of a woman thoroughly accustomed to doing
+exactly what she liked, when she liked, how she liked: the face of a
+woman who had taught hundreds of gilded young men the true art of
+fetching and carrying, and who, by twenty years or so of parental
+spoiling, had come to regard herself as the feminine equivalent of the
+Tsar of All the Russias. Such women are only made in America, and they
+only come to their full bloom in Europe, which they imagine to be a
+continent created by Providence for their diversion.
+
+The young lady by the window glanced disapprovingly at the menu card.
+Then she looked round the dining-room, and, while admiring the diners,
+decided that the room itself was rather small and plain. Then she gazed
+through the open window, and told herself that though the Thames by
+twilight was passable enough, it was by no means level with the Hudson,
+on whose shores her father had a hundred thousand dollar country
+cottage. Then she returned to the menu, and with a pursing of lovely
+lips said that there appeared to be nothing to eat.
+
+‘Sorry to keep you waiting, Nella.’ It was Mr Racksole, the intrepid
+millionaire who had dared to order an Angel Kiss in the smoke-room of
+the Grand Babylon. Nella--her proper name was Helen--smiled at her
+parent cautiously, reserving to herself the right to scold if she should
+feel so inclined.
+
+‘You always are late, father,’ she said.
+
+‘Only on a holiday,’ he added. ‘What is there to eat?’
+
+‘Nothing.’
+
+‘Then let’s have it. I’m hungry. I’m never so hungry as when I’m being
+seriously idle.’
+
+‘Consommé Britannia,’ she began to read out from the menu, ‘Saumon
+d’Ecosse, Sauce Genoise, Aspics de Homard. Oh, heavens! Who wants these
+horrid messes on a night like this?’
+
+‘But, Nella, this is the best cooking in Europe,’ he protested.
+
+‘Say, father,’ she said, with seeming irrelevance, ‘had you forgotten
+it’s my birthday to-morrow?’
+
+‘Have I ever forgotten your birthday, O most costly daughter?’
+
+‘On the whole you’ve been a most satisfactory dad,’ she answered
+sweetly, ‘and to reward you I’ll be content this year with the cheapest
+birthday treat you ever gave me. Only I’ll have it to-night.’
+
+‘Well,’ he said, with the long-suffering patience, the readiness for any
+surprise, of a parent whom Nella had thoroughly trained, ‘what is it?’
+
+‘It’s this. Let’s have filleted steak and a bottle of Bass for dinner
+to-night. It will be simply exquisite. I shall love it.’
+
+‘But my dear Nella,’ he exclaimed, ‘steak and beer at Felix’s! It’s
+impossible! Moreover, young women still under twenty-three cannot be
+permitted to drink Bass.’
+
+‘I said steak and Bass, and as for being twenty-three, shall be going in
+twenty-four to-morrow.’
+
+Miss Racksole set her small white teeth.
+
+There was a gentle cough. Jules stood over them. It must have been out
+of a pure spirit of adventure that he had selected this table for his
+own services. Usually Jules did not personally wait at dinner. He merely
+hovered observant, like a captain on the bridge during the mate’s watch.
+Regular frequenters of the hotel felt themselves honoured when Jules
+attached himself to their tables.
+
+Theodore Racksole hesitated one second, and then issued the order with a
+fine air of carelessness:
+
+‘Filleted steak for two, and a bottle of Bass.’ It was the bravest act
+of Theodore Racksole’s life, and yet at more than one previous crisis a
+high courage had not been lacking to him.
+
+‘It’s not in the menu, sir,’ said Jules the imperturbable.
+
+‘Never mind. Get it. We want it.’
+
+‘Very good, sir.’
+
+Jules walked to the service-door, and, merely affecting to look behind,
+came immediately back again.
+
+‘Mr Rocco’s compliments, sir, and he regrets to be unable to serve steak
+and Bass to-night, sir.’
+
+‘Mr Rocco?’ questioned Racksole lightly.
+
+‘Mr Rocco,’ repeated Jules with firmness.
+
+‘And who is Mr Rocco?’
+
+‘Mr Rocco is our chef, sir.’ Jules had the expression of a man who is
+asked to explain who Shakespeare was.
+
+The two men looked at each other. It seemed incredible that Theodore
+Racksole, the ineffable Racksole, who owned a thousand miles of railway,
+several towns, and sixty votes in Congress, should be defied by a
+waiter, or even by a whole hotel. Yet so it was. When Europe’s effete
+back is against the wall not a regiment of millionaires can turn its
+flank. Jules had the calm expression of a strong man sure of victory.
+His face said: ‘You beat me once, but not this time, my New York
+friend!’
+
+As for Nella, knowing her father, she foresaw interesting events, and
+waited confidently for the steak. She did not feel hungry, and she could
+afford to wait.
+
+‘Excuse me a moment, Nella,’ said Theodore Racksole quietly, ‘I shall be
+back in about two seconds,’ and he strode out of the salle à manger. No
+one in the room recognized the millionaire, for he was unknown to
+London, this being his first visit to Europe for over twenty years. Had
+anyone done so, and caught the expression on his face, that man might
+have trembled for an explosion which should have blown the entire Grand
+Babylon into the Thames.
+
+Jules retired strategically to a corner. He had fired; it was the
+antagonist’s turn. A long and varied experience had taught Jules that a
+guest who embarks on the subjugation of a waiter is almost always lost;
+the waiter has so many advantages in such a contest.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+Chapter Two HOW MR RACKSOLE OBTAINED HIS DINNER
+
+NEVERTHELESS, there are men with a confirmed habit of getting their own
+way, even as guests in an exclusive hotel: and Theodore Racksole had
+long since fallen into that useful practice--except when his only
+daughter Helen, motherless but high-spirited girl, chose to think that
+his way crossed hers, in which case Theodore capitulated and fell back.
+But when Theodore and his daughter happened to be going one and the same
+road, which was pretty often, then Heaven alone might help any obstacle
+that was so ill-advised as to stand in their path. Jules, great and
+observant man though he was, had not noticed the terrible projecting
+chins of both father and daughter, otherwise it is possible he would
+have reconsidered the question of the steak and Bass.
+
+Theodore Racksole went direct to the entrance-hall of the hotel, and
+entered Miss Spencer’s sanctum.
+
+‘I want to see Mr Babylon,’ he said, ‘without the delay of an instant.’
+
+Miss Spencer leisurely raised her flaxen head.
+
+‘I am afraid--,’ she began the usual formula. It was part of her daily
+duty to discourage guests who desired to see Mr Babylon.
+
+‘No, no,’ said Racksole quickly, ‘I don’t want any “I’m afraids.” This
+is business. If you had been the ordinary hotel clerk I should have
+slipped you a couple of sovereigns into your hand, and the thing would
+have been done.
+
+As you are not--as you are obviously above bribes--I merely say to you,
+I must see Mr Babylon at once on an affair of the utmost urgency. My
+name is Racksole--Theodore Racksole.’
+
+‘Of New York?’ questioned a voice at the door, with a slight foreign
+accent.
+
+The millionaire turned sharply, and saw a rather short, French-looking
+man, with a bald head, a grey beard, a long and perfectly-built frock
+coat, eye-glasses attached to a minute silver chain, and blue eyes that
+seemed to have the transparent innocence of a maid’s.
+
+‘There is only one,’ said Theodore Racksole succinctly.
+
+‘You wish to see me?’ the new-comer suggested.
+
+‘You are Mr Felix Babylon?’
+
+The man bowed.
+
+‘At this moment I wish to see you more than anyone else in the world,’
+said Racksole. ‘I am consumed and burnt up with a desire to see you, Mr
+Babylon.
+
+I only want a few minutes’ quiet chat. I fancy I can settle my business
+in that time.’
+
+With a gesture Mr Babylon invited the millionaire down a side corridor,
+at the end of which was Mr Babylon’s private room, a miracle of Louis XV
+furniture and tapestry: like most unmarried men with large incomes, Mr
+Babylon had ‘tastes’ of a highly expensive sort.
+
+The landlord and his guest sat down opposite each other. Theodore
+Racksole had met with the usual millionaire’s luck in this adventure,
+for Mr Babylon made a practice of not allowing himself to be interviewed
+by his guests, however distinguished, however wealthy, however
+pertinacious. If he had not chanced to enter Miss Spencer’s office at
+that precise moment, and if he had not been impressed in a somewhat
+peculiar way by the physiognomy of the millionaire, not all Mr
+Racksole’s American energy and ingenuity would have availed for a
+confabulation with the owner of the Grand Babylon Hôtel that night.
+Theodore Racksole, however, was ignorant that a mere accident had served
+him. He took all the credit to himself.
+
+‘I read in the New York papers some months ago,’ Theodore started,
+without even a clearing of the throat, ‘that this hotel of yours, Mr
+Babylon, was to be sold to a limited company, but it appears that the
+sale was not carried out.’
+
+‘It was not,’ answered Mr Babylon frankly, ‘and the reason was that the
+middle-men between the proposed company and myself wished to make a
+large secret profit, and I declined to be a party to such a profit. They
+were firm; I was firm; and so the affair came to nothing.’
+
+‘The agreed price was satisfactory?’
+
+‘Quite.’
+
+‘May I ask what the price was?’
+
+‘Are you a buyer, Mr Racksole?’
+
+‘Are you a seller, Mr Babylon?’
+
+‘I am,’ said Babylon, ‘on terms. The price was four hundred thousand
+pounds, including the leasehold and goodwill. But I sell only on the
+condition that the buyer does not transfer the property to a limited
+company at a higher figure.’
+
+‘I will put one question to you, Mr Babylon,’ said the millionaire.
+‘What have your profits averaged during the last four years?’
+
+‘Thirty-four thousand pounds per annum.’
+
+‘I buy,’ said Theodore Racksole, smiling contentedly; ‘and we will, if
+you please, exchange contract-letters on the spot.’
+
+‘You come quickly to a resolution, Mr Racksole. But perhaps you have
+been considering this question for a long time?’
+
+‘On the contrary,’ Racksole looked at his watch, ‘I have been
+considering it for six minutes.’
+
+Felix Babylon bowed, as one thoroughly accustomed to eccentricity of
+wealth.
+
+‘The beauty of being well-known,’ Racksole continued, ‘is that you
+needn’t trouble about preliminary explanations. You, Mr Babylon,
+probably know all about me. I know a good deal about you. We can take
+each other for granted without reference. Really, it is as simple to buy
+an hotel or a railroad as it is to buy a watch, provided one is equal to
+the transaction.’
+
+‘Precisely,’ agreed Mr Babylon smiling. ‘Shall we draw up the little
+informal contract? There are details to be thought of. But it occurs to
+me that you cannot have dined yet, and might prefer to deal with minor
+questions after dinner.’
+
+‘I have not dined,’ said the millionaire, with emphasis, ‘and in that
+connexion will you do me a favour? Will you send for Mr Rocco?’
+
+‘You wish to see him, naturally.’
+
+‘I do,’ said the millionaire, and added, ‘about my dinner.’
+
+‘Rocco is a great man,’ murmured Mr Babylon as he touched the bell,
+ignoring the last words. ‘My compliments to Mr Rocco,’ he said to the
+page who answered his summons, ‘and if it is quite convenient I should
+be glad to see him here for a moment.’
+
+‘What do you give Rocco?’ Racksole inquired.
+
+‘Two thousand a year and the treatment of an Ambassador.’
+
+‘I shall give him the treatment of an Ambassador and three thousand.’
+
+‘You will be wise,’ said Felix Babylon.
+
+At that moment Rocco came into the room, very softly--a man of forty,
+thin, with long, thin hands, and an inordinately long brown silky
+moustache.
+
+‘Rocco,’ said Felix Babylon, ‘let me introduce Mr Theodore Racksole, of
+New York.’
+
+‘Sharmed,’ said Rocco, bowing. ‘Ze--ze, vat you call it, millionaire?’
+
+‘Exactly,’ Racksole put in, and continued quickly: ‘Mr Rocco, I wish to
+acquaint you before any other person with the fact that I have purchased
+the Grand Babylon Hôtel. If you think well to afford me the privilege of
+retaining your services I shall be happy to offer you a remuneration of
+three thousand a year.’
+
+‘Tree, you said?’
+
+‘Three.’
+
+‘Sharmed.’
+
+‘And now, Mr Rocco, will you oblige me very much by ordering a plain
+beefsteak and a bottle of Bass to be served by Jules--I particularly
+desire Jules--at table No. 17 in the dining-room in ten minutes from
+now? And will you do me the honour of lunching with me to-morrow?’
+
+Mr Rocco gasped, bowed, muttered something in French, and departed.
+
+Five minutes later the buyer and seller of the Grand Babylon Hôtel had
+each signed a curt document, scribbled out on the hotel note-paper.
+Felix Babylon asked no questions, and it was this heroic absence of
+curiosity, of surprise on his part, that more than anything else
+impressed Theodore Racksole. How many hotel proprietors in the world,
+Racksole asked himself, would have let that beef-steak and Bass go by
+without a word of comment.
+
+‘From what date do you wish the purchase to take effect?’ asked Babylon.
+
+‘Oh,’ said Racksole lightly, ‘it doesn’t matter. Shall we say from to-
+night?’
+
+‘As you will. I have long wished to retire. And now that the moment has
+come--and so dramatically--I am ready. I shall return to Switzerland.
+One cannot spend much money there, but it is my native land. I shall be
+the richest man in Switzerland.’ He smiled with a kind of sad amusement.
+
+‘I suppose you are fairly well off?’ said Racksole, in that easy
+familiar style of his, as though the idea had just occurred to him.
+
+‘Besides what I shall receive from you, I have half a million invested.’
+
+‘Then you will be nearly a millionaire?’
+
+Felix Babylon nodded.
+
+‘I congratulate you, my dear sir,’ said Racksole, in the tone of a judge
+addressing a newly-admitted barrister. ‘Nine hundred thousand pounds,
+expressed in francs, will sound very nice--in Switzerland.’
+
+‘Of course to you, Mr Racksole, such a sum would be poverty. Now if one
+might guess at your own wealth?’ Felix Babylon was imitating the other’s
+freedom.
+
+‘I do not know, to five millions or so, what I am worth,’ said Racksole,
+with sincerity, his tone indicating that he would have been glad to give
+the information if it were in his power.
+
+‘You have had anxieties, Mr Racksole?’
+
+‘Still have them. I am now holiday-making in London with my daughter in
+order to get rid of them for a time.’
+
+‘Is the purchase of hotels your notion of relaxation, then?’
+
+Racksole shrugged his shoulders. ‘It is a change from railroads,’ he
+laughed.
+
+‘Ah, my friend, you little know what you have bought.’
+
+‘Oh! yes I do,’ returned Racksole; ‘I have bought just the first hotel
+in the world.’
+
+‘That is true, that is true,’ Babylon admitted, gazing meditatively at
+the antique Persian carpet. ‘There is nothing, anywhere, like my hotel.
+But you will regret the purchase, Mr Racksole. It is no business of
+mine, of course, but I cannot help repeating that you will regret the
+purchase.’
+
+‘I never regret.’
+
+‘Then you will begin very soon--perhaps to-night.’
+
+‘Why do you say that?’
+
+‘Because the Grand Babylon is the Grand Babylon. You think because you
+control a railroad, or an iron-works, or a line of steamers, therefore
+you can control anything. But no. Not the Grand Babylon. There is
+something about the Grand Babylon--’ He threw up his hands.
+
+‘Servants rob you, of course.’
+
+‘Of course. I suppose I lose a hundred pounds a week in that way. But it
+is not that I mean. It is the guests. The guests are too--too
+distinguished.
+
+The great Ambassadors, the great financiers, the great nobles, all the
+men that move the world, put up under my roof. London is the centre of
+everything, and my hotel--your hotel--is the centre of London. Once I
+had a King and a Dowager Empress staying here at the same time. Imagine
+that!’
+
+‘A great honour, Mr Babylon. But wherein lies the difficulty?’
+
+‘Mr Racksole,’ was the grim reply, ‘what has become of your shrewdness--
+that shrewdness which has made your fortune so immense that even you
+cannot calculate it? Do you not perceive that the roof which habitually
+shelters all the force, all the authority of the world, must necessarily
+also shelter nameless and numberless plotters, schemers, evil-doers, and
+workers of mischief? The thing is as clear as day--and as dark as night.
+Mr Racksole, I never know by whom I am surrounded. I never know what is
+going forward.
+
+Only sometimes I get hints, glimpses of strange acts and strange
+secrets.
+
+You mentioned my servants. They are almost all good servants, skilled,
+competent. But what are they besides? For anything I know my fourth sub-
+chef may be an agent of some European Government. For anything I know my
+invaluable Miss Spencer may be in the pay of a court dressmaker or a
+Frankfort banker. Even Rocco may be someone else in addition to Rocco.’
+
+‘That makes it all the more interesting,’ remarked Theodore Racksole.
+
+‘What a long time you have been, Father,’ said Nella, when he returned
+to table No. 17 in the salle à manger.
+
+‘Only twenty minutes, my dove.’
+
+‘But you said two seconds. There is a difference.’
+
+‘Well, you see, I had to wait for the steak to cook.’
+
+‘Did you have much trouble in getting my birthday treat?’
+
+‘No trouble. But it didn’t come quite as cheap as you said.’
+
+‘What do you mean, Father?’
+
+‘Only that I’ve bought the entire hotel. But don’t split.’
+
+‘Father, you always were a delicious parent. Shall you give me the hotel
+for a birthday present?’
+
+‘No. I shall run it--as an amusement. By the way, who is that chair
+for?’
+
+He noticed that a third cover had been laid at the table.
+
+‘That is for a friend of mine who came in about five minutes ago. Of
+course I told him he must share our steak. He’ll be here in a moment.’
+
+‘May I respectfully inquire his name?’
+
+‘Dimmock--Christian name Reginald; profession, English companion to
+Prince Aribert of Posen. I met him when I was in St Petersburg with
+cousin Hetty last fall. Oh; here he is. Mr Dimmock, this is my dear
+father. He has succeeded with the steak.’
+
+Theodore Racksole found himself confronted by a very young man, with
+deep black eyes, and a fresh, boyish expression. They began to talk.
+
+Jules approached with the steak. Racksole tried to catch the waiter’s
+eye, but could not. The dinner proceeded.
+
+‘Oh, Father!’ cried Nella, ‘what a lot of mustard you have taken!’
+
+‘Have I?’ he said, and then he happened to glance into a mirror on his
+left hand between two windows. He saw the reflection of Jules, who stood
+behind his chair, and he saw Jules give a slow, significant, ominous
+wink to Mr Dimmock--Christian name, Reginald.
+
+He examined his mustard in silence. He thought that perhaps he had
+helped himself rather plenteously to mustard.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+Chapter Three AT THREE A.M.
+
+MR REGINALD DIMMOCK proved himself, despite his extreme youth, to be a
+man of the world and of experiences, and a practised talker.
+Conversation between him and Nella Racksole seemed never to flag. They
+chattered about St Petersburg, and the ice on the Neva, and the tenor at
+the opera who had been exiled to Siberia, and the quality of Russian
+tea, and the sweetness of Russian champagne, and various other aspects
+of Muscovite existence. Russia exhausted, Nella lightly outlined her own
+doings since she had met the young man in the Tsar’s capital, and this
+recital brought the topic round to London, where it stayed till the
+final piece of steak was eaten. Theodore Racksole noticed that Mr
+Dimmock gave very meagre information about his own movements, either
+past or future. He regarded the youth as a typical hanger-on of Courts,
+and wondered how he had obtained his post of companion to Prince Aribert
+of Posen, and who Prince Aribert of Posen might be. The millionaire
+thought he had once heard of Posen, but he wasn’t sure; he rather
+fancied it was one of those small nondescript German States of which
+five-sixths of the subjects are Palace officials, and the rest charcoal-
+burners or innkeepers. Until the meal was nearly over, Racksole said
+little--perhaps his thoughts were too busy with Jules’ wink to Mr
+Dimmock, but when ices had been followed by coffee, he decided that it
+might be as well, in the interests of the hotel, to discover something
+about his daughter’s friend. He never for an instant questioned her
+right to possess her own friends; he had always left her in the most
+amazing liberty, relying on her inherited good sense to keep her out of
+mischief; but, quite apart from the wink, he was struck by Nella’s
+attitude towards Mr Dimmock, an attitude in which an amiable scorn was
+blended with an evident desire to propitiate and please.
+
+‘Nella tells me, Mr Dimmock, that you hold a confidential position with
+Prince Aribert of Posen,’ said Racksole. ‘You will pardon an American’s
+ignorance, but is Prince Aribert a reigning Prince--what, I believe, you
+call in Europe, a Prince Regnant?’
+
+‘His Highness is not a reigning Prince, nor ever likely to be,’ answered
+Dimmock. ‘The Grand Ducal Throne of Posen is occupied by his Highness’s
+nephew, the Grand Duke Eugen.’
+
+‘Nephew?’ cried Nella with astonishment.
+
+‘Why not, dear lady?’
+
+‘But Prince Aribert is surely very young?’
+
+‘The Prince, by one of those vagaries of chance which occur sometimes in
+the history of families, is precisely the same age as the Grand Duke.
+The late Grand Duke’s father was twice married. Hence this youthfulness
+on the part of an uncle.’
+
+‘How delicious to be the uncle of someone as old as yourself! But I
+suppose it is no fun for Prince Aribert. I suppose he has to be
+frightfully respectful and obedient, and all that, to his nephew?’
+
+‘The Grand Duke and my Serene master are like brothers. At present, of
+course, Prince Aribert is nominally heir to the throne, but as no doubt
+you are aware, the Grand Duke will shortly marry a near relative of the
+Emperor’s, and should there be a family--’ Mr Dimmock stopped and
+shrugged his straight shoulders. ‘The Grand Duke,’ he went on, without
+finishing the last sentence, ‘would much prefer Prince Aribert to be his
+successor. He really doesn’t want to marry. Between ourselves, strictly
+between ourselves, he regards marriage as rather a bore. But, of course,
+being a German Grand Duke, he is bound to marry. He owes it to his
+country, to Posen.’
+
+‘How large is Posen?’ asked Racksole bluntly.
+
+‘Father,’ Nella interposed laughing, ‘you shouldn’t ask such
+inconvenient questions. You ought to have guessed that it isn’t
+etiquette to inquire about the size of a German Dukedom.’
+
+‘I am sure,’ said Dimmock, with a polite smile, ‘that the Grand Duke is
+as much amused as anyone at the size of his territory. I forget the
+exact acreage, but I remember that once Prince Aribert and myself walked
+across it and back again in a single day.’
+
+‘Then the Grand Duke cannot travel very far within his own dominions?
+You may say that the sun does set on his empire?’
+
+‘It does,’ said Dimmock.
+
+‘Unless the weather is cloudy,’ Nella put in. ‘Is the Grand Duke content
+always to stay at home?’
+
+‘On the contrary, he is a great traveller, much more so than Prince
+Aribert.
+
+I may tell you, what no one knows at present, outside this hotel, that
+his Royal Highness the Grand Duke, with a small suite, will be here to-
+morrow.’
+
+‘In London?’ asked Nella.
+
+‘Yes.’
+
+‘In this hotel?’
+
+‘Yes.’
+
+‘Oh! How lovely!’
+
+‘That is why your humble servant is here to-night--a sort of advance
+guard.’
+
+‘But I understood,’ Racksole said, ‘that you were--er--attached to
+Prince Aribert, the uncle.’
+
+‘I am. Prince Aribert will also be here. The Grand Duke and the Prince
+have business about important investments connected with the Grand
+Duke’s marriage settlement.... In the highest quarters, you understand.’
+
+‘For so discreet a person,’ thought Racksole, ‘you are fairly
+communicative.’ Then he said aloud: ‘Shall we go out on the terrace?’
+
+As they crossed the dining-room Jules stopped Mr Dimmock and handed him
+a letter. ‘Just come, sir, by messenger,’ said Jules.
+
+Nella dropped behind for a second with her father. ‘Leave me alone with
+this boy a little--there’s a dear parent,’ she whispered in his ear.
+
+‘I am a mere cypher, an obedient nobody,’ Racksole replied, pinching her
+arm surreptitiously. ‘Treat me as such. Use me as you like. I will go
+and look after my hotel’ And soon afterwards he disappeared.
+
+Nella and Mr Dimmock sat together on the terrace, sipping iced drinks.
+They made a handsome couple, bowered amid plants which blossomed at the
+command of a Chelsea wholesale florist. People who passed by remarked
+privately that from the look of things there was the beginning of a
+romance in that conversation. Perhaps there was, but a more intimate
+acquaintance with the character of Nella Racksole would have been
+necessary in order to predict what precise form that romance would take.
+
+Jules himself served the liquids, and at ten o’clock he brought another
+note. Entreating a thousand pardons, Reginald Dimmock, after he had
+glanced at the note, excused himself on the plea of urgent business for
+his Serene master, uncle of the Grand Duke of Posen. He asked if he
+might fetch Mr Racksole, or escort Miss Racksole to her father. But Miss
+Racksole said gaily that she felt no need of an escort, and should go to
+bed. She added that her father and herself always endeavoured to be
+independent of each other.
+
+Just then Theodore Racksole had found his way once more into Mr
+Babylon’s private room. Before arriving there, however, he had
+discovered that in some mysterious manner the news of the change of
+proprietorship had worked its way down to the lowest strata of the
+hotel’s cosmos. The corridors hummed with it, and even under-servants
+were to be seen discussing the thing, just as though it mattered to
+them.
+
+‘Have a cigar, Mr Racksole,’ said the urbane Mr Babylon, ‘and a mouthful
+of the oldest cognac in all Europe.’
+
+In a few minutes these two were talking eagerly, rapidly. Felix Babylon
+was astonished at Racksole’s capacity for absorbing the details of hotel
+management. And as for Racksole he soon realized that Felix Babylon must
+be a prince of hotel managers. It had never occurred to Racksole before
+that to manage an hotel, even a large hotel, could be a specially
+interesting affair, or that it could make any excessive demands upon the
+brains of the manager; but he came to see that he had underrated the
+possibilities of an hotel. The business of the Grand Babylon was
+enormous. It took Racksole, with all his genius for organization,
+exactly half an hour to master the details of the hotel laundry-work.
+And the laundry-work was but one branch of activity amid scores, and not
+a very large one at that. The machinery of checking supplies, and of
+establishing a mean ratio between the raw stuff received in the kitchen
+and the number of meals served in the salle à manger and the private
+rooms, was very complicated and delicate. When Racksole had grasped it,
+he at once suggested some improvements, and this led to a long
+theoretical discussion, and the discussion led to digressions, and then
+Felix Babylon, in a moment of absent-mindedness, yawned.
+
+Racksole looked at the gilt clock on the high mantelpiece.
+
+‘Great Scott!’ he said. ‘It’s three o’clock. Mr Babylon, accept my
+apologies for having kept you up to such an absurd hour.’
+
+‘I have not spent so pleasant an evening for many years. You have let me
+ride my hobby to my heart’s content. It is I who should apologize.’
+
+Racksole rose.
+
+‘I should like to ask you one question,’ said Babylon. ‘Have you ever
+had anything to do with hotels before?’
+
+‘Never,’ said Racksole.
+
+‘Then you have missed your vocation. You could have been the greatest of
+all hotel-managers. You would have been greater than me, and I am
+unequalled, though I keep only one hotel, and some men have half a
+dozen. Mr Racksole, why have you never run an hotel?’
+
+‘Heaven knows,’ he laughed, ‘but you flatter me, Mr Babylon.’
+
+‘I? Flatter? You do not know me. I flatter no one, except, perhaps, now
+and then an exceptionally distinguished guest. In which case I give
+suitable instructions as to the bill.’
+
+‘Speaking of distinguished guests, I am told that a couple of German
+princes are coming here to-morrow.’
+
+‘That is so.’
+
+‘Does one do anything? Does one receive them formally--stand bowing in
+the entrance-hall, or anything of that sort?’
+
+‘Not necessarily. Not unless one wishes. The modern hotel proprietor is
+not like an innkeeper of the Middle Ages, and even princes do not expect
+to see him unless something should happen to go wrong. As a matter of
+fact, though the Grand Duke of Posen and Prince Aribert have both
+honoured me by staying here before, I have never even set eyes on them.
+You will find all arrangements have been made.’
+
+They talked a little longer, and then Racksole said good night. ‘Let me
+see you to your room. The lifts will be closed and the place will be
+deserted.
+
+As for myself, I sleep here,’ and Mr Babylon pointed to an inner door.
+
+‘No, thanks,’ said Racksole; ‘let me explore my own hotel unaccompanied.
+I believe I can discover my room.’ When he got fairly into the passages,
+Racksole was not so sure that he could discover his own room. The number
+was 107, but he had forgotten whether it was on the first or second
+floor.
+
+Travelling in a lift, one is unconscious of floors. He passed several
+lift-doorways, but he could see no glint of a staircase; in all self-
+respecting hotels staircases have gone out of fashion, and though hotel
+architects still continue, for old sakes’ sake, to build staircases,
+they are tucked away in remote corners where their presence is not
+likely to offend the eye of a spoiled and cosmopolitan public. The hotel
+seemed vast, uncanny, deserted. An electric light glowed here and there
+at long intervals. On the thick carpets, Racksole’s thinly-shod feet
+made no sound, and he wandered at ease to and fro, rather amused, rather
+struck by the peculiar senses of night and mystery which had suddenly
+come over him. He fancied he could hear a thousand snores peacefully
+descending from the upper realms. At length he found a staircase, a very
+dark and narrow one, and presently he was on the first floor. He soon
+discovered that the numbers of the rooms on this floor did not get
+beyond seventy. He encountered another staircase and ascended to the
+second floor. By the decoration of the walls he recognized this floor as
+his proper home, and as he strolled through the long corridor he
+whistled a low, meditative whistle of satisfaction. He thought he heard
+a step in the transverse corridor, and instinctively he obliterated
+himself in a recess which held a service-cabinet and a chair. He did
+hear a step. Peeping cautiously out, he perceived, what he had not
+perceived previously, that a piece of white ribbon had been tied round
+the handle of the door of one of the bedrooms. Then a man came round the
+corner of the transverse corridor, and Racksole drew back. It was Jules-
+-Jules with his hands in his pockets and a slouch hat over his eyes, but
+in other respects attired as usual.
+
+Racksole, at that instant, remembered with a special vividness what
+Felix Babylon had said to him at their first interview. He wished he had
+brought his revolver. He didn’t know why he should feel the desirability
+of a revolver in a London hotel of the most unimpeachable fair fame, but
+he did feel the desirability of such an instrument of attack and
+defence. He privately decided that if Jules went past his recess he
+would take him by the throat and in that attitude put a few plain
+questions to this highly dubious waiter. But Jules had stopped. The
+millionaire made another cautious observation. Jules, with infinite
+gentleness, was turning the handle of the door to which the white ribbon
+was attached. The door slowly yielded and Jules disappeared within the
+room. After a brief interval, the night-prowling Jules reappeared,
+closed the door as softly as he had opened it, removed the ribbon,
+returned upon his steps, and vanished down the transverse corridor.
+
+‘This is quaint,’ said Racksole; ‘quaint to a degree!’
+
+It occurred to him to look at the number of the room, and he stole
+towards it.
+
+‘Well, I’m d--d!’ he murmured wonderingly.
+
+The number was 111, his daughter’s room! He tried to open it, but the
+door was locked. Rushing to his own room, No. 107, he seized one of a
+pair of revolvers (the kind that are made for millionaires) and followed
+after Jules down the transverse corridor. At the end of this corridor
+was a window; the window was open; and Jules was innocently gazing out
+of the window. Ten silent strides, and Theodore Racksole was upon him.
+
+‘One word, my friend,’ the millionaire began, carelessly waving the
+revolver in the air. Jules was indubitably startled, but by an admirable
+exercise of self-control he recovered possession of his faculties in a
+second.
+
+‘Sir?’ said Jules.
+
+‘I just want to be informed, what the deuce you were doing in No. 111 a
+moment ago.’
+
+‘I had been requested to go there,’ was the calm response.
+
+‘You are a liar, and not a very clever one. That is my daughter’s room.
+Now--out with it, before I decide whether to shoot you or throw you into
+the street.’
+
+‘Excuse me, sir, No. 111 is occupied by a gentleman.’
+
+‘I advise you that it is a serious error of judgement to contradict me,
+my friend. Don’t do it again. We will go to the room together, and you
+shall prove that the occupant is a gentleman, and not my daughter.’
+
+‘Impossible, sir,’ said Jules.
+
+‘Scarcely that,’ said Racksole, and he took Jules by the sleeve. The
+millionaire knew for a certainty that Nella occupied No. 111, for he had
+examined the room with her, and himself seen that her trunks and her maid and
+herself had arrived there in safety. ‘Now open the door,’ whispered
+Racksole, when they reached No.111.
+
+‘I must knock.’
+
+‘That is just what you mustn’t do. Open it. No doubt you have your pass-
+key.’
+
+Confronted by the revolver, Jules readily obeyed, yet with a deprecatory
+gesture, as though he would not be responsible for this outrage against
+the decorum of hotel life. Racksole entered. The room was brilliantly
+lighted.
+
+‘A visitor, who insists on seeing you, sir,’ said Jules, and fled.
+
+Mr Reginald Dimmock, still in evening dress, and smoking a cigarette,
+rose hurriedly from a table.
+
+‘Hello, my dear Mr Racksole, this is an unexpected--ah--pleasure.’
+
+‘Where is my daughter? This is her room.’
+
+‘Did I catch what you said, Mr Racksole?’
+
+‘I venture to remark that this is Miss Racksole’s room.’
+
+‘My good sir,’ answered Dimmock, ‘you must be mad to dream of such a
+thing.
+
+Only my respect for your daughter prevents me from expelling you
+forcibly, for such an extraordinary suggestion.’
+
+A small spot half-way down the bridge of the millionaire’s nose turned
+suddenly white.
+
+‘With your permission,’ he said in a low calm voice, ‘I will examine the
+dressing-room and the bath-room.’
+
+‘Just listen to me a moment,’ Dimmock urged, in a milder tone.
+
+‘I’ll listen to you afterwards, my young friend,’ said Racksole, and he
+proceeded to search the bath-room, and the dressing-room, without any
+result whatever. ‘Lest my attitude might be open to misconstruction, Mr
+Dimmock, I may as well tell you that I have the most perfect confidence
+in my daughter, who is as well able to take care of herself as any woman
+I ever met, but since you entered it there have been one or two rather
+mysterious occurrences in this hotel. That is all.’ Feeling a draught of
+air on his shoulder, Racksole turned to the window. ‘For instance,’ he
+added, ‘I perceive that this window is broken, badly broken, and from
+the outside.
+
+Now, how could that have occurred?’
+
+‘If you will kindly hear reason, Mr Racksole,’ said Dimmock in his best
+diplomatic manner, ‘I will endeavour to explain things to you. I
+regarded your first question to me when you entered my room as being
+offensively put, but I now see that you had some justification.’ He
+smiled politely. ‘I was passing along this corridor about eleven
+o’clock, when I found Miss Racksole in a difficulty with the hotel
+servants. Miss Racksole was retiring to rest in this room when a large
+stone, which must have been thrown from the Embankment, broke the
+window, as you see. Apart from the discomfort of the broken window, she
+did not care to remain in the room. She argued that where one stone had
+come another might follow. She therefore insisted on her room being
+changed. The servants said that there was no other room available with a
+dressing-room and bath-room attached, and your daughter made a point of
+these matters. I at once offered to exchange apartments with her. She
+did me the honour to accept my offer. Our respective belongings were
+moved--and that is all. Miss Racksole is at this moment, I trust, asleep
+in No. 124.’
+
+Theodore Racksole looked at the young man for a few seconds in silence.
+
+There was a faint knock at the door.
+
+‘Come in,’ said Racksole loudly.
+
+Someone pushed open the door, but remained standing on the mat. It was
+Nella’s maid, in a dressing-gown.
+
+‘Miss Racksole’s compliments, and a thousand excuses, but a book of hers
+was left on the mantelshelf in this room. She cannot sleep, and wishes
+to read.’
+
+‘Mr Dimmock, I tender my apologies--my formal apologies,’ said Racksole,
+when the girl had gone away with the book. ‘Good night.’
+
+‘Pray don’t mention it,’ said Dimmock suavely--and bowed him out.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+Chapter Four ENTRANCE OF THE PRINCE
+
+NEVERTHELESS, sundry small things weighed on Racksole’s mind. First
+there was Jules’ wink. Then there was the ribbon on the door-handle and
+Jules’ visit to No. 111, and the broken window--broken from the outside.
+Racksole did not forget that the time was 3 a.m. He slept but little
+that night, but he was glad that he had bought the Grand Babylon Hôtel.
+It was an acquisition which seemed to promise fun and diversion.
+
+The next morning he came across Mr Babylon early. ‘I have emptied my
+private room of all personal papers,’ said Babylon, ‘and it is now at
+your disposal.
+
+I purpose, if agreeable to yourself, to stay on in the hotel as a guest
+for the present. We have much to settle with regard to the completion of
+the purchase, and also there are things which you might want to ask me.
+Also, to tell the truth, I am not anxious to leave the old place with
+too much suddenness. It will be a wrench to me.’
+
+‘I shall be delighted if you will stay,’ said the millionaire, ‘but it
+must be as my guest, not as the guest of the hotel.’
+
+‘You are very kind.’
+
+‘As for wishing to consult you, no doubt I shall have need to do so, but
+I must say that the show seems to run itself.’
+
+‘Ah!’ said Babylon thoughtfully. ‘I have heard of hotels that run
+themselves. If they do, you may be sure that they obey the laws of
+gravity and run downwards. You will have your hands full. For example,
+have you yet heard about Miss Spencer?’
+
+‘No,’ said Racksole. ‘What of her?’
+
+‘She has mysteriously vanished during the night, and nobody appears to
+be able to throw any light on the affair. Her room is empty, her boxes
+gone.
+
+You will want someone to take her place, and that someone will not be
+very easy to get.’
+
+‘H’m!’ Racksole said, after a pause. ‘Hers is not the only post that
+falls vacant to-day.’
+
+A little later, the millionaire installed himself in the late owner’s
+private room and rang the bell.
+
+‘I want Jules,’ he said to the page.
+
+While waiting for Jules, Racksole considered the question of Miss
+Spencer’s disappearance.
+
+‘Good morning, Jules,’ was his cheerful greeting, when the imperturbable
+waiter arrived.
+
+‘Good morning, sir.’
+
+‘Take a chair.’
+
+‘Thank you, sir.’
+
+‘We have met before this morning, Jules.’
+
+‘Yes, sir, at 3 a.m.’
+
+‘Rather strange about Miss Spencer’s departure, is it not?’ suggested
+Racksole.
+
+‘It is remarkable, sir.’
+
+‘You are aware, of course, that Mr Babylon has transferred all his
+interests in this hotel to me?’
+
+‘I have been informed to that effect, sir.’
+
+‘I suppose you know everything that goes on in the hotel, Jules?’
+
+‘As the head waiter, sir, it is my business to keep a general eye on
+things.’
+
+‘You speak very good English for a foreigner, Jules.’
+
+‘For a foreigner, sir! I am an Englishman, a Hertfordshire man born and
+bred. Perhaps my name has misled you, sir. I am only called Jules
+because the head waiter of any really high-class hotel must have either
+a French or an Italian name.’
+
+‘I see,’ said Racksole. ‘I think you must be rather a clever person,
+Jules.’
+
+‘That is not for me to say, sir.’
+
+‘How long has the hotel enjoyed the advantage of your services?’
+
+‘A little over twenty years.’
+
+‘That is a long time to be in one place. Don’t you think it’s time you
+got out of the rut? You are still young, and might make a reputation for
+yourself in another and wider sphere.’
+
+Racksole looked at the man steadily, and his glance was steadily
+returned.
+
+‘You aren’t satisfied with me, sir?’
+
+‘To be frank, Jules, I think--I think you--er--wink too much. And I
+think that it is regrettable when a head waiter falls into a habit of
+taking white ribbons from the handles of bedroom doors at three in the
+morning.’
+
+Jules started slightly.
+
+‘I see how it is, sir. You wish me to go, and one pretext, if I may use
+the term, is as good as another. Very well, I can’t say that I’m
+surprised. It sometimes happens that there is incompatibility of temper
+between a hotel proprietor and his head waiter, and then, unless one of
+them goes, the hotel is likely to suffer. I will go, Mr Racksole. In
+fact, I had already thought of giving notice.’
+
+The millionaire smiled appreciatively. ‘What wages do you require in
+lieu of notice? It is my intention that you leave the hotel within an
+hour.’
+
+‘I require no wages in lieu of notice, sir. I would scorn to accept
+anything. And I will leave the hotel in fifteen minutes.’
+
+‘Good-day, then. You have my good wishes and my admiration, so long as
+you keep out of my hotel.’
+
+Racksole got up. ‘Good-day, sir. And thank you.’
+
+‘By the way, Jules, it will be useless for you to apply to any other
+first-rate European hotel for a post, because I shall take measures
+which will ensure the rejection of any such application.’
+
+‘Without discussing the question whether or not there aren’t at least
+half a dozen hotels in London alone that would jump for joy at the
+chance of getting me,’ answered Jules, ‘I may tell you, sir, that I
+shall retire from my profession.’
+
+‘Really! You will turn your brains to a different channel.’
+
+‘No, sir. I shall take rooms in Albemarle Street or Jermyn Street, and
+just be content to be a man-about-town. I have saved some twenty
+thousand pounds--a mere trifle, but sufficient for my needs, and I shall
+now proceed to enjoy it. Pardon me for troubling you with my personal
+affairs. And good-day again.’
+
+That afternoon Racksole went with Felix Babylon first to a firm of
+solicitors in the City, and then to a stockbroker, in order to carry out
+the practical details of the purchase of the hotel.
+
+‘I mean to settle in England,’ said Racksole, as they were coming back.
+‘It is the only country--’ and he stopped.
+
+‘The only country?’
+
+‘The only country where you can invest money and spend money with a
+feeling of security. In the United States there is nothing worth
+spending money on, nothing to buy. In France or Italy, there is no real
+security.’
+
+‘But surely you are a true American?’ questioned Babylon.
+
+‘I am a true American,’ said Racksole, ‘but my father, who began by
+being a bedmaker at an Oxford college, and ultimately made ten million
+dollars out of iron in Pittsburg--my father took the wise precaution of
+having me educated in England. I had my three years at Oxford, like any
+son of the upper middle class! It did me good. It has been worth more to
+me than many successful speculations. It taught me that the English
+language is different from, and better than, the American language, and
+that there is something--I haven’t yet found out exactly what--in
+English life that Americans will never get. Why,’ he added, ‘in the
+United States we still bribe our judges and our newspapers. And we talk
+of the eighteenth century as though it was the beginning of the world.
+Yes, I shall transfer my securities to London. I shall build a house in
+Park Lane, and I shall buy some immemorial country seat with a history
+as long as the A. T. and S. railroad, and I shall calmly and gradually
+settle down. D’you know--I am rather a good-natured man for a
+millionaire, and of a social disposition, and yet I haven’t six real
+friends in the whole of New York City. Think of that!’
+
+‘And I,’ said Babylon, ‘have no friends except the friends of my boyhood
+in Lausanne. I have spent thirty years in England, and gained nothing
+but a perfect knowledge of the English language and as much gold coin as
+would fill a rather large box.’
+
+These two plutocrats breathed a simultaneous sigh.
+
+‘Talking of gold coin,’ said Racksole, ‘how much money should you think
+Jules has contrived to amass while he has been with you?’
+
+‘Oh!’ Babylon smiled. ‘I should not like to guess. He has had unique
+opportunities--opportunities.’
+
+‘Should you consider twenty thousand an extraordinary sum under the
+circumstances?’
+
+‘Not at all. Has he been confiding in you?’
+
+‘Somewhat. I have dismissed him.’
+
+‘You have dismissed him?’
+
+‘Why not?’
+
+‘There is no reason why not. But I have felt inclined to dismiss him for
+the past ten years, and never found courage to do it.’
+
+‘It was a perfectly simple proceeding, I assure you. Before I had done
+with him, I rather liked the fellow.’
+
+‘Miss Spencer and Jules--both gone in one day!’ mused Felix Babylon.
+
+‘And no one to take their places,’ said Racksole. ‘And yet the hotel
+continues its way!’
+
+But when Racksole reached the Grand Babylon he found that Miss Spencer’s
+chair in the bureau was occupied by a stately and imperious girl,
+dressed becomingly in black.
+
+‘Heavens, Nella!’ he cried, going to the bureau. ‘What are you doing
+here?’
+
+‘I am taking Mis Spencer’s place. I want to help you with your hotel,
+Dad. I fancy I shall make an excellent hotel clerk. I have arranged with
+a Miss Selina Smith, one of the typists in the office, to put me up to
+all the tips and tricks, and I shall do very well.’
+
+‘But look here, Helen Racksole. We shall have the whole of London
+talking about this thing--the greatest of all American heiresses a hotel
+clerk! And I came here for quiet and rest!’
+
+‘I suppose it was for the sake of quiet and rest that you bought the
+hotel, Papa?’
+
+‘You would insist on the steak,’ he retorted. ‘Get out of this, on the
+instant.’
+
+‘Here I am, here to stay,’ said Nella, and deliberately laughed at her
+parent.
+
+Just then the face of a fair-haired man of about thirty years appeared
+at the bureau window. He was very well-dressed, very aristocratic in his
+pose, and he seemed rather angry.
+
+He looked fixedly at Nella and started back.
+
+‘Ach!’ he exclaimed. ‘You!’
+
+‘Yes, your Highness, it is indeed I. Father, this is his Serene Highness
+Prince Aribert of Posen--one of our most esteemed customers.’
+
+‘You know my name, Fräulein?’ the new-comer murmured in German.
+
+‘Certainly, Prince,’ Nella replied sweetly. ‘You were plain Count
+Steenbock last spring in Paris--doubtless travelling incognito--’
+
+‘Silence,’ he entreated, with a wave of the hand, and his forehead went
+as white as paper.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+Chapter Five WHAT OCCURRED TO REGINALD DIMMOCK
+
+IN another moment they were all three talking quite nicely, and with at
+any rate an appearance of being natural. Prince Aribert became suave,
+even deferential to Nella, and more friendly towards Nella’s father than
+their respective positions demanded. The latter amused himself by
+studying this sprig of royalty, the first with whom he had ever come
+into contact. He decided that the young fellow was personable enough,
+‘had no frills on him,’ and would make an exceptionally good commercial
+traveller for a first-class firm. Such was Theodore Racksole’s
+preliminary estimate of the man who might one day be the reigning Grand
+Duke of Posen.
+
+It occurred to Nella, and she smiled at the idea, that the bureau of the
+hotel was scarcely the correct place in which to receive this august
+young man. There he stood, with his head half-way through the bureau
+window, negligently leaning against the woodwork, just as though he were
+a stockbroker or the manager of a New York burlesque company.
+
+‘Is your Highness travelling quite alone?’ she asked.
+
+‘By a series of accidents I am,’ he said. ‘My equerry was to have met me
+at Charing Cross, but he failed to do so--I cannot imagine why.’
+
+‘Mr Dimmock?’ questioned Racksole.
+
+‘Yes, Dimmock. I do not remember that he ever missed an appointment
+before.
+
+You know him? He has been here?’
+
+‘He dined with us last night,’ said Racksole--‘on Nella’s invitation,’
+he added maliciously; ‘but to-day we have seen nothing of him. I know,
+however, that he has engaged the State apartments, and also a suite
+adjoining the State apartments--No. 55. That is so, isn’t it, Nella?’
+
+‘Yes, Papa,’ she said, having first demurely examined a ledger. ‘Your
+Highness would doubtless like to be conducted to your room--apartments I
+mean.’ Then Nella laughed deliberately at the Prince, and said, ‘I don’t
+know who is the proper person to conduct you, and that’s a fact. The
+truth is that Papa and I are rather raw yet in the hotel line. You see,
+we only bought the place last night.’
+
+‘You have bought the hotel!’ exclaimed the Prince.
+
+‘That’s so,’ said Racksole.
+
+‘And Felix Babylon has gone?’
+
+‘He is going, if he has not already gone.’
+
+‘Ah! I see,’ said the Prince; ‘this is one of your American “strokes”.
+You have bought to sell again, is that not it? You are on your holidays,
+but you cannot resist making a few thousands by way of relaxation. I
+have heard of such things.’
+
+‘We sha’n’t sell again, Prince, until we are tired of our bargain.
+Sometimes we tire very quickly, and sometimes we don’t. It depends--eh?
+What?’
+
+Racksole broke off suddenly to attend to a servant in livery who had
+quietly entered the bureau and was making urgent mysterious signs to
+him.
+
+‘If you please, sir,’ the man by frantic gestures implored Mr Theodore
+Racksole to come out.
+
+‘Pray don’t let me detain you, Mr Racksole,’ said the Prince, and
+therefore the proprietor of the Grand Babylon departed after the
+servant, with a queer, curt little bow to Prince Aribert.
+
+‘Mayn’t I come inside?’ said the Prince to Nella immediately the
+millionaire had gone.
+
+‘Impossible, Prince,’ Nella laughed. ‘The rule against visitors entering
+this bureau is frightfully strict.’
+
+‘How do you know the rule is so strict if you only came into possession
+last night?’
+
+‘I know because I made the rule myself this morning, your Highness.’
+
+‘But seriously, Miss Racksole, I want to talk to you.’
+
+‘Do you want to talk to me as Prince Aribert or as the friend--the
+acquaintance--whom I knew in Paris last year?’
+
+‘As the friend, dear lady, if I may use the term.’
+
+‘And you are sure that you would not like first to be conducted to your
+apartments?’
+
+‘Not yet. I will wait till Dimmock comes; he cannot fail to be here
+soon.’
+
+‘Then we will have tea served in father’s private room--the proprietor’s
+private room, you know.’
+
+‘Good!’ he said.
+
+Nella talked through a telephone, and rang several bells, and behaved
+generally in a manner calculated to prove to Princes and to whomever it
+might concern that she was a young woman of business instincts and
+training, and then she stepped down from her chair of office, emerged
+from the bureau, and, preceded by two menials, led Prince Aribert to the
+Louis XV chamber in which her father and Felix Babylon had had their
+long confabulation on the previous evening.
+
+‘What do you want to talk to me about?’ she asked her companion, as she
+poured out for him a second cup of tea. The Prince looked at her for a
+moment as he took the proffered cup, and being a young man of sane,
+healthy, instincts, he could think of nothing for the moment except her
+loveliness.
+
+Nella was indeed beautiful that afternoon. The beauty of even the most
+beautiful woman ebbs and flows from hour to hour. Nella’s this afternoon
+was at the flood. Vivacious, alert, imperious, and yet ineffably sweet,
+she seemed to radiate the very joy and exuberance of life.
+
+‘I have forgotten,’ he said.
+
+‘You have forgotten! That is surely very wrong of you? You gave me to
+understand that it was something terribly important. But of course I
+knew it couldn’t be, because no man, and especially no Prince, ever
+discussed anything really important with a woman.’
+
+‘Recollect, Miss Racksole, that this afternoon, here, I am not the
+Prince.’
+
+‘You are Count Steenbock, is that it?’
+
+He started. ‘For you only,’ he said, unconsciously lowering his voice.
+‘Miss Racksole, I particularly wish that no one here should know that I
+was in Paris last spring.’
+
+‘An affair of State?’ she smiled.
+
+‘An affair of State,’ he replied soberly. ‘Even Dimmock doesn’t know. It
+was strange that we should be fellow guests at that quiet out-of-the-way
+hotel--strange but delightful. I shall never forget that rainy afternoon
+that we spent together in the Museum of the Trocadéro. Let us talk about
+that.’
+
+‘About the rain, or the museum?’
+
+‘I shall never forget that afternoon,’ he repeated, ignoring the
+lightness of her question.
+
+‘Nor I,’ she murmured corresponding to his mood.
+
+‘You, too enjoyed it?’ he said eagerly.
+
+‘The sculptures were magnificent,’ she replied, hastily glancing at the
+ceiling.
+
+‘Ah! So they were! Tell me, Miss Racksole, how did you discover my
+identity.’
+
+‘I must not say,’ she answered. ‘That is my secret. Do not seek to
+penetrate it. Who knows what horrors you might discover if you probed
+too far?’ She laughed, but she laughed alone. The Prince remained
+pensive--as it were brooding.
+
+‘I never hoped to see you again,’ he said.
+
+‘Why not?’
+
+‘One never sees again those whom one wishes to see.’
+
+‘As for me, I was perfectly convinced that we should meet again.’
+
+‘Why?’
+
+‘Because I always get what I want.’
+
+‘Then you wanted to see me again?’
+
+‘Certainly. You interested me extremely. I have never met another man
+who could talk so well about sculpture as the Count Steenbock.’
+
+‘Do you really always get what you want, Miss Racksole?’
+
+‘Of course.’
+
+‘That is because your father is so rich, I suppose?’
+
+‘Oh, no, it isn’t!’ she said. ‘It’s simply because I always do get what
+I want. It’s got nothing to do with Father at all.’
+
+‘But Mr Racksole is extremely wealthy?’
+
+‘Wealthy isn’t the word, Count. There is no word. It’s positively awful
+the amount of dollars poor Papa makes. And the worst of it is he can’t
+help it.
+
+He told me once that when a man had made ten millions no power on earth
+could stop those ten millions from growing into twenty. And so it
+continues.
+
+I spend what I can, but I can’t come near coping with it; and of course
+Papa is no use whatever at spending.’
+
+‘And you have no mother?’
+
+‘Who told you I had no mother?’ she asked quietly.
+
+‘I--er--inquired about you,’ he said, with equal candour and humility.
+
+‘In spite of the fact that you never hoped to see me again?’
+
+‘Yes, in spite of that.’
+
+‘How funny!’ she said, and lapsed into a meditative silence.
+
+‘Yours must be a wonderful existence,’ said the Prince. ‘I envy you.’
+
+‘You envy me--what? My father’s wealth?’
+
+‘No,’ he said; ‘your freedom and your responsibilities.’
+
+‘I have no responsibilities,’ she remarked.
+
+‘Pardon me,’ he said; ‘you have, and the time is coming when you will
+feel them.’
+
+‘I’m only a girl,’ she murmured with sudden simplicity. ‘As for you,
+Count, surely you have sufficient responsibilities of your own?’
+
+‘I?’ he said sadly. ‘I have no responsibilities. I am a nobody--a Serene
+Highness who has to pretend to be very important, always taking immense
+care never to do anything that a Serene Highness ought not to do. Bah!’
+
+‘But if your nephew, Prince Eugen, were to die, would you not come to
+the throne, and would you not then have these responsibilities which you
+so much desire?’
+
+‘Eugen die?’ said Prince Aribert, in a curious tone. ‘Impossible. He is
+the perfection of health. In three months he will be married. No, I
+shall never be anything but a Serene Highness, the most despicable of
+God’s creatures.’
+
+‘But what about the State secret which you mentioned? Is not that a
+responsibility?’
+
+‘Ah!’ he said. ‘That is over. That belongs to the past. It was an
+accident in my dull career. I shall never be Count Steenbock again.’
+
+‘Who knows?’ she said. ‘By the way, is not Prince Eugen coming here to-
+day? Mr Dimmock told us so.’
+
+‘See!’ answered the Prince, standing up and bending over her. ‘I am
+going to confide in you. I don’t know why, but I am.’
+
+‘Don’t betray State secrets,’ she warned him, smiling into his face.
+
+But just then the door of the room was unceremoniously opened.
+
+‘Go right in,’ said a voice sharply. It was Theodore Racksole’s. Two men
+entered, bearing a prone form on a stretcher, and Racksole followed
+them.
+
+Nella sprang up. Racksole stared to see his daughter.
+
+‘I didn’t know you were in here, Nell. Here,’ to the two men, ‘out
+again.’
+
+‘Why!’ exclaimed Nella, gazing fearfully at the form on the stretcher,
+‘it’s Mr Dimmock!’
+
+‘It is,’ her father acquiesced. ‘He’s dead,’ he added laconically. ‘I’d
+have broken it to you more gently had I known. Your pardon, Prince.’
+There was a pause.
+
+‘Dimmock dead!’ Prince Aribert whispered under his breath, and he
+kneeled down by the side of the stretcher. ‘What does this mean?’
+
+The poor fellow was just walking across the quadrangle towards the
+portico when he fell down. A commissionaire who saw him says he was
+walking very quickly. At first I thought it was sunstroke, but it
+couldn’t have been, though the weather certainly is rather warm. It must
+be heart disease. But anyhow, he’s dead. We did what we could. I’ve sent
+for a doctor, and for the police. I suppose there’ll have to be an
+inquest.’
+
+Theodore Racksole stopped, and in an awkward solemn silence they all
+gazed at the dead youth. His features were slightly drawn, and his eyes
+closed; that was all. He might have been asleep.
+
+‘My poor Dimmock!’ exclaimed the Prince, his voice broken. ‘And I was
+angry because the lad did not meet me at Charing Cross!’
+
+‘Are you sure he is dead, Father?’ Nella said.
+
+‘You’d better go away, Nella,’ was Racksole’s only reply; but the girl
+stood still, and began to sob quietly. On the previous night she had
+secretly made fun of Reginald Dimmock. She had deliberately set herself
+to get information from him on a topic in which she happened to be
+specially interested and she had got it, laughing the while at his
+youthful crudities--his vanity, his transparent cunning, his absurd
+airs. She had not liked him; she had even distrusted him, and decided
+that he was not ‘nice’. But now, as he lay on the stretcher, these
+things were forgotten. She went so far as to reproach herself for them.
+Such is the strange commanding power of death.
+
+‘Oblige me by taking the poor fellow to my apartments,’ said the Prince,
+with a gesture to the attendants. ‘Surely it is time the doctor came.’
+
+Racksole felt suddenly at that moment he was nothing but a mere hotel
+proprietor with an awkward affair on his hands. For a fraction of a
+second he wished he had never bought the Grand Babylon.
+
+A quarter of an hour later Prince Aribert, Theodore Racksole, a doctor,
+and an inspector of police were in the Prince’s reception-room. They had
+just come from an ante-chamber, in which lay the mortal remains of
+Reginald Dimmock.
+
+‘Well?’ said Racksole, glancing at the doctor.
+
+The doctor was a big, boyish-looking man, with keen, quizzical eyes.
+
+‘It is not heart disease,’ said the doctor.
+
+‘Not heart disease?’
+
+‘No.’
+
+‘Then what is it?’ asked the Prince.
+
+‘I may be able to answer that question after the post-mortem,’ said the
+doctor. ‘I certainly can’t answer it now. The symptoms are unusual to a
+degree.’
+
+The inspector of police began to write in a note-book.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+Chapter Six IN THE GOLD ROOM
+
+AT the Grand Babylon a great ball was given that night in the Gold Room,
+a huge saloon attached to the hotel, though scarcely part of it, and
+certainly less exclusive than the hotel itself. Theodore Racksole knew
+nothing of the affair, except that it was an entertainment offered by a
+Mr and Mrs Sampson Levi to their friends. Who Mr and Mrs Sampson Levi
+were he did not know, nor could anyone tell him anything about them
+except that Mr Sampson Levi was a prominent member of that part of the
+Stock Exchange familiarly called the Kaffir Circus, and that his wife
+was a stout lady with an aquiline nose and many diamonds, and that they
+were very rich and very hospitable. Theodore Racksole did not want a
+ball in his hotel that evening, and just before dinner he had almost a
+mind to issue a decree that the Gold Room was to be closed and the ball
+forbidden, and Mr and Mrs Sampson Levi might name the amount of damages
+suffered by them. His reasons for such a course were threefold--first,
+he felt depressed and uneasy; second, he didn’t like the name of Sampson
+Levi; and, third, he had a desire to show these so-called plutocrats
+that their wealth was nothing to him, that they could not do what they
+chose with Theodore Racksole, and that for two pins Theodore Racksole
+would buy them up, and the whole Kaffir Circus to boot. But something
+warned him that though such a high-handed proceeding might be tolerated
+in America, that land of freedom, it would never be tolerated in
+England. He felt instinctively that in England there are things you
+can’t do, and that this particular thing was one of them. So the ball
+went forward, and neither Mr nor Mrs Sampson Levi had ever the least
+suspicion what a narrow escape they had had of looking very foolish in
+the eyes of the thousand or so guests invited by them to the Gold Room
+of the Grand Babylon that evening.
+
+The Gold Room of the Grand Babylon was built for a ballroom. A balcony,
+supported by arches faced with gilt and lapis-lazulo, ran around it, and
+from this vantage men and maidens and chaperons who could not or would
+not dance might survey the scene. Everyone knew this, and most people
+took advantage of it. What everyone did not know--what no one knew--was
+that higher up than the balcony there was a little barred window in the
+end wall from which the hotel authorities might keep a watchful eye, not
+only on the dancers, but on the occupants of the balcony itself.
+
+It may seem incredible to the uninitiated that the guests at any social
+gathering held in so gorgeous and renowned an apartment as the Gold Room
+of the Grand Babylon should need the observation of a watchful eye. Yet
+so it was. Strange matters and unexpected faces had been descried from
+the little window, and more than one European detective had kept vigil
+there with the most eminently satisfactory results.
+
+At eleven o’clock Theodore Racksole, afflicted by vexation of spirit,
+found himself gazing idly through the little barred window. Nella was
+with him.
+
+Together they had been wandering about the corridors of the hotel, still
+strange to them both, and it was quite by accident that they had lighted
+upon the small room which had a surreptitious view of Mr and Mrs Sampson
+Levi’s ball. Except for the light of the chandelier of the ball-room the
+little cubicle was in darkness. Nella was looking through the window;
+her father stood behind.
+
+‘I wonder which is Mrs Sampson Levi?’ Nella said, ‘and whether she
+matches her name. Wouldn’t you love to have a name like that, Father--
+something that people could take hold of--instead of Racksole?’
+
+The sound of violins and a confused murmur of voices rose gently up to
+them.
+
+‘Umphl’ said Theodore. ‘Curse those evening papers!’ he added,
+inconsequently but with sincerity.
+
+‘Father, you’re very horrid to-night. What have the evening papers been
+doing?’
+
+‘Well, my young madame, they’ve got me in for one, and you for another;
+and they’re manufacturing mysteries like fun. It’s young Dimmock’s death
+that has started ‘em.’
+
+‘Well, Father, you surely didn’t expect to keep yourself out of the
+papers. Besides, as regards newspapers, you ought to be glad you aren’t
+in New York. Just fancy what the dear old Herald would have made out of
+a little transaction like yours of last night.’
+
+‘That’s true,’ assented Racksole. ‘But it’ll be all over New York to-
+morrow morning, all the same. The worst of it is that Babylon has gone
+off to Switzerland.’
+
+‘Why?’
+
+‘Don’t know. Sudden fancy, I guess, for his native heath.’
+
+‘What difference does it make to you?’
+
+‘None. Only I feel sort of lonesome. I feel I want someone to lean up
+against in running this hotel.’
+
+‘Father, if you have that feeling you must be getting ill.’
+
+‘Yes,’ he sighed, ‘I admit it’s unusual with me. But perhaps you haven’t
+grasped the fact, Nella, that we’re in the middle of a rather queer
+business.’
+
+‘You mean about poor Mr Dimmock?’
+
+‘Partly Dimmock and partly other things. First of all, that Miss
+Spencer, or whatever her wretched name is, mysteriously disappears. Then
+there was the stone thrown into your bedroom. Then I caught that rascal
+Jules conspiring with Dimmock at three o’clock in the morning. Then your
+precious Prince Aribert arrives without any suite--which I believe is a
+most peculiar and wicked thing for a Prince to do--and moreover I find
+my daughter on very intimate terms with the said Prince. Then young
+Dimmock goes and dies, and there is to be an inquest; then Prince Eugen
+and his suite, who were expected here for dinner, fail to turn up at
+all--’
+
+‘Prince Eugen has not come?’
+
+‘He has not; and Uncle Aribert is in a deuce of a stew about him, and
+telegraphing all over Europe. Altogether, things are working up pretty
+lively.’
+
+‘Do you really think, Dad, there was anything between Jules and poor Mr
+Dimmock?’
+
+‘Think! I know! I tell you I saw that scamp give Dimmock a wink last
+night at dinner that might have meant--well!’
+
+‘So you caught that wink, did you, Dad?’
+
+‘Why, did you?’
+
+‘Of course, Dad. I was going to tell you about it.’
+
+The millionaire grunted.
+
+‘Look here, Father,’ Nella whispered suddenly, and pointed to the
+balcony immediately below them. ‘Who’s that?’ She indicated a man with a
+bald patch on the back of his head, who was propping himself up against
+the railing of the balcony and gazing immovable into the ball-room.
+
+‘Well, who is it?’
+
+‘Isn’t it Jules?’
+
+‘Gemini! By the beard of the prophet, it is!’
+
+‘Perhaps Mr Jules is a guest of Mrs Sampson Levi.’
+
+‘Guest or no guest, he goes out of this hotel, even if I have to throw
+him out myself.’
+
+Theodore Racksole disappeared without another word, and Nella followed
+him.
+
+But when the millionaire arrived on the balcony floor he could see
+nothing of Jules, neither there nor in the ball-room itself. Saying no
+word aloud, but quietly whispering wicked expletives, he searched
+everywhere in vain, and then, at last, by tortuous stairways and
+corridors returned to his original post of observation, that he might
+survey the place anew from the vantage ground. To his surprise he found
+a man in the dark little room, watching the scene of the ball as
+intently as he himself had been doing a few minutes before. Hearing
+footsteps, the man turned with a start.
+
+It was Jules.
+
+The two exchanged glances in the half light for a second.
+
+‘Good evening, Mr Racksole,’ said Jules calmly. ‘I must apologize for
+being here.’
+
+‘Force of habit, I suppose,’ said Theodore Racksole drily.
+
+‘Just so, sir.’
+
+‘I fancied I had forbidden you to re-enter this hotel?’
+
+‘I thought your order applied only to my professional capacity. I am
+here to-night as the guest of Mr and Mrs Sampson Levi.’
+
+‘In your new rôle of man-about-town, eh?’
+
+‘Exactly.’
+
+‘But I don’t allow men-about-town up here, my friend.’
+
+‘For being up here I have already apologized.’
+
+‘Then, having apologized, you had better depart; that is my
+disinterested advice to you.’
+
+‘Good night, sir.’
+
+‘And, I say, Mr Jules, if Mr and Mrs Sampson Levi, or any other Hebrews
+or Christians, should again invite you to my hotel you will oblige me by
+declining the invitation. You’ll find that will be the safest course for
+you.’
+
+‘Good night, sir.’
+
+Before midnight struck Theodore Racksole had ascertained that the
+invitation-list of Mr and Mrs Sampson Levi, though a somewhat lengthy
+one, contained no reference to any such person as Jules.
+
+He sat up very late. To be precise, he sat up all night. He was a man
+who, by dint of training, could comfortably dispense with sleep when he
+felt so inclined, or when circumstances made such a course advisable. He
+walked to and fro in his room, and cogitated as few people beside
+Theodore Racksole could cogitate. At 6 a.m. he took a stroll round the
+business part of his premises, and watched the supplies come in from
+Covent Garden, from Smithfield, from Billingsgate, and from other
+strange places. He found the proceedings of the kitchen department quite
+interesting, and made mental notes of things that he would have altered,
+of men whose wages he would increase and men whose wages he would
+reduce. At 7 a.m. he happened to be standing near the luggage lift, and
+witnessed the descent of vast quantities of luggage, and its
+disappearance into a Carter Paterson van.
+
+‘Whose luggage is that?’ he inquired peremptorily.
+
+The luggage clerk, with an aggrieved expression, explained to him that
+it was the luggage of nobody in particular, that it belonged to various
+guests, and was bound for various destinations; that it was, in fact,
+‘expressed’ luggage despatched in advance, and that a similar quantity
+of it left the hotel every morning about that hour.
+
+Theodore Racksole walked away, and breakfasted upon one cup of tea and
+half a slice of toast.
+
+At ten o’clock he was informed that the inspector of police desired to
+see him. The inspector had come, he said, to superintend the removal of
+the body of Reginald Dimmock to the mortuary adjoining the place of
+inquest, and a suitable vehicle waited at the back entrance of the
+hotel.
+
+The inspector had also brought subpoenas for himself and Prince Aribert
+of Posen and the commissionaire to attend the inquest.
+
+‘I thought Mr Dimmock’s remains were removed last night,’ said Racksole
+wearily.
+
+‘No, sir. The fact is the van was engaged on another job.’
+
+The inspector gave the least hint of a professional smile, and Racksole,
+disgusted, told him curtly to go and perform his duties.
+
+In a few minutes a message came from the inspector requesting Mr
+Racksole to be good enough to come to him on the first floor. Racksole
+went. In the ante-room, where the body of Reginald Dimmock had
+originally been placed, were the inspector and Prince Aribert, and two
+policemen.
+
+‘Well?’ said Racksole, after he and the Prince had exchanged bows. Then
+he saw a coffin laid across two chairs. ‘I see a coffin has been
+obtained,’ he remarked. ‘Quite right’ He approached it. ‘It’s empty,’ he
+observed unthinkingly.
+
+‘Just so,’ said the inspector. ‘The body of the deceased has
+disappeared.
+
+And his Serene Highness Prince Aribert informs me that though he has
+occupied a room immediately opposite, on the other side of the corridor,
+he can throw no light on the affair.’
+
+‘Indeed, I cannot!’ said the Prince, and though he spoke with sufficient
+calmness and dignity, you could see that he was deeply pained, even
+distressed.
+
+‘Well, I’m--’ murmured Racksole, and stopped.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+Chapter Seven NELLA AND THE PRINCE
+
+IT appeared impossible to Theodore Racksole that so cumbrous an article
+as a corpse could be removed out of his hotel, with no trace, no hint,
+no clue as to the time or the manner of the performance of the deed.
+After the first feeling of surprise, Racksole grew coldly and severely
+angry. He had a mind to dismiss the entire staff of the hotel. He
+personally examined the night-watchman, the chambermaids and all other
+persons who by chance might or ought to know something of the affair;
+but without avail. The corpse of Reginald Dimmock had vanished utterly--
+disappeared like a fleshless spirit.
+
+Of course there were the police. But Theodore Racksole held the police
+in sorry esteem. He acquainted them with the facts, answered their
+queries with a patient weariness, and expected nothing whatever from
+that quarter. He also had several interviews with Prince Aribert of
+Posen, but though the Prince was suavity itself and beyond doubt
+genuinely concerned about the fate of his dead attendant, yet it seemed
+to Racksole that he was keeping something back, that he hesitated to say
+all he knew. Racksole, with characteristic insight, decided that the
+death of Reginald Dimmock was only a minor event, which had occurred, as
+it were, on the fringe of some far more profound mystery. And,
+therefore, he decided to wait, with his eyes very wide open, until
+something else happened that would throw light on the business. At the
+moment he took only one measure--he arranged that the theft of Dimmock’s
+body should not appear in the newspapers. It is astonishing how well a
+secret can be kept, when the possessors of the secret are handled with
+the proper mixture of firmness and persuasion. Racksole managed this
+very neatly. It was a complicated job, and his success in it rather
+pleased him.
+
+At the same time he was conscious of being temporarily worsted by an
+unknown group of schemers, in which he felt convinced that Jules was an
+important item. He could scarcely look Nella in the eyes. The girl had
+evidently expected him to unmask this conspiracy at once, with a single
+stroke of the millionaire’s magic wand. She was thoroughly accustomed,
+in the land of her birth, to seeing him achieve impossible feats. Over
+there he was a ‘boss’; men trembled before his name; when he wished a
+thing to happen--well, it happened; if he desired to know a thing, he
+just knew it. But here, in London, Theodore Racksole was not quite the
+same Theodore Racksole. He dominated New York; but London, for the most
+part, seemed not to take much interest in him; and there were certainly
+various persons in London who were capable of snapping their fingers at
+him--at Theodore Racksole. Neither he nor his daughter could get used to
+that fact.
+
+As for Nella, she concerned herself for a little with the ordinary
+business of the bureau, and watched the incomings and outgoings of
+Prince Aribert with a kindly interest. She perceived, what her father
+had failed to perceive, that His Highness had assumed an attitude of
+reserve merely to hide the secret distraction and dismay which consumed
+him. She saw that the poor fellow had no settled plan in his head, and
+that he was troubled by something which, so far, he had confided to
+nobody. It came to her knowledge that each morning he walked to and fro
+on the Victoria Embankment, alone, and apparently with no object. On the
+third morning she decided that driving exercise on the Embankment would
+be good for her health, and thereupon ordered a carriage and issued
+forth, arrayed in a miraculous putty-coloured gown. Near Blackfriars
+Bridge she met the Prince, and the carriage was drawn up by the
+pavement.
+
+‘Good morning, Prince,’ she greeted him. ‘Are you mistaking this for
+Hyde Park?’
+
+He bowed and smiled.
+
+‘I usually walk here in the mornings,’ he said.
+
+‘You surprise me,’ she returned. ‘I thought I was the only person in
+London who preferred the Embankment, with this view of the river, to the
+dustiness of Hyde Park. I can’t imagine how it is that London will never
+take exercise anywhere except in that ridiculous Park. Now, if they had
+Central Park--’
+
+‘I think the Embankment is the finest spot in all London,’ he said.
+
+She leaned a little out of the landau, bringing her face nearer to his.
+
+‘I do believe we are kindred spirits, you and I,’ she murmured; and
+then, ‘Au revoir, Prince!’
+
+‘One moment, Miss Racksole.’ His quick tones had a note of entreaty.
+
+‘I am in a hurry,’ she fibbed; ‘I am not merely taking exercise this
+morning. You have no idea how busy we are.’
+
+‘Ah! then I will not trouble you. But I leave the Grand Babylon to-
+night.’
+
+‘Do you?’ she said. ‘Then will your Highness do me the honour of
+lunching with me today in Father’s room? Father will be out--he is
+having a day in the City with some stockbroking persons.’
+
+‘I shall be charmed,’ said the Prince, and his face showed that he meant
+it.
+
+Nella drove off.
+
+If the lunch was a success that result was due partly to Rocco, and
+partly to Nella. The Prince said little beyond what the ordinary rules
+of the conversational game demanded. His hostess talked much and talked
+well, but she failed to rouse her guest. When they had had coffee he
+took a rather formal leave of her.
+
+‘Good-bye, Prince,’ she said, ‘but I thought--that is, no I didn’t.
+
+Good-bye.’
+
+‘You thought I wished to discuss something with you. I did; but I have
+decided that I have no right to burden your mind with my affairs.’
+
+‘But suppose--suppose I wish to be burdened?’
+
+‘That is your good nature.’
+
+‘Sit down,’ she said abruptly, ‘and tell me everything; mind,
+everything. I adore secrets.’
+
+Almost before he knew it he was talking to her, rapidly, eagerly.
+
+‘Why should I weary you with my confidences?’ he said. ‘I don’t know, I
+cannot tell; but I feel that I must. I feel that you will understand me
+better than anyone else in the world. And yet why should you understand
+me? Again, I don’t know. Miss Racksole, I will disclose to you the whole
+trouble in a word. Prince Eugen, the hereditary Grand Duke of Posen, has
+disappeared. Four days ago I was to have met him at Ostend. He had
+affairs in London. He wished me to come with him. I sent Dimmock on in
+front, and waited for Eugen. He did not arrive. I telegraphed back to
+Cologne, his last stopping-place, and I learned that he had left there
+in accordance with his programme; I learned also that he had passed
+through Brussels. It must have been between Brussels and the railway
+station at Ostend Quay that he disappeared. He was travelling with a
+single equerry, and the equerry, too, has vanished. I need not explain
+to you, Miss Racksole, that when a person of the importance of my nephew
+contrives to get lost one must proceed cautiously. One cannot advertise
+for him in the London Times. Such a disappearance must be kept secret.
+The people at Posen and at Berlin believe that Eugen is in London, here,
+at this hotel; or, rather, they did so believe. But this morning I
+received a cypher telegram from--from His Majesty the Emperor, a very
+peculiar telegram, asking when Eugen might be expected to return to
+Posen, and requesting that he should go first to Berlin. That telegram
+was addressed to myself. Now, if the Emperor thought that Eugen was
+here, why should he have caused the telegram to be addressed to me? I
+have hesitated for three days, but I can hesitate no longer. I must
+myself go to the Emperor and acquaint him with the facts.’
+
+‘I suppose you’ve just got to keep straight with him?’ Nella was on the
+point of saying, but she checked herself and substituted, ‘The Emperor
+is your chief, is he not? “First among equals”, you call him.’
+
+‘His Majesty is our over-lord,’ said Aribert quietly.
+
+‘Why do you not take immediate steps to inquire as to the whereabouts of
+your Royal nephew?’ she asked simply. The affair seemed to her just then
+so plain and straightforward.
+
+‘Because one of two things may have happened. Either Eugen may have
+been, in plain language, abducted, or he may have had his own reasons
+for changing his programme and keeping in the background--out of reach
+of telegraph and post and railways.’
+
+‘What sort of reasons?’
+
+‘Do not ask me. In the history of every family there are passages--’ He
+stopped.
+
+‘And what was Prince Eugen’s object in coming to London?’
+
+Aribert hesitated.
+
+‘Money,’ he said at length. ‘As a family we are very poor--poorer than
+anyone in Berlin suspects.’
+
+‘Prince Aribert,’ Nella said, ‘shall I tell you what I think?’ She
+leaned back in her chair, and looked at him out of half-closed eyes. His
+pale, thin, distinguished face held her gaze as if by some fascination.
+There could be no mistaking this man for anything else but a Prince.
+
+‘If you will,’ he said.
+
+‘Prince Eugen is the victim of a plot.’
+
+‘You think so?’
+
+‘I am perfectly convinced of it.’
+
+‘But why? What can be the object of a plot against him?’
+
+‘That is a point of which you should know more than me,’ she remarked
+drily.
+
+‘Ah! Perhaps, perhaps,’ he said. ‘But, dear Miss Racksole, why are you
+so sure?’
+
+‘There are several reasons, and they are connected with Mr Dimmock. Did
+you ever suspect, your Highness, that that poor young man was not
+entirely loyal to you?’
+
+‘He was absolutely loyal,’ said the Prince, with all the earnestness of
+conviction.
+
+‘A thousand pardons, but he was not.’
+
+‘Miss Racksole, if any other than yourself made that assertion, I would-
+-I would--’
+
+‘Consign them to the deepest dungeon in Posen?’ she laughed, lightly.
+
+‘Listen.’ And she told him of the incidents which had occurred in the
+night preceding his arrival in the hotel.
+
+‘Do you mean, Miss Racksole, that there was an understanding between
+poor Dimmock and this fellow Jules?’
+
+‘There was an understanding.’
+
+‘Impossible!’
+
+‘Your Highness, the man who wishes to probe a mystery to its root never
+uses the word “impossible”. But I will say this for young Mr Dimmock. I
+think he repented, and I think that it was because he repented that he--
+er--died so suddenly, and that his body was spirited away.’
+
+‘Why has no one told me these things before?’ Aribert exclaimed.
+
+‘Princes seldom hear the truth,’ she said.
+
+He was astonished at her coolness, her firmness of assertion, her air of
+complete acquaintance with the world.
+
+‘Miss Racksole,’ he said, ‘if you will permit me to say it, I have never
+in my life met a woman like you. May I rely on your sympathy--your
+support?’
+
+‘My support, Prince? But how?’
+
+‘I do not know,’ he replied. ‘But you could help me if you would. A
+woman, when she has brain, always has more brain than a man.’
+
+‘Ah!’ she said ruefully, ‘I have no brains, but I do believe I could
+help you.’
+
+What prompted her to make that assertion she could not have explained,
+even to herself. But she made it, and she had a suspicion--a prescience-
+-that it would be justified, though by what means, through what good
+fortune, was still a mystery to her.
+
+‘Go to Berlin,’ she said. ‘I see that you must do that; you have no
+alternative. As for the rest, we shall see. Something will occur. I
+shall be here. My father will be here. You must count us as your
+friends.’
+
+He kissed her hand when he left, and afterwards, when she was alone, she
+kissed the spot his lips had touched again and again. Now, thinking the
+matter out in the calmness of solitude, all seemed strange, unreal,
+uncertain to her. Were conspiracies actually possible nowadays? Did
+queer things actually happen in Europe? And did they actually happen in
+London hotels? She dined with her father that night.
+
+‘I hear Prince Aribert has left,’ said Theodore Racksole.
+
+‘Yes,’ she assented. She said not a word about their interview.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+Chapter Eight ARRIVAL AND DEPARTURE OF THE BARONESS
+
+ON the following morning, just before lunch, a lady, accompanied by a
+maid and a considerable quantity of luggage, came to the Grand Babylon
+Hôtel. She was a plump, little old lady, with white hair and an old-
+fashioned bonnet, and she had a quaint, simple smile of surprise at
+everything in general.
+
+Nevertheless, she gave the impression of belonging to some aristocracy,
+though not the English aristocracy. Her tone to her maid, whom she
+addressed in broken English--the girl being apparently English--was
+distinctly insolent, with the calm, unconscious insolence peculiar to a
+certain type of Continental nobility. The name on the lady’s card ran
+thus: ‘Baroness Zerlinski’. She desired rooms on the third floor. It
+happened that Nella was in the bureau.
+
+‘On the third floor, madam?’ questioned Nella, in her best clerkly
+manner.
+
+‘I did say on de tird floor,’ said the plump little old lady.
+
+‘We have accommodation on the second floor.’
+
+‘I wish to be high up, out of de dust and in de light,’ explained the
+Baroness.
+
+‘We have no suites on the third floor, madam.’
+
+‘Never mind, no mattaire! Have you not two rooms that communicate?’
+
+Nella consulted her books, rather awkwardly.
+
+‘Numbers 122 and 123 communicate.’
+
+‘Or is it 121 and 122?’ the little old lady remarked quickly, and then
+bit her lip.
+
+‘I beg your pardon. I should have said 121 and 122.’
+
+At the moment Nella regarded the Baroness’s correction of her figures as
+a curious chance, but afterwards, when the Baroness had ascended in the
+lift, the thing struck her as somewhat strange. Perhaps the Baroness
+Zerlinski had stayed at the hotel before. For the sake of convenience an
+index of visitors to the hotel was kept and the index extended back for
+thirty years. Nella examined it, but it did not contain the name of
+Zerlinski. Then it was that Nella began to imagine, what had swiftly
+crossed her mind when first the Baroness presented herself at the
+bureau, that the features of the Baroness were remotely familiar to her.
+She thought, not that she had seen the old lady’s face before, but that
+she had seen somewhere, some time, a face of a similar cast. It occurred
+to Nella to look at the ‘Almanach de Gotha’--that record of all the
+mazes of Continental blue blood; but the ‘Almanach de Gotha’ made no
+reference to any barony of Zerlinski. Nella inquired where the Baroness
+meant to take lunch, and was informed that a table had been reserved for
+her in the dining-room, and she at once decided to lunch in the dining-
+room herself. Seated in a corner, half-hidden by a pillar, she could
+survey all the guests, and watch each group as it entered or left.
+Presently the Baroness appeared, dressed in black, with a tiny lace
+shawl, despite the June warmth; very stately, very quaint, and gently
+smiling. Nella observed her intently. The lady ate heartily, working
+without haste and without delay through the elaborate menu of the
+luncheon. Nella noticed that she had beautiful white teeth. Then a
+remarkable thing happened. A cream puff was served to the Baroness by
+way of sweets, and Nella was astonished to see the little lady remove
+the top, and with a spoon quietly take something from the interior which
+looked like a piece of folded paper. No one who had not been watching
+with the eye of a lynx would have noticed anything extraordinary in the
+action; indeed, the chances were nine hundred and ninety-nine to one
+that it would pass unheeded. But, unfortunately for the Baroness, it was
+the thousandth chance that happened. Nella jumped up, and walking over
+to the Baroness, said to her:
+
+‘I’m afraid that the tart is not quite nice, your ladyship.’
+
+‘Thanks, it is delightful,’ said the Baroness coldly; her smile had
+vanished. ‘Who are you? I thought you were de bureau clerk.’
+
+‘My father is the owner of this hotel. I thought there was something in
+the tart which ought not to have been there.’
+
+Nella looked the Baroness full in the face. The piece of folded paper,
+to which a little cream had attached itself, lay under the edge of a
+plate.
+
+‘No, thanks.’ The Baroness smiled her simple smile.
+
+Nella departed. She had noticed one trifling thing besides the paper--
+namely, that the Baroness could pronounce the English ‘th’ sound if she
+chose.
+
+That afternoon, in her own room, Nella sat meditating at the window for
+long time, and then she suddenly sprang up, her eyes brightening.
+
+‘I know,’ she exclaimed, clapping her hands. ‘It’s Miss Spencer,
+disguised!
+
+Why didn’t I think of that before?’ Her thoughts ran instantly to Prince
+Aribert. ‘Perhaps I can help him,’ she said to herself, and gave a
+little sigh. She went down to the office and inquired whether the
+Baroness had given any instructions about dinner. She felt that some
+plan must be formulated. She wanted to get hold of Rocco, and put him in
+the rack. She knew now that Rocco, the unequalled, was also concerned in
+this mysterious affair.
+
+‘The Baroness Zerlinski has left, about a quarter of an hour ago,’ said
+the attendant.
+
+‘But she only arrived this morning.’
+
+‘The Baroness’s maid said that her mistress had received a telegram and
+must leave at once. The Baroness paid the bill, and went away in a four-
+wheeler.’
+
+‘Where to?’
+
+‘The trunks were labelled for Ostend.’
+
+Perhaps it was instinct, perhaps it was the mere spirit of adventure;
+but that evening Nella was to be seen of all men on the steamer for
+Ostend which leaves Dover at 11 p.m. She told no one of her intentions--
+not even her father, who was not in the hotel when she left. She had
+scribbled a brief note to him to expect her back in a day or two, and
+had posted this at Dover. The steamer was the Marie Henriette, a large
+and luxurious boat, whose state-rooms on deck vie with the glories of
+the Cunard and White Star liners. One of these state-rooms, the best,
+was evidently occupied, for every curtain of its windows was carefully
+drawn. Nella did not hope that the Baroness was on board; it was quite
+possible for the Baroness to have caught the eight o’clock steamer, and
+it was also possible for the Baroness not to have gone to Ostend at all,
+but to some other place in an entirely different direction.
+Nevertheless, Nella had a faint hope that the lady who called herself
+Zerlinski might be in that curtained stateroom, and throughout the
+smooth moonlit voyage she never once relaxed her observation of its
+doors and its windows.
+
+The Maria Henriette arrived in Ostend Harbour punctually at 2 a.m. in
+the morning. There was the usual heterogeneous, gesticulating crowd on
+the quay.
+
+Nella kept her post near the door of the state-room, and at length she
+was rewarded by seeing it open. Four middle-aged Englishmen issued from
+it. From a glimpse of the interior Nella saw that they had spent the
+voyage in card-playing.
+
+It would not be too much to say that she was distinctly annoyed. She
+pretended to be annoyed with circumstances, but really she was annoyed
+with Nella Racksole. At two in the morning, without luggage, without any
+companionship, and without a plan of campaign, she found herself in a
+strange foreign port--a port of evil repute, possessing some of the
+worst-managed hotels in Europe. She strolled on the quay for a few
+minutes, and then she saw the smoke of another steamer in the offing.
+She inquired from an official what that steamer might be, and was told
+that it was the eight o’clock from Dover, which had broken down, put
+into Calais for some slight necessary repairs, and was arriving at its
+destination nearly four hours late. Her mercurial spirits rose again. A
+minute ago she was regarding herself as no better than a ninny engaged
+in a wild-goose chase. Now she felt that after all she had been very
+sagacious and cunning. She was morally sure that she would find the
+Zerlinski woman on this second steamer, and she took all the credit to
+herself in advance. Such is human nature.
+
+The steamer seemed interminably slow in coming into harbour. Nella
+walked on the Digue for a few minutes to watch it the better. The town
+was silent and almost deserted. It had a false and sinister aspect. She
+remembered tales which she had heard of this glittering resort, which in
+the season holds more scoundrels than any place in Europe, save only
+Monte Carlo. She remembered that the gilded adventurers of every nation
+under the sun forgathered there either for business or pleasure, and
+that some of the most wonderful crimes of the latter half of the century
+had been schemed and matured in that haunt of cosmopolitan iniquity.
+
+When the second steamer arrived Nella stood at the end of the gangway,
+close to the ticket-collector. The first person to step on shore was--
+not the Baroness Zerlinski, but Miss Spencer herself! Nella turned aside
+instantly, hiding her face, and Miss Spencer, carrying a small bag,
+hurried with assured footsteps to the Custom House. It seemed as if she
+knew the port of Ostend fairly well. The moon shone like day, and Nella
+had full opportunity to observe her quarry. She could see now quite
+plainly that the Baroness Zerlinski had been only Miss Spencer in
+disguise. There was the same gait, the same movement of the head and of
+the hips; the white hair was easily to be accounted for by a wig, and
+the wrinkles by a paint brush and some grease paints. Miss Spencer,
+whose hair was now its old accustomed yellow, got through the Custom
+House without difficulty, and Nella saw her call a closed carriage and
+say something to the driver. The vehicle drove off. Nella jumped into
+the next carriage--an open one--that came up.
+
+‘Follow that carriage,’ she said succinctly to the driver in French.
+
+‘Bien, madame!’ The driver whipped up his horse, and the animal shot
+forward with a terrific clatter over the cobbles. It appeared that this
+driver was quite accustomed to following other carriages.
+
+‘Now I am fairly in for it!’ said Nella to herself. She laughed
+unsteadily, but her heart was beating with an extraordinary thump.
+
+For some time the pursued vehicle kept well in front. It crossed the
+town nearly from end to end, and plunged into a maze of small streets
+far on the south side of the Kursaal. Then gradually Nella’s equipage
+began to overtake it. The first carriage stopped with a jerk before a
+tall dark house, and Miss Spencer emerged. Nella called to her driver to
+stop, but he, determined to be in at the death, was engaged in whipping
+his horse, and he completely ignored her commands. He drew up
+triumphantly at the tall dark house just at the moment when Miss Spencer
+disappeared into it. The other carriage drove away. Nella, uncertain
+what to do, stepped down from her carriage and gave the driver some
+money. At the same moment a man reopened the door of the house, which
+had closed on Miss Spencer.
+
+‘I want to see Miss Spencer,’ said Nella impulsively. She couldn’t think
+of anything else to say.
+
+‘Miss Spencer?’
+
+‘Yes; she’s just arrived.’
+
+‘It’s O.K., I suppose,’ said the man.
+
+‘I guess so,’ said Nella, and she walked past him into the house. She
+was astonished at her own audacity.
+
+Miss Spencer was just going into a room off the narrow hall. Nella
+followed her into the apartment, which was shabbily furnished in the
+Belgian lodging-house style.
+
+‘Well, Miss Spencer,’ she greeted the former Baroness Zerlinski, ‘I
+guess you didn’t expect to see me. You left our hotel very suddenly this
+afternoon, and you left it very suddenly a few days ago; and so I’ve
+just called to make a few inquiries.’
+
+To do the lady justice, Miss Spencer bore the surprising ordeal very
+well.
+
+She did not flinch; she betrayed no emotion. The sole sign of
+perturbation was in her hurried breathing.
+
+‘You have ceased to be the Baroness Zerlinski,’ Nella continued. ‘May I
+sit down?’
+
+‘Certainly, sit down,’ said Miss Spencer, copying the girl’s tone. ‘You
+are a fairly smart young woman, that I will say. What do you want?
+Weren’t my books all straight?’
+
+‘Your books were all straight. I haven’t come about your books. I have
+come about the murder of Reginald Dimmock, the disappearance of his
+corpse, and the disappearance of Prince Eugen of Posen. I thought you
+might be able to help me in some investigations which I am making.’
+
+Miss Spencer’s eyes gleamed, and she stood up and moved swiftly to the
+mantelpiece.
+
+‘You may be a Yankee, but you’re a fool,’ she said.
+
+She took hold of the bell-rope.
+
+‘Don’t ring that bell if you value your life,’ said Nella.
+
+‘If what?’ Miss Spencer remarked.
+
+‘If you value your life,’ said Nella calmly, and with the words she
+pulled from her pocket a very neat and dainty little revolver.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+Chapter Nine TWO WOMEN AND THE REVOLVER
+
+‘YOU--you’re only doing that to frighten me,’ stammered Miss Spencer, in
+a low, quavering voice.
+
+‘Am I?’ Nella replied, as firmly as she could, though her hand shook
+violently with excitement, could Miss Spencer but have observed it. ‘Am
+I? You said just now that I might be a Yankee girl, but I was a fool.
+Well, I am a Yankee girl, as you call it; and in my country, if they
+don’t teach revolver-shooting in boarding-schools, there are at least a
+lot of girls who can handle a revolver. I happen to be one of them. I
+tell you that if you ring that bell you will suffer.’
+
+Most of this was simple bluff on Nella’s part, and she trembled lest
+Miss Spencer should perceive that it was simple bluff. Happily for her,
+Miss Spencer belonged to that order of women who have every sort of
+courage except physical courage. Miss Spencer could have withstood
+successfully any moral trial, but persuade her that her skin was in
+danger, and she would succumb. Nella at once divined this useful fact,
+and proceeded accordingly, hiding the strangeness of her own sensations
+as well as she could.
+
+‘You had better sit down now,’ said Nella, ‘and I will ask you a few
+questions.’
+
+And Miss Spencer obediently sat down, rather white, and trying to screw
+her lips into a formal smile.
+
+‘Why did you leave the Grand Babylon that night?’ Nella began her
+examination, putting on a stern, barrister-like expression.
+
+‘I had orders to, Miss Racksole.’
+
+‘Whose orders?’
+
+‘Well, I’m--I’m--the fact is, I’m a married woman, and it was my
+husband’s orders.’
+
+‘Who is your husband?’
+
+‘Tom Jackson--Jules, you know, head waiter at the Grand Babylon.’
+
+‘So Jules’s real name is Tom Jackson? Why did he want you to leave
+without giving notice?’
+
+‘I’m sure I don’t know, Miss Racksole. I swear I don’t know. He’s my
+husband, and, of course, I do what he tells me, as you will some day do
+what your husband tells you. Please heaven you’ll get a better husband
+than mine!’
+
+Miss Spencer showed a sign of tears.
+
+Nella fingered the revolver, and put it at full cock. ‘Well,’ she
+repeated, ‘why did he want you to leave?’ She was tremendously surprised
+at her own coolness, and somewhat pleased with it, too.
+
+‘I can’t tell you, I can’t tell you.’
+
+‘You’ve just got to,’ Nella said, in a terrible, remorseless tone.
+
+‘He--he wished me to come over here to Ostend. Something had gone wrong.
+
+Oh! he’s a fearful man, is Tom. If I told you, he’d--’
+
+‘Had something gone wrong in the hotel, or over here?’
+
+‘Both.’
+
+‘Was it about Prince Eugen of Posen?’
+
+‘I don’t know--that is, yes, I think so.’
+
+‘What has your husband to do with Prince Eugen?’
+
+‘I believe he has some--some sort of business with him, some money
+business.’
+
+‘And was Mr Dimmock in this business?’
+
+‘I fancy so, Miss Racksole. I’m telling you all I know, that I swear.’
+
+‘Did your husband and Mr Dimmock have a quarrel that night in Room 111?’
+
+‘They had some difficulty.’
+
+‘And the result of that was that you came to Ostend instantly?’
+
+‘Yes; I suppose so.’
+
+‘And what were you to do in Ostend? What were your instructions from
+this husband of yours?’
+
+Miss Spencer’s head dropped on her arms on the table which separated her
+from Nella, and she appeared to sob violently.
+
+‘Have pity on me,’ she murmured, ‘I can’t tell you any more.’
+
+‘Why?’
+
+‘He’d kill me if he knew.’
+
+‘You’re wandering from the subject,’ observed Nella coldly. ‘This is the
+last time I shall warn you. Let me tell you plainly I’ve got the best
+reasons for being desperate, and if anything happens to you I shall say
+I did it in self-defence. Now, what were you to do in Ostend?’
+
+‘I shall die for this anyhow,’ whined Miss Spencer, and then, with a
+sort of fierce despair, ‘I had to keep watch on Prince Eugen.’
+
+‘Where? In this house?’
+
+Miss Spencer nodded, and, looking up, Nella could see the traces of
+tears in her face.
+
+‘Then Prince Eugen was a prisoner? Some one had captured him at the
+instigation of Jules?’
+
+‘Yes, if you must have it.’
+
+‘Why was it necessary for you specially to come to Ostend?’
+
+‘Oh! Tom trusts me. You see, I know Ostend. Before I took that place at
+the Grand Babylon I had travelled over Europe, and Tom knew that I knew
+a thing or two.’
+
+‘Why did you take the place at the Grand Babylon?’
+
+‘Because Tom told me to. He said I should be useful to him there.’
+
+‘Is your husband an Anarchist, or something of that kind, Miss Spencer?’
+
+‘I don’t know. I’d tell you in a minute if I knew. But he’s one of those
+that keep themselves to themselves.’
+
+‘Do you know if he has ever committed a murder?’
+
+‘Never!’ said Miss Spencer, with righteous repudiation of the mere idea.
+
+‘But Mr Dimmock was murdered. He was poisoned. If he had not been
+poisoned why was his body stolen? It must have been stolen to prevent
+inquiry, to hide traces. Tell me about that.’
+
+‘I take my dying oath,’ said Miss Spencer, standing up a little way from
+the table, ‘I take my dying oath I didn’t know Mr Dimmock was dead till
+I saw it in the newspaper.’
+
+‘You swear you had no suspicion of it?’
+
+‘I swear I hadn’t.’
+
+Nella was inclined to believe the statement. The woman and the girl
+looked at each other in the tawdry, frowsy, lamp-lit room. Miss Spencer
+nervously patted her yellow hair into shape, as if gradually recovering
+her composure and equanimity. The whole affair seemed like a dream to
+Nella, a disturbing, sinister nightmare. She was a little uncertain what
+to say. She felt that she had not yet got hold of any very definite
+information. ‘Where is Prince Eugen now?’ she asked at length.
+
+‘I don’t know, miss.’
+
+‘He isn’t in this house?’
+
+‘No, miss.’
+
+‘Ah! We will see presently.’
+
+‘They took him away, Miss Racksole.’
+
+‘Who took him away? Some of your husband’s friends?’
+
+‘Some of his--acquaintances.’
+
+‘Then there is a gang of you?’
+
+‘A gang of us--a gang! I don’t know what you mean,’ Miss Spencer
+quavered.
+
+‘Oh, but you must know,’ smiled Nella calmly. ‘You can’t possibly be so
+innocent as all that, Mrs Tom Jackson. You can’t play games with me.
+You’ve just got to remember that I’m what you call a Yankee girl.
+There’s one thing that I mean to find out, within the next five minutes,
+and that is--how your charming husband kidnapped Prince Eugen, and why
+he kidnapped him. Let us begin with the second question. You have evaded
+it once.’
+
+Miss Spencer looked into Nella’s face, and then her eyes dropped, and
+her fingers worked nervously with the tablecloth.
+
+‘How can I tell you,’ she said, ‘when I don’t know? You’ve got the whip-
+hand of me, and you’re tormenting me for your own pleasure.’ She wore an
+expression of persecuted innocence.
+
+‘Did Mr Tom Jackson want to get some money out of Prince Eugen?’
+
+‘Money! Not he! Tom’s never short of money.’
+
+‘But I mean a lot of money--tens of thousands, hundreds of thousands?’
+
+‘Tom never wanted money from anyone,’ said Miss Spencer doggedly.
+
+‘Then had he some reason for wishing to prevent Prince Eugen from coming
+to London?’
+
+‘Perhaps he had. I don’t know. If you kill me, I don’t know.’ Nella
+stopped to reflect. Then she raised the revolver. It was a mechanical,
+unintentional sort of action, and certainly she had no intention of
+using the weapon, but, strange to say, Miss Spencer again cowered before
+it. Even at that moment Nella wondered that a woman like Miss Spencer
+could be so simple as to think the revolver would actually be used.
+Having absolutely no physical cowardice herself, Nella had the greatest
+difficulty in imagining that other people could be at the mercy of a
+bodily fear. Still, she saw her advantage, and used it relentlessly, and
+with as much theatrical gesture as she could command. She raised the
+revolver till it was level with Miss Spencer’s face, and suddenly a new,
+queer feeling took hold of her. She knew that she would indeed use that
+revolver now, if the miserable woman before her drove her too far. She
+felt afraid--afraid of herself; she was in the grasp of a savage,
+primeval instinct. In a flash she saw Miss Spencer dead at her feet--the
+police--a court of justice--the scaffold. It was horrible.
+
+‘Speak,’ she said hoarsely, and Miss Spencer’s face went whiter.
+
+‘Tom did say,’ the woman whispered rapidly, awesomely, ‘that if Prince
+Eugen got to London it would upset his scheme.’
+
+‘What scheme? What scheme? Answer me.’
+
+‘Heaven help me, I don’t know.’ Miss Spencer sank into a chair. ‘He said
+Mr Dimmock had turned tail, and he should have to settle him and then
+Rocco--’
+
+‘Rocco! What about Rocco?’ Nella could scarcely hear herself. Her grip
+of the revolver tightened.
+
+Miss Spencer’s eyes opened wider; she gazed at Nella with a glassy
+stare.
+
+‘Don’t ask me. It’s death!’ Her eyes were fixed as if in horror.
+
+‘It is,’ said Nella, and the sound of her voice seemed to her to issue
+from the lips of some third person.
+
+‘It’s death,’ repeated Miss Spencer, and gradually her head and
+shoulders sank back, and hung loosely over the chair. Nella was
+conscious of a sudden revulsion. The woman had surely fainted. Dropping
+the revolver she ran round the table. She was herself again--feminine,
+sympathetic, the old Nella. She felt immensely relieved that this had
+happened. But at the same instant Miss Spencer sprang up from the chair
+like a cat, seized the revolver, and with a wild movement of the arm
+flung it against the window. It crashed through the glass, exploding as
+it went, and there was a tense silence.
+
+‘I told you that you were a fool,’ remarked Miss Spencer slowly, ‘coming
+here like a sort of female Jack Sheppard, and trying to get the best of
+me.
+
+We are on equal terms now. You frightened me, but I knew I was a
+cleverer woman than you, and that in the end, if I kept on long enough,
+I should win.
+
+Now it will be my turn.’
+
+Dumbfounded, and overcome with a miserable sense of the truth of Miss
+Spencer’s words, Nella stood still. The idea of her colossal foolishness
+swept through her like a flood. She felt almost ashamed. But even at
+this juncture she had no fear. She faced the woman bravely, her mind
+leaping about in search of some plan. She could think of nothing but a
+bribe--an enormous bribe.
+
+‘I admit you’ve won,’ she said, ‘but I’ve not finished yet. Just
+listen.’
+
+Miss Spencer folded her arms, and glanced at the door, smiling bitterly.
+
+‘You know my father is a millionaire; perhaps you know that he is one of
+the richest men in the world. If I give you my word of honour not to
+reveal anything that you’ve told me, what will you take to let me go
+free?’
+
+‘What sum do you suggest?’ asked Miss Spencer carelessly.
+
+‘Twenty thousand pounds,’ said Nella promptly. She had begun to regard
+the affair as a business operation.
+
+Miss Spencer’s lip curled.
+
+‘A hundred thousand.’
+
+Again Miss Spencer’s lip curled.
+
+‘Well, say a million. I can rely on my father, and so may you.’
+
+‘You think you are worth a million to him?’
+
+‘I do,’ said Nella.
+
+‘And you think we could trust you to see that it was paid?’
+
+‘Of course you could.’
+
+‘And we should not suffer afterwards in any way?’
+
+‘I would give you my word, and my father’s word.’
+
+‘Bah!’ exclaimed Miss Spencer: ‘how do you know I wouldn’t let you go
+free for nothing? You are only a rash, silly girl.’
+
+‘I know you wouldn’t. I can read your face too well.’
+
+‘You are right,’ Miss Spencer replied slowly. ‘I wouldn’t. I wouldn’t
+let you go for all the dollars in America.’
+
+Nella felt cold down the spine, and sat down again in her chair. A
+draught of air from the broken window blew on her cheek. Steps sounded
+in the passage; the door opened, but Nella did not turn round. She could
+not move her eyes from Miss Spencer’s. There was a noise of rushing
+water in her ears. She lost consciousness, and slipped limply to the
+ground.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+Chapter Ten AT SEA
+
+IT seemed to Nella that she was being rocked gently in a vast cradle,
+which swayed to and fro with a motion at once slow and incredibly
+gentle. This sensation continued for some time, and there was added to
+it the sound of a quick, quiet, muffled beat. Soft, exhilarating breezes
+wafted her forward in spite of herself, and yet she remained in a
+delicious calm. She wondered if her mother was kneeling by her side,
+whispering some lullaby in her childish ears. Then strange colours swam
+before her eyes, her eyelids wavered, and at last she awoke. For a few
+moments her gaze travelled to and fro in a vain search for some clue to
+her surroundings, was aware of nothing except sense of repose and a
+feeling of relief that some mighty and fatal struggle was over; she
+cared not whether she had conquered or suffered defeat in the struggle
+of her soul with some other soul; it was finished, done with, and the
+consciousness of its conclusion satisfied and contented her. Gradually
+her brain, recovering from its obsession, began to grasp the phenomena
+of her surroundings, and she saw that she was on a yacht, and that the
+yacht was moving. The motion of the cradle was the smooth rolling of the
+vessel; the beat was the beat of its screw; the strange colours were the
+cloud tints thrown by the sun as it rose over a distant and receding
+shore in the wake of the yacht; her mother’s lullaby was the crooned
+song of the man at the wheel. Nella all through her life had had many
+experiences of yachting. From the waters of the River Hudson to those
+bluer tides of the Mediterranean Sea, she had yachted in all seasons and
+all weathers. She loved the water, and now it seemed deliciously right
+and proper that she should be on the water again. She raised her head to
+look round, and then let it sink back: she was fatigued, enervated; she
+desired only solitude and calm; she had no care, no anxiety, no
+responsibility: a hundred years might have passed since her meeting with
+Miss Spencer, and the memory of that meeting appeared to have faded into
+the remotest background of her mind.
+
+It was a small yacht, and her practised eye at once told that it
+belonged to the highest aristocracy of pleasure craft. As she reclined
+in the deck-chair (it did not occur to her at that moment to speculate
+as to the identity of the person who had led her therein) she examined
+all visible details of the vessel. The deck was as white and smooth as
+her own hand, and the seams ran along its length like blue veins. All
+the brass-work, from the band round the slender funnel to the concave
+surface of the binnacle, shone like gold.
+
+The tapered masts stretched upwards at a rakish angle, and the rigging
+seemed like spun silk. No sails were set; the yacht was under steam, and
+doing about seven or eight knots. She judged that it was a boat of a
+hundred tons or so, probably Clyde-built, and not more than two or three
+years old.
+
+No one was to be seen on deck except the man at the wheel: this man wore
+a blue jersey; but there was neither name nor initial on the jersey, nor
+was there a name on the white life-buoys lashed to the main rigging, nor
+on the polished dinghy which hung on the starboard davits. She called to
+the man, and called again, in a feeble voice, but the steerer took no
+notice of her, and continued his quiet song as though nothing else
+existed in the universe save the yacht, the sea, the sun, and himself.
+
+Then her eyes swept the outline of the land from which they were
+hastening, and she could just distinguish a lighthouse and a great white
+irregular dome, which she recognized as the Kursaal at Ostend, that
+gorgeous rival of the gaming palace at Monte Carlo. So she was leaving
+Ostend. The rays of the sun fell on her caressingly, like a restorative.
+All around the water was changing from wonderful greys and dark blues to
+still more wonderful pinks and translucent unearthly greens; the magic
+kaleidoscope of dawn was going forward in its accustomed way, regardless
+of the vicissitudes of mortals.
+
+Here and there in the distance she descried a sail--the brown sail of
+some Ostend fishing-boat returning home after a night’s trawling. Then
+the beat of paddles caught her ear, and a steamer blundered past,
+wallowing clumsily among the waves like a tortoise. It was the Swallow
+from London. She could see some of its passengers leaning curiously over
+the aft-rail. A girl in a mackintosh signalled to her, and mechanically
+she answered the salute with her arm. The officer of the bridge of the
+Swallow hailed the yacht, but the man at the wheel offered no reply. In
+another minute the Swallow was nothing but a blot in the distance.
+
+Nella tried to sit straight in the deck-chair, but she found herself
+unable to do so. Throwing off the rug which covered her, she discovered
+that she had been tied to the chair by means of a piece of broad
+webbing. Instantly she was alert, awake, angry; she knew that her perils
+were not over; she felt that possibly they had scarcely yet begun. Her
+lazy contentment, her dreamy sense of peace and repose, vanished
+utterly, and she steeled herself to meet the dangers of a grave and
+difficult situation.
+
+Just at that moment a man came up from below. He was a man of forty or
+so, clad in irreproachable blue, with a peaked yachting cap. He raised
+the cap politely.
+
+‘Good morning,’ he said. ‘Beautiful sunrise, isn’t it?’ The clever and
+calculated insolence of his tone cut her like a lash as she lay bound in
+the chair. Like all people who have lived easy and joyous lives in those
+fair regions where gold smoothes every crease and law keeps a tight hand
+on disorder, she found it hard to realize that there were other regions
+where gold was useless and law without power. Twenty-four hours ago she
+would have declared it impossible that such an experience as she had
+suffered could happen to anyone; she would have talked airily about
+civilization and the nineteenth century, and progress and the police.
+But her experience was teaching her that human nature remains always the
+same, and that beneath the thin crust of security on which we good
+citizens exist the dark and secret forces of crime continue to move,
+just as they did in the days when you couldn’t go from Cheapside to
+Chelsea without being set upon by thieves. Her experience was in a fair
+way to teach her this lesson better than she could have learnt it even
+in the bureaux of the detective police of Paris, London, and St
+Petersburg.
+
+‘Good morning,’ the man repeated, and she glanced at him with a sullen,
+angry gaze.
+
+‘You!’ she exclaimed, ‘You, Mr Thomas Jackson, if that is your name!
+Loose me from this chair, and I will talk to you.’ Her eyes flashed as
+she spoke, and the contempt in them added mightily to her beauty. Mr
+Thomas Jackson, otherwise Jules, erstwhile head waiter at the Grand
+Babylon, considered himself a connoisseur in feminine loveliness, and
+the vision of Nella Racksole smote him like an exquisite blow.
+
+‘With pleasure,’ he replied. ‘I had forgotten that to prevent you from
+falling I had secured you to the chair’; and with a quick movement he
+unfastened the band. Nella stood up, quivering with fiery annoyance and
+scorn.
+
+‘Now,’ she said, fronting him, ‘what is the meaning of this?’
+
+‘You fainted,’ he replied imperturbably. ‘Perhaps you don’t remember.’
+
+The man offered her a deck-chair with a characteristic gesture. Nella
+was obliged to acknowledge, in spite of herself, that the fellow had
+distinction, an air of breeding. No one would have guessed that for
+twenty years he had been an hotel waiter. His long, lithe figure, and
+easy, careless carriage seemed to be the figure and carriage of an
+aristocrat, and his voice was quiet, restrained, and authoritative.
+
+‘That has nothing to do with my being carried off in this yacht of
+yours.’
+
+‘It is not my yacht,’ he said, ‘but that is a minor detail. As to the
+more important matter, forgive me that I remind you that only a few
+hours ago you were threatening a lady in my house with a revolver.’
+
+‘Then it was your house?’
+
+‘Why not? May I not possess a house?’ He smiled.
+
+‘I must request you to put the yacht about at once, instantly, and take
+me back.’ She tried to speak firmly.
+
+‘Ah!’ he said, ‘I am afraid that’s impossible. I didn’t put out to sea
+with the intention of returning at once, instantly.’ In the last words
+he gave a faint imitation of her tone.
+
+‘When I do get back,’ she said, ‘when my father gets to know of this
+affair, it will be an exceedingly bad day for you, Mr Jackson.’
+
+‘But supposing your father doesn’t hear of it--’
+
+‘What?’
+
+‘Supposing you never get back?’
+
+‘Do you mean, then, to have my murder on your conscience?’
+
+‘Talking of murder,’ he said, ‘you came very near to murdering my
+friend, Miss Spencer. At least, so she tells me.’
+
+‘Is Miss Spencer on board?’ Nella asked, seeing perhaps a faint ray of
+hope in the possible presence of a woman.
+
+‘Miss Spencer is not on board. There is no one on board except you and
+myself and a small crew--a very discreet crew, I may add.’
+
+‘I will have nothing more to say to you. You must take your own course.’
+
+‘Thanks for the permission,’ he said. ‘I will send you up some
+breakfast.’
+
+He went to the saloon stairs and whistled, and a Negro boy appeared with
+a tray of chocolate. Nella took it, and, without the slightest
+hesitation, threw it overboard. Mr Jackson walked away a few steps and
+then returned.
+
+‘You have spirit,’ he said, ‘and I admire spirit. It is a rare quality.’
+
+She made no reply. ‘Why did you mix yourself up in my affairs at all?’
+he went on. Again she made no reply, but the question set her thinking:
+why had she mixed herself up in this mysterious business? It was quite
+at variance with the usual methods of her gay and butterfly existence to
+meddle at all with serious things. Had she acted merely from a desire to
+see justice done and wickedness punished? Or was it the desire of
+adventure? Or was it, perhaps, the desire to be of service to His Serene
+Highness Prince Aribert? ‘It is no fault of mine that you are in this
+fix,’ Jules continued. ‘I didn’t bring you into it. You brought yourself
+into it. You and your father--you have been moving along at a pace which
+is rather too rapid.’
+
+‘That remains to be seen,’ she put in coldly.
+
+‘It does,’ he admitted. ‘And I repeat that I can’t help admiring you--
+that is, when you aren’t interfering with my private affairs. That is a
+proceeding which I have never tolerated from anyone--not even from a
+millionaire, nor even from a beautiful woman.’ He bowed. ‘I will tell
+you what I propose to do. I propose to escort you to a place of safety,
+and to keep you there till my operations are concluded, and the
+possibility of interference entirely removed. You spoke just now of
+murder. What a crude notion that was of yours! It is only the amateur
+who practises murder--’
+
+‘What about Reginald Dimmock?’ she interjected quickly.
+
+He paused gravely.
+
+‘Reginald Dimmock,’ he repeated. ‘I had imagined his was a case of heart
+disease. Let me send you up some more chocolate. I’m sure you’re
+hungry.’
+
+‘I will starve before I touch your food,’ she said.
+
+‘Gallant creature!’ he murmured, and his eyes roved over her face. Her
+superb, supercilious beauty overcame him. ‘Ah!’ he said, ‘what a wife
+you would make!’ He approached nearer to her. ‘You and I, Miss Racksole,
+your beauty and wealth and my brains--we could conquer the world. Few
+men are worthy of you, but I am one of the few. Listen! You might do
+worse. Marry me. I am a great man; I shall be greater. I adore you.
+Marry me, and I will save your life. All shall be well. I will begin
+again. The past shall be as though there had been no past.’
+
+‘This is somewhat sudden--Jules,’ she said with biting contempt.
+
+‘Did you expect me to be conventional?’ he retorted. ‘I love you.’
+
+‘Granted,’ she said, for the sake of the argument. ‘Then what will occur
+to your present wife?’
+
+‘My present wife?’
+
+‘Yes, Miss Spencer, as she is called.’
+
+‘She told you I was her husband?’
+
+‘Incidentally she did.’
+
+‘She isn’t.’
+
+‘Perhaps she isn’t. But, nevertheless, I think I won’t marry you.’ Nella
+stood like a statue of scorn before him.
+
+He went still nearer to her. ‘Give me a kiss, then; one kiss--I won’t
+ask for more; one kiss from those lips, and you shall go free. Men have
+ruined themselves for a kiss. I will.’
+
+‘Coward!’ she ejaculated.
+
+‘Coward!’ he repeated. ‘Coward, am I? Then I’ll be a coward, and you
+shall kiss me whether you will or not.’
+
+He put a hand on her shoulder. As she shrank back from his lustrous
+eyes, with an involuntary scream, a figure sprang out of the dinghy a
+few feet away. With a single blow, neatly directed to Mr Jackson’s ear,
+Mr Jackson was stretched senseless on the deck. Prince Aribert of Posen
+stood over him with a revolver. It was probably the greatest surprise of
+Mr Jackson’s whole life.
+
+‘Don’t be alarmed,’ said the Prince to Nella, ‘my being here is the
+simplest thing in the world, and I will explain it as soon as I have
+finished with this fellow.’
+
+Nella could think of nothing to say, but she noticed the revolver in the
+Prince’s hand.
+
+‘Why,’ she remarked, ‘that’s my revolver.’
+
+‘It is,’ he said, ‘and I will explain that, too.’
+
+The man at the wheel gave no heed whatever to the scene.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+Chapter Eleven THE COURT PAWNBROKER
+
+‘MR SAMPSON LEVI wishes to see you, sir.’
+
+These words, spoken by a servant to Theodore Racksole, aroused the
+millionaire from a reverie which had been the reverse of pleasant. The
+fact was, and it is necessary to insist on it, that Mr Racksole, owner
+of the Grand Babylon Hôtel, was by no means in a state of self-
+satisfaction. A mystery had attached itself to his hotel, and with all
+his acumen and knowledge of things in general he was unable to solve
+that mystery. He laughed at the fruitless efforts of the police, but he
+could not honestly say that his own efforts had been less barren. The
+public was talking, for, after all, the disappearance of poor Dimmock’s
+body had got noised abroad in an indirect sort of way, and Theodore
+Racksole did not like the idea of his impeccable hotel being the subject
+of sinister rumours. He wondered, grimly, what the public and the Sunday
+newspapers would say if they were aware of all the other phenomena, not
+yet common property: of Miss Spencer’s disappearance, of Jules’ strange
+visits, and of the non-arrival of Prince Eugen of Posen. Theodore
+Racksole had worried his brain without result. He had conducted an
+elaborate private investigation without result, and he had spent a
+certain amount of money without result. The police said that they had a
+clue; but Racksole remarked that it was always the business of the
+police to have a clue, that they seldom had more than a clue, and that a
+clue without some sequel to it was a pretty stupid business. The only
+sure thing in the whole affair was that a cloud rested over his hotel,
+his beautiful new toy, the finest of its kind. The cloud was not
+interfering with business, but, nevertheless, it was a cloud, and he
+fiercely resented its presence; perhaps it would be more correct to say
+that he fiercely resented his inability to dissipate it.
+
+‘Mr Sampson Levi wishes to see you, sir,’ the servant repeated, having
+received no sign that his master had heard him.
+
+‘So I hear,’ said Racksole. ‘Does he want to see me, personally?’
+
+‘He asked for you, sir.’
+
+‘Perhaps it is Rocco he wants to see, about a menu or something of that
+kind?’
+
+‘I will inquire, sir,’ and the servant made a move to withdraw.
+
+‘Stop,’ Racksole commanded suddenly. ‘Desire Mr Sampson Levi to step
+this way.’
+
+The great stockbroker of the ‘Kaffir Circus’ entered with a simple
+unassuming air. He was a rather short, florid man, dressed like a
+typical Hebraic financier, with too much watch-chain and too little
+waistcoat. In his fat hand he held a gold-headed cane, and an absolutely
+new silk hat--for it was Friday, and Mr Levi purchased a new hat every
+Friday of his life, holiday times only excepted. He breathed heavily and
+sniffed through his nose a good deal, as though he had just performed
+some Herculean physical labour. He glanced at the American millionaire
+with an expression in which a slight embarrassment might have been
+detected, but at the same time his round, red face disclosed a certain
+frank admiration and good nature.
+
+‘Mr Racksole, I believe--Mr Theodore Racksole. Proud to meet you, sir.’
+
+Such were the first words of Mr Sampson Levi. In form they were the
+greeting of a third-rate chimney-sweep, but, strangely enough, Theodore
+Racksole liked their tone. He said to himself that here, precisely where
+no one would have expected to find one, was an honest man.
+
+‘Good day,’ said Racksole briefly. ‘To what do I owe the pleasure--’
+
+‘I expect your time is limited,’ answered Sampson Levi. ‘Anyhow, mine
+is, and so I’ll come straight to the point, Mr Racksole. I’m a plain
+man. I don’t pretend to be a gentleman or any nonsense of that kind. I’m
+a stockbroker, that’s what I am, and I don’t care who knows it. The
+other night I had a ball in this hotel. It cost me a couple of thousand
+and odd pounds, and, by the way, I wrote out a cheque for your bill this
+morning. I don’t like balls, but they’re useful to me, and my little
+wife likes ‘em, and so we give ‘em. Now, I’ve nothing to say against the
+hotel management as regards that ball: it was very decently done, very
+decently, but what I want to know is this--Why did you have a private
+detective among my guests?’
+
+‘A private detective?’ exclaimed Racksole, somewhat surprised at this
+charge.
+
+‘Yes,’ Mr Sampson Levi said firmly, fanning himself in his chair, and
+gazing at Theodore Racksole with the direct earnest expression of a man
+having a grievance. ‘Yes; a private detective. It’s a small matter, I
+know, and I dare say you think you’ve got a right, as proprietor of the
+show, to do what you like in that line; but I’ve just called to tell you
+that I object. I’ve called as a matter of principle. I’m not angry; it’s
+the principle of the thing.’
+
+‘My dear Mr Levi,’ said Racksole, ‘I assure you that, having let the
+Gold Room to a private individual for a private entertainment, I should
+never dream of doing what you suggest.’
+
+‘Straight?’ asked Mr Sampson Levi, using his own picturesque language.
+
+‘Straight,’ said Racksole smiling.
+
+‘There was a gent present at my ball that I didn’t ask. I’ve got a
+wonderful memory for faces, and I know. Several fellows asked me
+afterwards what he was doing there. I was told by someone that he was
+one of your waiters, but I didn’t believe that. I know nothing of the
+Grand Babylon; it’s not quite my style of tavern, but I don’t think
+you’d send one of your own waiters to watch my guests--unless, of
+course, you sent him as a waiter; and this chap didn’t do any waiting,
+though he did his share of drinking.’
+
+‘Perhaps I can throw some light on this mystery,’ said Racksole. ‘I may
+tell you that I was already aware that man had attended your ball
+uninvited.’
+
+‘How did you get to know?’
+
+‘By pure chance, Mr Levi, and not by inquiry. That man was a former
+waiter at this hotel--the head waiter, in fact--Jules. No doubt you have
+heard of him.’
+
+‘Not I,’ said Mr Levi positively.
+
+‘Ah!’ said Racksole, ‘I was informed that everyone knew Jules, but it
+appears not. Well, be that as it may, previously to the night of your
+ball, I had dismissed Jules. I had ordered him never to enter the
+Babylon again.
+
+But on that evening I encountered him here--not in the Gold Room, but in
+the hotel itself. I asked him to explain his presence, and he stated he
+was your guest. That is all I know of the matter, Mr Levi, and I am
+extremely sorry that you should have thought me capable of the enormity
+of placing a private detective among your guests.’
+
+‘This is perfectly satisfactory to me,’ Mr Sampson Levi said, after a
+pause.
+
+‘I only wanted an explanation, and I’ve got it. I was told by some pals
+of mine in the City I might rely on Mr Theodore Racksole going straight
+to the point, and I’m glad they were right. Now as to that feller Jules,
+I shall make my own inquiries as to him. Might I ask you why you
+dismissed him?’
+
+‘I don’t know why I dismissed him.’
+
+‘You don’t know? Oh! come now! I’m only asking because I thought you
+might be able to give me a hint why he turned up uninvited at my ball.
+Sorry if I’m too inquisitive.’
+
+‘Not at all, Mr Levi; but I really don’t know. I only sort of felt that
+he was a suspicious character. I dismissed him on instinct, as it were.
+See?’
+
+Without answering this question Mr Levi asked another. ‘If this Jules is
+such a well-known person,’ he said, ‘how could the feller hope to come
+to my ball without being recognized?’
+
+‘Give it up,’ said Racksole promptly.
+
+‘Well, I’ll be moving on,’ was Mr Sampson Levi’s next remark. ‘Good day,
+and thank ye. I suppose you aren’t doing anything in Kaffirs?’
+
+Mr Racksole smiled a negative.
+
+‘I thought not,’ said Levi. ‘Well, I never touch American rails myself,
+and so I reckon we sha’n’t come across each other. Good day.’
+
+‘Good day,’ said Racksole politely, following Mr Sampson Levi to the
+door.
+
+With his hand on the handle of the door, Mr Levi stopped, and, gazing at
+Theodore Racksole with a shrewd, quizzical expression, remarked:
+
+‘Strange things been going on here lately, eh?’
+
+The two men looked very hard at each other for several seconds.
+
+‘Yes,’ Racksole assented. ‘Know anything about them?’
+
+‘Well--no, not exactly,’ said Mr Levi. ‘But I had a fancy you and I
+might be useful to each other; I had a kind of fancy to that effect.’
+
+‘Come back and sit down again, Mr Levi,’ Racksole said, attracted by the
+evident straightforwardness of the man’s tone. ‘Now, how can we be of
+service to each other? I flatter myself I’m something of a judge of
+character, especially financial character, and I tell you--if you’ll put
+your cards on the table, I’ll do ditto with mine.’
+
+‘Agreed,’ said Mr Sampson Levi. ‘I’ll begin by explaining my interest in
+your hotel. I have been expecting to receive a summons from a certain
+Prince Eugen of Posen to attend him here, and that summons hasn’t
+arrived. It appears that Prince Eugen hasn’t come to London at all. Now,
+I could have taken my dying davy that he would have been here yesterday
+at the latest.’
+
+‘Why were you so sure?’
+
+‘Question for question,’ said Levi. ‘Let’s clear the ground first, Mr
+Racksole. Why did you buy this hotel? That’s a conundrum that’s been
+puzzling a lot of our fellows in the City for some days past. Why did
+you buy the Grand Babylon? And what is the next move to be?’
+
+‘There is no next move,’ answered Racksole candidly, ‘and I will tell
+you why I bought the hotel; there need be no secret about it. I bought
+it because of a whim.’ And then Theodore Racksole gave this little Jew,
+whom he had begun to respect, a faithful account of the transaction with
+Mr Felix Babylon. ‘I suppose,’ he added, ‘you find a difficulty in
+appreciating my state of mind when I did the deal.’
+
+‘Not a bit,’ said Mr Levi. ‘I once bought an electric launch on the
+Thames in a very similar way, and it turned out to be one of the most
+satisfactory purchases I ever made. Then it’s a simple accident that you
+own this hotel at the present moment?’
+
+‘A simple accident--all because of a beefsteak and a bottle of Bass.’
+
+‘Um!’ grunted Mr Sampson Levi, stroking his triple chin.
+
+‘To return to Prince Eugen,’ Racksole resumed. ‘I was expecting His
+Highness here. The State apartments had been prepared for him. He was
+due on the very afternoon that young Dimmock died. But he never came,
+and I have not heard why he has failed to arrive; nor have I seen his
+name in the papers. What his business was in London, I don’t know.’
+
+‘I will tell you,’ said Mr Sampson Levi, ‘he was coming to arrange a
+loan.’
+
+‘A State loan?’
+
+‘No--a private loan.’
+
+‘Whom from?’
+
+‘From me, Sampson Levi. You look surprised. If you’d lived in London a
+little longer, you’d know that I was just the person the Prince would
+come to. Perhaps you aren’t aware that down Throgmorton Street way I’m
+called “The Court Pawnbroker”, because I arrange loans for the minor,
+second-class Princes of Europe. I’m a stockbroker, but my real business
+is financing some of the little Courts of Europe. Now, I may tell you
+that the Hereditary Prince of Posen particularly wanted a million, and
+he wanted it by a certain date, and he knew that if the affair wasn’t
+fixed up by a certain time here he wouldn’t be able to get it by that
+certain date. That’s why I’m surprised he isn’t in London.’
+
+‘What did he need a million for?’
+
+‘Debts,’ answered Sampson Levi laconically.
+
+‘His own?’
+
+‘Certainly.’
+
+‘But he isn’t thirty years of age?’
+
+‘What of that? He isn’t the only European Prince who has run up a
+million of debts in a dozen years. To a Prince the thing is as easy as
+eating a sandwich.’
+
+‘And why has he taken this sudden resolution to liquidate them?’
+
+‘Because the Emperor and the lady’s parents won’t let him marry till he
+has done so! And quite right, too! He’s got to show a clean sheet, or
+the Princess Anna of Eckstein-Schwartzburg will never be Princess of
+Posen. Even now the Emperor has no idea how much Prince Eugen’s debts
+amount to. If he had--!’
+
+‘But would not the Emperor know of this proposed loan?’
+
+‘Not necessarily at once. It could be so managed. Twig?’ Mr Sampson Levi
+laughed. ‘I’ve carried these little affairs through before. After
+marriage it might be allowed to leak out. And you know the Princess
+Anna’s fortune is pretty big! Now, Mr Racksole,’ he added, abruptly
+changing his tone, ‘where do you suppose Prince Eugen has disappeared
+to? Because if he doesn’t turn up to-day he can’t have that million. To-
+day is the last day. To-morrow the money will be appropriated,
+elsewhere. Of course, I’m not alone in this business, and my friends
+have something to say.’
+
+‘You ask me where I think Prince Eugen has disappeared to?’
+
+‘I do.’
+
+‘Then you think it’s a disappearance?’
+
+Sampson Levi nodded. ‘Putting two and two together,’ he said, ‘I do. The
+Dimmock business is very peculiar--very peculiar, indeed. Dimmock was a
+left-handed relation of the Posen family. Twig? Scarcely anyone knows
+that.
+
+He was made secretary and companion to Prince Aribert, just to keep him
+in the domestic circle. His mother was an Irishwoman, whose misfortune
+was that she was too beautiful. Twig?’ (Mr Sampson Levi always used this
+extraordinary word when he was in a communicative mood.) ‘My belief is
+that Dimmock’s death has something to do with the disappearance of
+Prince Eugen.
+
+The only thing that passes me is this: Why should anyone want to make
+Prince Eugen disappear? The poor little Prince hasn’t an enemy in the
+world. If he’s been “copped”, as they say, why has he been “copped”? It
+won’t do anyone any good.’
+
+‘Won’t it?’ repeated Racksole, with a sudden flash.
+
+‘What do you mean?’ asked Mr Levi.
+
+‘I mean this: Suppose some other European pauper Prince was anxious to
+marry Princess Anna and her fortune, wouldn’t that Prince have an
+interest in stopping this loan of yours to Prince Eugen? Wouldn’t he
+have an interest in causing Prince Eugen to disappear--at any rate, for
+a time?’
+
+Sampson Levi thought hard for a few moments.
+
+‘Mr Theodore Racksole,’ he said at length, ‘I do believe you have hit on
+something.’
+
+
+
+
+
+
+Chapter Twelve ROCCO AND ROOM NO. 111
+
+ON the afternoon of the same day--the interview just described had
+occurred in the morning--Racksole was visited by another idea, and he
+said to himself that he ought to have thought of it before. The
+conversation with Mr Sampson Levi had continued for a considerable time,
+and the two men had exchanged various notions, and agreed to meet again,
+but the theory that Reginald Dimmock had probably been a traitor to his
+family--a traitor whose repentance had caused his death--had not been
+thoroughly discussed; the talk had tended rather to Continental
+politics, with a view to discovering what princely family might have an
+interest in the temporary disappearance of Prince Eugen. Now, as
+Racksole considered in detail the particular affair of Reginald Dimmock,
+deceased, he was struck by one point especially, to wit: Why had Dimmock
+and Jules manoeuvred to turn Nella Racksole out of Room No. 111 on that
+first night? That they had so manoeuvred, that the broken window-pane
+was not a mere accident, Racksole felt perfectly sure. He had felt
+perfectly sure all along; but the significance of the facts had not
+struck him. It was plain to him now that there must be something of
+extraordinary and peculiar importance about Room No. 111. After lunch he
+wandered quietly upstairs and looked at Room No. 111; that is to say, he
+looked at the outside of it; it happened to be occupied, but the guest
+was leaving that evening. The thought crossed his mind that there could
+be no object in gazing blankly at the outside of a room; yet he gazed;
+then he wandered quickly down again to the next floor, and in passing
+along the corridor of that floor he stopped, and with an involuntary
+gesture stamped his foot.
+
+‘Great Scott!’ he said, ‘I’ve got hold of something--No. 111 is exactly
+over the State apartments.’
+
+He went to the bureau, and issued instructions that No. 111 was not to
+be re-let to anyone until further orders. At the bureau they gave him
+Nella’s note, which ran thus:
+
+Dearest Papa,--I am going away for a day or two on the trail of a clue.
+
+If I’m not back in three days, begin to inquire for me at Ostend. Till
+then leave me alone.--Your sagacious daughter, NELL.
+
+These few words, in Nella’s large scrawling hand, filled one side of the
+paper. At the bottom was a P.T.O. He turned over, and read the sentence,
+underlined, ‘P.S.--Keep an eye on Rocco.’
+
+‘I wonder what the little creature is up to?’ he murmured, as he tore
+the letter into small fragments, and threw them into the waste-paper
+basket.
+
+Then, without any delay, he took the lift down to the basement, with the
+object of making a preliminary inspection of Rocco in his lair. He could
+scarcely bring himself to believe that this suave and stately gentleman,
+this enthusiast of gastronomy, was concerned in the machinations of
+Jules and other rascals unknown. Nevertheless, from habit, he obeyed his
+daughter, giving her credit for a certain amount of perspicuity and
+cleverness.
+
+The kitchens of the Grand Babylon Hôtel are one of the wonders of
+Europe.
+
+Only three years before the events now under narration Felix Babylon had
+had them newly installed with every device and patent that the ingenuity
+of two continents could supply. They covered nearly an acre of
+superficial space.
+
+They were walled and floored from end to end with tiles and marble,
+which enabled them to be washed down every morning like the deck of a
+man-of-war.
+
+Visitors were sometimes taken to see the potato-paring machine, the
+patent plate-dryer, the Babylon-spit (a contrivance of Felix Babylon’s
+own), the silver-grill, the system of connected stock-pots, and other
+amazing phenomena of the department. Sometimes, if they were fortunate,
+they might also see the artist who sculptured ice into forms of men and
+beasts for table ornaments, or the first napkin-folder in London, or the
+man who daily invented fresh designs for pastry and blancmanges. Twelve
+chefs pursued their labours in those kitchens, helped by ninety
+assistant chefs, and a further army of unconsidered menials. Over all
+these was Rocco, supreme and unapproachable. Half-way along the suite of
+kitchens, Rocco had an apartment of his own, wherein he thought out
+those magnificent combinations, those marvellous feats of succulence and
+originality, which had given him his fame. Visitors never caught a
+glimpse of Rocco in the kitchens, though sometimes, on a special night,
+he would stroll nonchalantly through the dining-room, like the great man
+he was, to receive the compliments of the hotel habitués--people of
+insight who recognized his uniqueness.
+
+Theodore Racksole’s sudden and unusual appearance in the kitchen caused
+a little stir. He nodded to some of the chefs, but said nothing to
+anyone, merely wandering about amid the maze of copper utensils, and
+white-capped workers. At length he saw Rocco, surrounded by several
+admiring chefs. Rocco was bending over a freshly-roasted partridge which
+lay on a blue dish. He plunged a long fork into the back of the bird,
+and raised it in the air with his left hand. In his right he held a long
+glittering carving-knife. He was giving one of his world-famous
+exhibitions of carving. In four swift, unerring, delicate, perfect
+strokes he cleanly severed the limbs of the partridge. It was a
+wonderful achievement--how wondrous none but the really skilful carver
+can properly appreciate. The chefs emitted a hum of applause, and Rocco,
+long, lean, and graceful, retired to his own apartment. Racksole
+followed him. Rocco sat in a chair, one hand over his eyes; he had not
+noticed Theodore Racksole.
+
+‘What are you doing, M. Rocco?’ the millionaire asked smiling. ‘Ah!’
+exclaimed Rocco, starting up with an apology. ‘Pardon! I was inventing a
+new mayonnaise, which I shall need for a certain menu next week.’
+
+‘Do you invent these things without materials, then?’ questioned
+Racksole.
+
+‘Certainly. I do dem in my mind. I tink dem. Why should I want
+materials? I know all flavours. I tink, and tink, and tink, and it is
+done. I write down.
+
+I give the recipe to my best chef--dere you are. I need not even taste,
+I know how it will taste. It is like composing music. De great composers
+do not compose at de piano.’
+
+‘I see,’ said Racksole.
+
+‘It is because I work like dat dat you pay me three thousand a year,’
+Rocco added gravely.
+
+‘Heard about Jules?’ said Racksole abruptly.
+
+‘Jules?’
+
+‘Yes. He’s been arrested in Ostend,’ the millionaire continued, lying
+cleverly at a venture. ‘They say that he and several others are
+implicated in a murder case--the murder of Reginald Dimmock.’
+
+‘Truly?’ drawled Rocco, scarcely hiding a yawn. His indifference was so
+superb, so gorgeous, that Racksole instantly divined that it was assumed
+for the occasion.
+
+‘It seems that, after all, the police are good for something. But this
+is the first time I ever knew them to be worth their salt. There is to
+be a thorough and systematic search of the hotel to-morrow,’ Racksole
+went on. ‘I have mentioned it to you to warn you that so far as you are
+concerned the search is of course merely a matter of form. You will not
+object to the detectives looking through your rooms?’
+
+‘Certainly not,’ and Rocco shrugged his shoulders.
+
+‘I shall ask you to say nothing about this to anyone,’ said Racksole.
+‘The news of Jules’ arrest is quite private to myself. The papers know
+nothing of it. You comprehend?’
+
+Rocco smiled in his grand manner, and Rocco’s master thereupon went
+away.
+
+Racksole was very well satisfied with the little conversation. It was
+perhaps dangerous to tell a series of mere lies to a clever fellow like
+Rocco, and Racksole wondered how he should ultimately explain them to
+this great master-chef if his and Nella’s suspicions should be
+unfounded, and nothing came of them. Nevertheless, Rocco’s manner, a
+strange elusive something in the man’s eyes, had nearly convinced
+Racksole that he was somehow implicated in Jules’ schemes--and probably
+in the death of Reginald Dimmock and the disappearance of Prince Eugen
+of Posen.
+
+That night, or rather about half-past one the next morning, when the
+last noises of the hotel’s life had died down, Racksole made his way to
+Room 111 on the second floor. He locked the door on the inside, and
+proceeded to examine the place, square foot by square foot. Every now
+and then some creak or other sound startled him, and he listened
+intently for a few seconds. The bedroom was furnished in the ordinary
+splendid style of bedrooms at the Grand Babylon Hôtel, and in that
+respect called for no remark. What most interested Racksole was the
+flooring. He pulled up the thick Oriental carpet, and peered along every
+plank, but could discover nothing unusual.
+
+Then he went to the dressing-room, and finally to the bathroom, both of
+which opened out of the main room. But in neither of these smaller
+chambers was he any more successful than in the bedroom itself. Finally
+he came to the bath, which was enclosed in a panelled casing of polished
+wood, after the manner of baths. Some baths have a cupboard beneath the
+taps, with a door at the side, but this one appeared to have none. He
+tapped the panels, but not a single one of them gave forth that ‘curious
+hollow sound’ which usually betokens a secret place. Idly he turned the
+cold-tap of the bath, and the water began to rush in. He turned off the
+cold-tap and turned on the waste-tap, and as he did so his knee, which
+was pressing against the panelling, slipped forward. The panelling had
+given way, and he saw that one large panel was hinged from the inside,
+and caught with a hasp, also on the inside. A large space within the
+casing of the end of the bath was thus revealed. Before doing anything
+else, Racksole tried to repeat the trick with the waste-tap, but he
+failed; it would not work again, nor could he in any way perceive that
+there was any connection between the rod of the waste-tap and the hasp
+of the panel. Racksole could not see into the cavity within the casing,
+and the electric light was fixed, and could not be moved about like a
+candle. He felt in his pockets, and fortunately discovered a box of
+matches. Aided by these, he looked into the cavity, and saw nothing;
+nothing except a rather large hole at the far end--some three feet from
+the casing. With some difficulty he squeezed himself through the open
+panel, and took a half-kneeling, half-sitting posture within. There he
+struck a match, and it was a most unfortunate thing that in striking,
+the box being half open, he set fire to all the matches, and was half
+smothered in the atrocious stink of phosphorus which resulted. One match
+burned clear on the floor of the cavity, and, rubbing his eyes, Racksole
+picked it up, and looked down the hole which he had previously descried.
+It was a hole apparently bottomless, and about eighteen inches square.
+The curious part about the hole was that a rope-ladder hung down it.
+When he saw that rope-ladder Racksole smiled the smile of a happy man.
+
+The match went out.
+
+Should he make a long journey, perhaps to some distant corner of the
+hotel, for a fresh box of matches, or should he attempt to descend that
+rope-ladder in the dark? He decided on the latter course, and he was the
+more strongly moved thereto as he could now distinguish a faint, a very
+faint tinge of light at the bottom of the hole.
+
+With infinite care he compressed himself into the well-like hole, and
+descended the latter. At length he arrived on firm ground, perspiring,
+but quite safe and quite excited. He saw now that the tinge of light
+came through a small hole in the wood. He put his eye to the wood, and
+found that he had a fine view of the State bathroom, and through the
+door of the State bathroom into the State bedroom. At the massive
+marble-topped washstand in the State bedroom a man was visible, bending
+over some object which lay thereon.
+
+The man was Rocco!
+
+
+
+
+
+
+Chapter Thirteen IN THE STATE BEDROOM
+
+IT was of course plain to Racksole that the peculiar passageway which he
+had, at great personal inconvenience, discovered between the bathroom of
+No. 111 and the State bathroom on the floor below must have been
+specially designed by some person or persons for the purpose of keeping
+a nefarious watch upon the occupants of the State suite of apartments.
+It was a means of communication at once simple and ingenious. At that
+moment he could not be sure of the precise method employed for it, but
+he surmised that the casing of the waterpipes had been used as a ‘well’,
+while space for the pipes themselves had been found in the thickness of
+the ample brick walls of the Grand Babylon. The eye-hole, through which
+he now had a view of the bedroom, was a very minute one, and probably
+would scarcely be noticed from the exterior. One thing he observed
+concerning it, namely, that it had been made for a man somewhat taller
+than himself; he was obliged to stand on tiptoe in order to get his eye
+in the correct position. He remembered that both Jules and Rocco were
+distinctly above the average height; also that they were both thin men,
+and could have descended the well with comparative ease. Theodore
+Racksole, though not stout, was a well-set man with large bones.
+
+These things flashed through his mind as he gazed, spellbound, at the
+mysterious movements of Rocco. The door between the bathroom and the
+bedroom was wide open, and his own situation was such that his view
+embraced a considerable portion of the bedroom, including the whole of
+the immense and gorgeously-upholstered bedstead, but not including the
+whole of the marble washstand. He could see only half of the washstand,
+and at intervals Rocco passed out of sight as his lithe hands moved over
+the object which lay on the marble. At first Theodore Racksole could not
+decide what this object was, but after a time, as his eyes grew
+accustomed to the position and the light, he made it out.
+
+It was the body of a man. Or, rather, to be more exact, Racksole could
+discern the legs of a man on that half of the table which was visible to
+him. Involuntarily he shuddered, as the conviction forced itself upon
+him that Rocco had some unconscious human being helpless on that cold
+marble surface. The legs never moved. Therefore, the hapless creature
+was either asleep or under the influence of an anaesthetic--or (horrible
+thought!) dead.
+
+Racksole wanted to call out, to stop by some means or other the dreadful
+midnight activity which was proceeding before his astonished eyes; but
+fortunately he restrained himself.
+
+On the washstand he could see certain strangely-shaped utensils and
+instruments which Rocco used from time to time. The work seemed to
+Racksole to continue for interminable hours, and then at last Rocco
+ceased, gave a sign of satisfaction, whistled several bars from
+‘Cavalleria Rusticana’, and came into the bath-room, where he took off
+his coat, and very quietly washed his hands. As he stood calmly and
+leisurely wiping those long fingers of his, he was less than four feet
+from Racksole, and the cooped-up millionaire trembled, holding his
+breath, lest Rocco should detect his presence behind the woodwork. But
+nothing happened, and Rocco returned unsuspectingly to the bedroom.
+Racksole saw him place some sort of white flannel garment over the prone
+form on the table, and then lift it bodily on to the great bed, where it
+lay awfully still. The hidden watcher was sure now that it was a corpse
+upon which Rocco had been exercising his mysterious and sinister
+functions.
+
+But whose corpse? And what functions? Could this be a West End hotel,
+Racksole’s own hotel, in the very heart of London, the best-policed city
+in the world? It seemed incredible, impossible; yet so it was. Once more
+he remembered what Felix Babylon had said to him and realized the truth
+of the saying anew. The proprietor of a vast and complicated
+establishment like the Grand Babylon could never know a tithe of the
+extraordinary and queer occurrences which happened daily under his very
+nose; the atmosphere of such a caravanserai must necessarily be an
+atmosphere of mystery and problems apparently inexplicable.
+Nevertheless, Racksole thought that Fate was carrying things with rather
+a high hand when she permitted his chef to spend the night hours over a
+man’s corpse in his State bedroom, this sacred apartment which was
+supposed to be occupied only by individuals of Royal Blood. Racksole
+would not have objected to a certain amount of mystery, but he decidedly
+thought that there was a little too much mystery here for his taste. He
+thought that even Felix Babylon would have been surprised at this.
+
+The electric chandelier in the centre of the ceiling was not lighted;
+only the two lights on either side of the washstand were switched on,
+and these did not sufficiently illuminate the features of the man on the
+bed to enable Racksole to see them clearly. In vain the millionaire
+strained his eyes; he could only make out that the corpse was probably
+that of a young man. Just as he was wondering what would be the best
+course of action to pursue, he saw Rocco with a square-shaped black box
+in his hand. Then the chef switched off the two electric lights, and the
+State bedroom was in darkness. In that swift darkness Racksole heard
+Rocco spring on to the bed. Another half-dozen moments of suspense, and
+there was a blinding flash of white, which endured for several seconds,
+and showed Rocco standing like an evil spirit over the corpse, the black
+box in one hand and a burning piece of aluminium wire in the other. The
+aluminium wire burnt out, and darkness followed blacker than before.
+
+Rocco had photographed the corpse by flashlight.
+
+But the dazzling flare which had disclosed the features of the dead man
+to the insensible lens of the camera had disclosed them also to Theodore
+Racksole. The dead man was Reginald Dimmock!
+
+Stung into action by this discovery, Racksole tried to find the exit
+from his place of concealment. He felt sure that there existed some way
+out into the State bathroom, but he sought for it fruitlessly, groping
+with both hands and feet. Then he decided that he must ascend the rope-
+ladder, make haste for the first-floor corridor, and intercept Rocco
+when he left the State apartments. It was a painful and difficult
+business to ascend that thin and yielding ladder in such a confined
+space, but Racksole was managing it very nicely, and had nearly reached
+the top, when, by some untoward freak of chance, the ladder broke above
+his weight, and he slipped ignominiously down to the bottom of the
+wooden tube. Smothering an excusable curse, Racksole crouched, baffled.
+Then he saw that the force of his fall had somehow opened a trap-door at
+his feet. He squeezed through, pushed open another tiny door, and in
+another second stood in the State bathroom. He was dishevelled,
+perspiring, rather bewildered; but he was there. In the next second he
+had resumed absolute command of all his faculties.
+
+Strange to say, he had moved so quietly that Rocco had apparently not
+heard him. He stepped noiselessly to the door between the bathroom and
+the bedroom, and stood there in silence. Rocco had switched on again the
+lights over the washstand and was busy with his utensils.
+
+Racksole deliberately coughed.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+Chapter Fourteen ROCCO ANSWERS SOME QUESTIONS
+
+ROCCO turned round with the swiftness of a startled tiger, and gave
+Theodore Racksole one long piercing glance.
+
+‘D--n!’ said Rocco, with as pure an Anglo-Saxon accent and intonation as
+Racksole himself could have accomplished.
+
+The most extraordinary thing about the situation was that at this
+juncture Theodore Racksole did not know what to say. He was so
+dumbfounded by the affair, and especially by Rocco’s absolute and
+sublime calm, that both speech and thought failed him.
+
+‘I give in,’ said Rocco. ‘From the moment you entered this cursed hotel
+I was afraid of you. I told Jules I was afraid of you. I knew there
+would be trouble with a man of your kidney, and I was right; confound
+it! I tell you I give in. I know when I’m beaten. I’ve got no revolver
+and no weapons of any kind. I surrender. Do what you like.’
+
+And with that Rocco sat down on a chair. It was magnificently done. Only
+a truly great man could have done it. Rocco actually kept his dignity.
+
+For answer, Racksole walked slowly into the vast apartment, seized a
+chair, and, dragging it up to Rocco’s chair, sat down opposite to him.
+Thus they faced each other, their knees almost touching, both in evening
+dress. On Rocco’s right hand was the bed, with the corpse of Reginald
+Dimmock. On Racksole’s right hand, and a little behind him, was the
+marble washstand, still littered with Rocco’s implements. The electric
+light shone on Rocco’s left cheek, leaving the other side of his face in
+shadow. Racksole tapped him on the knee twice.
+
+‘So you’re another Englishman masquerading as a foreigner in my hotel,’
+
+Racksole remarked, by way of commencing the interrogation.
+
+‘I’m not,’ answered Rocco quietly. ‘I’m a citizen of the United States.’
+
+‘The deuce you are!’ Racksole exclaimed.
+
+‘Yes, I was born at West Orange, New Jersey, New York State. I call
+myself an Italian because it was in Italy that I first made a name as a
+chef--at Rome. It is better for a great chef like me to be a foreigner.
+Imagine a great chef named Elihu P. Rucker. You can’t imagine it. I
+changed my nationality for the same reason that my friend and colleague,
+Jules, otherwise Mr Jackson, changed his.’
+
+‘So Jules is your friend and colleague, is he?’
+
+‘He was, but from this moment he is no longer. I began to disapprove of
+his methods no less than a week ago, and my disapproval will now take
+active form.’
+
+‘Will it?’ said Racksole. ‘I calculate it just won’t, Mr Elihu P.
+Rucker, citizen of the United States. Before you are very much older
+you’ll be in the kind hands of the police, and your activities, in no
+matter what direction, will come to an abrupt conclusion.’
+
+‘It is possible,’ sighed Rocco.
+
+‘In the meantime, I’ll ask you one or two questions for my own private
+satisfaction. You’ve acknowledged that the game is up, and you may as
+well answer them with as much candour as you feel yourself capable of.
+See?’
+
+‘I see,’ replied Rocco calmly, ‘but I guess I can’t answer all
+questions.
+
+I’ll do what I can.’
+
+‘Well,’ said Racksole, clearing his throat, ‘what’s the scheme all
+about? Tell me in a word.’
+
+‘Not in a thousand words. It isn’t my secret, you know.’
+
+‘Why was poor little Dimmock poisoned?’ The millionaire’s voice softened
+as he looked for an instant at the corpse of the unfortunate young man.
+
+‘I don’t know,’ said Rocco. ‘I don’t mind informing you that I objected
+to that part of the business. I wasn’t made aware of it till after it
+was done, and then I tell you it got my dander up considerable.’
+
+‘You mean to say you don’t know why Dimmock was done to death?’
+
+‘I mean to say I couldn’t see the sense of it. Of course he--er--died,
+because he sort of cried off the scheme, having previously taken a share
+of it. I don’t mind saying that much, because you probably guessed it
+for yourself. But I solemnly state that I have a conscientious objection
+to murder.’
+
+‘Then it was murder?’
+
+‘It was a kind of murder,’ Rocco admitted. ‘Who did it?’
+
+‘Unfair question,’ said Rocco.
+
+‘Who else is in this precious scheme besides Jules and yourself?’
+
+‘Don’t know, on my honour.’
+
+‘Well, then, tell me this. What have you been doing to Dimmock’s body?’
+
+‘How long were you in that bathroom?’ Rocco parried with sublime
+impudence.
+
+‘Don’t question me, Mr Rucker,’ said Theodore Racksole. ‘I feel very
+much inclined to break your back across my knee. Therefore I advise you
+not to irritate me. What have you been doing to Dimmock’s body?’
+
+‘I’ve been embalming it.’
+
+‘Em--balming it.’
+
+‘Certainly; Richardson’s system of arterial fluid injection, as improved
+by myself. You weren’t aware that I included the art of embalming among
+my accomplishments. Nevertheless, it is so.’
+
+‘But why?’ asked Racksole, more mystified than ever. ‘Why should you
+trouble to embalm the poor chap’s corpse?’
+
+‘Can’t you see? Doesn’t it strike you? That corpse has to be taken care
+of.
+
+It contains, or rather, it did contain, very serious evidence against
+some person or persons unknown to the police. It may be necessary to
+move it about from place to place. A corpse can’t be hidden for long; a
+corpse betrays itself. One couldn’t throw it in the Thames, for it would
+have been found inside twelve hours. One couldn’t bury it--it wasn’t
+safe. The only thing was to keep it handy and movable, ready for
+emergencies. I needn’t inform you that, without embalming, you can’t
+keep a corpse handy and movable for more than four or five days. It’s
+the kind of thing that won’t keep. And so it was suggested that I should
+embalm it, and I did. Mind you, I still objected to the murder, but I
+couldn’t go back on a colleague, you understand. You do understand that,
+don’t you? Well, here you are, and here it is, and that’s all.’
+
+Rocco leaned back in his chair as though he had said everything that
+ought to be said. He closed his eyes to indicate that so far as he was
+concerned the conversation was also closed. Theodore Racksole stood up.
+
+‘I hope,’ said Rocco, suddenly opening his eyes, ‘I hope you’ll call in
+the police without any delay. It’s getting late, and I don’t like going
+without my night’s rest.’
+
+‘Where do you suppose you’ll get a night’s rest?’ Racksole asked.
+
+‘In the cells, of course. Haven’t I told you I know when I’m beaten. I’m
+not so blind as not to be able to see that there’s at any rate a prima
+facie case against me. I expect I shall get off with a year or two’s
+imprisonment as accessory after the fact--I think that’s what they call
+it. Anyhow, I shall be in a position to prove that I am not implicated
+in the murder of this unfortunate nincompoop.’ He pointed, with a
+strange, scornful gesture of his elbow, to the bed. ‘And now, shall we
+go? Everyone is asleep, but there will be a policeman within call of the
+watchman in the portico. I am at your service. Let us go down together,
+Mr Racksole. I give you my word to go quietly.’
+
+‘Stay a moment,’ said Theodore Racksole curtly; ‘there is no hurry. It
+won’t do you any harm to forego another hour’s sleep, especially as you
+will have no work to do to-morrow. I have one or two more questions to
+put to you.’
+
+‘Well?’ Rocco murmured, with an air of tired resignation, as if to say,
+‘What must be must be.’
+
+‘Where has Dimmock’s corpse been during the last three or four days,
+since he--died?’
+
+‘Oh!’ answered Rocco, apparently surprised at the simplicity of the
+question. ‘It’s been in my room, and one night it was on the roof; once
+it went out of the hotel as luggage, but it came back the next day as a
+case of Demerara sugar. I forget where else it has been, but it’s been
+kept perfectly safe and treated with every consideration.’
+
+‘And who contrived all these manoeuvres?’ asked Racksole as calmly as he
+could.
+
+‘I did. That is to say, I invented them and I saw that they were carried
+out. You see, the suspicions of your police obliged me to be
+particularly spry.’
+
+‘And who carried them out?’
+
+‘Ah! that would be telling tales. But I don’t mind assuring you that my
+accomplices were innocent accomplices. It is absurdly easy for a man
+like me to impose on underlings--absurdly easy.’
+
+‘What did you intend to do with the corpse ultimately?’ Racksole pursued
+his inquiry with immovable countenance.
+
+‘Who knows?’ said Rocco, twisting his beautiful moustache. ‘That would
+have depended on several things--on your police, for instance. But
+probably in the end we should have restored this mortal clay’--again he
+jerked his elbow--‘to the man’s sorrowing relatives.’
+
+‘Do you know who the relatives are?’
+
+‘Certainly. Don’t you? If you don’t I need only hint that Dimmock had a
+Prince for his father.’
+
+‘It seems to me,’ said Racksole, with cold sarcasm, ‘that you behaved
+rather clumsily in choosing this bedroom as the scene of your
+operations.’
+
+‘Not at all,’ said Rocco. ‘There was no other apartment so suitable in
+the whole hotel. Who would have guessed that anything was going on here?
+It was the very place for me.’
+
+‘I guessed,’ said Racksole succinctly.
+
+‘Yes, you guessed, Mr Racksole. But I had not counted on you. You are
+the only smart man in the business. You are an American citizen, and I
+hadn’t reckoned to have to deal with that class of person.’
+
+‘Apparently I frightened you this afternoon?’
+
+‘Not in the least.’
+
+‘You were not afraid of a search?’
+
+‘I knew that no search was intended. I knew that you were trying to
+frighten me. You must really credit me with a little sagacity and
+insight, Mr Racksole. Immediately you began to talk to me in the kitchen
+this afternoon I felt you were on the track. But I was not frightened. I
+merely decided that there was no time to be lost--that I must act
+quickly. I did act quickly, but, it seems, not quickly enough. I grant
+that your rapidity exceeded mine. Let us go downstairs, I beg.’
+
+Rocco rose and moved towards the door. With an instinctive action
+Racksole rushed forward and seized him by the shoulder.
+
+‘No tricks!’ said Racksole. ‘You’re in my custody and don’t forget it.’
+
+Rocco turned on his employer a look of gentle, dignified scorn. ‘Have I
+not informed you,’ he said, ‘that I have the intention of going
+quietly?’
+
+Racksole felt almost ashamed for the moment. It flashed across him that
+a man can be great, even in crime.
+
+‘What an ineffable fool you were,’ said Racksole, stopping him at the
+threshold, ‘with your talents, your unique talents, to get yourself
+mixed up in an affair of this kind. You are ruined. And, by Jove! you
+were a great man in your own line.’
+
+‘Mr Racksole,’ said Rocco very quickly, ‘that is the truest word you
+have spoken this night. I was a great man in my own line. And I am an
+ineffable fool. Alas!’ He brought his long arms to his sides with a
+thud.
+
+‘Why did you do it?’
+
+‘I was fascinated--fascinated by Jules. He, too, is a great man. We had
+great opportunities, here in the Grand Babylon. It was a great game. It
+was worth the candle. The prizes were enormous. You would admit these
+things if you knew the facts. Perhaps some day you will know them, for
+you are a fairly clever person at getting to the root of a matter. Yes,
+I was blinded, hypnotized.’
+
+‘And now you are ruined.’
+
+‘Not ruined, not ruined. Afterwards, in a few years, I shall come up
+again.
+
+A man of genius like me is never ruined till he is dead. Genius is
+always forgiven. I shall be forgiven. Suppose I am sent to prison. When
+I emerge I shall be no gaol-bird. I shall be Rocco--the great Rocco. And
+half the hotels in Europe will invite me to join them.’
+
+‘Let me tell you, as man to man, that you have achieved your own
+degradation. There is no excuse.’
+
+‘I know it,’ said Rocco. ‘Let us go.’
+
+Racksole was distinctly and notably impressed by this man--by this
+master spirit to whom he was to have paid a salary at the rate of three
+thousand pounds a year. He even felt sorry for him. And so, side by
+side, the captor and the captured, they passed into the vast deserted
+corridor of the hotel.
+
+Rocco stopped at the grating of the first lift.
+
+‘It will be locked,’ said Racksole. ‘We must use the stairs to-night.’
+
+‘But I have a key. I always carry one,’ said Rocco, and he pulled one
+out of his pocket, and, unfastening the iron screen, pushed it open.
+Racksole smiled at his readiness and aplomb.
+
+‘After you,’ said Rocco, bowing in his finest manner, and Racksole
+stepped into the lift.
+
+With the swiftness of lighting Rocco pushed forward the iron screen,
+which locked itself automatically. Theodore Racksole was hopelessly a
+prisoner within the lift, while Rocco stood free in the corridor.
+
+‘Good-bye, Mr Racksole,’ he remarked suavely, bowing again, lower than
+before. ‘Good-bye: I hate to take a mean advantage of you in this
+fashion, but really you must allow that you have been very simple. You
+are a clever man, as I have already said, up to a certain point. It is
+past that point that my own cleverness comes in. Again, good-bye. After
+all, I shall have no rest to-night, but perhaps even that will be better
+that sleeping in a police cell. If you make a great noise you may wake
+someone and ultimately get released from this lift. But I advise you to
+compose yourself, and wait till morning. It will be more dignified. For
+the third time, good-bye.’
+
+And with that Rocco, without hastening, walked down the corridor and so
+out of sight.
+
+Racksole said never a word. He was too disgusted with himself to speak.
+He clenched his fists, and put his teeth together, and held his breath.
+In the silence he could hear the dwindling sound of Rocco’s footsteps on
+the thick carpet.
+
+It was the greatest blow of Racksole’s life.
+
+The next morning the high-born guests of the Grand Babylon were aroused
+by a rumour that by some accident the millionaire proprietor of the
+hotel had remained all night locked up in the lift. It was also stated
+that Rocco had quarrelled with his new master and incontinently left the
+place. A duchess said that Rocco’s departure would mean the ruin of the
+hotel, whereupon her husband advised her not to talk nonsense.
+
+As for Racksole, he sent a message for the detective in charge of the
+Dimmock affair, and bravely told him the happenings of the previous
+night.
+
+The narration was a decided ordeal to a man of Racksole’s temperament.
+
+‘A strange story!’ commented Detective Marshall, and he could not avoid
+a smile. ‘The climax was unfortunate, but you have certainly got some
+valuable facts.’
+
+Racksole said nothing.
+
+‘I myself have a clue,’ added the detective. ‘When your message arrived
+I was just coming up to see you. I want you to accompany me to a certain
+spot not far from here. Will you come, now, at once?’
+
+‘With pleasure,’ said Racksole.
+
+At that moment a page entered with a telegram. Racksole opened it read:
+
+‘Please come instantly. Nella. Hôtel Wellington, Ostend.’
+
+He looked at his watch.
+
+‘I can’t come,’ he said to the detective. I’m going to Ostend.’
+
+‘To Ostend?’
+
+‘Yes, now.’
+
+‘But really, Mr Racksole,’ protested the detective. ‘My business is
+urgent.’
+
+‘So’s mine,’ said Racksole.
+
+In ten minutes he was on his way to Victoria Station.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+Chapter Fifteen END OF THE YACHT ADVENTURE
+
+WE must now return to Nella Racksole and Prince Aribert of Posen on
+board the yacht without a name. The Prince’s first business was to make
+Jules, otherwise Mr Tom Jackson, perfectly secure by means of several
+pieces of rope. Although Mr Jackson had been stunned into a complete
+unconsciousness, and there was a contused wound under his ear, no one
+could say how soon he might not come to himself and get very violent. So
+the Prince, having tied his arms and legs, made him fast to a stanchion.
+
+‘I hope he won’t die,’ said Nella. ‘He looks very white.’
+
+‘The Mr Jacksons of this world,’ said Prince Aribert sententiously,
+‘never die till they are hung. By the way, I wonder how it is that no
+one has interfered with us. Perhaps they are discreetly afraid of my
+revolver--of your revolver, I mean.’
+
+Both he and Nella glanced up at the imperturbable steersman, who kept
+the yacht’s head straight out to sea. By this time they were about a
+couple of miles from the Belgian shore.
+
+Addressing him in French, the Prince ordered the sailor to put the yacht
+about, and make again for Ostend Harbour, but the fellow took no notice
+whatever of the summons. The Prince raised the revolver, with the idea
+of frightening the steersman, and then the man began to talk rapidly in
+a mixture of French and Flemish. He said that he had received Jules’
+strict orders not to interfere in any way, no matter what might happen
+on the deck of the yacht. He was the captain of the yacht, and he had to
+make for a certain English port, the name of which he could not divulge:
+he was to keep the vessel at full steam ahead under any and all
+circumstances. He seemed to be a very big, a very strong, and a very
+determined man, and the Prince was at a loss what course of action to
+pursue. He asked several more questions, but the only effect of them was
+to render the man taciturn and ill-humoured.
+
+In vain Prince Aribert explained that Miss Nella Racksole, daughter of
+millionaire Racksole, had been abducted by Mr Tom Jackson; in vain he
+flourished the revolver threateningly; the surly but courageous captain
+said merely that that had nothing to do with him; he had instructions,
+and he should carry them out. He sarcastically begged to remind his
+interlocutor that he was the captain of the yacht.
+
+‘It won’t do to shoot him, I suppose,’ said the Prince to Nella. ‘I
+might bore a hole into his leg, or something of that kind.’
+
+‘It’s rather risky, and rather hard on the poor captain, with his
+extraordinary sense of duty,’ said Nella. ‘And, besides, the whole crew
+might turn on us. No, we must think of something else.’
+
+‘I wonder where the crew is,’ said the Prince.
+
+Just then Mr Jackson, prone and bound on the deck, showed signs of
+recovering from his swoon. His eyes opened, and he gazed vacantly
+around. At length he caught sight of the Prince, who approached him with
+the revolver well in view.
+
+‘It’s you, is it?’ he murmured faintly. ‘What are you doing on board?
+Who’s tied me up like this?’
+
+‘See here!’ replied the Prince, ‘I don’t want to have any arguments, but
+this yacht must return to Ostend at once, where you will be given up to
+the authorities.’
+
+‘Really!’ snarled Mr Tom Jackson. ‘Shall I!’ Then he called out in
+French to the man at the wheel, ‘Hi André! let these two be put off in
+the dinghy.’
+
+It was a peculiar situation. Certain of nothing but the possession of
+Nella’s revolver, the Prince scarcely knew whether to carry the argument
+further, and with stronger measures, or to accept the situation with as
+much dignity as the circumstances would permit.
+
+‘Let us take the dinghy,’ said Nella; ‘we can row ashore in an hour.’
+
+He felt that she was right. To leave the yacht in such a manner seemed
+somewhat ignominious, and it certainly involved the escape of that
+profound villain, Mr Thomas Jackson. But what else could be done? The
+Prince and Nella constituted one party on the vessel; they knew their
+own strength, but they did not know the strength of their opponents.
+They held the hostile ringleader bound and captive, but this man had
+proved himself capable of giving orders, and even to gag him would not
+help them if the captain of the yacht persisted in his obstinate course.
+Moreover, there was a distinct objection to promiscuous shooting. The
+Prince felt that there was no knowing how promiscuous shooting might
+end.
+
+‘We will take the dinghy,’ said the Prince quickly, to the captain.
+
+A bell rang below, and a sailor and the Negro boy appeared on deck. The
+pulsations of the screw grew less rapid. The yacht stopped. The dinghy
+was lowered. As the Prince and Nella prepared to descend into the little
+cock-boat Mr Tom Jackson addressed Nella, all bound as he lay.
+
+‘Good-bye,’ he said, ‘I shall see you again, never fear.’.
+
+In another moment they were in the dinghy, and the dinghy was adrift.
+The yacht’s screw churned the water, and the beautiful vessel slipped
+away from them. As it receded a figure appeared at the stem. It was Mr
+Thomas Jackson.
+
+He had been released by his minions. He held a white handkerchief to his
+ear, and offered a calm, enigmatic smile to the two forlorn but
+victorious occupants of the dinghy. Jules had been defeated for once in
+his life; or perhaps it would be more just to say that he had been out-
+manoeuvred. Men like Jules are incapable of being defeated. It was
+characteristic of his luck that now, in the very hour when he had been
+caught red-handed in a serious crime against society, he should be
+effecting a leisurely escape--an escape which left no clue behind.
+
+The sea was utterly calm and blue in the morning sun. The dinghy rocked
+itself lazily in the swell of the yacht’s departure. As the mist cleared
+away the outline of the shore became more distinct, and it appeared as
+if Ostend was distant scarcely a cable’s length. The white dome of the
+great Kursaal glittered in the pale turquoise sky, and the smoke of
+steamers in the harbour could be plainly distinguished. On the offing
+was a crowd of brown-sailed fishing luggers returning with the night’s
+catch. The many-hued bathing-vans could be counted on the distant beach.
+Everything seemed perfectly normal. It was difficult for either Nella or
+her companion to realize that anything extraordinary had happened within
+the last hour. Yet there was the yacht, not a mile off, to prove to them
+that something very extraordinary had, in fact, happened. The yacht was
+no vision, nor was that sinister watching figure at its stern a vision,
+either.
+
+‘I suppose Jules was too surprised and too feeble to inquire how I came
+to be on board his yacht,’ said the Prince, taking the oars.
+
+‘Oh! How did you?’ asked Nella, her face lighting up. ‘Really, I had
+almost forgotten that part of the affair.’
+
+‘I must begin at the beginning and it will take some time,’ answered the
+Prince. ‘Had we not better postpone the recital till we get ashore?’
+
+‘I will row and you shall talk,’ said Nella. ‘I want to know now.’
+
+He smiled happily at her, but gently declined to yield up the oars.
+
+‘Is it not sufficient that I am here?’ he said.
+
+‘It is sufficient, yes,’ she replied, ‘but I want to know.’
+
+With a long, easy stroke he was pulling the dinghy shorewards. She sat
+in the stern-sheets.
+
+‘There is no rudder,’ he remarked, ‘so you must direct me. Keep the
+boat’s head on the lighthouse. The tide seems to be running in strongly;
+that will help us. The people on shore will think that we have only been
+for a little early morning excursion.’
+
+‘Will you kindly tell me how it came about that you were able to save my
+life, Prince?’ she said.
+
+‘Save your life, Miss Racksole? I didn’t save your life; I merely
+knocked a man down.’
+
+‘You saved my life,’ she repeated. ‘That villain would have stopped at
+nothing. I saw it in his eye.’
+
+‘Then you were a brave woman, for you showed no fear of death.’ His
+admiring gaze rested full on her. For a moment the oars ceased to move.
+
+She gave a gesture of impatience.
+
+‘It happened that I saw you last night in your carriage,’ he said. ‘The
+fact is, I had not had the audacity to go to Berlin with my story. I
+stopped in Ostend to see whether I could do a little detective work on
+my own account.
+
+It was a piece of good luck that I saw you. I followed the carriage as
+quickly as I could, and I just caught a glimpse of you as you entered
+that awful house. I knew that Jules had something to do with that house.
+I guessed what you were doing. I was afraid for you. Fortunately I had
+surveyed the house pretty thoroughly. There is an entrance to it at the
+back, from a narrow lane. I made my way there. I got into the yard at
+the back, and I stood under the window of the room where you had the
+interview with Miss Spencer. I heard everything that was said. It was a
+courageous enterprise on your part to follow Miss Spencer from the Grand
+Babylon to Ostend. Well, I dared not force an entrance, lest I might
+precipitate matters too suddenly, and involve both of us in a
+difficulty. I merely kept watch. Ah, Miss Racksole! you were magnificent
+with Miss Spencer; as I say, I could hear every word, for the window was
+slightly open. I felt that you needed no assistance from me. And then
+she cheated you with a trick, and the revolver came flying through the
+window. I picked it up, I thought it would probably be useful. There was
+a silence. I did not guess at first that you had fainted. I thought that
+you had escaped. When I found out the truth it was too late for me to
+intervene. There were two men, both desperate, besides Miss Spencer--’
+
+‘Who was the other man?’ asked Nella.
+
+‘I do not know. It was dark. They drove away with you to the harbour.
+Again I followed. I saw them carry you on board. Before the yacht
+weighed anchor I managed to climb unobserved into the dinghy. I lay down
+full length in it, and no one suspected that I was there. I think you
+know the rest.’
+
+‘Was the yacht all ready for sea?’
+
+‘The yacht was all ready for sea. The captain fellow was on the bridge,
+and steam was up.’
+
+‘Then they expected me! How could that be?’
+
+‘They expected some one. I do not think they expected you.’
+
+‘Did the second man go on board?’
+
+‘He helped to carry you along the gangway, but he came back again to the
+carriage. He was the driver.’
+
+‘And no one else saw the business?’
+
+‘The quay was deserted. You see, the last steamer had arrived for the
+night.’
+
+There was a brief silence, and then Nella ejaculated, under her breath.
+
+‘Truly, it is a wonderful world!’
+
+And it was a wonderful world for them, though scarcely perhaps, in the
+sense which Nella Racksole had intended. They had just emerged from a
+highly disconcerting experience. Among other minor inconveniences, they
+had had no breakfast. They were out in the sea in a tiny boat. Neither
+of them knew what the day might bring forth. The man, at least, had the
+most serious anxieties for the safety of his Royal nephew. And yet--and
+yet--neither of them wished that that voyage of the little boat on the
+summer tide should come to an end. Each, perhaps unconsciously, had a
+vague desire that it might last for ever, he lazily pulling, she
+directing his course at intervals by a movement of her distractingly
+pretty head. How was this condition of affairs to be explained? Well,
+they were both young; they both had superb health, and all the ardour of
+youth; and--they were together.
+
+The boat was very small indeed; her face was scarcely a yard from his.
+She, in his eyes, surrounded by the glamour of beauty and vast wealth;
+he, in her eyes, surrounded by the glamour of masculine intrepidity and
+the brilliance of a throne.
+
+But all voyages come to an end, either at the shore or at the bottom of
+the sea, and at length the dinghy passed between the stone jetties of
+the harbour. The Prince rowed to the nearest steps, tied up the boat,
+and they landed. It was six o’clock in the morning, and a day of
+gorgeous sunlight had opened. Few people were about at that early hour.
+
+‘And now, what next?’ said the Prince. ‘I must take you to an hotel.’
+
+‘I am in your hands,’ she acquiesced, with a smile which sent the blood
+racing through his veins. He perceived now that she was tired and
+overcome, suffering from a sudden and natural reaction.
+
+At the Hôtel Wellington the Prince told the sleepy door-keeper that they
+had come by the early train from Bruges, and wanted breakfast at once.
+It was absurdly early, but a common English sovereign will work wonders
+in any Belgian hotel, and in a very brief time Nella and the Prince were
+breakfasting on the verandah of the hotel upon chocolate that had been
+specially and hastily brewed for them.
+
+‘I never tasted such excellent chocolate,’ claimed the Prince.
+
+The statement was wildly untrue, for the Hôtel Wellington is not
+celebrated for its chocolate. Nevertheless Nella replied
+enthusiastically, ‘Nor I.’
+
+Then there was a silence, and Nella, feeling possibly that she had been
+too ecstatic, remarked in a very matter-of-fact tone: ‘I must telegraph
+to Papa instantly.’
+
+Thus it was that Theodore Racksole received the telegram which drew him
+away from Detective Marshall.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+Chapter Sixteen THE WOMAN WITH THE RED HAT
+
+‘THERE is one thing, Prince, that we have just got to settle straight
+off,’ said Theodore Racksole.
+
+They were all three seated--Racksole, his daughter, and Prince Aribert--
+round a dinner table in a private room at the Hôtel Wellington. Racksole
+had duly arrived by the afternoon boat, and had been met on the quay by
+the other two. They had dined early, and Racksole had heard the full
+story of the adventures by sea and land of Nella and the Prince. As to
+his own adventure of the previous night he said very little, merely
+explaining, with as little detail as possible, that Dimmock’s body had
+come to light.
+
+‘What is that?’ asked the Prince, in answer to Racksole’s remark.
+
+‘We have got to settle whether we shall tell the police at once all that
+has occurred, or whether we shall proceed on our own responsibility.
+There can be no doubt as to which course we ought to pursue. Every
+consideration of prudence points to the advisability of taking the
+police into our confidence, and leaving the matter entirely in their
+hands.’
+
+‘Oh, Papa!’ Nella burst out in her pouting, impulsive way. ‘You surely
+can’t think of such a thing. Why, the fun has only just begun.’
+
+‘Do you call last night fun?’ questioned Racksole, gazing at her
+solemnly.
+
+‘Yes, I do,’ she said promptly. ‘Now.’
+
+‘Well, I don’t,’ was the millionaire’s laconic response; but perhaps he
+was thinking of his own situation in the lift.
+
+‘Do you not think we might investigate a little further,’ said the
+Prince judiciously, as he cracked a walnut, ‘just a little further--and
+then, if we fail to accomplish anything, there would still be ample
+opportunity to consult the police?’
+
+‘How do you suggest we should begin?’ asked Racksole.
+
+‘Well, there is the house which Miss Racksole so intrepidly entered last
+evening’--he gave her the homage of an admiring glance; ‘you and I, Mr
+Racksole, might examine that abode in detail.’
+
+‘To-night?’
+
+‘Certainly. We might do something.’
+
+‘We might do too much.’
+
+‘For example?’
+
+‘We might shoot someone, or get ourselves mistaken for burglars. If we
+outstepped the law, it would be no excuse for us that we had been acting
+in a good cause.’
+
+‘True,’ said the Prince. ‘Nevertheless--’ He stopped.
+
+‘Nevertheless you have a distaste for bringing the police into the
+business.
+
+You want the hunt all to yourself. You are on fire with the ardour of
+the chase. Is not that it? Accept the advice of an older man, Prince,
+and sleep on this affair. I have little fancy for nocturnal escapades
+two nights together. As for you, Nella, off with you to bed. The Prince
+and I will have a yarn over such fluids as can be obtained in this
+hole.’
+
+‘Papa,’ she said, ‘you are perfectly horrid to-night.’
+
+‘Perhaps I am,’ he said. ‘Decidedly I am very cross with you for coming
+over here all alone. It was monstrous. If I didn’t happen to be the most
+foolish of parents--There! Good-night. It’s nine o’clock. The Prince, I
+am sure, will excuse you.’
+
+If Nella had not really been very tired Prince Aribert might have been
+the witness of a good-natured but stubborn conflict between the
+millionaire and his spirited offspring. As it was, Nella departed with
+surprising docility, and the two men were left alone.
+
+‘Now,’ said Racksole suddenly, changing his tone, ‘I fancy that after
+all I’m your man for a little amateur investigation to-night. And, if I
+must speak the exact truth, I think that to sleep on this affair would
+be about the very worst thing we could do. But I was anxious to keep
+Nella out of harm’s way at any rate till to-morrow. She is a very
+difficult creature to manage, Prince, and I may warn you,’ he laughed
+grimly, ‘that if we do succeed in doing anything to-night we shall catch
+it from her ladyship in the morning. Are you ready to take that risk?’
+
+‘I am,’ the Prince smiled. ‘But Miss Racksole is a young lady of quite
+remarkable nerve.’
+
+‘She is,’ said Racksole drily. ‘I wish sometimes she had less.’
+
+‘I have the highest admiration for Miss Racksole,’ said the Prince, and
+he looked Miss Racksole’s father full in the face.
+
+‘You honour us, Prince,’ Racksole observed. ‘Let us come to business. Am
+I right in assuming that you have a reason for keeping the police out of
+this business, if it can possibly be done?’
+
+‘Yes,’ said the Prince, and his brow clouded. ‘I am very much afraid
+that my poor nephew has involved himself in some scrape that he would
+wish not to be divulged.’
+
+‘Then you do not believe that he is the victim of foul play?’
+
+‘I do not.’
+
+‘And the reason, if I may ask it?’
+
+‘Mr Racksole, we speak in confidence--is it not so? Some years ago my
+foolish nephew had an affair--an affair with a feminine star of the
+Berlin stage. For anything I know, the lady may have been the very
+pattern of her sex, but where a reigning Prince is concerned scandal
+cannot be avoided in such a matter. I had thought that the affair was
+quite at an end, since my nephew’s betrothal to Princess Anna of
+Eckstein-Schwartzburg is shortly to be announced. But yesterday I saw
+the lady to whom I have referred driving on the Digue. The coincidence
+of her presence here with my nephew’s disappearance is too extraordinary
+to be disregarded.’
+
+‘But how does this theory square with the murder of Reginald Dimmock?’
+
+‘It does not square with it. My idea is that the murder of poor Dimmock
+and the disappearance of my nephew are entirely unconnected--unless,
+indeed, this Berlin actress is playing into the hands of the murderers.
+I had not thought of that.’
+
+‘Then what do you propose to do to-night?’
+
+‘I propose to enter the house which Miss Racksole entered last night and
+to find out something definite.’
+
+‘I concur,’ said Racksole. ‘I shall heartily enjoy it. But let me tell
+you, Prince, and pardon me for speaking bluntly, your surmise is
+incorrect. I would wager a hundred thousand dollars that Prince Eugen
+has been kidnapped.’
+
+‘What grounds have you for being so sure?’
+
+‘Ah! said Racksole, ‘that is a long story. Let me begin by asking you
+this.
+
+Are you aware that your nephew, Prince Eugen, owes a million of money?’
+
+‘A million of money!’ cried Prince Aribert astonished. ‘It is
+impossible!’
+
+‘Nevertheless, he does,’ said Racksole calmly. Then he told him all he
+had learnt from Mr Sampson Levi.
+
+‘What have you to say to that?’ Racksole ended. Prince Aribert made no
+reply.
+
+‘What have you to say to that?’ Racksole insisted.
+
+‘Merely that Eugen is ruined, even if he is alive.’
+
+‘Not at all,’ Racksole returned with cheerfulness. ‘Not at all. We shall
+see about that. The special thing that I want to know just now from you
+is this:
+
+Has any previous application ever been made for the hand of the Princess
+Anna?’
+
+‘Yes. Last year. The King of Bosnia sued for it, but his proposal was
+declined.’
+
+‘Why?’
+
+‘Because my nephew was considered to be a more suitable match for her.’
+
+‘Not because the personal character of his Majesty of Bosnia is scarcely
+of the brightest?’
+
+‘No. Unfortunately it is usually impossible to consider questions of
+personal character when a royal match is concerned.’
+
+‘Then, if for any reason the marriage of Princess Anna with your nephew
+was frustrated, the King of Bosnia would have a fair chance in that
+quarter?’
+
+‘He would. The political aspect of things would be perfectly
+satisfactory.’
+
+‘Thanks!’ said Racksole. ‘I will wager another hundred thousand dollars
+that someone in Bosnia--I don’t accuse the King himself--is at the
+bottom of this business. The methods of Balkan politicians have always
+been half-Oriental. Let us go.’
+
+‘Where?’
+
+‘To this precious house of Nella’s adventure.’
+
+‘But surely it is too early?’
+
+‘So it is,’ said Racksole, ‘and we shall want a few things, too. For
+instance, a dark lantern. I think I will go out and forage for a
+lantern.’
+
+‘And a revolver?’ suggested Prince Aribert.
+
+‘Does it mean revolvers?’ The millionaire laughed. ‘It may come to
+that.’ ‘Here you are, then, my friend,’ said Racksole, and he pulled one
+out of his hip pocket. ‘And yours?’
+
+‘I,’ said the Prince, ‘I have your daughter’s.’
+
+‘The deuce you have!’ murmured Racksole to himself.
+
+It was then half past nine. They decided that it would be impolitic to
+begin their operations till after midnight. There were three hours to
+spare.
+
+‘Let us go and see the gambling,’ Racksole suggested. ‘We might
+encounter the Berlin lady.’
+
+The suggestion, in the first instance, was not made seriously, but it
+appeared to both men that they might do worse than spend the intervening
+time in the gorgeous saloon of the Kursaal, where, in the season, as
+much money is won and lost as at Monte Carlo. It was striking ten
+o’clock as they entered the rooms. There was a large company present--a
+company which included some of the most notorious persons in Europe. In
+that multifarious assemblage all were equal. The electric light shone
+coldly and impartially on the just and on the unjust, on the fool and
+the knave, on the European and the Asiatic. As usual, women monopolized
+the best places at the tables.
+
+The scene was familiar enough to Prince Aribert, who had witnessed it
+frequently at Monaco, but Theodore Racksole had never before entered any
+European gaming palace; he had only the haziest idea of the rules of
+play, and he was at once interested. For some time they watched the play
+at the table which happened to be nearest to them. Racksole never moved
+his lips.
+
+With his eyes glued on the table, and ears open for every remark, of the
+players and the croupier, he took his first lesson in roulette. He saw a
+mere youth win fifteen thousand francs, which were stolen in the most
+barefaced manner by a rouged girl scarcely older than the youth; he saw
+two old gamesters stake their coins, and lose, and walk quietly out of
+the place; he saw the bank win fifty thousand francs at a single turn.
+
+‘This is rather good fun,’ he said at length, ‘but the stakes are too
+small to make it really exciting. I’ll try my luck, just for the
+experience. I’m bound to win.’
+
+‘Why?’ asked the Prince.
+
+‘Because I always do, in games of chance,’ Racksole answered with gay
+confidence. ‘It is my fate. Then to-night, you must remember, I shall be
+a beginner, and you know the tyro’s luck.’
+
+In ten minutes the croupier of that table was obliged to suspend
+operations pending the arrival of a further supply of coin.
+
+‘What did I tell you?’ said Racksole, leading the way to another table
+further up the room. A hundred curious glances went after him. One old
+woman, whose gay attire suggested a false youthfulness, begged him in
+French to stake a five-franc piece for her. She offered him the coin. He
+took it, and gave her a hundred-franc note in exchange. She clutched the
+crisp rustling paper, and with hysterical haste scuttled back to her own
+table.
+
+At the second table there was a considerable air of excitement. In the
+forefront of the players was a woman in a low-cut evening dress of black
+silk and a large red picture hat. Her age appeared to be about twenty-
+eight; she had dark eyes, full lips, and a distinctly Jewish nose. She
+was handsome, but her beauty was of that forbidding, sinister order
+which is often called Junoesque. This woman was the centre of
+attraction. People said to each other that she had won a hundred and
+sixty thousand francs that day at the table.
+
+‘You were right,’ Prince Aribert whispered to Theodore Racksole; ‘that
+is the Berlin lady.’
+
+‘The deuce she is! Has she seen you? Will she know you?’
+
+‘She would probably know me, but she hasn’t looked up yet.’
+
+‘Keep behind her, then. I propose to find her a little occupation.’ By
+dint of a carefully-exercised diplomacy, Racksole manoeuvred himself
+into a seat opposite to the lady in the red hat. The fame of his success
+at the other table had followed him, and people regarded him as a
+serious and formidable player. In the first turn the lady put a thousand
+francs on double zero; Racksole put a hundred on number nineteen and a
+thousand on the odd numbers.
+
+Nineteen won. Racksole received four thousand four hundred francs. Nine
+times in succession Racksole backed number nineteen and the odd numbers;
+nine times the lady backed double zero. Nine times Racksole won and the
+lady lost. The other players, perceiving that the affair had resolved
+itself into a duel, stood back for the most part and watched those two.
+Prince Aribert never stirred from his position behind the great red hat.
+The game continued. Racksole lost trifles from time to time, but ninety-
+nine hundredths of the luck was with him. As an English spectator at the
+table remarked, ‘he couldn’t do wrong.’ When midnight struck the lady in
+the red hat was reduced to a thousand francs. Then she fell into a
+winning vein for half an hour, but at one o’clock her resources were
+exhausted. Of the hundred and sixty thousand francs which she was
+reputed to have had early in the evening, Racksole held about ninety
+thousand, and the bank had the rest.
+
+It was a calamity for the Juno of the red hat. She jumped up, stamped
+her foot, and hurried from the room. At a discreet distance Racksole and
+the Prince pursued her.
+
+‘It might be well to ascertain her movements,’ said Racksole.
+
+Outside, in the glare of the great arc lights, and within sound of the
+surf which beats always at the very foot of the Kursaal, the Juno of the
+red hat summoned a fiacre and drove rapidly away. Racksole and the
+Prince took an open carriage and started in pursuit. They had not,
+however, travelled more than half a mile when Prince Aribert stopped the
+carriage, and, bidding Racksole get out, paid the driver and dismissed
+him.
+
+‘I feel sure I know where she is going,’ he explained, ‘and it will be
+better for us to follow on foot.’
+
+‘You mean she is making for the scene of last night’s affair?’ said
+Racksole.
+
+‘Exactly. We shall--what you call, kill two birds with one stone.’
+
+Prince Aribert’s guess was correct. The lady’s carriage stopped in front
+of the house where Nella Racksole and Miss Spencer had had their
+interview on the previous evening, and the lady vanished into the
+building just as the two men appeared at the end of the street. Instead
+of proceeding along that street, the Prince led Racksole to the lane
+which gave on to the backs of the houses, and he counted the houses as
+they went up the lane. In a few minutes they had burglariously climbed
+over a wall, and crept, with infinite caution, up a long, narrow piece
+of ground--half garden, half paved yard, till they crouched under a
+window--a window which was shielded by curtains, but which had been left
+open a little.
+
+‘Listen,’ said the Prince in his lightest whisper, ‘they are talking.’
+
+‘Who?’
+
+‘The Berlin lady and Miss Spencer. I’m sure it’s Miss Spencer’s voice.’
+
+Racksole boldly pushed the french window a little wider open, and put
+his ear to the aperture, through which came a beam of yellow light.
+
+‘Take my place,’ he whispered to the Prince, ‘they’re talking German.
+You’ll understand better.’
+
+Silently they exchanged places under the window, and the Prince listened
+intently.
+
+‘Then you refuse?’ Miss Spencer’s visitor was saying.
+
+There was no answer from Miss Spencer.
+
+‘Not even a thousand francs? I tell you I’ve lost the whole twenty-five
+thousand.’
+
+Again no answer.
+
+‘Then I’ll tell the whole story,’ the lady went on, in an angry rush of
+words. ‘I did what I promised to do. I enticed him here, and you’ve got
+him safe in your vile cellar, poor little man, and you won’t give me a
+paltry thousand francs.’
+
+‘You have already had your price.’ The words were Miss Spencer’s. They
+fell cold and calm on the night air.
+
+‘I want another thousand.’
+
+‘I haven’t it.’
+
+‘Then we’ll see.’
+
+Prince Aribert heard a rustle of flying skirts; then another movement--a
+door banged, and the beam of light through the aperture of the window
+suddenly disappeared. He pushed the window wide open. The room was in
+darkness, and apparently empty.
+
+‘Now for that lantern of yours,’ he said eagerly to Theodore Racksole,
+after he had translated to him the conversation of the two women,
+Racksole produced the dark lantern from the capacious pocket of his dust
+coat, and lighted it. The ray flashed about the ground.
+
+‘What is it?’ exclaimed Prince Aribert with a swift cry, pointing to the
+ground. The lantern threw its light on a perpendicular grating at their
+feet, through which could be discerned a cellar. They both knelt down,
+and peered into the subterranean chamber. On a broken chair a young man
+sat listlessly with closed eyes, his head leaning heavily forward on his
+chest.
+
+In the feeble light of the lantern he had the livid and ghastly
+appearance of a corpse.
+
+‘Who can it be?’ said Racksole.
+
+‘It is Eugen,’ was the Prince’s low answer.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+Chapter Seventeen THE RELEASE OF PRINCE EUGEN
+
+‘EUGEN,’ Prince Aribert called softly. At the sound of his own name the
+young man in the cellar feebly raised his head and stared up at the
+grating which separated him from his two rescuers. But his features
+showed no recognition. He gazed in an aimless, vague, silly manner for a
+few seconds, his eyes blinking under the glare of the lantern, and then
+his head slowly drooped again on to his chest. He was dressed in a dark
+tweed travelling suit, and Racksole observed that one sleeve--the left--
+was torn across the upper part of the cuff, and that there were stains
+of dirt on the left shoulder. A soiled linen collar, which had lost all
+its starch and was half unbuttoned, partially encircled the captive’s
+neck; his brown boots were unlaced; a cap, a handkerchief, a portion of
+a watch-chain, and a few gold coins lay on the floor. Racksole flashed
+the lantern into the corners of the cellar, but he could discover no
+other furniture except the chair on which the Hereditary Prince of Posen
+sat and a small deal table on which were a plate and a cup.
+
+‘Eugen,’ cried Prince Aribert once more, but this time his forlorn
+nephew made no response whatever, and then Aribert added in a low voice
+to Racksole: ‘Perhaps he cannot see us clearly.’
+
+‘But he must surely recognize your voice,’ said Racksole, in a hard,
+gloomy tone. There was a pause, and the two men above ground looked at
+each other hesitatingly. Each knew that they must enter that cellar and
+get Prince Eugen out of it, and each was somehow afraid to take the next
+step.
+
+‘Thank God he is not dead!’ said Aribert.
+
+‘He may be worse than dead!’ Racksole replied.
+
+‘Worse than--What do you mean?’
+
+‘I mean--he may be mad.’
+
+‘Come,’ Aribert almost shouted, with a sudden access of energy--a wild
+impulse for action. And, snatching the lantern from Racksole, he rushed
+into the dark room where they had heard the conversation of Miss Spencer
+and the lady in the red hat. For a moment Racksole did not stir from the
+threshold of the window. ‘Come,’ Prince Aribert repeated, and there was
+an imperious command in his utterance. ‘What are you afraid of?’
+
+‘I don’t know,’ said Racksole, feeling stupid and queer; ‘I don’t know.’
+
+Then he marched heavily after Prince Aribert into the room. On the
+mantelpiece were a couple of candles which had been blown out, and in a
+mechanical, unthinking way, Racksole lighted them, and the two men
+glanced round the room. It presented no peculiar features: it was just
+an ordinary room, rather small, rather mean, rather shabby, with an ugly
+wallpaper and ugly pictures in ugly frames. Thrown over a chair was a
+man’s evening-dress jacket. The door was closed. Prince Aribert turned
+the knob, but he could not open it.
+
+‘It’s locked,’ he said. ‘Evidently they know we’re here.’
+
+‘Nonsense,’ said Racksole brusquely; ‘how can they know?’ And, taking
+hold of the knob, he violently shook the door, and it opened. ‘I told
+you it wasn’t locked,’ he added, and this small success of opening the
+door seemed to steady the man. It was a curious psychological effect,
+this terrorizing (for it amounted to that) of two courageous full-grown
+men by the mere apparition of a helpless creature in a cellar. Gradually
+they both recovered from it. The next moment they were out in the
+passage which led to the front door of the house. The front door stood
+open. They looked into the street, up and down, but there was not a soul
+in sight. The street, lighted by three gas-lamps only, seemed strangely
+sinister and mysterious.
+
+‘She has gone, that’s clear,’ said Racksole, meaning the woman with the
+red hat.
+
+‘And Miss Spencer after her, do you think?’ questioned Aribert.
+
+‘No. She would stay. She would never dare to leave. Let us find the
+cellar steps.’
+
+The cellar steps were happily not difficult to discover, for in moving a
+pace backwards Prince Aribert had a narrow escape of precipitating
+himself to the bottom of them. The lantern showed that they were built
+on a curve.
+
+Silently Racksole resumed possession of the lantern and went first, the
+Prince close behind him. At the foot was a short passage, and in this
+passage crouched the figure of a woman. Her eyes threw back the rays of
+the lantern, shining like a cat’s at midnight. Then, as the men went
+nearer, they saw that it was Miss Spencer who barred their way. She
+seemed half to kneel on the stone floor, and in one hand she held what
+at first appeared to be a dagger, but which proved to be nothing more
+romantic than a rather long bread-knife.
+
+‘I heard you, I heard you,’ she exclaimed. ‘Get back; you mustn’t come
+here.’
+
+There was a desperate and dangerous look on her face, and her form shook
+with scarcely controlled passionate energy.
+
+‘Now see here, Miss Spencer,’ Racksole said calmly, ‘I guess we’ve had
+enough of this fandango. You’d better get up and clear out, or we’ll
+just have to drag you off.’
+
+He went calmly up to her, the lantern in his hand. Without another word
+she struck the knife into his arm, and the lantern fell extinguished.
+Racksole gave a cry, rather of angry surprise than of pain, and
+retreated a few steps. In the darkness they could still perceive the
+glint of her eyes.
+
+‘I told you you mustn’t come here,’ the woman said. ‘Now get back.’
+
+Racksole positively laughed. It was a queer laugh, but he laughed, and
+he could not help it. The idea of this woman, this bureau clerk,
+stopping his progress and that of Prince Aribert by means of a bread-
+knife aroused his sense of humour. He struck a match, relighted the
+candle, and faced Miss Spencer once more.
+
+‘I’ll do it again,’ she said, with a note of hard resolve.
+
+‘Oh, no, you won’t, my girl,’ said Racksole; and he pulled out his
+revolver, cocked it, raised his hand.
+
+‘Put down that plaything of yours,’ he said firmly.
+
+‘No,’ she answered.
+
+‘I shall shoot.’
+
+She pressed her lips together.
+
+‘I shall shoot,’ he repeated. ‘One--two--three.’
+
+Bang, bang! He had fired twice, purposely missing her. Miss Spencer
+never blenched. Racksole was tremendously surprised--and he would have
+been a thousandfold more surprised could he have contrasted her
+behaviour now with her abject terror on the previous evening when Nella
+had threatened her.
+
+‘You’ve got a bit of pluck,’ he said, ‘but it won’t help you. Why won’t
+you let us pass?’
+
+As a matter of fact, pluck was just what she had not, really; she had
+merely subordinated one terror to another. She was desperately afraid of
+Racksole’s revolver, but she was much more afraid of something else.
+
+‘Why won’t you let us pass?’
+
+‘I daren’t,’ she said, with a plaintive tremor; ‘Tom put me in charge.’
+
+That was all. The men could see tears running down her poor wrinkled
+face.
+
+Theodore Racksole began to take off his light overcoat.
+
+‘I see I must take my coat off to you,’ he said, and he almost smiled.
+Then, with a quick movement, he threw the coat over Miss Spencer’s head
+and flew at her, seizing both her arms, while Prince Aribert assisted.
+
+Her struggles ceased--she was beaten.
+
+‘That’s all right,’ said Racksole: ‘I could never have used that
+revolver--to mean business with it, of course.’
+
+They carried her, unresisting, upstairs and on to the upper floor, where
+they locked her in a bedroom. She lay in the bed as if exhausted.
+
+‘Now for my poor Eugen,’ said Prince Aribert.
+
+‘Don’t you think we’d better search the house first?’ Racksole
+suggested; ‘it will be safer to know just how we stand. We can’t afford
+any ambushes or things of that kind, you know.’
+
+The Prince agreed, and they searched the house from top to bottom, but
+found no one. Then, having locked the front door and the french window
+of the sitting-room, they proceeded again to the cellar.
+
+Here a new obstacle confronted them. The cellar door was, of course,
+locked; there was no sign of a key, and it appeared to be a heavy door.
+They were compelled to return to the bedroom where Miss Spencer was
+incarcerated, in order to demand the key of the cellar from her. She
+still lay without movement on the bed.
+
+‘Tom’s got it,’ she replied, faintly, to their question: ‘Tom’s got it,
+I swear to you. He took it for safety.’
+
+‘Then how do you feed your prisoner?’ Racksole asked sharply.
+
+‘Through the grating,’ she answered.
+
+Both men shuddered. They felt she was speaking the truth. For the third
+time they went to the cellar door. In vain Racksole thrust himself
+against it; he could do no more than shake it.
+
+‘Let’s try both together,’ said Prince Aribert. ‘Now!’ There was a
+crack.
+
+‘Again,’ said Prince Aribert. There was another crack, and then the
+upper hinge gave way. The rest was easy. Over the wreck of the door they
+entered Prince Eugen’s prison.
+
+The captive still sat on his chair. The terrific noise and bustle of
+breaking down the door seemed not to have aroused him from his lethargy,
+but when Prince Aribert spoke to him in German he looked at his uncle.
+
+‘Will you not come with us, Eugen?’ said Prince Aribert; ‘you needn’t
+stay here any longer, you know.’
+
+‘Leave me alone,’ was the strange reply; ‘leave me alone. What do you
+want?’
+
+‘We are here to get you out of this scrape,’ said Aribert gently.
+Racksole stood aside.
+
+‘Who is that fellow?’ said Eugen sharply.
+
+‘That is my friend Mr Racksole, an Englishman--or rather, I should say,
+an American--to whom we owe a great deal. Come and have supper, Eugen.’
+
+‘I won’t,’ answered Eugen doggedly. ‘I’m waiting here for her. You
+didn’t think anyone had kept me here, did you, against my will? I tell
+you I’m waiting for her. She said she’d come.’
+
+‘Who is she?’ Aribert asked, humouring him.
+
+‘She! Why, you know! I forgot, of course, you don’t know. You mustn’t
+ask.
+
+Don’t pry, Uncle Aribert. She was wearing a red hat.’
+
+‘I’ll take you to her, my dear Eugen.’ Prince Aribert put his hands on
+the other’s shoulder, but Eugen shook him off violently, stood up, and
+then sat down again.
+
+Aribert looked at Racksole, and they both looked at Prince Eugen. The
+latter’s face was flushed, and Racksole observed that the left pupil was
+more dilated than the right. The man started, muttered odd, fragmentary
+scraps of sentences, now grumbling, now whining.
+
+‘His mind is unhinged,’ Racksole whispered in English.
+
+‘Hush!’ said Prince Aribert. ‘He understands English.’ But Prince Eugen
+took no notice of the brief colloquy.
+
+‘We had better get him upstairs, somehow,’ said Racksole.
+
+‘Yes,’ Aribert assented. ‘Eugen, the lady with the red hat, the lady you
+are waiting for, is upstairs. She has sent us down to ask you to come
+up. Won’t you come?’
+
+‘Himmel!’ the poor fellow exclaimed, with a kind of weak anger. ‘Why did
+you not say this before?’
+
+He rose, staggered towards Aribert, and fell headlong on the floor. He
+had swooned. The two men raised him, carried him up the stone steps, and
+laid him with infinite care on a sofa. He lay, breathing queerly through
+the nostrils, his eyes closed, his fingers contracted; every now and
+then a convulsion ran through his frame.
+
+‘One of us must fetch a doctor,’ said Prince Aribert.
+
+‘I will,’ said Racksole. At that moment there was a quick, curt rap on
+the french window, and both Racksole and the Prince glanced round
+startled. A girl’s face was pressed against the large window-pane. It
+was Nella’s.
+
+Racksole unfastened the catch, and she entered.
+
+‘I have found you,’ she said lightly; ‘you might have told me. I
+couldn’t sleep. I inquired from the hotel-folks if you had retired, and
+they said no; so I slipped out. I guessed where you were.’ Racksole
+interrupted her with a question as to what she meant by this escapade,
+but she stopped him with a careless gesture. ‘What’s this?’ She pointed
+to the form on the sofa.
+
+‘That is my nephew, Prince Eugen,’ said Aribert.
+
+‘Hurt?’ she inquired coldly. ‘I hope not.’
+
+‘He is ill,’ said Racksole, ‘his brain is turned.’
+
+Nella began to examine the unconscious Prince with the expert movements
+of a girl who had passed through the best hospital course to be obtained
+in New York.
+
+‘He has got brain fever,’ she said. ‘That is all, but it will be enough.
+Do you know if there is a bed anywhere in this remarkable house?’
+
+
+
+
+
+
+Chapter Eighteen IN THE NIGHT-TIME
+
+‘HE must on no account be moved,’ said the dark little Belgian doctor,
+whose eyes seemed to peer so quizzically through his spectacles; and he
+said it with much positiveness.
+
+That pronouncement rather settled their plans for them. It was certainly
+a professional triumph for Nella, who, previous to the doctor’s arrival,
+had told them the very same thing. Considerable argument had passed
+before the doctor was sent for. Prince Aribert was for keeping the whole
+affair a deep secret among their three selves. Theodore Racksole agreed
+so far, but he suggested further that at no matter what risk they should
+transport the patient over to England at once. Racksole had an idea that
+he should feel safer in that hotel of his, and better able to deal with
+any situation that might arise. Nella scorned the idea. In her quality
+of an amateur nurse, she assured them that Prince Eugen was much more
+seriously ill than either of them suspected, and she urged that they
+should take absolute possession of the house, and keep possession till
+Prince Eugen was convalescent.
+
+‘But what about the Spencer female?’ Racksole had said.
+
+‘Keep her where she is. Keep her a prisoner. And hold the house against
+all comers. If Jules should come back, simply defy him to enter--that is
+all.
+
+There are two of you, so you must keep an eye on the former occupiers,
+if they return, and on Miss Spencer, while I nurse the patient. But
+first, you must send for a doctor.’
+
+‘Doctor!’ Prince Aribert had said, alarmed. ‘Will it not be necessary to
+make some awkward explanation to the doctor?’
+
+‘Not at all!’ she replied. ‘Why should it be? In a place like Ostend
+doctors are far too discreet to ask questions; they see too much to
+retain their curiosity. Besides, do you want your nephew to die?’
+
+Both the men were somewhat taken aback by the girl’s sagacious grasp of
+the situation, and it came about that they began to obey her like
+subordinates.
+
+She told her father to sally forth in search of a doctor, and he went.
+She gave Prince Aribert certain other orders, and he promptly executed
+them.
+
+By the evening of the following day, everything was going smoothly. The
+doctor came and departed several times, and sent medicine, and seemed
+fairly optimistic as to the issue of the illness. An old woman had been
+induced to come in and cook and clean. Miss Spencer was kept out of
+sight on the attic floor, pending some decision as to what to do with
+her. And no one outside the house had asked any questions. The
+inhabitants of that particular street must have been accustomed to
+strange behaviour on the part of their neighbours, unaccountable
+appearances and disappearances, strange flittings and arrivals. This
+strong-minded and active trio--Racksole, Nella, and Prince Aribert--
+might have been the lawful and accustomed tenants of the house, for any
+outward evidence to the contrary.
+
+On the afternoon of the third day Prince Eugen was distinctly and
+seriously worse. Nella had sat up with him the previous night and
+throughout the day.
+
+Her father had spent the morning at the hotel, and Prince Aribert had
+kept watch. The two men were never absent from the house at the same
+time, and one of them always did duty as sentinel at night. On this
+afternoon Prince Aribert and Nella sat together in the patient’s
+bedroom. The doctor had just left. Theodore Racksole was downstairs
+reading the New York Herald. The Prince and Nella were near the window,
+which looked on to the back-garden.
+
+It was a queer shabby little bedroom to shelter the august body of a
+European personage like Prince Eugen of Posen. Curiously enough, both
+Nella and her father, ardent democrats though they were, had been
+somehow impressed by the royalty and importance of the fever-stricken
+Prince--impressed as they had never been by Aribert. They had both felt
+that here, under their care, was a species of individuality quite new to
+them, and different from anything they had previously encountered. Even
+the gestures and tones of his delirium had an air of abrupt yet
+condescending command--an imposing mixture of suavity and haughtiness.
+As for Nella, she had been first struck by the beautiful ‘E’ over a
+crown on the sleeves of his linen, and by the signet ring on his pale,
+emaciated hand. After all, these trifling outward signs are at least as
+effective as others of deeper but less obtrusive significance. The
+Racksoles, too, duly marked the attitude of Prince Aribert to his
+nephew: it was at once paternal and reverential; it disclosed clearly
+that Prince Aribert continued, in spite of everything, to regard his
+nephew as his sovereign lord and master, as a being surrounded by a
+natural and inevitable pomp and awe. This attitude, at the beginning,
+seemed false and unreal to the Americans; it seemed to them to be
+assumed; but gradually they came to perceive that they were mistaken,
+and that though America might have cast out ‘the monarchial
+superstition’, nevertheless that ‘superstition’ had vigorously survived
+in another part of the world.
+
+‘You and Mr Racksole have been extraordinarily kind to me,’ said Prince
+Aribert very quietly, after the two had sat some time in silence.
+
+‘Why? How?’ she asked unaffectedly. ‘We are interested in this affair
+ourselves, you know. It began at our hotel--you mustn’t forget that,
+Prince.’
+
+‘I don’t,’ he said. ‘I forget nothing. But I cannot help feeling that I
+have led you into a strange entanglement. Why should you and Mr Racksole
+be here--you who are supposed to be on a holiday!--hiding in a strange
+house in a foreign country, subject to all sorts of annoyances and all
+sorts of risks, simply because I am anxious to avoid scandal, to avoid
+any sort of talk, in connection with my misguided nephew? It is nothing
+to you that the Hereditary Prince of Posen should be liable to a public
+disgrace. What will it matter to you if the throne of Posen becomes the
+laughing-stock of Europe?’
+
+‘I really don’t know, Prince,’ Nella smiled roguishly. ‘But we Americans
+have, a habit of going right through with anything we have begun.’
+
+‘Ah!’ he said, ‘who knows how this thing will end? All our trouble, our
+anxieties, our watchfulness, may come to nothing. I tell you that when I
+see Eugen lying there, and think that we cannot learn his story until he
+recovers, I am ready to go mad. We might be arranging things, making
+matters smooth, preparing for the future, if only we knew--knew what he
+can tell us. I tell you that I am ready to go mad. If anything should
+happen to you, Miss Racksole, I would kill myself.’
+
+‘But why?’ she questioned. ‘Supposing, that is, that anything could
+happen to me--which it can’t.’
+
+‘Because I have dragged you into this,’ he replied, gazing at her. ‘It
+is nothing to you. You are only being kind.’
+
+‘How do you know it is nothing to me, Prince?’ she asked him quickly.
+
+Just then the sick man made a convulsive movement, and Nella flew to the
+bed and soothed him. From the head of the bed she looked over at Prince
+Aribert, and he returned her bright, excited glance. She was in her
+travelling-frock, with a large white Belgian apron tied over it. Large
+dark circles of fatigue and sleeplessness surrounded her eyes, and to
+the Prince her cheek seemed hollow and thin; her hair lay thick over the
+temples, half covering the ears. Aribert gave no answer to her query--
+merely gazed at her with melancholy intensity.
+
+‘I think I will go and rest,’ she said at last. ‘You will know all about
+the medicine.’
+
+‘Sleep well,’ he said, as he softly opened the door for her. And then he
+was alone with Eugen. It was his turn that night to watch, for they
+still half-expected some strange, sudden visit, or onslaught, or move of
+one kind or another from Jules. Racksole slept in the parlour on the
+ground floor.
+
+Nella had the front bedroom on the first floor; Miss Spencer was immured
+in the attic; the last-named lady had been singularly quiet and
+incurious, taking her food from Nella and asking no questions, the old
+woman went at nights to her own abode in the purlieus of the harbour.
+Hour after hour Aribert sat silent by his nephew’s bed-side, attending
+mechanically to his wants, and every now and then gazing hard into the
+vacant, anguished face, as if trying to extort from that mask the
+secrets which it held. Aribert was tortured by the idea that if he could
+have only half an hour’s, only a quarter of an hour’s, rational speech
+with Prince Eugen, all might be cleared up and put right, and by the
+fact that that rational talk was absolutely impossible on Eugen’s part
+until the fever had run its course. As the minutes crept on to midnight
+the watcher, made nervous by the intense, electrical atmosphere which
+seems always to surround a person who is dangerously ill, grew more and
+more a prey to vague and terrible apprehensions. His mind dwelt
+hysterically on the most fatal possibilities.
+
+He wondered what would occur if by any ill-chance Eugen should die in
+that bed--how he would explain the affair to Posen and to the Emperor,
+how he would justify himself. He saw himself being tried for murder,
+sentenced (him--a Prince of the blood!), led to the scaffold... a scene
+unparalleled in Europe for over a century! ... Then he gazed anew at the
+sick man, and thought he saw death in every drawn feature of that
+agonized face. He could have screamed aloud. His ears heard a peculiar
+resonant boom. He started--it was nothing but the city clock striking
+twelve. But there was another sound--a mysterious shuffle at the door.
+He listened; then jumped from his chair. Nothing now! Nothing! But still
+he felt drawn to the door, and after what seemed an interminable
+interval he went and opened it, his heart beating furiously. Nella lay
+in a heap on the door mat. She was fully dressed, but had apparently
+lost consciousness. He clutched at her slender body, picked her up,
+carried her to the chair by the fire-place, and laid her in it. He had
+forgotten all about Eugen.
+
+‘What is it, my angel?’ he whispered, and then he kissed her--kissed her
+twice. He could only look at her; he did not know what to do to succour
+her.
+
+At last she opened her eyes and sighed.
+
+‘Where am I?’ she asked vaguely, in a tremulous tone as she recognized
+him. ‘Is it you? Did I do anything silly? Did I faint?’
+
+‘What has happened? Were you ill?’ he questioned anxiously. He was
+kneeling at her feet, holding her hand tight.
+
+‘I saw Jules by the side of my bed,’ she murmured; ‘I’m sure I saw him;
+he laughed at me. I had not undressed. I sprang up, frightened, but he
+had gone, and then I ran downstairs--to you.’
+
+‘You were dreaming,’ he soothed her.
+
+‘Was I?’
+
+‘You must have been. I have not heard a sound. No one could have
+entered.
+
+But if you like I will wake Mr Racksole.’
+
+‘Perhaps I was dreaming,’ she admitted. ‘How foolish!’
+
+‘You were over-tired,’ he said, still unconsciously holding her hand.
+They gazed at each other. She smiled at him.
+
+‘You kissed me,’ she said suddenly, and he blushed red and stood up
+before her. ‘Why did you kiss me?’
+
+‘Ah! Miss Racksole,’ he murmured, hurrying the words out. ‘Forgive me.
+It is unforgivable, but forgive me. I was overpowered by my feelings. I
+did not know what I was doing.’
+
+‘Why did you kiss me?’ she repeated.
+
+‘Because--Nella! I love you. I have no right to say it.’
+
+‘Why have you no right to say it?’
+
+‘If Eugen dies, I shall owe a duty to Posen--I shall be its ruler.’
+
+‘Well!’ she said calmly, with an adorable confidence. ‘Papa is worth
+forty millions. Would you not abdicate?’
+
+‘Ah!’ he gave a low cry. ‘Will you force me to say these things? I could
+not shirk my duty to Posen, and the reigning Prince of Posen can only
+marry a Princess.’
+
+‘But Prince Eugen will live,’ she said positively, ‘and if he lives--’
+
+‘Then I shall be free. I would renounce all my rights to make you mine,
+if--if--’
+
+‘If what, Prince?’
+
+‘If you would deign to accept my hand.’
+
+‘Am I, then, rich enough?’
+
+‘Nella!’ He bent down to her.
+
+Then there was a crash of breaking glass. Aribert went to the window and
+opened it. In the starlit gloom he could see that a ladder had been
+raised against the back of the house. He thought he heard footsteps at
+the end of the garden.
+
+‘It was Jules,’ he exclaimed to Nella, and without another word rushed
+upstairs to the attic. The attic was empty. Miss Spencer had
+mysteriously vanished.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+Chapter Nineteen ROYALTY AT THE GRAND BABYLON
+
+THE Royal apartments at the Grand Babylon are famous in the world of
+hotels, and indeed elsewhere, as being, in their own way, unsurpassed.
+Some of the palaces of Germany, and in particular those of the mad
+Ludwig of Bavaria, may possess rooms and saloons which outshine them in
+gorgeous luxury and the mere wild fairy-like extravagance of wealth; but
+there is nothing, anywhere, even on Eighth Avenue, New York, which can
+fairly be called more complete, more perfect, more enticing, or--not
+least important--more comfortable.
+
+The suite consists of six chambers--the ante-room, the saloon or
+audience chamber, the dining-room, the yellow drawing-room (where
+Royalty receives its friends), the library, and the State bedroom--to
+the last of which we have already been introduced. The most important
+and most impressive of these is, of course, the audience chamber, an
+apartment fifty feet long by forty feet broad, with a superb outlook
+over the Thames, the Shot Tower, and the higher signals of the South-
+Western Railway. The decoration of this room is mainly in the German
+taste, since four out of every six of its Royal occupants are of
+Teutonic blood; but its chief glory is its French ceiling, a masterpiece
+by Fragonard, taken bodily from a certain famous palace on the Loire.
+The walls are of panelled oak, with an eight-foot dado of Arras cloth
+imitated from unique Continental examples. The carpet, woven in one
+piece, is an antique specimen of the finest Turkish work, and it was
+obtained, a bargain, by Felix Babylon, from an impecunious Roumanian
+Prince. The silver candelabra, now fitted with electric light, came from
+the Rhine, and each had a separate history. The Royal chair--it is not
+etiquette to call it a throne, though it amounts to a throne--was looted
+by Napoleon from an Austrian city, and bought by Felix Babylon at the
+sale of a French collector. At each corner of the room stands a gigantic
+grotesque vase of German faïence of the sixteenth century. These were
+presented to Felix Babylon by William the First of Germany, upon the
+conclusion of his first incognito visit to London in connection with the
+French trouble of 1875.
+
+There is only one picture in the audience chamber. It is a portrait of
+the luckless but noble Dom Pedro, Emperor of the Brazils. Given to Felix
+Babylon by Dom Pedro himself, it hangs there solitary and sublime as a
+reminder to Kings and Princes that Empires may pass away and greatness
+fall. A certain Prince who was occupying the suite during the Jubilee of
+1887--when the Grand Babylon had seven persons of Royal blood under its
+roof--sent a curt message to Felix that the portrait must be removed.
+Felix respectfully declined to remove it, and the Prince left for
+another hotel, where he was robbed of two thousand pounds’ worth of
+jewellery. The Royal audience chamber of the Grand Babylon, if people
+only knew it, is one of the sights of London, but it is never shown, and
+if you ask the hotel servants about its wonders they will tell you only
+foolish facts concerning it, as that the Turkey carpet costs fifty
+pounds to clean, and that one of the great vases is cracked across the
+pedestal, owing to the rough treatment accorded to it during a riotous
+game of Blind Man’s Buff, played one night by four young Princesses, a
+Balkan King, and his aides-de-camp.
+
+In one of the window recesses of this magnificent apartment, on a
+certain afternoon in late July, stood Prince Aribert of Posen. He was
+faultlessly dressed in the conventional frock-coat of English
+civilization, with a gardenia in his button-hole, and the indispensable
+crease down the front of the trousers. He seemed to be fairly amused,
+and also to expect someone, for at frequent intervals he looked rapidly
+over his shoulder in the direction of the door behind the Royal chair.
+At last a little wizened, stooping old man, with a distinctly German
+cast of countenance, appeared through the door, and laid some papers on
+a small table by the side of the chair.
+
+‘Ah, Hans, my old friend!’ said Aribert, approaching the old man. ‘I
+must have a little talk with you about one or two matters. How do you
+find His Royal Highness?’
+
+The old man saluted, military fashion. ‘Not very well, your Highness,’
+he answered. ‘I’ve been valet to your Highness’s nephew since his
+majority, and I was valet to his Royal father before him, but I never
+saw--’ He stopped, and threw up his wrinkled hands deprecatingly.
+
+‘You never saw what?’ Aribert smiled affectionately on the old fellow.
+You could perceive that these two, so sharply differentiated in rank,
+had been intimate in the past, and would be intimate again.
+
+‘Do you know, my Prince,’ said the old man, ‘that we are to receive the
+financier, Sampson Levi--is that his name?--in the audience chamber?
+Surely, if I may humbly suggest, the library would have been good enough
+for a financier?’
+
+‘One would have thought so,’ agreed Prince Aribert, ‘but perhaps your
+master has a special reason. Tell me,’ he went on, changing the subject
+quickly, ‘how came it that you left the Prince, my nephew, at Ostend,
+and returned to Posen?’
+
+‘His orders, Prince,’ and old Hans, who had had a wide experience of
+Royal whims and knew half the secrets of the Courts of Europe, gave
+Aribert a look which might have meant anything. ‘He sent me back on an--
+an errand, your Highness.’
+
+‘And you were to rejoin him here?’
+
+‘Just so, Highness. And I did rejoin him here, although, to tell the
+truth, I had begun to fear that I might never see my master again.’
+
+‘The Prince has been very ill in Ostend, Hans.’
+
+‘So I have gathered,’ Hans responded drily, slowly rubbing his hands
+together. ‘And his Highness is not yet perfectly recovered.’
+
+‘Not yet. We despaired of his life, Hans, at one time, but thanks to an
+excellent constitution, he came safely through the ordeal.’
+
+‘We must take care of him, your Highness.’
+
+‘Yes, indeed,’ said Aribert solemnly, ‘his life is very precious to
+Posen.’
+
+At that moment, Eugen, Hereditary Prince of Posen, entered the audience
+chamber. He was pale and languid, and his uniform seemed to be a trouble
+to him. His hair had been slightly ruffled, and there was a look of
+uneasiness, almost of alarmed unrest, in his fine dark eyes. He was like
+a man who is afraid to look behind him lest he should see something
+there which ought not to be there. But at the same time, here beyond
+doubt was Royalty. Nothing could have been more striking than the
+contrast between Eugen, a sick man in the shabby house at Ostend, and
+this Prince Eugen in the Royal apartments of the Grand Babylon Hôtel,
+surrounded by the luxury and pomp which modern civilization can offer to
+those born in high places. All the desperate episode of Ostend was now
+hidden, passed over. It was supposed never to have occurred. It existed
+only like a secret shame in the hearts of those who had witnessed it.
+Prince Eugen had recovered; at any rate, he was convalescent, and he had
+been removed to London, where he took up again the dropped thread of his
+princely life. The lady with the red hat, the incorruptible and savage
+Miss Spencer, the unscrupulous and brilliant Jules, the dark, damp
+cellar, the horrible little bedroom--these things were over. Thanks to
+Prince Aribert and the Racksoles, he had emerged from them in safety. He
+was able to resume his public and official career. The Emperor had been
+informed of his safe arrival in London, after an unavoidable delay in
+Ostend; his name once more figured in the Court chronicle of the
+newspapers. In short, everything was smothered over. Only--only Jules,
+Rocco, and Miss Spencer were still at large; and the body of Reginald
+Dimmock lay buried in the domestic mausoleum of the palace at Posen; and
+Prince Eugen had still to interview Mr Sampson Levi.
+
+That various matters lay heavy on the mind of Prince Eugen was beyond
+question. He seemed to have withdrawn within himself. Despite the
+extraordinary experiences through which he had recently passed, events
+which called aloud for explanations and confidence between the nephew
+and the uncle, he would say scarcely a word to Prince Aribert. Any
+allusion, however direct, to the days at Ostend, was ignored by him with
+more or less ingenuity, and Prince Aribert was really no nearer a full
+solution of the mystery of Jules’ plot than he had been on the night
+when he and Racksole visited the gaming tables at Ostend. Eugen was well
+aware that he had been kidnapped through the agency of the woman in the
+red hat, but, doubtless ashamed at having been her dupe, he would not
+proceed in any way with the clearing-up of the matter.
+
+‘You will receive in this room, Eugen?’ Aribert questioned him.
+
+‘Yes,’ was the answer, given pettishly. ‘Why not? Even if I have no
+proper retinue here, surely that is no reason why I should not hold
+audience in a proper manner?... Hans, you can go.’ The old valet
+promptly disappeared.
+
+‘Aribert,’ the Hereditary Prince continued, when they were alone in the
+chamber, ‘you think I am mad.’
+
+‘My dear Eugen,’ said Prince Aribert, startled in spite of himself.
+‘Don’t be absurd.’
+
+‘I say you think I am mad. You think that that attack of brain fever has
+left its permanent mark on me. Well, perhaps I am mad. Who can tell? God
+knows that I have been through enough lately to drive me mad.’
+
+Aribert made no reply. As a matter of strict fact, the thought had
+crossed his mind that Eugen’s brain had not yet recovered its normal
+tone and activity. This speech of his nephew’s, however, had the effect
+of immediately restoring his belief in the latter’s entire sanity. He
+felt convinced that if only he could regain his nephew’s confidence, the
+old brotherly confidence which had existed between them since the years
+when they played together as boys, all might yet be well. But at present
+there appeared to be no sign that Eugen meant to give his confidence to
+anyone.
+
+The young Prince had come up out of the valley of the shadow of death,
+but some of the valley’s shadow had clung to him, and it seemed he was
+unable to dissipate it.
+
+‘By the way,’ said Eugen suddenly, ‘I must reward these Racksoles, I
+suppose. I am indeed grateful to them. If I gave the girl a bracelet,
+and the father a thousand guineas--how would that meet the case?’
+
+‘My dear Eugen!’ exclaimed Aribert aghast. ‘A thousand guineas! Do you
+know that Theodore Racksole could buy up all Posen from end to end
+without making himself a pauper. A thousand guineas! You might as well
+offer him sixpence.’
+
+‘Then what must I offer?’
+
+‘Nothing, except your thanks. Anything else would be an insult. These
+are no ordinary hotel people.’
+
+‘Can’t I give the little girl a bracelet?’ Prince Eugen gave a sinister
+laugh.
+
+Aribert looked at him steadily. ‘No,’ he said.
+
+‘Why did you kiss her--that night?’ asked Prince Eugen carelessly.
+
+‘Kiss whom?’ said Aribert, blushing and angry, despite his most
+determined efforts to keep calm and unconcerned.
+
+‘The Racksole girl.’
+
+‘When do you mean?’
+
+‘I mean,’ said Prince Eugen, ‘that night in Ostend when I was ill. You
+thought I was in a delirium. Perhaps I was. But somehow I remember that
+with extraordinary distinctness. I remember raising my head for a
+fraction of an instant, and just in that fraction of an instant you
+kissed her. Oh, Uncle Aribert!’
+
+‘Listen, Eugen, for God’s sake. I love Nella Racksole. I shall marry
+her.’
+
+‘You!’ There was a long pause, and then Eugen laughed. ‘Ah!’ he said.
+‘They all talk like that to start with. I have talked like that myself,
+dear uncle; it sounds nice, and it means nothing.’
+
+‘In this case it means everything, Eugen,’ said Aribert quietly. Some
+accent of determination in the latter’s tone made Eugen rather more
+serious.
+
+‘You can’t marry her,’ he said. ‘The Emperor won’t permit a morganatic
+marriage.’
+
+‘The Emperor has nothing to do with the affair. I shall renounce my
+rights.
+
+I shall become a plain citizen.’
+
+‘In which case you will have no fortune to speak of.’
+
+‘But my wife will have a fortune. Knowing the sacrifices which I shall
+have made in order to marry her, she will not hesitate to place that
+fortune in my hands for our mutual use,’ said Aribert stiffly.
+
+‘You will decidedly be rich,’ mused Eugen, as his ideas dwelt on
+Theodore Racksole’s reputed wealth. ‘But have you thought of this,’ he
+asked, and his mild eyes glowed again in a sort of madness. ‘Have you
+thought that I am unmarried, and might die at any moment, and then the
+throne will descend to you--to you, Aribert?’
+
+‘The throne will never descend to me, Eugen,’ said Aribert softly, ‘for
+you will live. You are thoroughly convalescent. You have nothing to
+fear.’
+
+‘It is the next seven days that I fear,’ said Eugen.
+
+‘The next seven days! Why?’
+
+‘I do not know. But I fear them. If I can survive them--’
+
+‘Mr Sampson Levi, sire,’ Hans announced in a loud tone.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+Chapter Twenty MR SAMPSON LEVI BIDS PRINCE EUGEN GOOD MORNING
+
+PRINCE EUGEN started. ‘I will see him,’ he said, with a gesture to Hans
+as if to indicate that Mr Sampson Levi might enter at once.
+
+‘I beg one moment first,’ said Aribert, laying a hand gently on his
+nephew’s arm, and giving old Hans a glance which had the effect of
+precipitating that admirably trained servant through the doorway.
+
+‘What is it?’ asked Prince Eugen crossly. ‘Why this sudden seriousness?
+Don’t forget that I have an appointment with Mr Sampson Levi, and must
+not keep him waiting. Someone said that punctuality is the politeness of
+princes.’
+
+‘Eugen,’ said Aribert, ‘I wish you to be as serious as I am. Why cannot
+we have faith in each other? I want to help you. I have helped you. You
+are my titular Sovereign; but on the other hand I have the honour to be
+your uncle:
+
+I have the honour to be the same age as you, and to have been your
+companion from youth up. Give me your confidence. I thought you had
+given it me years ago, but I have lately discovered that you had your
+secrets, even then. And now, since your illness, you are still more
+secretive.’
+
+‘What do you mean, Aribert?’ said Eugen, in a tone which might have been
+either inimical or friendly. ‘What do you want to say?’
+
+‘Well, in the first place, I want to say that you will not succeed with
+the estimable Mr Sampson Levi.’
+
+‘Shall I not?’ said Eugen lightly. ‘How do you know what my business is
+with him?’
+
+‘Suffice it to say that I know. You will never get that million pounds
+out of him.’
+
+Prince Eugen gasped, and then swallowed his excitement. ‘Who has been
+talking? What million?’ His eyes wandered uneasily round the room. ‘Ah!’
+he said, pretending to laugh. ‘I see how it is. I have been chattering
+in my delirium. You mustn’t take any notice of that, Aribert. When one
+has a fever one’s ideas become grotesque and fanciful.’
+
+‘You never talked in your delirium,’ Aribert replied; ‘at least not
+about yourself. I knew about this projected loan before I saw you in
+Ostend.’
+
+‘Who told you?’ demanded Eugen fiercely.
+
+‘Then you admit that you are trying to raise a loan?’
+
+‘I admit nothing. Who told you?’
+
+‘Theodore Racksole, the millionaire. These rich men have no secrets from
+each other. They form a coterie, closer than any coterie of ours. Eugen,
+and far more powerful. They talk, and in talking they rule the world,
+these millionaires. They are the real monarchs.’
+
+‘Curse them!’ said Eugen.
+
+‘Yes, perhaps so. But let me return to your case. Imagine my shame, my
+disgust, when I found that Racksole could tell me more about your
+affairs than I knew myself. Happily, he is a good fellow; one can trust
+him; otherwise I should have been tempted to do something desperate when
+I discovered that all your private history was in his hands. Eugen, let
+us come to the point; why do you want that million? Is it actually true
+that you are so deeply in debt? I have no desire to improve the
+occasion. I merely ask.’
+
+‘And what if I do owe a million?’ said Prince Eugen with assumed valour.
+
+‘Oh, nothing, my dear Eugen, nothing. Only it is rather a large sum to
+have scattered in ten years, is it not? How did you manage it?’
+
+‘Don’t ask me, Aribert. I’ve been a fool. But I swear to you that the
+woman whom you call “the lady in the red hat” is the last of my follies.
+I am about to take a wife, and become a respectable Prince.’
+
+‘Then the engagement with Princess Anna is an accomplished fact?’
+
+‘Practically so. As soon as I have settled with Levi, all will be
+smooth.
+
+Aribert, I wouldn’t lose Anna for the Imperial throne. She is a good and
+pure woman, and I love her as a man might love an angel.’
+
+‘And yet you would deceive her as to your debts, Eugen?’
+
+‘Not her, but her absurd parents, and perhaps the Emperor. They have
+heard rumours, and I must set those rumours at rest by presenting to
+them a clean sheet.’
+
+‘I am glad you have been frank with me, Eugen,’ said Prince Aribert,
+‘but I will be plain with you. You will never marry the Princess Anna.’
+
+‘And why?’ said Eugen, supercilious again.
+
+‘Because her parents will not permit it. Because you will not be able to
+present a clean sheet to them. Because this Sampson Levi will never lend
+you a million.’
+
+‘Explain yourself.’
+
+‘I propose to do so. You were kidnapped--it is a horrid word, but we
+must use it--in Ostend.’
+
+‘True.’
+
+‘Do you know why?’
+
+‘I suppose because that vile old red-hatted woman and her accomplices
+wanted to get some money out of me. Fortunately, thanks to you, they
+didn’t.’
+
+‘Not at all,’ said Aribert. ‘They wanted no money from you. They knew
+well enough that you had no money. They knew you were the naughty
+schoolboy among European Princes, with no sense of responsibility or of
+duty towards your kingdom. Shall I tell you why they kidnapped you?’
+
+‘When you have done abusing me, my dear uncle.’
+
+‘They kidnapped you merely to keep you out of England for a few days,
+merely to compel you to fail in your appointment with Sampson Levi. And
+it appears to me that they succeeded. Assuming that you don’t obtain the
+money from Levi, is there another financier in all Europe from whom you
+can get it--on such strange security as you have to offer?’
+
+‘Possibly there is not,’ said Prince Eugen calmly. ‘But, you see, I
+shall get it from Sampson Levi. Levi promised it, and I know from other
+sources that he is a man of his word. He said that the money, subject to
+certain formalities, would be available till--’
+
+‘Till?’
+
+‘Till the end of June.’
+
+‘And it is now the end of July.’
+
+‘Well, what is a month? He is only too glad to lend the money. He will
+get excellent interest. How on earth have you got into your sage old
+head this notion of a plot against me? The idea is ridiculous. A plot
+against me? What for?’
+
+‘Have you ever thought of Bosnia?’ asked Aribert coldly.
+
+‘What of Bosnia?’
+
+‘I need not tell you that the King of Bosnia is naturally under
+obligations to Austria, to whom he owes his crown. Austria is anxious
+for him to make a good influential marriage.’
+
+‘Well, let him.’
+
+‘He is going to. He is going to marry the Princess Anna.’
+
+‘Not while I live. He made overtures there a year ago, and was
+rebuffed.’
+
+‘Yes; but he will make overtures again, and this time he will not be
+rebuffed. Oh, Eugen! can’t you see that this plot against you is being
+engineered by some persons who know all about your affairs, and whose
+desire is to prevent your marriage with Princess Anna? Only one man in
+Europe can have any motive for wishing to prevent your marriage with
+Princess Anna, and that is the man who means to marry her himself.’
+Eugen went very pale.
+
+‘Then, Aribert, do you mean to convey to me that my detention in Ostend
+was contrived by the agents of the King of Bosnia?’
+
+‘I do.’
+
+‘With a view to stopping my negotiations with Sampson Levi, and so
+putting an end to the possibility of my marriage with Anna?’
+
+Aribert nodded.
+
+‘You are a good friend to me, Aribert. You mean well. But you are
+mistaken.
+
+You have been worrying about nothing.’
+
+‘Have you forgotten about Reginald Dimmock?’
+
+‘I remember you said that he had died.’
+
+‘I said nothing of the sort. I said that he had been assassinated. That
+was part of it, my poor Eugen.’
+
+‘Pooh!’ said Eugen. ‘I don’t believe he was assassinated. And as for
+Sampson Levi, I will bet you a thousand marks that he and I come to
+terms this morning, and that the million is in my hands before I leave
+London.’ Aribert shook his head.
+
+‘You seem to be pretty sure of Mr Levi’s character. Have you had much to
+do with him before?’
+
+‘Well,’ Eugen hesitated a second, ‘a little. What young man in my
+position hasn’t had something to do with Mr Sampson Levi at one time or
+another?’
+
+‘I haven’t,’ said Aribert.
+
+‘You! You are a fossil.’ He rang a silver bell. ‘Hans! I will receive Mr
+Sampson Levi.’
+
+Whereupon Aribert discreetly departed, and Prince Eugen sat down in the
+great velvet chair, and began to look at the papers which Hans had
+previously placed upon the table.
+
+‘Good morning, your Royal Highness,’ said Sampson Levi, bowing as he
+entered. ‘I trust your Royal Highness is well.’
+
+‘Moderately, thanks,’ returned the Prince.
+
+In spite of the fact that he had had as much to do with people of Royal
+blood as any plain man in Europe, Sampson Levi had never yet learned how
+to be at ease with these exalted individuals during the first few
+minutes of an interview. Afterwards, he resumed command of himself and
+his faculties, but at the beginning he was invariably flustered, scarlet
+of face, and inclined to perspiration.
+
+‘We will proceed to business at once,’ said Prince Eugen. ‘Will you take
+a seat, Mr Levi?’
+
+‘I thank your Royal Highness.’
+
+‘Now as to that loan which we had already practically arranged--a
+million, I think it was,’ said the Prince airily.
+
+‘A million,’ Levi acquiesced, toying with his enormous watch chain.
+
+‘Everything is now in order. Here are the papers and I should like to
+finish the matter up at once.’
+
+‘Exactly, your Highness, but--’
+
+‘But what? You months ago expressed the warmest satisfaction at the
+security, though I am quite prepared to admit that the security, is of
+rather an unusual nature. You also agreed to the rate of interest. It is
+not everyone, Mr Levi, who can lend out a million at 5-1/2 per cent. And
+in ten years the whole amount will be paid back. I--er--I believe I
+informed you that the fortune of Princess Anna, who is about to accept
+my hand, will ultimately amount to something like fifty millions of
+marks, which is over two million pounds in your English money.’ Prince
+Eugen stopped. He had no fancy for talking in this confidential manner
+to financiers, but he felt that circumstances demanded it.
+
+‘You see, it’s like this, your Royal Highness,’ began Mr Sampson Levi,
+in his homely English idiom. ‘It’s like this. I said I could keep that
+bit of money available till the end of June, and you were to give me an
+interview here before that date. Not having heard from your Highness,
+and not knowing your Highness’s address, though my German agents made
+every inquiry, I concluded, that you had made other arrangements, money
+being so cheap this last few months.’
+
+‘I was unfortunately detained at Ostend,’ said Prince Eugen, with as
+much haughtiness as he could assume, ‘by--by important business. I have
+made no other arrangements, and I shall have need of the million. If you
+will be so good as to pay it to my London bankers--’
+
+‘I’m very sorry,’ said Mr Sampson Levi, with a tremendous and dazzling
+air of politeness, which surprised even himself, ‘but my syndicate has
+now lent the money elsewhere. It’s in South America--I don’t mind
+telling your Highness that we’ve lent it to the Chilean Government.’
+
+‘Hang the Chilean Government, Mr Levi,’ exclaimed the Prince, and he
+went white. ‘I must have that million. It was an arrangement.’
+
+‘It was an arrangement, I admit,’ said Mr Sampson Levi, ‘but your
+Highness broke the arrangement.’
+
+There was a long silence.
+
+‘Do you mean to say,’ began the Prince with tense calmness, ‘that you
+are not in a position to let me have that million?’
+
+‘I could let your Highness have a million in a couple of years’ time.’
+
+The Prince made a gesture of annoyance. ‘Mr Levi,’ he said, ‘if you do
+not place the money in my hands to-morrow you will ruin one of the
+oldest of reigning families, and, incidentally, you will alter the map
+of Europe. You are not keeping faith, and I had relied on you.’
+
+‘Pardon me, your Highness,’ said little Levi, rising in resentment, ‘it
+is not I who have not kept faith. I beg to repeat that the money is no
+longer at my disposal, and to bid your Highness good morning.’
+
+And Mr Sampson Levi left the audience chamber with an awkward, aggrieved
+bow. It was a scene characteristic of the end of the nineteenth century-
+-an overfed, commonplace, pursy little man who had been born in a
+Brixton semi-detached villa, and whose highest idea of pleasure was a
+Sunday up the river in an expensive electric launch, confronting and
+utterly routing, in a hotel belonging to an American millionaire, the
+representative of a race of men who had fingered every page of European
+history for centuries, and who still, in their native castles, were
+surrounded with every outward circumstance of pomp and power.
+
+‘Aribert,’ said Prince Eugen, a little later, ‘you were right. It is all
+over. I have only one refuge--’
+
+‘You don’t mean--’ Aribert stopped, dumbfounded.
+
+‘Yes, I do,’ he said quickly. ‘I can manage it so that it will look like
+an accident.’
+
+
+
+
+
+
+Chapter Twenty-One THE RETURN OF FÉLIX BABYLON
+
+ON the evening of Prince Eugen’s fateful interview with Mr Sampson Levi,
+Theodore Racksole was wandering somewhat aimlessly and uneasily about
+the entrance hall and adjacent corridors of the Grand Babylon. He had
+returned from Ostend only a day or two previously, and had endeavoured
+with all his might to forget the affair which had carried him there--to
+regard it, in fact, as done with. But he found himself unable to do so.
+In vain he remarked, under his breath, that there were some things which
+were best left alone: if his experience as a manipulator of markets, a
+contriver of gigantic schemes in New York, had taught him anything at
+all, it should surely have taught him that. Yet he could not feel
+reconciled to such a position. The mere presence of the princes in his
+hotel roused the fighting instincts of this man, who had never in his
+whole career been beaten. He had, as it were, taken up arms on their
+side, and if the princes of Posen would not continue their own battle,
+nevertheless he, Theodore Racksole, wanted to continue it for them. To a
+certain extent, of course, the battle had been won, for Prince Eugen had
+been rescued from an extremely difficult and dangerous position, and the
+enemy--consisting of Jules, Rocco, Miss Spencer, and perhaps others--had
+been put to flight. But that, he conceived, was not enough; it was very
+far from being enough. That the criminals, for criminals they decidedly
+were, should still be at large, he regarded as an absurd anomaly. And
+there was another point: he had said nothing to the police of all that
+had occurred. He disdained the police, but he could scarcely fail to
+perceive that if the police should by accident gain a clue to the real
+state of the case he might be placed rather awkwardly, for the simple
+reason that in the eyes of the law it amounted to a misdemeanour to
+conceal as much as he had concealed. He asked himself, for the
+thousandth time, why he had adopted a policy of concealment from the
+police, why he had become in any way interested in the Posen matter, and
+why, at this present moment, he should be so anxious to prosecute it
+further? To the first two questions he replied, rather lamely, that he
+had been influenced by Nella, and also by a natural spirit of adventure;
+to the third he replied that he had always been in the habit of carrying
+things through, and was now actuated by a mere childish, obstinate
+desire to carry this one through. Moreover, he was splendidly conscious
+of his perfect ability to carry it through. One additional impulse he
+had, though he did not admit it to himself, being by nature adverse to
+big words, and that was an abstract love of justice, the Anglo-Saxon’s
+deep-found instinct for helping the right side to conquer, even when
+grave risks must thereby be run, with no corresponding advantage.
+
+He was turning these things over in his mind as he walked about the vast
+hotel on that evening of the last day in July. The Society papers had
+been stating for a week past that London was empty, but, in spite of the
+Society papers, London persisted in seeming to be just as full as ever.
+The Grand Babylon was certainly not as crowded as it had been a month
+earlier, but it was doing a very passable business. At the close of the
+season the gay butterflies of the social community have a habit of
+hovering for a day or two in the big hotels before they flutter away to
+castle and country-house, meadow and moor, lake and stream. The great
+basket-chairs in the portico were well filled by old and middle-aged
+gentlemen engaged in enjoying the varied delights of liqueurs, cigars,
+and the full moon which floated so serenely above the Thames. Here and
+there a pretty woman on the arm of a cavalier in immaculate attire swept
+her train as she turned to and fro in the promenade of the terrace.
+Waiters and uniformed commissionaires and gold-braided doorkeepers moved
+noiselessly about; at short intervals the chief of the doorkeepers blew
+his shrill whistle and hansoms drove up with tinkling bell to take away
+a pair of butterflies to some place of amusement or boredom;
+occasionally a private carriage drawn by expensive and self-conscious
+horses put the hansoms to shame by its mere outward glory. It was a hot
+night, a night for the summer woods, and save for the vehicles there was
+no rapid movement of any kind. It seemed as though the world--the world,
+that is to say, of the Grand Babylon--was fully engaged in the solemn
+processes of digestion and small-talk. Even the long row of the
+Embankment gas-lamps, stretching right and left, scarcely trembled in
+the still, warm, caressing air. The stars overhead looked down with many
+blinkings upon the enormous pile of the Grand Babylon, and the moon
+regarded it with bland and changeless face; what they thought of it and
+its inhabitants cannot, unfortunately, be recorded. What Theodore
+Racksole thought of the moon can be recorded: he thought it was a
+nuisance. It somehow fascinated his gaze with its silly stare, and so
+interfered with his complex meditations. He glanced round at the well-
+dressed and satisfied people--his guests, his customers. They appeared
+to ignore him absolutely.
+
+Probably only a very small percentage of them had the least idea that
+this tall spare man, with the iron-grey hair and the thin, firm,
+resolute face, who wore his American-cut evening clothes with such
+careless ease, was the sole proprietor of the Grand Babylon, and
+possibly the richest man in Europe. As has already been stated, Racksole
+was not a celebrity in England.
+
+The guests of the Grand Babylon saw merely a restless male person, whose
+restlessness was rather a disturber of their quietude, but with whom, to
+judge by his countenance, it would be inadvisable to remonstrate.
+Therefore Theodore Racksole continued his perambulations unchallenged,
+and kept saying to himself, ‘I must do something.’ But what? He could
+think of no course to pursue.
+
+At last he walked straight through the hotel and out at the other
+entrance, and so up the little unassuming side street into the roaring
+torrent of the narrow and crowded Strand. He jumped on a Putney bus, and
+paid his fair to Putney, fivepence, and then, finding that the humble
+occupants of the vehicle stared at the spectacle of a man in evening
+dress but without a dustcoat, he jumped off again, oblivious of the fact
+that the conductor jerked a thumb towards him and winked at the
+passengers as who should say, ‘There goes a lunatic.’ He went into a
+tobacconist’s shop and asked for a cigar. The shopman mildly inquired
+what price.
+
+‘What are the best you’ve got?’ asked Theodore Racksole.
+
+‘Five shillings each, sir,’ said the man promptly.
+
+‘Give me a penny one,’ was Theodore Racksole’s laconic request, and he
+walked out of the shop smoking the penny cigar. It was a new sensation
+for him.
+
+He was inhaling the aromatic odours of Eugène Rimmel’s establishment for
+the sale of scents when a gentleman, walking slowly in the opposite
+direction, accosted him with a quiet, ‘Good evening, Mr Racksole.’ The
+millionaire did not at first recognize his interlocutor, who wore a
+travelling overcoat, and was carrying a handbag. Then a slight, pleased
+smile passed over his features, and he held out his hand.
+
+‘Well, Mr Babylon,’ he greeted the other, ‘of all persons in the wide
+world you are the man I would most have wished to meet.’
+
+‘You flatter me,’ said the little Anglicized Swiss.
+
+‘No, I don’t,’ answered Racksole; ‘it isn’t my custom, any more than
+it’s yours. I wanted to have a real good long yarn with you, and lo!
+here you are! Where have you sprung from?’
+
+‘From Lausanne,’ said Felix Babylon. ‘I had finished my duties there, I
+had nothing else to do, and I felt homesick. I felt the nostalgia of
+London, and so I came over, just as you see,’ and he raised the handbag
+for Racksole’s notice. ‘One toothbrush, one razor, two slippers, eh?’ He
+laughed. ‘I was wondering as I walked along where I should stay--me,
+Felix Babylon, homeless in London.’
+
+‘I should advise you to stay at the Grand Babylon,’ Racksole laughed
+back.
+
+‘It is a good hotel, and I know the proprietor personally.’
+
+‘Rather expensive, is it not?’ said Babylon.
+
+‘To you, sir,’ answered Racksole, ‘the inclusive terms will be exactly
+half a crown a week. Do you accept?’
+
+‘I accept,’ said Babylon, and added, ‘You are very good, Mr Racksole.’
+
+They strolled together back to the hotel, saying nothing in particular,
+but feeling very content with each other’s company.
+
+‘Many customers?’ asked Felix Babylon.
+
+‘Very tolerable,’ said Racksole, assuming as much of the air of the
+professional hotel proprietor as he could. ‘I think I may say in the
+storekeeper’s phrase, that if there is any business about I am doing it.
+
+To-night the people are all on the terrace in the portico--it’s so
+confoundedly hot--and the consumption of ice is simply enormous--nearly
+as large as it would be in New York.’
+
+‘In that case,’ said Babylon politely, ‘let me offer you another cigar.’
+
+‘But I have not finished this one.’
+
+‘That is just why I wish to offer you another one. A cigar such as
+yours, my good friend, ought never to be smoked within the precincts of
+the Grand Babylon, not even by the proprietor of the Grand Babylon, and
+especially when all the guests are assembled in the portico. The fumes
+of it would ruin any hotel.’
+
+Theodore Racksole laughingly lighted the Rothschild Havana which Babylon
+gave him, and they entered the hotel arm in arm. But no sooner had they
+mounted the steps than little Felix became the object of numberless
+greetings. It appeared that he had been highly popular among his quondam
+guests. At last they reached the managerial room, where Babylon was
+regaled on a chicken, and Racksole assisted him in the consumption of a
+bottle of Heidsieck Monopole, Carte d’Or.
+
+‘This chicken is almost perfectly grilled,’ said Babylon at length. ‘It
+is a credit to the house. But why, my dear Racksole, why in the name of
+Heaven did you quarrel with Rocco?’
+
+‘Then you have heard?’
+
+‘Heard! My dear friend, it was in every newspaper on the Continent. Some
+journals prophesied that the Grand Babylon would have to close its doors
+within half a year now that Rocco had deserted it. But of course I knew
+better. I knew that you must have a good reason for allowing Rocco to
+depart, and that you must have made arrangements in advance for a
+substitute.’
+
+‘As a matter of fact, I had not made arrangements in advance,’ said
+Theodore Racksole, a little ruefully; ‘but happily we have found in our
+second sous-chef an artist inferior only to Rocco himself. That,
+however, was mere good fortune.’
+
+‘Surely,’ said Babylon, ‘it was indiscreet to trust to mere good fortune
+in such a serious matter?’
+
+‘I didn’t trust to mere good fortune. I didn’t trust to anything except
+Rocco, and he deceived me.’
+
+‘But why did you quarrel with him?’
+
+‘I didn’t quarrel with him. I found him embalming a corpse in the State
+bedroom one night--’
+
+‘You what?’ Babylon almost screamed.
+
+‘I found him embalming a corpse in the State bedroom,’ repeated Racksole
+in his quietest tones.
+
+The two men gazed at each other, and then Racksole replenished Babylon’s
+glass.
+
+‘Tell me,’ said Babylon, settling himself deep in an easy chair and
+lighting a cigar.
+
+And Racksole thereupon recounted to him the whole of the Posen episode,
+with every circumstantial detail so far as he knew it. It was a long and
+complicated recital, and occupied about an hour. During that time little
+Felix never spoke a word, scarcely moved a muscle; only his small eyes
+gazed through the bluish haze of smoke. The clock on the mantelpiece
+tinkled midnight.
+
+‘Time for whisky and soda,’ said Racksole, and got up as if to ring the
+bell; but Babylon waved him back.
+
+‘You have told me that this Sampson Levi had an audience of Prince Eugen
+to-day, but you have not told me the result of that audience,’ said
+Babylon.
+
+‘Because I do not yet know it. But I shall doubtless know to-morrow. In
+the meantime, I feel fairly sure that Levi declined to produce Prince
+Eugen’s required million. I have reason to believe that the money was
+lent elsewhere.’
+
+‘H’m!’ mused Babylon; and then, carelessly, ‘I am not at all surprised
+at that arrangement for spying through the bathroom of the State
+apartments.’
+
+‘Why are you not surprised?’
+
+‘Oh!’ said Babylon, ‘it is such an obvious dodge--so easy to carry out.
+As for me, I took special care never to involve myself in these affairs.
+I knew they existed; I somehow felt that they existed. But I also felt
+that they lay outside my sphere. My business was to provide board and
+lodging of the most sumptuous kind to those who didn’t mind paying for
+it; and I did my business. If anything else went on in the hotel, under
+the rose, I long determined to ignore it unless it should happen to be
+brought before my notice; and it never was brought before my notice.
+However, I admit that there is a certain pleasurable excitement in this
+kind of affair and doubtless you have experienced that.’
+
+‘I have,’ said Racksole simply, ‘though I believe you are laughing at
+me.’
+
+‘By no means,’ Babylon replied. ‘Now what, if I may ask the question, is
+going to be your next step?’
+
+‘That is just what I desire to know myself,’ said Theodore Racksole.
+
+‘Well,’ said Babylon, after a pause, ‘let us begin. In the first place,
+it is possible you may be interested to hear that I happened to see
+Jules to-day.’
+
+‘You did!’ Racksole remarked with much calmness. ‘Where?’
+
+‘Well, it was early this morning, in Paris, just before I left there.
+The meeting was quite accidental, and Jules seemed rather surprised at
+meeting me. He respectfully inquired where I was going, and I said that
+I was going to Switzerland. At that moment I thought I was going to
+Switzerland. It had occurred to me that after all I should be happier
+there, and that I had better turn back and not see London any more.
+However, I changed my mind once again, and decided to come on to London,
+and accept the risks of being miserable there without my hotel. Then I
+asked Jules whither he was bound, and he told me that he was off to
+Constantinople, being interested in a new French hotel there. I wished
+him good luck, and we parted.’
+
+‘Constantinople, eh!’ said Racksole. ‘A highly suitable place for him, I
+should say.’
+
+‘But,’ Babylon resumed, ‘I caught sight of him again.’
+
+‘Where?’
+
+‘At Charing Cross, a few minutes before I had the pleasure of meeting
+you.
+
+Mr Jules had not gone to Constantinople after all. He did not see me, or
+I should have suggested to him that in going from Paris to
+Constantinople it is not usual to travel via London.’
+
+‘The cheek of the fellow!’ exclaimed Theodore Racksole. ‘The gorgeous
+and colossal cheek of the fellow!’
+
+
+
+
+
+
+Chapter Twenty-Two IN THE WINE CELLARS OF THE GRAND BABYLON
+
+‘DO you know anything of the antecedents of this Jules,’ asked Theodore
+Racksole, helping himself to whisky.
+
+‘Nothing whatever,’ said Babylon. ‘Until you told me, I don’t think I
+was aware that his true name was Thomas Jackson, though of course I knew
+that it was not Jules. I certainly was not aware that Miss Spencer was
+his wife, but I had long suspected that their relations were somewhat
+more intimate than the nature of their respective duties in the hotel
+absolutely demanded. All that I do know of Jules--he will always be
+called Jules--is that he gradually, by some mysterious personal force,
+acquired a prominent position in the hotel. Decidedly he was the
+cleverest and most intellectual waiter I have ever known, and he was
+specially skilled in the difficult task of retaining his own dignity
+while not interfering with that of other people.
+
+I’m afraid this information is a little too vague to be of any practical
+assistance in the present difficulty.’
+
+‘What is the present difficulty?’ Racksole queried, with a simple air.
+
+‘I should imagine that the present difficulty is to account for the
+man’s presence in London.’
+
+‘That is easily accounted for,’ said Racksole.
+
+‘How? Do you suppose he is anxious to give himself up to justice, or
+that the chains of habit bind him to the hotel?’
+
+‘Neither,’ said Racksole. ‘Jules is going to have another try--that’s
+all.’
+
+‘Another try at what?’
+
+‘At Prince Eugen. Either at his life or his liberty. Most probably the
+former this time; almost certainly the former. He has guessed that we
+are somewhat handicapped by our anxiety to keep Prince Eugen’s
+predicament quite quiet, and he is taking advantage, of that fact. As he
+already is fairly rich, on his own admission, the reward which has been
+offered to him must be enormous, and he is absolutely determined to get
+it. He has several times recently proved himself to be a daring fellow;
+unless I am mistaken he will shortly prove himself to be still more
+daring.’
+
+‘But what can he do? Surely you don’t suggest that he will attempt the
+life of Prince Eugen in this hotel?’
+
+‘Why not? If Reginald Dimmock fell on mere suspicion that he would turn
+out unfaithful to the conspiracy, why not Prince Eugen?’
+
+‘But it would be an unspeakable crime, and do infinite harm to the
+hotel!’
+
+‘True!’ Racksole admitted, smiling. Little Felix Babylon seemed to brace
+himself for the grasping of his monstrous idea.
+
+‘How could it possibly be done?’ he asked at length.
+
+‘Dimmock was poisoned.’
+
+‘Yes, but you had Rocco here then, and Rocco was in the plot. It is
+conceivable that Rocco could have managed it--barely conceivable. But
+without Rocco I cannot think it possible. I cannot even think that Jules
+would attempt it. You see, in a place like the Grand Babylon, as
+probably I needn’t point out to you, food has to pass through so many
+hands that to poison one person without killing perhaps fifty would be a
+most delicate operation. Moreover, Prince Eugen, unless he has changed
+his habits, is always served by his own attendant, old Hans, and
+therefore any attempt to tamper with a cooked dish immediately before
+serving would be hazardous in the extreme.’
+
+‘Granted,’ said Racksole. ‘The wine, however, might be more easily got
+at.
+
+Had you thought of that?’
+
+‘I had not,’ Babylon admitted. ‘You are an ingenious theorist, but I
+happen to know that Prince Eugen always has his wine opened in his own
+presence. No doubt it would be opened by Hans. Therefore the wine theory
+is not tenable, my friend.’
+
+‘I do not see why,’ said Racksole. ‘I know nothing of wine as an expert,
+and I very seldom drink it, but it seems to me that a bottle of wine
+might be tampered with while it was still in the cellar, especially if
+there was an accomplice in the hotel.’
+
+‘You think, then, that you are not yet rid of all your conspirators?’
+
+‘I think that Jules might still have an accomplice within the building.’
+
+‘And that a bottle of wine could be opened and recorked without leaving
+any trace of the operation?’ Babylon was a trifle sarcastic.
+
+‘I don’t see the necessity of opening the bottle in order to poison the
+wine,’ said Racksole. ‘I have never tried to poison anybody by means of
+a bottle of wine, and I don’t lay claim to any natural talent as a
+poisoner, but I think I could devise several ways of managing the trick.
+Of course, I admit I may be entirely mistaken as to Jules’ intentions.’
+
+‘Ah!’ said Felix Babylon. ‘The wine cellars beneath us are one of the
+wonders of London. I hope you are aware, Mr Racksole, that when you
+bought the Grand Babylon you bought what is probably the finest stock of
+wines in England, if not in Europe. In the valuation I reckoned them at
+sixty thousand pounds. And I may say that I always took care that the
+cellars were properly guarded. Even Jules would experience a serious
+difficulty in breaking into the cellars without the connivance of the
+wine-clerk, and the wine-clerk is, or was, incorruptible.’
+
+‘I am ashamed to say that I have not yet inspected my wines,’ smiled
+Racksole; ‘I have never given them a thought. Once or twice I have taken
+the trouble to make a tour of the hotel, but I omitted the cellars in my
+excursions.’
+
+‘Impossible, my dear fellow!’ said Babylon, amused at such a confession,
+to him--a great connoisseur and lover of fine wines--almost incredible.
+‘But really you must see them to-morrow. If I may, I will accompany
+you.’
+
+‘Why not to-night?’ Racksole suggested, calmly.
+
+‘To-night! It is very late: Hubbard will have gone to bed.’
+
+‘And may I ask who is Hubbard? I remember the name but dimly.’
+
+‘Hubbard is the wine-clerk of the Grand Babylon,’ said Felix, with a
+certain emphasis. ‘A sedate man of forty. He has the keys of the
+cellars. He knows every bottle of every bin, its date, its qualities,
+its value. And he’s a teetotaler. Hubbard is a curiosity. No wine can
+leave the cellars without his knowledge, and no person can enter the
+cellars without his knowledge. At least, that is how it was in my time,’
+Babylon added.
+
+‘We will wake him,’ said Racksole.
+
+‘But it is one o’clock in the morning,’ Babylon protested.
+
+‘Never mind--that is, if you consent to accompany me. A cellar is the
+same by night as by day. Therefore, why not now?’
+
+Babylon shrugged his shoulders. ‘As you wish,’ he agreed, with his
+indestructible politeness.
+
+‘And now to find this Mr Hubbard, with his key of the cupboard,’ said
+Racksole, as they walked out of the room together. Although the hour was
+so late, the hotel was not, of course, closed for the night. A few
+guests still remained about in the public rooms, and a few fatigued
+waiters were still in attendance. One of these latter was despatched in
+search of the singular Mr Hubbard, and it fortunately turned out that
+this gentleman had not actually retired, though he was on the point of
+doing so. He brought the keys to Mr Racksole in person, and after he had
+had a little chat with his former master, the proprietor and the ex-
+proprietor of the Grand Babylon Hôtel proceeded on their way to the
+cellars.
+
+These cellars extend over, or rather under, quite half the superficial
+areas of the whole hotel--the longitudinal half which lies next to the
+Strand.
+
+Owing to the fact that the ground slopes sharply from the Strand to the
+river, the Grand Babylon is, so to speak, deeper near the Strand than it
+is near the Thames. Towards the Thames there is, below the entrance
+level, a basement and a sub-basement. Towards the Strand there is
+basement, sub-basement, and the huge wine cellars beneath all. After
+descending the four flights of the service stairs, and traversing a long
+passage running parallel with the kitchen, the two found themselves
+opposite a door, which, on being unlocked, gave access to another flight
+of stairs. At the foot of this was the main entrance to the cellars.
+Outside the entrance was the wine-lift, for the ascension of delicious
+fluids to the upper floors, and, opposite, Mr Hubbard’s little office.
+There was electric light everywhere.
+
+Babylon, who, as being most accustomed to them, held the bunch of keys,
+opened the great door, and then they were in the first cellar--the first
+of a suite of five. Racksole was struck not only by the icy coolness of
+the place, but also by its vastness. Babylon had seized a portable
+electric handlight, attached to a long wire, which lay handy, and,
+waving it about, disclosed the dimensions of the place. By that flashing
+illumination the subterranean chamber looked unutterably weird and
+mysterious, with its rows of numbered bins, stretching away into the
+distance till the radiance was reduced to the occasional far gleam of
+the light on the shoulder of a bottle. Then Babylon switched on the
+fixed electric lights, and Theodore Racksole entered upon a personally-
+conducted tour of what was quite the most interesting part of his own
+property.
+
+To see the innocent enthusiasm of Felix Babylon for these stores of
+exhilarating liquid was what is called in the North ‘a sight for sair
+een’.
+
+He displayed to Racksole’s bewildered gaze, in their due order, all the
+wines of three continents--nay, of four, for the superb and luscious
+Constantia wine of Cape Colony was not wanting in that most catholic
+collection of vintages. Beginning with the unsurpassed products of
+Burgundy, he continued with the clarets of Médoc, Bordeaux, and
+Sauterne; then to the champagnes of Ay, Hautvilliers, and Pierry; then
+to the hocks and moselles of Germany, and the brilliant imitation
+champagnes of Main, Neckar, and Naumburg; then to the famous and
+adorable Tokay of Hungary, and all the Austrian varieties of French
+wines, including Carlowitz and Somlauer; then to the dry sherries of
+Spain, including purest Manzanilla, and Amontillado, and Vino de Pasto;
+then to the wines of Malaga, both sweet and dry, and all the ‘Spanish
+reds’ from Catalonia, including the dark ‘Tent’ so often used
+sacramentally; then to the renowned port of Oporto. Then he proceeded to
+the Italian cellar, and descanted upon the excellence of Barolo from
+Piedmont, of Chianti from Tuscany, of Orvieto from the Roman States, of
+the ‘Tears of Christ’ from Naples, and the commoner Marsala from Sicily.
+And so on, to an extent and with a fullness of detail which cannot be
+rendered here.
+
+At the end of the suite of cellars there was a glazed door, which, as
+could be seen, gave access to a supplemental and smaller cellar, an
+apartment about fifteen or sixteen feet square.
+
+‘Anything special in there?’ asked Racksole curiously, as they stood
+before the door, and looked within at the seined ends of bottles.
+
+‘Ah!’ exclaimed Babylon, almost smacking his lips, ‘therein lies the
+cream of all.’
+
+‘The best champagne, I suppose?’ said Racksole.
+
+‘Yes,’ said Babylon, ‘the best champagne is there--a very special
+Sillery, as exquisite as you will find anywhere. But I see, my friend,
+that you fall into the common error of putting champagne first among
+wines. That distinction belongs to Burgundy. You have old Burgundy in
+that cellar, Mr Racksole, which cost me--how much do you think?--eighty
+pounds a bottle.
+
+Probably it will never be drunk,’ he added with a sigh. ‘It is too
+expensive even for princes and plutocrats.’
+
+‘Yes, it will,’ said Racksole quickly. ‘You and I will have a bottle up
+to-morrow.’
+
+‘Then,’ continued Babylon, still riding his hobby-horse, ‘there is a
+sample of the Rhine wine dated 1706 which caused such a sensation at the
+Vienna Exhibition of 1873. There is also a singularly glorious Persian
+wine from Shiraz, the like of which I have never seen elsewhere. Also
+there is an unrivalled vintage of Romanée-Conti, greatest of all modern
+Burgundies. If I remember right Prince Eugen invariably has a bottle
+when he comes to stay here. It is not on the hotel wine list, of course,
+and only a few customers know of it. We do not precisely hawk it about
+the dining-room.’
+
+‘Indeed!’ said Racksole. ‘Let us go inside.’
+
+They entered the stone apartment, rendered almost sacred by the
+preciousness of its contents, and Racksole looked round with a strangely
+intent and curious air. At the far side was a grating, through which
+came a feeble light.
+
+‘What is that?’ asked the millionaire sharply.
+
+‘That is merely a ventilation grating. Good ventilation is absolutely
+essential.’
+
+‘Looks broken, doesn’t it?’ Racksole suggested and then, putting a
+finger quickly on Babylon’s shoulder, ‘there’s someone in the cellar.
+Can’t you hear breathing, down there, behind that bin?’
+
+The two men stood tense and silent for a while, listening, under the ray
+of the single electric light in the ceiling. Half the cellar was
+involved in gloom. At length Racksole walked firmly down the central
+passage-way between the bins and turned to the corner at the right.
+
+‘Come out, you villain!’ he said in a low, well-nigh vicious tone, and
+dragged up a cowering figure.
+
+He had expected to find a man, but it was his own daughter, Nella
+Racksole, upon whom he had laid angry hands.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+Chapter Twenty-Three FURTHER EVENTS IN THE CELLAR
+
+‘WELL, Father,’ Nella greeted her astounded parent. ‘You should make
+sure that you have got hold of the right person before you use all that
+terrible muscular force of yours. I do believe you have broken my
+shoulder bone.’ She rubbed her shoulder with a comical expression of
+pain, and then stood up before the two men. The skirt of her dark grey
+dress was torn and dirty, and the usually trim Nella looked as though
+she had been shot down a canvas fire-escape. Mechanically she smoothed
+her frock, and gave a straightening touch to her hair.
+
+‘Good evening, Miss Racksole,’ said Felix Babylon, bowing formally.
+‘This is an unexpected pleasure.’ Felix’s drawing-room manners never
+deserted him upon any occasion whatever.
+
+‘May I inquire what you are doing in my wine cellar, Nella Racksole?’
+said the millionaire a little stiffly He was certainly somewhat annoyed
+at having mistaken his daughter for a criminal; moreover, he hated to be
+surprised, and upon this occasion he had been surprised beyond any
+ordinary surprise; lastly, he was not at all pleased that Nella should
+be observed in that strange predicament by a stranger.
+
+‘I will tell you,’ said Nella. ‘I had been reading rather late in my
+room--the night was so close. I heard Big Ben strike half-past twelve,
+and then I put the book down, and went out on to the balcony of my
+window for a little fresh air before going to bed. I leaned over the
+balcony very quietly--you will remember that I am on the third floor
+now--and looked down below into the little sunk yard which separates the
+wall of the hotel from Salisbury Lane. I was rather astonished to see a
+figure creeping across the yard. I knew there was no entrance into the
+hotel from that yard, and besides, it is fifteen or twenty feet below
+the level of the street. So I watched. The figure went close up against
+the wall, and disappeared from my view. I leaned over the balcony as far
+as I dared, but I couldn’t see him. I could hear him, however.’
+
+‘What could you hear?’ questioned Racksole sharply.
+
+‘It sounded like a sawing noise,’ said Nella; ‘and it went on for quite
+a long time--nearly a quarter of an hour, I should think--a rasping sort
+of noise.’
+
+‘Why on earth didn’t you come and warn me or someone else in the hotel?’
+asked Racksole.
+
+‘Oh, I don’t know, Dad,’ she replied sweetly. ‘I had got interested in
+it, and I thought I would see it out myself. Well, as I was saying, Mr.
+Babylon,’ she continued, addressing her remarks to Felix, with a
+dazzling smile, ‘that noise went on for quite a long time. At last it
+stopped, and the figure reappeared from under the wall, crossed the
+yard, climbed up the opposite wall by some means or other, and so over
+the railings into Salisbury Lane. I felt rather relieved then, because I
+knew he hadn’t actually broken into the hotel. He walked down Salisbury
+Lane very slowly. A policeman was just coming up. “Goodnight, officer,”
+ I heard him say to the policeman, and he asked him for a match. The
+policeman supplied the match, and the other man lighted a cigarette, and
+proceeded further down the lane. By cricking your neck from my window,
+Mr Babylon, you can get a glimpse of the Embankment and the river. I saw
+the man cross the Embankment, and lean over the river wall, where he
+seemed to be talking to some one. He then walked along the Embankment to
+Westminster and that was the last I saw of him. I waited a minute or two
+for him to come back, but he didn’t come back, and so I thought it was
+about time I began to make inquiries into the affair. I went downstairs
+instantly, and out of the hotel, through the quadrangle, into Salisbury
+Lane, and I looked over those railings. There was a ladder on the other
+side, by which it was perfectly easy--once you had got over the
+railings--to climb down into the yard. I was horribly afraid lest
+someone might walk up Salisbury Lane and catch me in the act of
+negotiating those railings, but no one did, and I surmounted them, with
+no worse damage than a torn skirt. I crossed the yard on tiptoe, and I
+found that in the wall, close to the ground and almost exactly under my
+window, there was an iron grating, about one foot by fourteen inches. I
+suspected, as there was no other ironwork near, that the mysterious
+visitor must have been sawing at this grating for private purposes of
+his own. I gave it a good shake, and I was not at all surprised that a
+good part of it came off in my hand, leaving just enough room for a
+person to creep through. I decided that I would creep through, and now
+wish I hadn’t. I don’t know, Mr Babylon, whether you have ever tried to
+creep through a small hole with a skirt on. Have you?’
+
+‘I have not had that pleasure,’ said little Felix, bowing again, and
+absently taking up a bottle which lay to his hand.
+
+‘Well, you are fortunate,’ the imperturbable Nella resumed. ‘For quite
+three minutes I thought I should perish in that grating, Dad, with my
+shoulder inside and the rest of me outside. However, at last, by the
+most amazing and agonizing efforts, I pulled myself through and fell
+into this extraordinary cellar more dead than alive. Then I wondered
+what I should do next. Should I wait for the mysterious visitor to
+return, and stab him with my pocket scissors if he tried to enter, or
+should I raise an alarm? First of all I replaced the broken grating,
+then I struck a match, and I saw that I had got landed in a wilderness
+of bottles. The match went out, and I hadn’t another one. So I sat down
+in the corner to think. I had just decided to wait and see if the
+visitor returned, when I heard footsteps, and then voices; and then you
+came in. I must say I was rather taken aback, especially as I recognized
+the voice of Mr Babylon. You see, I didn’t want to frighten you.
+
+If I had bobbed up from behind the bottles and said “Booh!” you would
+have had a serious shock. I wanted to think of a way of breaking my
+presence gently to you. But you saved me the trouble, Dad. Was I really
+breathing so loudly that you could hear me?’
+
+The girl ended her strange recital, and there was a moment’s silence in
+the cellar. Racksole merely nodded an affirmative to her concluding
+question.
+
+‘Well, Nell, my girl,’ said the millionaire at length, ‘we are much
+obliged for your gymnastic efforts--very much obliged. But now, I think
+you had better go off to bed. There is going to be some serious trouble
+here, I’ll lay my last dollar on that?’
+
+‘But if there is to be a burglary I should so like to see it, Dad,’
+Nella pleaded. ‘I’ve never seen a burglar caught red-handed.’
+
+‘This isn’t a burglary, my dear. I calculate it’s something far worse
+than a burglary.’
+
+‘What?’ she cried. ‘Murder? Arson? Dynamite plot? How perfectly
+splendid!’
+
+‘Mr Babylon informs me that Jules is in London,’ said Racksole quietly.
+
+‘Jules!’ she exclaimed under her breath, and her tone changed instantly
+to the utmost seriousness. ‘Switch off the light, quick!’ Springing to
+the switch, she put the cellar in darkness.
+
+‘What’s that for?’ said her father.
+
+‘If he comes back he would see the light, and be frightened away,’ said
+Nella. ‘That wouldn’t do at all.’
+
+‘It wouldn’t, Miss Racksole,’ said Babylon, and there was in his voice a
+note of admiration for the girl’s sagacity which Racksole heard with
+high paternal pride.
+
+‘Listen, Nella,’ said the latter, drawing his daughter to him in the
+profound gloom of the cellar. ‘We fancy that Jules may be trying to
+tamper with a certain bottle of wine--a bottle which might possibly be
+drunk by Prince Eugen. Now do you think that the man you saw might have
+been Jules?’
+
+‘I hadn’t previously thought of him as being Jules, but immediately you
+mentioned the name I somehow knew that he was. Yes, I am sure it was
+Jules.’
+
+‘Well, just hear what I have to say. There is no time to lose. If he is
+coming at all he will be here very soon--and you can help.’ Racksole
+explained what he thought Jules’ tactics might be. He proposed that if
+the man returned he should not be interfered with, but merely watched
+from the other side of the glass door.
+
+‘You want, as it were, to catch Mr Jules alive?’ said Babylon, who
+seemed rather taken aback at this novel method of dealing with
+criminals. ‘Surely,’ he added, ‘it would be simpler and easier to inform
+the police of your suspicion, and to leave everything to them.’
+
+‘My dear fellow,’ said Racksole, ‘we have already gone much too far
+without the police to make it advisable for us to call them in at this
+somewhat advanced stage of the proceedings. Besides, if you must know
+it, I have a particular desire to capture the scoundrel myself. I will
+leave you and Nella here, since Nella insists on seeing everything, and
+I will arrange things so that once he has entered the cellar Jules will
+not get out of it again--at any rate through the grating. You had better
+place yourselves on the other side of the glass door, in the big cellar;
+you will be in a position to observe from there, I will skip off at
+once. All you have to do is to take note of what the fellow does. If he
+has any accomplices within the hotel we shall probably be able by that
+means to discover who the accomplice is.’
+
+Lighting a match and shading it with his hands, Racksole showed them
+both out of the little cellar. ‘Now if you lock this glass door on the
+outside he can’t escape this way: the panes of glass are too small, and
+the woodwork too stout. So, if he comes into the trap, you two will have
+the pleasure of actually seeing him frantically writhe therein, without
+any personal danger; but perhaps you’d better not show yourselves.’
+
+In another moment Felix Babylon and Nella were left to themselves in the
+darkness of the cellar, listening to the receding footfalls of Theodore
+Racksole. But the sound of these footfalls had not died away before
+another sound greeted their ears--the grating of the small cellar was
+being removed.
+
+‘I hope your father will be in time,’ whispered Felix
+
+‘Hush!’ the girl warned him, and they stooped side by side in tense
+silence.
+
+A man cautiously but very neatly wormed his body through the aperture of
+the grating. The watchers could only see his form indistinctly in the
+darkness.
+
+Then, being fairly within the cellar, he walked without the least
+hesitation to the electric switch and turned on the light. It was
+unmistakably Jules, and he knew the geography of the cellar very well.
+Babylon could with difficulty repress a start as he saw this bold and
+unscrupulous ex-waiter moving with such an air of assurance and
+determination about the precious cellar. Jules went directly to a small
+bin which was numbered 17, and took there from the topmost bottle.
+
+‘The Romanee-Conti--Prince Eugen’s wine!’ Babylon exclaimed under his
+breath.
+
+Jules neatly and quickly removed the seal with an instrument which he
+had clearly brought for the purpose. He then took a little flat box from
+his pocket, which seemed to contain a sort of black salve. Rubbing his
+finger in this, he smeared the top of the neck of the bottle with it,
+just where the cork came against the glass. In another instant he had
+deftly replaced the seal and restored the bottle to its position. He
+then turned off the light, and made for the aperture. When he was half-
+way through Nella exclaimed, ‘He will escape, after all. Dad has not had
+time--we must stop him.’
+
+But Babylon, that embodiment of caution, forcibly, but nevertheless
+politely, restrained this Yankee girl, whom he deemed so rash and
+imprudent, and before she could free herself the lithe form of Jules had
+disappeared.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+Chapter Twenty-Four THE BOTTLE OF WINE
+
+AS regards Theodore Racksole, who was to have caught his man from the
+outside of the cellar, he made his way as rapidly as possible from the
+wine-cellars, up to the ground floor, out of the hotel by the
+quadrangle, through the quadrangle, and out into the top of Salisbury
+Lane. Now, owing to the vastness of the structure of the Grand Babylon,
+the mere distance thus to be traversed amounted to a little short of a
+quarter of a mile, and, as it included a number of stairs, about two
+dozen turnings, and several passages which at that time of night were in
+darkness more or less complete, Racksole could not have been expected to
+accomplish the journey in less than five minutes. As a matter of fact,
+six minutes had elapsed before he reached the top of Salisbury Lane,
+because he had been delayed nearly a minute by some questions addressed
+to him by a muddled and whisky-laden guest who had got lost in the
+corridors. As everybody knows, there is a sharp short bend in Salisbury
+Lane near the top. Racksole ran round this at good racing speed, but he
+was unfortunate enough to run straight up against the very policeman who
+had not long before so courteously supplied Jules with a match. The
+policeman seemed to be scarcely in so pliant a mood just then.
+
+‘Hullo!’ he said, his naturally suspicious nature being doubtless
+aroused by the spectacle of a bareheaded man in evening dress running
+violently down the lane. ‘What’s this? Where are you for in such a
+hurry?’ and he forcibly detained Theodore Racksole for a moment and
+scrutinized his face.
+
+‘Now, officer,’ said Racksole quietly, ‘none of your larks, if you
+please.
+
+I’ve no time to lose.’
+
+‘Beg your pardon, sir,’ the policeman remarked, though hesitatingly and
+not quite with good temper, and Racksole was allowed to proceed on his
+way. The millionaire’s scheme for trapping Jules was to get down into
+the little sunk yard by means of the ladder, and then to secrete himself
+behind some convenient abutment of brickwork until Mr Tom Jackson should
+have got into the cellar. He therefore nimbly surmounted the railings--
+the railings of his own hotel--and was gingerly descending the ladder,
+when lo! a rough hand seized him by the coat-collar and with a ferocious
+jerk urged him backwards. The fact was, Theodore Racksole had counted
+without the policeman. That guardian of the peace, mistrusting
+Racksole’s manner, quietly followed him down the lane. The sight of the
+millionaire climbing the railings had put him on his mettle, and the
+result was the ignominious capture of Racksole. In vain Theodore
+expostulated, explained, anathematized. Only one thing would satisfy the
+stolid policeman--namely, that Racksole should return with him to the
+hotel and there establish his identity. If Racksole then proved to be
+Racksole, owner of the Grand Babylon, well and good--the policeman
+promised to apologize. So Theodore had no alternative but to accept the
+suggestion. To prove his identity was, of course, the work of only a few
+minutes, after which Racksole, annoyed, but cool as ever, returned to
+his railings, while the policeman went off to another part of his beat,
+where he would be likely to meet a comrade and have a chat.
+
+In the meantime, our friend Jules, sublimely unconscious of the
+altercation going on outside, and of the special risk which he ran, was
+of course actually in the cellar, which he had reached before Racksole
+got to the railings for the first time. It was, indeed, a happy chance
+for Jules that his exit from the cellar coincided with the period during
+which Racksole was absent from the railings. As Racksole came down the
+lane for the second time, he saw a figure walking about fifty yards in
+front of him towards the Embankment. Instantly he divined that it was
+Jules, and that the policeman had thrown him just too late. He ran, and
+Jules, hearing the noise of pursuit, ran also. The ex-waiter was fleet;
+he made direct for a certain spot in the Embankment wall, and, to the
+intense astonishment of Racksole, jumped clean over the wall, as it
+seemed, into the river. ‘Is he so desperate as to commit suicide?’
+Racksole exclaimed as he ran, but a second later the puff and snort of a
+steam launch told him that Jules was not quite driven to suicide. As the
+millionaire crossed the Embankment roadway he saw the funnel of the
+launch move out from under the river-wall. It swerved into midstream and
+headed towards London Bridge. There was a silent mist over the river.
+Racksole was helpless....
+
+Although Racksole had now been twice worsted in a contest of wits within
+the precincts of the Grand Babylon, once by Rocco and once by Jules, he
+could not fairly blame himself for the present miscarriage of his plans-
+-a miscarriage due to the meddlesomeness of an extraneous person,
+combined with pure ill-fortune. He did not, therefore, permit the
+accident to interfere with his sleep that night.
+
+On the following day he sought out Prince Aribert, between whom and
+himself there now existed a feeling of unmistakable, frank friendship,
+and disclosed to him the happenings of the previous night, and
+particularly the tampering with the bottle of Romanée-Conti.
+
+‘I believe you dined with Prince Eugen last night?’
+
+‘I did. And curiously enough we had a bottle of Romanée-Conti, an
+admirable wine, of which Eugen is passionately fond.’
+
+‘And you will dine with him to-night?’
+
+‘Most probably. To-day will, I fear, be our last day here. Eugen wishes
+to return to Posen early to-morrow.’
+
+‘Has it struck you, Prince,’ said Racksole, ‘that if Jules had succeeded
+in poisoning your nephew, he would probably have succeeded also in
+poisoning you?’
+
+‘I had not thought of it,’ laughed Aribert, ‘but it would seem so. It
+appears that so long as he brings down his particular quarry, Jules is
+careless of anything else that may be accidentally involved in the
+destruction. However, we need have no fear on that score now. You know
+the bottle, and you can destroy it at once.’
+
+‘But I do not propose to destroy it,’ said Racksole calmly. ‘If Prince
+Eugen asks for Romanée-Conti to be served to-night, as he probably will,
+I propose that that precise bottle shall be served to him--and to you.’
+
+‘Then you would poison us in spite of ourselves?’
+
+‘Scarcely,’ Racksole smiled. ‘My notion is to discover the accomplices
+within the hotel. I have already inquired as to the wine-clerk, Hubbard.
+Now does it not occur to you as extraordinary that on this particular
+day Mr Hubbard should be ill in bed? Hubbard, I am informed, is
+suffering from an attack of stomach poisoning, which has supervened
+during the night. He says that he does not know what can have caused it.
+His place in the wine cellars will be taken to-day by his assistant, a
+mere youth, but to all appearances a fairly smart youth. I need not say
+that we shall keep an eye on that youth.’
+
+‘One moment,’ Prince Aribert interrupted. ‘I do not quite understand how
+you think the poisoning was to have been effected.’
+
+‘The bottle is now under examination by an expert, who has instructions
+to remove as little as possible of the stuff which Jules put on the rim
+of the mouth of it. It will be secretly replaced in its bin during the
+day. My idea is that by the mere action of pouring out the wine takes up
+some of the poison, which I deem to be very strong, and thus becomes
+fatal as it enters the glass.’
+
+‘But surely the servant in attendance would wipe the mouth of the
+bottle?’
+
+‘Very carelessly, perhaps. And moreover he would be extremely unlikely
+to wipe off all the stuff; some of it has been ingeniously placed just
+on the inside edge of the rim. Besides, suppose he forgot to wipe the
+bottle?’
+
+‘Prince Eugen is always served at dinner by Hans. It is an honour which
+the faithful old fellow reserves for himself.’
+
+‘But suppose Hans--’ Racksole stopped.
+
+‘Hans an accomplice! My dear Racksole, the suggestion is wildly
+impossible.’
+
+That night Prince Aribert dined with his august nephew in the superb
+dining-room of the Royal apartments. Hans served, the dishes being
+brought to the door by other servants. Aribert found his nephew
+despondent and taciturn. On the previous day, when, after the futile
+interview with Sampson Levi, Prince Eugen had despairingly threatened to
+commit suicide, in such a manner as to make it ‘look like an accident’,
+Aribert had compelled him to give his word of honour not to do so.
+
+‘What wine will your Royal Highness take?’ asked old Hans in his
+soothing tones, when the soup was served.
+
+‘Sherry,’ was Prince Eugen’s curt order.
+
+‘And Romanée-Conti afterwards?’ said Hans. Aribert looked up quickly.
+
+‘No, not to-night. I’ll try Sillery to-night,’ said Prince Eugen.
+
+‘I think I’ll have Romanée-Conti, Hans, after all,’ he said. ‘It suits
+me better than champagne.’
+
+The famous and unsurpassable Burgundy was served with the roast. Old
+Hans brought it tenderly in its wicker cradle, inserted the corkscrew
+with mathematical precision, and drew the cork, which he offered for his
+master’s inspection. Eugen nodded, and told him to put it down. Aribert
+watched with intense interest. He could not for an instant believe that
+Hans was not the very soul of fidelity, and yet, despite himself,
+Racksole’s words had caused him a certain uneasiness. At that moment
+Prince Eugen murmured across the table:
+
+‘Aribert, I withdraw my promise. Observe that, I withdraw it.’ Aribert
+shook his head emphatically, without removing his gaze from Hans. The
+white-haired servant perfunctorily dusted his napkin round the neck of
+the bottle of Romanée-Conti, and poured out a glass. Aribert trembled
+from head to foot.
+
+Eugen took up the glass and held it to the light.
+
+‘Don’t drink it,’ said Aribert very quietly. ‘It is poisoned.’
+
+‘Poisoned!’ exclaimed Prince Eugen.
+
+‘Poisoned, sire!’ exclaimed old Hans, with an air of profound amazement
+and concern, and he seized the glass. ‘Impossible, sire. I myself opened
+the bottle. No one else has touched it, and the cork was perfect.’
+
+‘I tell you it is poisoned,’ Aribert repeated.
+
+‘Your Highness will pardon an old man,’ said Hans, ‘but to say that this
+wine is poison is to say that I am a murderer. I will prove to you that
+it is not poisoned. I will drink it.’ And he raised the glass to his
+trembling lips. In that moment Aribert saw that old Hans, at any rate,
+was not an accomplice of Jules. Springing up from his seat, he knocked
+the glass from the aged servitor’s hands, and the fragments of it fell
+with a light tinkling crash partly on the table and partly on the floor.
+The Prince and the servant gazed at one another in a distressing and
+terrible silence.
+
+There was a slight noise, and Aribert looked aside. He saw that Eugen’s
+body had slipped forward limply over the left arm of his chair; the
+Prince’s arms hung straight and lifeless; his eyes were closed; he was
+unconscious.
+
+‘Hans!’ murmured Aribert. ‘Hans! What is this?’
+
+
+
+
+
+
+Chapter Twenty-Five THE STEAM LAUNCH
+
+MR TOM JACKSON’s notion of making good his escape from the hotel by
+means of a steam launch was an excellent one, so far as it went, but
+Theodore Racksole, for his part, did not consider that it went quite far
+enough.
+
+Theodore Racksole opined, with peculiar glee, that he now had a tangible
+and definite clue for the catching of the Grand Babylon’s ex-waiter. He
+knew nothing of the Port of London, but he happened to know a good deal
+of the far more complicated, though somewhat smaller, Port of New York,
+and he was sure there ought to be no extraordinary difficulty in getting
+hold of Jules’ steam launch. To those who are not thoroughly familiar
+with it the River Thames and its docks, from London Bridge to Gravesend,
+seems a vast and uncharted wilderness of craft--a wilderness in which it
+would be perfectly easy to hide even a three-master successfully. To
+such people the idea of looking for a steam launch on the river would be
+about equivalent to the idea of looking for a needle in a bundle of hay.
+But the fact is, there are hundreds of men between St Katherine’s Wharf
+and Blackwall who literally know the Thames as the suburban householder
+knows his back-garden--who can recognize thousands of ships and put a
+name to them at a distance of half a mile, who are informed as to every
+movement of vessels on the great stream, who know all the captains, all
+the engineers, all the lightermen, all the pilots, all the licensed
+watermen, and all the unlicensed scoundrels from the Tower to Gravesend,
+and a lot further. By these experts of the Thames the slightest unusual
+event on the water is noticed and discussed--a wherry cannot change
+hands but they will guess shrewdly upon the price paid and the
+intentions of the new owner with regard to it. They have a habit of
+watching the river for the mere interest of the sight, and they talk
+about everything like housewives gathered of an evening round the
+cottage door. If the first mate of a Castle Liner gets the sack they
+will be able to tell you what he said to the captain, what the old man
+said to him, and what both said to the Board, and having finished off
+that affair they will cheerfully turn to discussing whether Bill Stevens
+sank his barge outside the West Indian No.2 by accident or on purpose.
+
+Theodore Racksole had no satisfactory means of identifying the steam
+launch which carried away Mr Tom Jackson. The sky had clouded over soon
+after midnight, and there was also a slight mist, and he had only been
+able to make out that it was a low craft, about sixty feet long,
+probably painted black. He had personally kept a watch all through the
+night on vessels going upstream, and during the next morning he had a
+man to take his place who warned him whenever a steam launch went
+towards Westminster. At noon, after his conversation with Prince
+Aribert, he went down the river in a hired row-boat as far as the Custom
+House, and poked about everywhere, in search of any vessel which could
+by any possibility be the one he was in search of.
+
+But he found nothing. He was, therefore, tolerably sure that the
+mysterious launch lay somewhere below the Custom House. At the Custom
+House stairs, he landed, and asked for a very high official--an official
+inferior only to a Commissioner--whom he had entertained once in New
+York, and who had met him in London on business at Lloyd’s. In the large
+but dingy office of this great man a long conversation took place--a
+conversation in which Racksole had to exercise a certain amount of
+persuasive power, and which ultimately ended in the high official
+ringing his bell.
+
+‘Desire Mr Hazell--room No. 332--to speak to me,’ said the official to
+the boy who answered the summons, and then, turning to Racksole: ‘I need
+hardly repeat, my dear Mr Racksole, that this is strictly unofficial.’
+
+‘Agreed, of course,’ said Racksole.
+
+Mr Hazell entered. He was a young man of about thirty, dressed in blue
+serge, with a pale, keen face, a brown moustache and a rather handsome
+brown beard.
+
+‘Mr Hazell,’ said the high official, ‘let me introduce you to Mr
+Theodore Racksole--you will doubtless be familiar with his name. Mr
+Hazell,’ he went on to Racksole, ‘is one of our outdoor staff--what we
+call an examining officer. Just now he is doing night duty. He has a
+boat on the river and a couple of men, and the right to board and
+examine any craft whatever. What Mr Hazell and his crew don’t know about
+the Thames between here and Gravesend isn’t knowledge.’
+
+‘Glad to meet you, sir,’ said Racksole simply, and they shook hands.
+
+Racksole observed with satisfaction that Mr Hazell was entirely at his
+ease.
+
+‘Now, Hazell,’ the high official continued, ‘Mr Racksole wants you to
+help in a little private expedition on the river to-night. I will give
+you a night’s leave. I sent for you partly because I thought you would
+enjoy the affair and partly because I think I can rely on you to regard
+it as entirely unofficial and not to talk about it. You understand? I
+dare say you will have no cause to regret having obliged Mr Racksole.’
+
+‘I think I grasp the situation,’ said Hazell, with a slight smile.
+
+‘And, by the way,’ added the high official, ‘although the business is
+unofficial, it might be well if you wore your official overcoat. See?’
+
+‘Decidedly,’ said Hazell; ‘I should have done so in any case.’
+
+‘And now, Mr Hazell,’ said Racksole, ‘will you do me the pleasure of
+lunching with me? If you agree, I should like to lunch at the place you
+usually frequent.’
+
+So it came to pass that Theodore Racksole and George Hazell, outdoor
+clerk in the Customs, lunched together at ‘Thomas’s Chop-House’, in the
+city of London, upon mutton-chops and coffee. The millionaire soon
+discovered that he had got hold of a keen-witted man and a person of
+much insight.
+
+‘Tell me,’ said Hazell, when they had reached the cigarette stage, ‘are
+the magazine writers anything like correct?’
+
+‘What do you mean?’ asked Racksole, mystified.
+
+‘Well, you’re a millionaire--“one of the best”, I believe. One often
+sees articles on and interviews with millionaires, which describe their
+private railroad cars, their steam yachts on the Hudson, their marble
+stables, and so on, and so on. Do you happen to have those things?’
+
+‘I have a private car on the New York Central, and I have a two thousand
+ton schooner-yacht--though it isn’t on the Hudson. It happens just now
+to be on East River. And I am bound to admit that the stables of my
+uptown place are fitted with marble.’ Racksole laughed.
+
+‘Ah!’ said Hazell. ‘Now I can believe that I am lunching with a
+millionaire.
+
+It’s strange how facts like those--unimportant in themselves--appeal to
+the imagination. You seem to me a real millionaire now. You’ve given me
+some personal information; I’ll give you some in return. I earn three
+hundred a year, and perhaps sixty pounds a year extra for overtime. I
+live by myself in two rooms in Muscovy Court. I’ve as much money as I
+need, and I always do exactly what I like outside office. As regards the
+office, I do as little work as I can, on principle--it’s a fight between
+us and the Commissioners who shall get the best. They try to do us down,
+and we try to do them down--it’s pretty even on the whole. All’s fair in
+war, you know, and there ain’t no ten commandments in a Government
+office.’
+
+Racksole laughed. ‘Can you get off this afternoon?’ he asked.
+
+‘Certainly,’ said Hazell; ‘I’ll get one of my pals to sign on for me,
+and then I shall be free.’
+
+‘Well,’ said Racksole, ‘I should like you to come down with me to the
+Grand Babylon. Then we can talk over my little affair at length. And may
+we go on your boat? I want to meet your crew.’
+
+‘That will be all right,’ Hazell remarked. ‘My two men are the idlest,
+most soul-less chaps you ever saw. They eat too much, and they have an
+enormous appetite for beer; but they know the river, and they know their
+business, and they will do anything within the fair game if they are
+paid for it, and aren’t asked to hurry.’
+
+That night, just after dark, Theodore Racksole embarked with his new
+friend George Hazell in one of the black-painted Customs wherries,
+manned by a crew of two men--both the later freemen of the river, a
+distinction which carries with it certain privileges unfamiliar to the
+mere landsman. It was a cloudy and oppressive evening, not a star
+showing to illumine the slow tide, now just past its flood. The vast
+forms of steamers at anchor--chiefly those of the General Steam
+Navigation and the Aberdeen Line--heaved themselves high out of the
+water, straining sluggishly at their mooring buoys. On either side the
+naked walls of warehouses rose like grey precipices from the stream,
+holding forth quaint arms of steam-cranes. To the west the Tower Bridge
+spanned the river with its formidable arch, and above that its suspended
+footpath--a hundred and fifty feet from earth.
+
+Down towards the east and the Pool of London a forest of funnels and
+masts was dimly outlined against the sinister sky. Huge barges, each
+steered by a single man at the end of a pair of giant oars, lumbered and
+swirled down-stream at all angles. Occasionally a tug snorted busily
+past, flashing its red and green signals and dragging an unwieldy tail
+of barges in its wake. Then a Margate passenger steamer, its electric
+lights gleaming from every porthole, swerved round to anchor, with its
+load of two thousand fatigued excursionists. Over everything brooded an
+air of mystery--a spirit and feeling of strangeness, remoteness, and the
+inexplicable. As the broad flat little boat bobbed its way under the
+shadow of enormous hulks, beneath stretched hawsers, and past buoys
+covered with green slime, Racksole could scarcely believe that he was in
+the very heart of London--the most prosaic city in the world. He had a
+queer idea that almost anything might happen in this seeming waste of
+waters at this weird hour of ten o’clock. It appeared incredible to him
+that only a mile or two away people were sitting in theatres applauding
+farces, and that at Cannon Street Station, a few yards off, other people
+were calmly taking the train to various highly respectable suburbs whose
+names he was gradually learning. He had the uplifting sensation of being
+in another world which comes to us sometimes amid surroundings violently
+different from our usual surroundings. The most ordinary noises--of men
+calling, of a chain running through a slot, of a distant siren--
+translated themselves to his ears into terrible and haunting sounds,
+full of portentous significance. He looked over the side of the boat
+into the brown water, and asked himself what frightful secrets lay
+hidden in its depth. Then he put his hand into his hip-pocket and
+touched the stock of his Colt revolver--that familiar substance
+comforted him.
+
+The oarsmen had instructions to drop slowly down to the Pool, as the
+wide reach below the Tower is called. These two men had not been
+previously informed of the precise object of the expedition, but now
+that they were safely afloat Hazell judged it expedient to give them
+some notion of it. ‘We expect to come across a rather suspicious steam
+launch,’ he said. ‘My friend here is very anxious to get a sight of her,
+and until he has seen her nothing definite can be done.’
+
+‘What sort of a craft is she, sir?’ asked the stroke oar, a fat-faced
+man who seemed absolutely incapable of any serious exertion.
+
+‘I don’t know,’ Racksole replied; ‘but as near as I can judge, she’s
+about sixty feet in length, and painted black. I fancy I shall recognize
+her when I see her.’
+
+‘Not much to go by, that,’ exclaimed the other man curtly. But he said
+no more. He, as well as his mate, had received from Theodore Racksole
+one English sovereign as a kind of preliminary fee, and an English
+sovereign will do a lot towards silencing the natural sarcastic
+tendencies and free speech of a Thames waterman.
+
+‘There’s one thing I noticed,’ said Racksole suddenly, ‘and I forgot to
+tell you of it, Mr Hazell. Her screw seemed to move with a rather
+irregular, lame sort of beat.’
+
+Both watermen burst into a laugh.
+
+‘Oh,’ said the fat rower, ‘I know what you’re after, sir--it’s Jack
+Everett’s launch, commonly called “Squirm”. She’s got a four-bladed
+propeller, and one blade is broken off short.’
+
+‘Ay, that’s it, sure enough,’ agreed the man in the bows. ‘And if it’s
+her you want, I seed her lying up against Cherry Gardens Pier this very
+morning.’
+
+‘Let us go to Cherry Gardens Pier by all means, as soon as possible,’
+
+Racksole said, and the boat swung across stream and then began to creep
+down by the right bank, feeling its way past wharves, many of which,
+even at that hour, were still busy with their cranes, that descended
+empty into the bellies of ships and came up full. As the two watermen
+gingerly manoeuvred the boat on the ebbing tide, Hazell explained to the
+millionaire that the ‘Squirm’ was one of the most notorious craft on the
+river. It appeared that when anyone had a nefarious or underhand scheme
+afoot which necessitated river work Everett’s launch was always
+available for a suitable monetary consideration. The ‘Squirm’ had got
+itself into a thousand scrapes, and out of those scrapes again with
+safety, if not precisely with honour. The river police kept a watchful
+eye on it, and the chief marvel about the whole thing was that old
+Everett, the owner, had never yet been seriously compromised in any
+illegal escapade. Not once had the officer of the law been able to prove
+anything definite against the proprietor of the ‘Squirm’, though several
+of its quondam hirers were at that very moment in various of Her
+Majesty’s prisons throughout the country. Latterly, however, the launch,
+with its damaged propeller, which Everett consistently refused to have
+repaired, had acquired an evil reputation, even among evil-doers, and
+this fraternity had gradually come to abandon it for less easily
+recognizable craft.
+
+‘Your friend, Mr Tom Jackson,’ said Hazell to Racksole, ‘committed an
+error of discretion when he hired the “Squirm”. A scoundrel of his
+experience and calibre ought certainly to have known better than that.
+You cannot fail to get a clue now.’
+
+By this time the boat was approaching Cherry Gardens Pier, but
+unfortunately a thin night-fog had swept over the river, and objects
+could not be discerned with any clearness beyond a distance of thirty
+yards. As the Customs boat scraped down past the pier all its occupants
+strained eyes for a glimpse of the mysterious launch, but nothing could
+be seen of it. The boat continued to float idly down-stream, the men
+resting on their oars.
+
+Then they narrowly escaped bumping a large Norwegian sailing vessel at
+anchor with her stem pointing down-stream. This ship they passed on the
+port side. Just as they got clear of her bowsprit the fat man cried out
+excitedly, ‘There’s her nose!’ and he put the boat about and began to
+pull back against the tide. And surely the missing ‘Squirm’ was
+comfortably anchored on the starboard quarter of the Norwegian ship,
+hidden neatly between the ship and the shore. The men pulled very
+quietly alongside.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+Chapter Twenty-Six THE NIGHT CHASE AND THE MUDLARK
+
+‘I’LL board her to start with,’ said Hazell, whispering to Racksole.
+‘I’ll make out that I suspect they’ve got dutiable goods on board, and
+that will give me a chance to have a good look at her.’
+
+Dressed in his official overcoat and peaked cap, he stepped, rather
+jauntily as Racksole thought, on to the low deck of the launch. ‘Anyone
+aboard?’
+
+Racksole heard him cry out, and a woman’s voice answered. ‘I’m a Customs
+examining officer, and I want to search the launch,’ Hazell shouted, and
+then disappeared down into the little saloon amidships, and Racksole
+heard no more. It seemed to the millionaire that Hazell had been gone
+hours, but at length he returned.
+
+‘Can’t find anything,’ he said, as he jumped into the boat, and then
+privately to Racksole: ‘There’s a woman on board. Looks as if she might
+coincide with your description of Miss Spencer. Steam’s up, but there’s
+no engineer. I asked where the engineer was, and she inquired what
+business that was of mine, and requested me to get through with my own
+business and clear off. Seems rather a smart sort. I poked my nose into
+everything, but I saw no sign of any one else. Perhaps we’d better pull
+away and lie near for a bit, just to see if anything queer occurs.’
+
+‘You’re quite sure he isn’t on board?’ Racksole asked.
+
+‘Quite,’ said Hazell positively: ‘I know how to search a vessel. See
+this,’ and he handed to Racksole a sort of steel skewer, about two feet
+long, with a wooden handle. ‘That,’ he said, ‘is one of the Customs’
+aids to searching.’
+
+‘I suppose it wouldn’t do to go on board and carry off the lady?’
+Racksole suggested doubtfully.
+
+‘Well,’ Hazell began, with equal doubtfulness, ‘as for that--’
+
+‘Where’s ‘e orf?’ It was the man in the bows who interrupted Hazell.
+
+Following the direction of the man’s finger, both Hazell and Racksole
+saw with more or less distinctness a dinghy slip away from the forefoot
+of the Norwegian vessel and disappear downstream into the mist.
+
+‘It’s Jules, I’ll swear,’ cried Racksole. ‘After him, men. Ten pounds
+apiece if we overtake him!’
+
+‘Lay down to it now, boys!’ said Hazell, and the heavy Customs boat shot
+out in pursuit.
+
+‘This is going to be a lark,’ Racksole remarked.
+
+‘Depends on what you call a lark,’ said Hazell; ‘it’s not much of a lark
+tearing down midstream like this in a fog. You never know when you
+mayn’t be in kingdom come with all these barges knocking around. I
+expect that chap hid in the dinghy when he first caught sight of us, and
+then slipped his painter as soon as I’d gone.’
+
+The boat was moving at a rapid pace with the tide. Steering was a matter
+of luck and instinct more than anything else. Every now and then Hazell,
+who held the lines, was obliged to jerk the boat’s head sharply round to
+avoid a barge or an anchored vessel. It seemed to Racksole that vessels
+were anchored all over the stream. He looked about him anxiously, but
+for a long time he could see nothing but mist and vague nautical forms.
+Then suddenly he said, quietly enough, ‘We’re on the right road; I can
+see him ahead.
+
+We’re gaining on him.’ In another minute the dinghy was plainly visible,
+not twenty yards away, and the sculler--sculling frantically now--was
+unmistakably Jules--Jules in a light tweed suit and a bowler hat.
+
+‘You were right,’ Hazell said; ‘this is a lark. I believe I’m getting
+quite excited. It’s more exciting than playing the trombone in an
+orchestra. I’ll run him down, eh?--and then we can drag the chap in from
+the water.’
+
+Racksole nodded, but at that moment a barge, with her red sails set,
+stood out of the fog clean across the bows of the Customs boat, which
+narrowly escaped instant destruction. When they got clear, and the usual
+interchange of calm, nonchalant swearing was over, the dinghy was barely
+to be discerned in the mist, and the fat man was breathing in such a
+manner that his sighs might almost have been heard on the banks.
+Racksole wanted violently to do something, but there was nothing to do;
+he could only sit supine by Hazell’s side in the stern-sheets. Gradually
+they began again to overtake the dinghy, whose one-man crew was
+evidently tiring. As they came up, hand over fist, the dinghy’s nose
+swerved aside, and the tiny craft passed down a water-lane between two
+anchored mineral barges, which lay black and deserted about fifty yards
+from the Surrey shore. ‘To starboard,’ said Racksole. ‘No, man!’
+
+Hazell replied; ‘we can’t get through there. He’s bound to come out
+below; it’s only a feint. I’ll keep our nose straight ahead.’
+
+And they went on, the fat man pounding away, with a face which glistened
+even in the thick gloom. It was an empty dinghy which emerged from
+between the two barges and went drifting and revolving down towards
+Greenwich.
+
+The fat man gasped a word to his comrade, and the Customs boat stopped
+dead.
+
+‘’E’s all right,’ said the man in the bows. ‘If it’s ‘im you want, ‘e’s
+on one o’ them barges, so you’ve only got to step on and take ‘im orf.’
+
+‘That’s all,’ said a voice out of the depths of the nearest barge, and
+it was the voice of Jules, otherwise known as Mr Tom Jackson.
+
+‘’Ear ‘im?’ said the fat man smiling. ‘’E’s a good ‘un, ‘e is. But if I
+was you, Mr Hazell, or you, sir, I shouldn’t step on to that barge so
+quick as all that.’
+
+They backed the boat under the stem of the nearest barge and gazed
+upwards.
+
+‘It’s all right,’ said Racksole to Hazell; ‘I’ve got a revolver. How can
+I clamber up there?’
+
+‘Yes, I dare say you’ve got a revolver all right,’ Hazell replied
+sharply.
+
+‘But you mustn’t use it. There mustn’t be any noise. We should have the
+river police down on us in a twinkling if there was a revolver shot, and
+it would be the ruin of me. If an inquiry was held the Commissioners
+wouldn’t take any official notice of the fact that my superior officer
+had put me on to this job, and I should be requested to leave the
+service.’
+
+‘Have no fear on that score,’ said Racksole. ‘I shall, of course, take
+all responsibility.’
+
+‘It wouldn’t matter how much responsibility you took,’ Hazell retorted;
+‘you wouldn’t put me back into the service, and my career would be at an
+end.’
+
+‘But there are other careers,’ said Racksole, who was really anxious to
+lame his ex-waiter by means of a judiciously-aimed bullet. ‘There are
+other careers.’
+
+‘The Customs is my career,’ said Hazell, ‘so let’s have no shooting.
+We’ll wait about a bit; he can’t escape. You can have my skewer if you
+like’--and he gave Racksole his searching instrument. ‘And you can do
+what you please, provided you do it neatly and don’t make a row over
+it.’
+
+For a few moments the four men were passive in the boat, surrounded by
+swirling mist, with black water beneath them, and towering above them a
+half-loaded barge with a desperate and resourceful man on board.
+Suddenly the mist parted and shrivelled away in patches, as though
+before the breath of some monster. The sky was visible; it was a clear
+sky, and the moon was shining. The transformation was just one of those
+meteorological quick-changes which happen most frequently on a great
+river.
+
+‘That’s a sight better,’ said the fat man. At the same moment a head
+appeared over the edge of the barge. It was Jules’ face--dark, sinister
+and leering.
+
+‘Is it Mr Racksole in that boat?’ he inquired calmly; ‘because if so,
+let Mr Racksole step up. Mr Racksole has caught me, and he can have me
+for the asking. Here I am.’ He stood up to his full height on the barge,
+tall against the night sky, and all the occupants of the boat could see
+that he held firmly clasped in his right hand a short dagger. ‘Now, Mr
+Racksole, you’ve been after me for a long time,’ he continued; ‘here I
+am. Why don’t you step up? If you haven’t got the pluck yourself,
+persuade someone else to step up in your place ... the same fair
+treatment will be accorded to all.’ And Jules laughed a low, penetrating
+laugh.
+
+He was in the midst of this laugh when he lurched suddenly forward.
+
+‘What’r’ you doing of aboard my barge? Off you goes!’ It was a boy’s
+small shrill voice that sounded in the night. A ragged boy’s small form
+had appeared silently behind Jules, and two small arms with a vicious
+shove precipitated him into the water. He fell with a fine gurgling
+splash. It was at once obvious that swimming was not among Jules’
+accomplishments. He floundered wildly and sank. When he reappeared he
+was dragged into the Customs boat. Rope was produced, and in a minute or
+two the man lay ignominiously bound in the bottom of the boat. With the
+aid of a mudlark--a mere barge boy, who probably had no more right on
+the barge than Jules himself--Racksole had won his game. For the first
+time for several weeks the millionaire experienced a sensation of
+equanimity and satisfaction. He leaned over the prostrate form of Jules,
+Hazell’s professional skewer in his hand.
+
+‘What are you going to do with him now?’ asked Hazell.
+
+‘We’ll row up to the landing steps in front of the Grand Babylon. He
+shall be well lodged at my hotel, I promise him.’
+
+Jules spoke no word.
+
+Before Racksole parted company with the Customs man that night Jules had
+been safely transported into the Grand Babylon Hôtel and the two
+watermen had received their £10 apiece.
+
+‘You will sleep here?’ said the millionaire to Mr George Hazell. ‘It is
+late.’
+
+‘With pleasure,’ said Hazell. The next morning he found a sumptuous
+breakfast awaiting him, and in his table-napkin was a Bank of England
+note for a hundred pounds. But, though he did not hear of them till much
+later, many things had happened before Hazell consumed that sumptuous
+breakfast.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+Chapter Twenty-Seven THE CONFESSION OF MR TOM JACKSON
+
+IT happened that the small bedroom occupied by Jules during the years he
+was head-waiter at the Grand Babylon had remained empty since his sudden
+dismissal by Theodore Racksole. No other head-waiter had been formally
+appointed in his place; and, indeed, the absence of one man--even the
+unique Jules--could scarcely have been noticed in the enormous staff of
+a place like the Grand Babylon. The functions of a head-waiter are
+generally more ornamental, spectacular, and morally impressive than
+useful, and it was so at the great hotel on the Embankment. Racksole
+accordingly had the excellent idea of transporting his prisoner, with as
+much secrecy as possible, to this empty bedroom. There proved to be no
+difficulty in doing so; Jules showed himself perfectly amenable to a
+show of superior force.
+
+Racksole took upstairs with him an old commissionaire who had been
+attached to the outdoor service of the hotel for many years--a grey-
+haired man, wiry as a terrier and strong as a mastiff. Entering the
+bedroom with Jules, whose hands were bound, he told the commissionaire
+to remain outside the door.
+
+Jules’ bedroom was quite an ordinary apartment, though perhaps slightly
+superior to the usual accommodation provided for servants in the
+caravanserais of the West End. It was about fourteen by twelve. It was
+furnished with a bedstead, a small wardrobe, a small washstand and
+dressing-table, and two chairs. There were two hooks behind the door, a
+strip of carpet by the bed, and some cheap ornaments on the iron
+mantelpiece. There was also one electric light. The window was a little
+square one, high up from the floor, and it looked on the inner
+quadrangle.
+
+The room was on the top storey--the eighth--and from it you had a view
+sheer to the ground. Twenty feet below ran a narrow cornice about a foot
+wide; three feet or so above the window another and wider cornice jutted
+out, and above that was the high steep roof of the hotel, though you
+could not see it from the window. As Racksole examined the window and
+the outlook, he said to himself that Jules could not escape by that
+exit, at any rate. He gave a glance up the chimney, and saw that the
+flue was far too small to admit a man’s body.
+
+Then he called in the commissionaire, and together they bound Jules
+firmly to the bedstead, allowing him, however, to lie down. All the
+while the captive never opened his mouth--merely smiled a smile of
+disdain. Finally Racksole removed the ornaments, the carpet, the chairs
+and the hooks, and wrenched away the switch of the electric light. Then
+he and the commissionaire left the room, and Racksole locked the door on
+the outside and put the key in his pocket.
+
+‘You will keep watch here,’ he said to the commissionaire, ‘through the
+night. You can sit on this chair. Don’t go to sleep. If you hear the
+slightest noise in the room blow your cab-whistle; I will arrange to
+answer the signal. If there is no noise do nothing whatever. I don’t
+want this talked about, you understand. I shall trust you; you can trust
+me.’
+
+‘But the servants will see me here when they get up to-morrow,’ said the
+commissionaire, with a faint smile, ‘and they will be pretty certain to
+ask what I’m doing of up here. What shall I say to ‘em?’
+
+‘You’ve been a soldier, haven’t you?’ asked Racksole.
+
+‘I’ve seen three campaigns, sir,’ was the reply, and, with a gesture of
+pardonable pride, the grey-haired fellow pointed to the medals on his
+breast.
+
+‘Well, supposing you were on sentry duty and some meddlesome person in
+camp asked you what you were doing--what should you say?’
+
+‘I should tell him to clear off or take the consequences, and pretty
+quick too.’
+
+‘Do that to-morrow morning, then, if necessary,’ said Racksole, and
+departed.
+
+It was then about one o’clock a.m. The millionaire retired to bed--not
+his own bed, but a bed on the seventh storey. He did not, however, sleep
+very long. Shortly after dawn he was wide awake, and thinking busily
+about Jules.
+
+He was, indeed, very curious to know Jules’ story, and he determined, if
+the thing could be done at all, by persuasion or otherwise, to extract
+it from him. With a man of Theodore Racksole’s temperament there is no
+time like the present, and at six o’clock, as the bright morning sun
+brought gaiety into the window, he dressed and went upstairs again to
+the eighth storey. The commissionaire sat stolid, but alert on his
+chair, and, at the sight of his master, rose and saluted.
+
+‘Anything happened?’ Racksole asked.
+
+‘Nothing, sir.’
+
+‘Servants say anything?’
+
+‘Only a dozen or so of ‘em are up yet, sir. One of ‘em asked what I was
+playing at, and so I told her I was looking after a bull bitch and a
+litter of pups that you was very particular about, sir.’
+
+‘Good,’ said Racksole, as he unlocked the door and entered the room. All
+was exactly as he had left it, except that Jules who had been lying on
+his back, had somehow turned over and was now lying on his face. He
+gazed silently, scowling at the millionaire. Racksole greeted him and
+ostentatiously took a revolver from his hip-pocket and laid it on the
+dressing-table. Then he seated himself on the dressing-table by the side
+of the revolver, his legs dangling an inch or two above the floor.
+
+‘I want to have a talk to you, Jackson,’ he began.
+
+‘You can talk to me as much as you like,’ said Jules. ‘I shan’t
+interfere, you may bet on that.’
+
+‘I should like you to answer some questions.’
+
+‘That’s different,’ said Jules. ‘I’m not going to answer any questions
+while I’m tied up like this. You may bet on that, too.’
+
+‘It will pay you to be reasonable,’ said Racksole.
+
+‘I’m not going to answer any questions while I’m tied up.’
+
+‘I’ll unfasten your legs, if you like,’ Racksole suggested politely,
+‘then you can sit up. It’s no use you pretending you’ve been
+uncomfortable, because I know you haven’t. I calculate you’ve been
+treated very handsomely, my son. There you are!’ and he loosened the
+lower extremities of his prisoner from their bonds. ‘Now I repeat you
+may as well be reasonable. You may as well admit that you’ve been fairly
+beaten in the game and act accordingly. I was determined to beat you, by
+myself, without the police, and I’ve done it.’
+
+‘You’ve done yourself,’ retorted Jules. ‘You’ve gone against the law. If
+you’d had any sense you wouldn’t have meddled; you’d have left
+everything to the police. They’d have muddled about for a year or two,
+and then done nothing. Who’s going to tell the police now? Are you? Are
+you going to give me up to ‘em, and say, “Here, I’ve caught him for
+you”. If you do they’ll ask you to explain several things, and then
+you’ll look foolish. One crime doesn’t excuse another, and you’ll find
+that out.’
+
+With unerring insight, Jules had perceived exactly the difficulty of
+Racksole’s position, and it was certainly a difficulty which Racksole
+did not attempt to minimize to himself. He knew well that it would have
+to be faced. He did not, however, allow Jules to guess his thoughts.
+
+‘Meanwhile,’ he said calmly to the other, ‘you’re here and my prisoner.
+
+You’ve committed a variegated assortment of crimes, and among them is
+murder. You are due to be hung. You know that. There is no reason why I
+should call in the police at all. It will be perfectly easy for me to
+finish you off, as you deserve, myself. I shall only be carrying out
+justice, and robbing the hangman of his fee. Precisely as I brought you
+into the hotel, I can take you out again. A few days ago you borrowed or
+stole a steam yacht at Ostend. What you have done with it I don’t know,
+nor do I care. But I strongly suspect that my daughter had a narrow
+escape of being murdered on your steam yacht. Now I have a steam yacht
+of my own. Suppose I use it as you used yours! Suppose I smuggle you on
+to it, steam out to sea, and then ask you to step off it into the ocean
+one night. Such things have been done.
+
+Such things will be done again. If I acted so, I should at least, have
+the satisfaction of knowing that I had relieved society from the incubus
+of a scoundrel.’
+
+‘But you won’t,’ Jules murmured.
+
+‘No,’ said Racksole steadily, ‘I won’t--if you behave yourself this
+morning. But I swear to you that if you don’t I will never rest till you
+are dead, police or no police. You don’t know Theodore Racksole.’
+
+‘I believe you mean it,’ Jules exclaimed, with an air of surprised
+interest, as though he had discovered something of importance.
+
+‘I believe I do,’ Racksole resumed. ‘Now listen. At the best, you will
+be given up to the police. At the worst, I shall deal with you myself.
+With the police you may have a chance--you may get off with twenty
+years’ penal servitude, because, though it is absolutely certain that
+you murdered Reginald Dimmock, it would be a little difficult to prove
+the case against you. But with me you would have no chance whatever. I
+have a few questions to put to you, and it will depend on how you answer
+them whether I give you up to the police or take the law into my own
+hands. And let me tell you that the latter course would be much simpler
+for me. And I would take it, too, did I not feel that you were a very
+clever and exceptional man; did I not have a sort of sneaking admiration
+for your detestable skill and ingenuity.’
+
+‘You think, then, that I am clever?’ said Jules. ‘You are right. I am. I
+should have been much too clever for you if luck had not been against
+me.
+
+You owe your victory, not to skill, but to luck.’
+
+‘That is what the vanquished always say. Waterloo was a bit of pure luck
+for the English, no doubt, but it was Waterloo all the same.’
+
+Jules yawned elaborately. ‘What do you want to know?’ he inquired, with
+politeness.
+
+‘First and foremost, I want to know the names of your accomplices inside
+this hotel.’
+
+‘I have no more,’ said Jules. ‘Rocco was the last.’
+
+‘Don’t begin by lying to me. If you had no accomplice, how did you
+contrive that one particular bottle of Romanée-Conti should be served to
+his Highness Prince Eugen?’
+
+‘Then you discovered that in time, did you?’ said Jules. ‘I was afraid
+so.
+
+Let me explain that that needed no accomplice. The bottle was topmost in
+the bin, and naturally it would be taken. Moreover, I left it sticking
+out a little further than the rest.’
+
+‘You did not arrange, then, that Hubbard should be taken ill the night
+before last?’
+
+‘I had no idea,’ said Jules, ‘that the excellent Hubbard was not
+enjoying his accustomed health.’
+
+‘Tell me,’ said Racksole, ‘who or what is the origin of your vendetta
+against the life of Prince Eugen?’
+
+‘I had no vendetta against the life of Prince Eugen,’ said Jules, ‘at
+least, not to begin with. I merely undertook, for a consideration, to
+see that Prince Eugen did not have an interview with a certain Mr
+Sampson Levi in London before a certain date, that was all. It seemed
+simple enough. I had been engaged in far more complicated transactions
+before. I was convinced that I could manage it, with the help of Rocco
+and Em--and Miss Spencer.’
+
+‘Is that woman your wife?’
+
+‘She would like to be,’ he sneered. ‘Please don’t interrupt. I had
+completed my arrangements, when you so inconsiderately bought the hotel.
+I don’t mind admitting now that from the very moment when you came
+across me that night in the corridor I was secretly afraid of you,
+though I scarcely admitted the fact even to myself then. I thought it
+safer to shift the scene of our operations to Ostend. I had meant to
+deal with Prince Eugen in this hotel, but I decided, then, to intercept
+him on the Continent, and I despatched Miss Spencer with some
+instructions. Troubles never come singly, and it happened that just then
+that fool Dimmock, who had been in the swim with us, chose to prove
+refractory. The slightest hitch would have upset everything, and I was
+obliged to--to clear him off the scene. He wanted to back out--he had a
+bad attack of conscience, and violent measures were essential. I regret
+his untimely decease, but he brought it on himself. Well, everything was
+going serenely when you and your brilliant daughter, apparently
+determined to meddle, turned up again among us at Ostend. Only twenty-
+four hours, however, had to elapse before the date which had been
+mentioned to me by my employers. I kept poor little Eugen for the
+allotted time, and then you managed to get hold of him. I do not deny
+that you scored there, though, according to my original instructions,
+you scored too late. The time had passed, and so, so far as I knew, it
+didn’t matter a pin whether Prince Eugen saw Mr Sampson Levi or not. But
+my employers were still uneasy. They were uneasy even after little Eugen
+had lain ill in Ostend for several weeks. It appears that they feared
+that even at that date an interview between Prince Eugen and Mr Sampson
+Levi might work harm to them. So they applied to me again. This time
+they wanted Prince Eugen to be--em--finished off entirely. They offered
+high terms.’
+
+‘What terms?’
+
+‘I had received fifty thousand pounds for the first job, of which Rocco
+had half. Rocco was also to be made a member of a certain famous
+European order, if things went right. That was what he coveted far more
+than the money--the vain fellow! For the second job I was offered a
+hundred thousand. A tolerably large sum. I regret that I have not been
+able to earn it.’
+
+‘Do you mean to tell me,’ asked Racksole, horror-struck by this calm
+confession, in spite of his previous knowledge, ‘that you were offered a
+hundred thousand pounds to poison Prince Eugen?’
+
+‘You put it rather crudely,’ said Jules in reply. ‘I prefer to say that
+I was offered a hundred thousand pounds if Prince Eugen should die
+within a reasonable time.’
+
+‘And who were your damnable employers?’
+
+‘That, honestly, I do not know.’
+
+‘You know, I suppose, who paid you the first fifty thousand pounds, and
+who promised you the hundred thousand.’
+
+‘Well,’ said Jules, ‘I know vaguely. I know that he came via Vienna
+from--em--Bosnia. My impression was that the affair had some bearing,
+direct or indirect, on the projected marriage of the King of Bosnia. He
+is a young monarch, scarcely out of political leading-strings, as it
+were, and doubtless his Ministers thought that they had better arrange
+his marriage for him. They tried last year, and failed because the
+Princess whom they had in mind had cast her sparkling eyes on another
+Prince. That Prince happened to be Prince Eugen of Posen. The Ministers
+of the King of Bosnia knew exactly the circumstances of Prince Eugen.
+They knew that he could not marry without liquidating his debts, and
+they knew that he could only liquidate his debts through this Jew,
+Sampson Levi. Unfortunately for me, they ultimately wanted to make too
+sure of Prince Eugen. They were afraid he might after all arrange his
+marriage without the aid of Mr Sampson Levi, and so--well, you know the
+rest.... It is a pity that the poor little innocent King of Bosnia can’t
+have the Princess of his Ministers’ choice.’
+
+‘Then you think that the King himself had no part in this abominable
+crime?’
+
+‘I think decidedly not.’
+
+‘I am glad of that,’ said Racksole simply. ‘And now, the name of your
+immediate employer.’
+
+‘He was merely an agent. He called himself Sleszak--S-l-e-s-z-a-k. But I
+imagine that that wasn’t his real name. I don’t know his real name. An
+old man, he often used to be found at the Hôtel Ritz, Paris.’
+
+‘Mr Sleszak and I will meet,’ said Racksole.
+
+‘Not in this world,’ said Jules quickly. ‘He is dead. I heard only last
+night--just before our little tussle.’
+
+There was a silence.
+
+‘It is well,’ said Racksole at length. ‘Prince Eugen lives, despite all
+plots. After all, justice is done.’
+
+‘Mr Racksole is here, but he can see no one, Miss.’ The words came from
+behind the door, and the voice was the commissionaire’s. Racksole
+started up, and went towards the door.
+
+‘Nonsense,’ was the curt reply, in feminine tones. ‘Move aside
+instantly.’
+
+The door opened, and Nella entered. There were tears in her eyes.
+
+‘Oh! Dad,’ she exclaimed, ‘I’ve only just heard you were in the hotel.
+We looked for you everywhere. Come at once, Prince Eugen is dying--’
+Then she saw the man sitting on the bed, and stopped.
+
+Later, when Jules was alone again, he remarked to himself, ‘I may get
+that hundred thousand.’
+
+
+
+
+
+
+Chapter Twenty-Eight THE STATE BEDROOM ONCE MORE
+
+WHEN, immediately after the episode of the bottle of Romanée-Conti in
+the State dining-room, Prince Aribert and old Hans found that Prince
+Eugen had sunk in an unconscious heap over his chair, both the former
+thought, at the first instant, that Eugen must have already tasted the
+poisoned wine. But a moment’s reflection showed that this was not
+possible. If the Hereditary Prince of Posen was dying or dead, his
+condition was due to some other agency than the Romanée-Conti. Aribert
+bent over him, and a powerful odour from the man’s lips at once
+disclosed the cause of the disaster: it was the odour of laudanum.
+Indeed, the smell of that sinister drug seemed now to float heavily over
+the whole table. Across Aribert’s mind there flashed then the true
+explanation. Prince Eugen, taking advantage of Aribert’s attention being
+momentarily diverted; and yielding to a sudden impulse of despair, had
+decided to poison himself, and had carried out his intention on the
+spot.
+
+The laudanum must have been already in his pocket, and this fact went to
+prove that the unfortunate Prince had previously contemplated such a
+proceeding, even after his definite promise. Aribert remembered now with
+painful vividness his nephew’s words: ‘I withdraw my promise. Observe
+that--I withdraw it.’ It must have been instantly after the utterance of
+that formal withdrawal that Eugen attempted to destroy himself.
+
+‘It’s laudanum, Hans,’ Aribert exclaimed, rather helplessly.
+
+‘Surely his Highness has not taken poison?’ said Hans. ‘It is
+impossible!’
+
+‘I fear it is only too possible,’ said the other. ‘It’s laudanum. What
+are we to do? Quick, man!’
+
+‘His Highness must be roused, Prince. He must have an emetic. We had
+better carry him to the bedroom.’
+
+They did, and laid him on the great bed; and then Aribert mixed an
+emetic of mustard and water, and administered it, but without any
+effect. The sufferer lay motionless, with every muscle relaxed. His skin
+was ice-cold to the touch, and the eyelids, half-drawn, showed that the
+pupils were painfully contracted.
+
+‘Go out, and send for a doctor, Hans. Say that Prince Eugen has been
+suddenly taken ill, but that it isn’t serious. The truth must never be
+known.’
+
+‘He must be roused, sire,’ Hans said again, as he hurried from the room.
+
+Aribert lifted his nephew from the bed, shook him, pinched him, flicked
+him cruelly, shouted at him, dragged him about, but to no avail. At
+length he desisted, from mere physical fatigue, and laid the Prince back
+again on the bed. Every minute that elapsed seemed an hour. Alone with
+the unconscious organism in the silence of the great stately chamber,
+under the cold yellow glare of the electric lights, Aribert became a
+prey to the most despairing thoughts. The tragedy of his nephew’s career
+forced itself upon him, and it occurred to him that an early and
+shameful death had all along been inevitable for this good-natured,
+weak-purposed, unhappy child of a historic throne. A little good
+fortune, and his character, so evenly balanced between right and wrong,
+might have followed the proper path, and Eugen might have figured at any
+rate with dignity on the European stage. But now it appeared that all
+was over, the last stroke played. And in this disaster Aribert saw the
+ruin of his own hopes. For Aribert would have to occupy his nephew’s
+throne, and he felt instinctively that nature had not cut him out for a
+throne. By a natural impulse he inwardly rebelled against the prospect
+of monarchy. Monarchy meant so much for which he knew himself to be
+entirely unfitted. It meant a political marriage, which means a forced
+marriage, a union against inclination. And then what of Nella--Nella!
+
+Hans returned. ‘I have sent for the nearest doctor, and also for a
+specialist,’ he said.
+
+‘Good,’ said Aribert. ‘I hope they will hurry.’ Then he sat down and
+wrote a card. ‘Take this yourself to Miss Racksole. If she is out of the
+hotel, ascertain where she is and follow her. Understand, it is of the
+first importance.’
+
+Hans bowed, and departed for the second time, and Aribert was alone
+again.
+
+He gazed at Eugen, and made another frantic attempt to rouse him from
+the deadly stupor, but it was useless. He walked away to the window:
+through the opened casement he could hear the tinkle of passing hansoms
+on the Embankment below, whistles of door-keepers, and the hoot of steam
+tugs on the river. The world went on as usual, it appeared. It was an
+absurd world.
+
+He desired nothing better than to abandon his princely title, and live
+as a plain man, the husband of the finest woman on earth.... But now!...
+
+Pah! How selfish he was, to be thinking of himself when Eugen lay dying.
+Yet--Nella!
+
+The door opened, and a man entered, who was obviously the doctor. A few
+curt questions, and he had grasped the essentials of the case. ‘Oblige
+me by ringing the bell, Prince. I shall want some hot water, and an
+able-bodied man and a nurse.’
+
+‘Who wants a nurse?’ said a voice, and Nella came quietly in. ‘I am a
+nurse,’ she added to the doctor, ‘and at your orders.’
+
+The next two hours were a struggle between life and death. The first
+doctor, a specialist who followed him, Nella, Prince Aribert, and old
+Hans formed, as it were, a league to save the dying man. None else in
+the hotel knew the real seriousness of the case. When a Prince falls
+ill, and especially by his own act, the precise truth is not issued
+broadcast to the universe.
+
+According to official intelligence, a Prince is never seriously ill
+until he is dead. Such is statecraft.
+
+The worst feature of Prince Eugen’s case was that emetics proved futile.
+
+Neither of the doctors could explain their failure, but it was only too
+apparent. The league was reduced to helplessness. At last the great
+specialist from Manchester Square gave it out that there was no chance
+for Prince Eugen unless the natural vigour of his constitution should
+prove capable of throwing off the poison unaided by scientific
+assistance, as a drunkard can sleep off his potion. Everything had been
+tried, even to artificial respiration and the injection of hot coffee.
+Having emitted this pronouncement, the great specialist from Manchester
+Square left. It was one o’clock in the morning. By one of those strange
+and futile coincidences which sometimes startle us by their subtle
+significance, the specialist met Theodore Racksole and his captive as
+they were entering the hotel. Neither had the least suspicion of the
+other’s business.
+
+In the State bedroom the small group of watchers surrounded the bed. The
+slow minutes filed away in dreary procession. Another hour passed. Then
+the figure on the bed, hitherto so motionless, twitched and moved; the
+lips parted.
+
+‘There is hope,’ said the doctor, and administered a stimulant which was
+handed to him by Nella.
+
+In a quarter of an hour the patient had regained consciousness. For the
+ten thousandth time in the history of medicine a sound constitution had
+accomplished a miracle impossible to the accumulated medical skill of
+centuries.
+
+In due course the doctor left, saying that Prince Eugen was ‘on the high
+road to recovery,’ and promising to come again within a few hours.
+Morning had dawned. Nella drew the great curtains, and let in a flood of
+sunlight.
+
+Old Hans, overcome by fatigue, dozed in a chair in a far corner of the
+room.
+
+The reaction had been too much for him. Nella and Prince Aribert looked
+at each other. They had not exchanged a word about themselves, yet each
+knew what the other had been thinking. They clasped hands with a perfect
+understanding. Their brief love-making had been of the silent kind, and
+it was silent now. No word was uttered. A shadow had passed from over
+them, but only their eyes expressed relief and joy.
+
+‘Aribert!’ The faint call came from the bed. Aribert went to the
+bedside, while Nella remained near the window.
+
+‘What is it, Eugen?’ he said. ‘You are better now.’
+
+‘You think so?’ murmured the other. ‘I want you to forgive me for all
+this, Aribert. I must have caused you an intolerable trouble. I did it
+so clumsily; that is what annoys me. Laudanum was a feeble expedient;
+but I could think of nothing else, and I daren’t ask anyone for advice.
+I was obliged to go out and buy the stuff for myself. It was all very
+awkward.
+
+But, thank goodness, it has not been ineffectual.’
+
+‘What do you mean, Eugen? You are better. In a day or so you will be
+perfectly recovered.’
+
+‘I am dying,’ said Eugen quietly. ‘Do not be deceived. I die because I
+wish to die. It is bound to be so. I know by the feel of my heart. In a
+few hours it will be over. The throne of Posen will be yours, Aribert.
+You will fill it more worthily than I have done. Don’t let them know
+over there that I poisoned myself. Swear Hans to secrecy; swear the
+doctors to secrecy; and breathe no word yourself. I have been a fool,
+but I do not wish it to be known that I was also a coward. Perhaps it is
+not cowardice; perhaps it is courage, after all--courage to cut the
+knot. I could not have survived the disgrace of any revelations,
+Aribert, and revelations would have been sure to come. I have made a
+fool of myself, but I am ready to pay for it. We of Posen--we always
+pay--everything except our debts. Ah! those debts! Had it not been for
+those I could have faced her who was to have been my wife, to have
+shared my throne. I could have hidden my past, and begun again. With her
+help I really could have begun again. But Fate has been against me--
+always! always! By the way, what was that plot against me, Aribert? I
+forget, I forget.’
+
+His eyes closed. There was a sudden noise. Old Hans had slipped from his
+chair to the floor. He picked himself up, dazed, and crept shamefacedly
+out of the room.
+
+Aribert took his nephew’s hand.
+
+‘Nonsense, Eugen! You are dreaming. You will be all right soon. Pull
+yourself together.’
+
+‘All because of a million,’ the sick man moaned. ‘One miserable million
+English pounds. The national debt of Posen is fifty millions, and I, the
+Prince of Posen, couldn’t borrow one. If I could have got it, I might
+have held my head up again. Good-bye, Aribert.... Who is that girl?’
+
+Aribert looked up. Nella was standing silent at the foot of the bed, her
+eyes moist. She came round to the bedside, and put her hand on the
+patient’s heart. Scarcely could she feel its pulsation, and to Aribert
+her eyes expressed a sudden despair.
+
+At that moment Hans re-entered the room and beckoned to her.
+
+‘I have heard that Herr Racksole has returned to the hotel,’ he
+whispered, ‘and that he has captured that man Jules, who they say is
+such a villain.’
+
+Several times during the night Nella inquired for her father, but could
+gain no knowledge of his whereabouts. Now, at half-past six in the
+morning, a rumour had mysteriously spread among the servants of the
+hotel about the happenings of the night before. How it had originated no
+one could have determined, but it had originated.
+
+‘Where is my father?’ Nella asked of Hans.
+
+He shrugged his shoulders, and pointed upwards. ‘Somewhere at the top,
+they say.’
+
+Nella almost ran out of the room. Her interruption of the interview
+between Jules and Theodore Racksole has already been described. As she
+came downstairs with her father she said again, ‘Prince Eugen is dying--
+but I think you can save him.’
+
+‘I?’ exclaimed Theodore.
+
+‘Yes,’ she repeated positively. ‘I will tell you what I want you to do,
+and you must do it.’
+
+
+
+
+
+
+Chapter Twenty-Nine THEODORE IS CALLED TO THE RESCUE
+
+AS Nella passed downstairs from the top storey with her father--the
+lifts had not yet begun to work--she drew him into her own room, and
+closed the door.
+
+‘What’s this all about?’ he asked, somewhat mystified, and even alarmed
+by the extreme seriousness of her face.
+
+‘Dad,’ the girl began, ‘you are very rich, aren’t you? very, very rich?’
+She smiled anxiously, timidly. He did not remember to have seen that
+expression on her face before. He wanted to make a facetious reply, but
+checked himself.
+
+‘Yes,’ he said, ‘I am. You ought to know that by this time.’
+
+‘How soon could you realize a million pounds?’
+
+‘A million--what?’ he cried. Even he was staggered by her calm reference
+to this gigantic sum. ‘What on earth are you driving at?’
+
+‘A million pounds, I said. That is to say, five million dollars. How
+soon could you realize as much as that?’
+
+‘Oh!’ he answered, ‘in about a month, if I went about it neatly enough.
+I could unload as much as that in a month without scaring Wall Street
+and other places. But it would want some arrangement.’
+
+‘Useless!’ she exclaimed. ‘Couldn’t you do it quicker, if you really had
+to?’
+
+‘If I really had to, I could fix it in a week, but it would make things
+lively, and I should lose on the job.’
+
+‘Couldn’t you,’ she persisted, ‘couldn’t you go down this morning and
+raise a million, somehow, if it was a matter of life and death?’
+
+He hesitated. ‘Look here, Nella,’ he said, ‘what is it you’ve got up
+your sleeve?’
+
+‘Just answer my question, Dad, and try not to think that I’m a stark,
+staring lunatic.’
+
+‘I rather expect I could get a million this morning, even in London. But
+it would cost pretty dear. It might cost me fifty thousand pounds, and
+there would be the dickens of an upset in New York--a sort of grand
+universal slump in my holdings.’
+
+‘Why should New York know anything about it?’
+
+‘Why should New York know anything about it!’ he repeated. ‘My girl,
+when anyone borrows a million sovereigns the whole world knows about it.
+Do you reckon that I can go up to the Governors of the Bank of England
+and say, “Look here, lend Theodore Racksole a million for a few weeks,
+and he’ll give you an IOU and a covering note on stocks”?’
+
+‘But you could get it?’ she asked again.
+
+‘If there’s a million in London I guess I could handle it,’ he replied.
+
+‘Well, Dad,’ and she put her arms round his neck, ‘you’ve just got to go
+out and fix it. See? It’s for me. I’ve never asked you for anything
+really big before. But I do now. And I want it so badly.’
+
+He stared at her. ‘I award you the prize,’ he said, at length. ‘You
+deserve it for colossal and immense coolness. Now you can tell me the
+true inward meaning of all this rigmarole. What is it?’
+
+‘I want it for Prince Eugen,’ she began, at first hesitatingly, with
+pauses.
+
+‘He’s ruined unless he can get a million to pay off his debts. He’s
+dreadfully in love with a Princess, and he can’t marry her because of
+this.
+
+Her parents wouldn’t allow it. He was to have got it from Sampson Levi,
+but he arrived too late--owing to Jules.’
+
+‘I know all about that--perhaps more than you do. But I don’t see how it
+affects you or me.’
+
+‘The point is this, Dad,’ Nella continued. ‘He’s tried to commit
+suicide--he’s so hipped. Yes, real suicide. He took laudanum last night.
+It didn’t kill him straight off--he’s got over the first shock, but he’s
+in a very weak state, and he means to die. And I truly believe he will
+die. Now, if you could let him have that million, Dad, you would save
+his life.’
+
+Nella’s item of news was a considerable and disconcerting surprise to
+Racksole, but he hid his feelings fairly well.
+
+‘I haven’t the least desire to save his life, Nell. I don’t overmuch
+respect your Prince Eugen. I’ve done what I could for him--but only for
+the sake of seeing fair play, and because I object to conspiracies and
+secret murders.
+
+It’s a different thing if he wants to kill himself. What I say is: Let
+him.
+
+Who is responsible for his being in debt to the tune of a million
+pounds? He’s only got himself and his bad habits to thank for that. I
+suppose if he does happen to peg out, the throne of Posen will go to
+Prince Aribert. And a good thing, too! Aribert is worth twenty of his
+nephew.’
+
+‘That’s just it, Dad,’ she said, eagerly following up her chance. ‘I
+want you to save Prince Eugen just because Aribert--Prince Aribert--
+doesn’t wish to occupy the throne. He’d much prefer not to have it.’
+
+‘Much prefer not to have it! Don’t talk nonsense. If he’s honest with
+himself, he’ll admit that he’ll be jolly glad to have it. Thrones are in
+his blood, so to speak.’
+
+‘You are wrong, Father. And the reason is this: If Prince Aribert
+ascended the throne of Posen he would be compelled to marry a Princess.’
+
+‘Well! A Prince ought to marry a Princess.’
+
+‘But he doesn’t want to. He wants to give up all his royal rights, and
+live as a subject. He wants to marry a woman who isn’t a Princess.’
+
+‘Is she rich?’
+
+‘Her father is,’ said the girl. ‘Oh, Dad! can’t you guess? He--he loves
+me.’ Her head fell on Theodore’s shoulder and she began to cry.
+
+The millionaire whistled a very high note. ‘Nell!’ he said at length.
+‘And you? Do you sort of cling to him?’
+
+‘Dad,’ she answered, ‘you are stupid. Do you imagine I should worry
+myself like this if I didn’t?’ She smiled through her tears. She knew
+from her father’s tone that she had accomplished a victory.
+
+‘It’s a mighty queer arrangement,’ Theodore remarked. ‘But of course if
+you think it’ll be of any use, you had better go down and tell your
+Prince Eugen that that million can be fixed up, if he really needs it. I
+expect there’ll be decent security, or Sampson Levi wouldn’t have mixed
+himself up in it.’
+
+‘Thanks, Dad. Don’t come with me; I may manage better alone.’
+
+She gave a formal little curtsey and disappeared. Racksole, who had the
+talent, so necessary to millionaires, of attending to several matters at
+once, the large with the small, went off to give orders about the
+breakfast and the remuneration of his assistant of the evening before,
+Mr George Hazell. He then sent an invitation to Mr Felix Babylon’s room,
+asking that gentleman to take breakfast with him. After he had related
+to Babylon the history of Jules’ capture, and had a long discussion with
+him upon several points of hotel management, and especially as to the
+guarding of wine-cellars, Racksole put on his hat, sallied forth into
+the Strand, hailed a hansom, and was driven to the City. The order and
+nature of his operations there were too complex and technical to be
+described here.
+
+When Nella returned to the State bedroom both the doctor and the great
+specialist were again in attendance. The two physicians moved away from
+the bedside as she entered, and began to talk quietly together in the
+embrasure of the window.
+
+‘A curious case!’ said the specialist.
+
+‘Yes. Of course, as you say, it’s a neurotic temperament that’s at the
+bottom of the trouble. When you’ve got that and a vigorous constitution
+working one against the other, the results are apt to be distinctly
+curious.
+
+Do you consider there is any hope, Sir Charles?’
+
+‘If I had seen him when he recovered consciousness I should have said
+there was hope. Frankly, when I left last night, or rather this morning,
+I didn’t expect to see the Prince alive again--let alone conscious, and
+able to talk. According to all the rules of the game, he ought to get
+over the shock to the system with perfect ease and certainty. But I
+don’t think he will. I don’t think he wants to. And moreover, I think he
+is still under the influence of suicidal mania. If he had a razor he
+would cut his throat. You must keep his strength up. Inject, if
+necessary. I will come in this afternoon. I am due now at St James’s
+Palace.’ And the specialist hurried away, with an elaborate bow and a
+few hasty words of polite reassurances to Prince Aribert.
+
+When he had gone Prince Aribert took the other doctor aside. ‘Forget
+everything, doctor,’ he said, ‘except that I am one man and you are
+another, and tell me the truth. Shall you be able to save his Highness?
+Tell me the truth.’
+
+‘There is no truth,’ was the doctor’s reply. ‘The future is not in our
+hands, Prince.’
+
+‘But you are hopeful? Yes or no.’
+
+The doctor looked at Prince Aribert. ‘No!’ he said shortly. ‘I am not. I
+am never hopeful when the patient is not on my side.’
+
+‘You mean--?’
+
+‘I mean that his Royal Highness has no desire to live. You must have
+observed that.’
+
+‘Only too well,’ said Aribert.
+
+‘And you are aware of the cause?’
+
+Aribert nodded an affirmative.
+
+‘But cannot remove it?’
+
+‘No,’ said Aribert. He felt a touch on his sleeve. It was Nella’s
+finger.
+
+With a gesture she beckoned him towards the ante-room.
+
+‘If you choose,’ she said, when they were alone, ‘Prince Eugen can be
+saved.
+
+I have arranged it.’
+
+‘You have arranged it?’ He bent over her, almost with an air of alarm.
+‘Go and tell him that the million pounds which is so necessary to his
+happiness will be forthcoming. Tell him that it will be forthcoming
+today, if that will be any satisfaction to him.’
+
+‘But what do you mean by this, Nella?’
+
+‘I mean what I say, Aribert,’ and she sought his hand and took it in
+hers.
+
+‘Just what I say. If a million pounds will save Prince Eugen’s life, it
+is at his disposal.’
+
+‘But how--how have you managed it? By what miracle?’
+
+‘My father,’ she replied softly, ‘will do anything that I ask him. Do
+not let us waste time. Go and tell Eugen it is arranged, that all will
+be well.
+
+Go!’
+
+‘But we cannot accept this--this enormous, this incredible favour. It is
+impossible.’
+
+‘Aribert,’ she said quickly, ‘remember you are not in Posen holding a
+Court reception. You are in England and you are talking to an American
+girl who has always been in the habit of having her own way.’
+
+The Prince threw up his hands and went back in to the bedroom. The
+doctor was at a table writing out a prescription. Aribert approached the
+bedside, his heart beating furiously. Eugen greeted him with a faint,
+fatigued smile.
+
+‘Eugen,’ he whispered, ‘listen carefully to me. I have news. With the
+assistance of friends I have arranged to borrow that million for you. It
+is quite settled, and you may rely on it. But you must get better. Do
+you hear me?’
+
+Eugen almost sat up in bed. ‘Tell me I am not delirious,’ he exclaimed.
+
+‘Of course you aren’t,’ Aribert replied. ‘But you mustn’t sit up. You
+must take care of yourself.’
+
+‘Who will lend the money?’ Eugen asked in a feeble, happy whisper.
+
+‘Never mind. You shall hear later. Devote yourself now to getting
+better.’
+
+The change in the patient’s face was extraordinary. His mind seemed to
+have put on an entirely different aspect. The doctor was startled to
+hear him murmur a request for food. As for Aribert, he sat down,
+overcome by the turmoil of his own thoughts. Till that moment he felt
+that he had never appreciated the value and the marvellous power of mere
+money, of the lucre which philosophers pretend to despise and men sell
+their souls for. His heart almost burst in its admiration for that
+extraordinary Nella, who by mere personal force had raised two men out
+of the deepest slough of despair to the blissful heights of hope and
+happiness. ‘These Anglo-Saxons,’ he said to himself, ‘what a race!’
+
+By the afternoon Eugen was noticeably and distinctly better. The
+physicians, puzzled for the third time by the progress of the case,
+announced now that all danger was past. The tone of the announcement
+seemed to Aribert to imply that the fortunate issue was due wholly to
+unrivalled medical skill, but perhaps Aribert was mistaken. Anyhow, he
+was in a most charitable mood, and prepared to forgive anything.
+
+‘Nella,’ he said a little later, when they were by themselves again in
+the ante-chamber, ‘what am I to say to you? How can I thank you? How can
+I thank your father?’
+
+‘You had better not thank my father,’ she said. ‘Dad will affect to
+regard the thing as a purely business transaction, as, of course, it is.
+As for me, you can--you can--’
+
+‘Well?’
+
+‘Kiss me,’ she said. ‘There! Are you sure you’ve formally proposed to
+me, mon prince?’
+
+‘Ah! Nell!’ he exclaimed, putting his arms round her again. ‘Be mine!
+That is all I want!’
+
+‘You’ll find,’ she said, ‘that you’ll want Dad’s consent too!’
+
+‘Will he make difficulties? He could not, Nell--not with you!’
+
+‘Better ask him,’ she said sweetly.
+
+A moment later Racksole himself entered the room. ‘Going on all right?’
+he enquired, pointing to the bedroom. ‘Excellently,’ the lovers answered
+together, and they both blushed.
+
+‘Ah!’ said Racksole. ‘Then, if that’s so, and you can spare a minute,
+I’ve something to show you, Prince.’
+
+
+
+
+
+
+Chapter Thirty CONCLUSION
+
+‘I’VE a great deal to tell you, Prince,’ Racksole began, as soon as they
+were out of the room, ‘and also, as I said, something to show you. Will
+you come to my room? We will talk there first. The whole hotel is
+humming with excitement.’
+
+‘With pleasure,’ said Aribert.
+
+‘Glad his Highness Prince Eugen is recovering,’ Racksole said, urged by
+considerations of politeness.
+
+‘Ah! As to that--’ Aribert began. ‘If you don’t mind, we’ll discuss that
+later, Prince,’ Racksole interrupted him.
+
+They were in the proprietor’s private room.
+
+‘I want to tell you all about last night,’ Racksole resumed, ‘about my
+capture of Jules, and my examination of him this morning.’ And he
+launched into a full account of the whole thing, down to the least
+details. ‘You see,’ he concluded, ‘that our suspicions as to Bosnia were
+tolerably correct. But as regards Bosnia, the more I think about it, the
+surer I feel that nothing can be done to bring their criminal
+politicians to justice.’
+
+‘And as to Jules, what do you propose to do?’
+
+‘Come this way,’ said Racksole, and led Aribert to another room. A sofa
+in this room was covered with a linen cloth. Racksole lifted the cloth--
+he could never deny himself a dramatic moment--and disclosed the body of
+a dead man.
+
+It was Jules, dead, but without a scratch or mark on him.
+
+‘I have sent for the police--not a street constable, but an official
+from Scotland Yard,’ said Racksole.
+
+‘How did this happen?’ Aribert asked, amazed and startled. ‘I understood
+you to say that he was safely immured in the bedroom.’
+
+‘So he was,’ Racksole replied. ‘I went up there this afternoon, chiefly
+to take him some food. The commissionaire was on guard at the door. He
+had heard no noise, nothing unusual. Yet when I entered the room Jules
+was gone.
+
+He had by some means or other loosened his fastenings; he had then
+managed to take the door off the wardrobe. He had moved the bed in front
+of the window, and by pushing the wardrobe door three parts out of the
+window and lodging the inside end of it under the rail at the head of
+the bed, he had provided himself with a sort of insecure platform
+outside the window. All this he did without making the least sound. He
+must then have got through the window, and stood on the little platform.
+With his fingers he would just be able to reach the outer edge of the
+wide cornice under the roof of the hotel. By main strength of arms he
+had swung himself on to this cornice, and so got on to the roof proper.
+He would then have the run of the whole roof.
+
+At the side of the building facing Salisbury Lane there is an iron fire-
+escape, which runs right down from the ridge of the roof into a little
+sunk yard level with the cellars. Jules must have thought that his
+escape was accomplished. But it unfortunately happened that one rung in
+the iron escape-ladder had rusted rotten through being badly painted. It
+gave way, and Jules, not expecting anything of the kind, fell to the
+ground. That was the end of all his cleverness and ingenuity.’
+
+As Racksole ceased, speaking he replaced the linen cloth with a gesture
+from which reverence was not wholly absent.
+
+When the grave had closed over the dark and tempestuous career of Tom
+Jackson, once the pride of the Grand Babylon, there was little trouble
+for the people whose adventures we have described. Miss Spencer, that
+yellow-haired, faithful slave and attendant of a brilliant scoundrel,
+was never heard of again. Possibly to this day she survives, a mystery
+to her fellow-creatures, in the pension of some cheap foreign boarding-
+house. As for Rocco, he certainly was heard of again. Several years
+after the events set down, it came to the knowledge of Felix Babylon
+that the unrivalled Rocco had reached Buenos Aires, and by his culinary
+skill was there making the fortune of a new and splendid hotel. Babylon
+transmitted the information to Theodore Racksole, and Racksole might,
+had he chosen, have put the forces of the law in motion against him. But
+Racksole, seeing that everything pointed to the fact that Rocco was now
+pursuing his vocation honestly, decided to leave him alone. The one
+difficulty which Racksole experienced after the demise of Jules--and it
+was a difficulty which he had, of course, anticipated--was connected
+with the police. The police, very properly, wanted to know things. They
+desired to be informed what Racksole had been doing in the Dimmock
+affair, between his first visit to Ostend and his sending for them to
+take charge of Jules’ dead body. And Racksole was by no means inclined
+to tell them everything. Beyond question he had transgressed the laws of
+England, and possibly also the laws of Belgium; and the moral excellence
+of his motives in doing so was, of course, in the eyes of legal justice,
+no excuse for such conduct. The inquest upon Jules aroused some bother;
+and about ninety-and-nine separate and distinct rumours. In the end,
+however, a compromise was arrived at. Racksole’s first aim was to pacify
+the inspector whose clue, which by the way was a false one, he had so
+curtly declined to follow up. That done, the rest needed only tact and
+patience. He proved to the satisfaction of the authorities that he had
+acted in a perfectly honest spirit, though with a high hand, and that
+substantial justice had been done. Also, he subtly indicated that, if it
+came to the point, he should defy them to do their worst. Lastly, he was
+able, through the medium of the United States Ambassador, to bring
+certain soothing influences to bear upon the situation.
+
+One afternoon, a fortnight after the recovery of the Hereditary Prince
+of Posen, Aribert, who was still staying at the Grand Babylon, expressed
+a wish to hold converse with the millionaire. Prince Eugen, accompanied
+by Hans and some Court officials whom he had sent for, had departed with
+immense éclat, armed with the comfortable million, to arrange formally
+for his betrothal.
+
+Touching the million, Eugen had given satisfactory personal security,
+and the money was to be paid off in fifteen years.
+
+‘You wish to talk to me, Prince,’ said Racksole to Aribert, when they
+were seated together in the former’s room.
+
+‘I wish to tell you,’ replied Aribert, ‘that it is my intention to
+renounce all my rights and titles as a Royal Prince of Posen, and to be
+known in future as Count Hartz--a rank to which I am entitled through my
+mother.
+
+Also that I have a private income of ten thousand pounds a year, and a
+château and a town house in Posen. I tell you this because I am here to
+ask the hand of your daughter in marriage. I love her, and I am vain
+enough to believe that she loves me. I have already asked her to be my
+wife, and she has consented. We await your approval.’
+
+‘You honour us, Prince,’ said Racksole with a slight smile, ‘and in more
+ways than one. May I ask your reason for renouncing your princely
+titles?’
+
+‘Simply because the idea of a morganatic marriage would be as repugnant
+to me as it would be to yourself and to Nella.’
+
+‘That is good.’ The Prince laughed. ‘I suppose it has occurred to you
+that ten thousand pounds per annum, for a man in your position, is a
+somewhat small income. Nella is frightfully extravagant. I have known
+her to spend sixty thousand dollars in a single year, and have nothing
+to show for it at the end. Why! she would ruin you in twelve months.’
+
+‘Nella must reform her ways,’ Aribert said.
+
+‘If she is content to do so,’ Racksole went on, ‘well and good! I
+consent.’
+
+‘In her name and my own, I thank you,’ said Aribert gravely.
+
+‘And,’ the millionaire continued, ‘so that she may not have to reform
+too fiercely, I shall settle on her absolutely, with reversion to your
+children, if you have any, a lump sum of fifty million dollars, that is
+to say, ten million pounds, in sound, selected railway stock. I reckon
+that is about half my fortune. Nella and I have always shared equally.’
+
+Aribert made no reply. The two men shook hands in silence, and then it
+happened that Nella entered the room.
+
+That night, after dinner, Racksole and his friend Felix Babylon were
+walking together on the terrace of the Grand Babylon Hôtel.
+
+Felix had begun the conversation.
+
+‘I suppose, Racksole,’ he had said, ‘you aren’t getting tired of the
+Grand Babylon?’
+
+‘Why do you ask?’
+
+‘Because I am getting tired of doing without it. A thousand times since
+I sold it to you I have wished I could undo the bargain. I can’t bear
+idleness. Will you sell?’
+
+‘I might,’ said Racksole, ‘I might be induced to sell.’
+
+‘What will you take, my friend?’ asked Felix
+
+‘What I gave,’ was the quick answer.
+
+‘Eh!’ Felix exclaimed. ‘I sell you my hotel with Jules, with Rocco, with
+Miss Spencer. You go and lose all those three inestimable servants, and
+then offer me the hotel without them at the same price! It is
+monstrous.’ The little man laughed heartily at his own wit.
+‘Nevertheless,’ he added, ‘we will not quarrel about the price. I accept
+your terms.’
+
+And so was brought to a close the complex chain of events which had
+begun when Theodore Racksole ordered a steak and a bottle of Bass at the
+table d’hôte of the Grand Babylon Hôtel.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of Project Gutenberg’s The Grand Babylon Hotel, by Arnold Bennett
+
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