THE GRAND BABYLON HÔTEL

By Arnold Bennett

T. Racksole & Daughter

Chapter One THE MILLIONAIRE AND THE WAITER

'YES, sir?'

Jules, the celebrated head waiter of the Grand Babylon, was bendingformally towards the alert, middle-aged man who had just entered thesmoking-room and dropped into a basket-chair in the corner by theconservatory. It was 7. 45 on a particularly sultry June night, anddinner was about to be served at the Grand Babylon. Men of all sizes, ages, and nationalities, but every one alike arrayed in faultlessevening dress, were dotted about the large, dim apartment. A faint odourof flowers came from the conservatory, and the tinkle of a fountain. The waiters, commanded by Jules, moved softly across the thick Orientalrugs, balancing their trays with the dexterity of jugglers, andreceiving and executing orders with that air of profound importance ofwhich only really first-class waiters have the secret. The atmospherewas an atmosphere of serenity and repose, characteristic of the GrandBabylon. It seemed impossible that anything could occur to mar thepeaceful, aristocratic monotony of existence in that perfectly-managedestablishment. Yet on that night was to happen the mightiest upheavalthat the Grand Babylon had ever known. 

'Yes, sir?' repeated Jules, and this time there was a shade of augustdisapproval in his voice: it was not usual for him to have to address acustomer twice. 

'Oh!' said the alert, middle-aged man, looking up at length. Beautifullyignorant of the identity of the great Jules, he allowed his grey eyesto 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 ofJules fell icily distinct, and several men glanced round uneasily, as ifto deprecate the slightest disturbance of their calm. The appearance ofthe person to whom Jules was speaking, however, reassured them somewhat, for he had all the look of that expert, the travelled Englishman, whocan differentiate between one hôtel and another by instinct, and whoknows at once where he may make a fuss with propriety, and where itis advisable to behave exactly as at the club. The Grand Babylon was ahôtel 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 inthis hôtel. '

'This isn't an American hôtel, sir. ' The calculated insolence of thewords 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-humouredtolerance, 'pour into it equal quantities of maraschino, cream, andcrême de menthe. Don't stir it; don't shake it. Bring it to me. And, Isay, tell the bar-tender--'

'Bar-tender, sir?'

'Tell the bar-tender to make a note of the recipe, as I shall probablywant an Angel Kiss every evening before dinner so long as this weatherlasts. '

'I will send the drink to you, sir, ' said Jules distantly. That was hisparting shot, by which he indicated that he was not as other waitersare, and that any person who treated him with disrespect did so at hisown peril. 

A few minutes later, while the alert, middle-aged man was tasting theAngel Kiss, Jules sat in conclave with Miss Spencer, who had charge ofthe bureau of the Grand Babylon. This bureau was a fairly large chamber, with two sliding glass partitions which overlooked the entrance-hall andthe smoking-room. Only a small portion of the clerical work of the greathôtel was performed there. The place served chiefly as the lair of MissSpencer, who was as well known and as important as Jules himself. Mostmodern hôtels have a male clerk to superintend the bureau. But the GrandBabylon went its own way. Miss Spencer had been bureau clerk almostsince the Grand Babylon had first raised its massive chimneys to heaven, and she remained in her place despite the vagaries of other hôtels. Always admirably dressed in plain black silk, with a small diamondbrooch, immaculate wrist-bands, and frizzed yellow hair, she looked nowjust as she had looked an indefinite number of years ago. Her age--noneknew it, save herself and perhaps one other, and none cared. Thegracious and alluring contours of her figure were irreproachable; andin the evenings she was a useful ornament of which any hôtel might beinnocently proud. Her knowledge of Bradshaw, of steamship services, andthe programmes of theatres and music-halls was unrivalled; yet she nevertravelled, she never went to a theatre or a music-hall. She seemed tospend the whole of her life in that official lair of hers, impartinginformation to guests, telephoning to the various departments, orengaged 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 hewants 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 toTheodore Racksole as a 'New Yorker' appealed to her sense of humour, asense in which she was not entirely deficient. She knew, of course, andshe knew that Jules knew, that this Theodore Racksole must be the uniqueand only Theodore Racksole, the third richest man in the United States, and therefore probably in the world. Nevertheless she ranged herself atonce 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 thespectacle of any person whatsoever, millionaire or Emperor, presuming todemand an 'Angel Kiss', that unrespectable concoction of maraschino andcream, within the precincts of the Grand Babylon. In the world of hôtelsit was currently stated that, next to the proprietor, there were threegods at the Grand Babylon--Jules, the head waiter, Miss Spencer, and, most powerful of all, Rocco, the renowned chef, who earned two thousanda year, and had a chalet on the Lake of Lucerne. All the great hôtelsin Northumberland Avenue and on the Thames Embankment had tried to getRocco away from the Grand Babylon, but without success. Rocco was wellaware that even he could rise no higher than the maître hôtel of theGrand Babylon, which, though it never advertised itself, and didn'tbelong to a limited company, stood an easy first among the hôtels ofEurope--first in expensiveness, first in exclusiveness, first in thatmysterious quality known as 'style'. 

Situated on the Embankment, the Grand Babylon, despite its nobleproportions, was somewhat dwarfed by several colossal neighbours. It hadbut three hundred and fifty rooms, whereas there are two hôtels within aquarter of a mile with six hundred and four hundred rooms respectively. On the other hand, the Grand Babylon was the only hôtel in London witha genuine separate entrance for Royal visitors constantly in use. TheGrand Babylon counted that day wasted on which it did not entertain, atthe lowest, a German prince or the Maharajah of some Indian State. When Felix Babylon--after whom, and not with any reference to London'snickname, the hôtel was christened--when Felix Babylon founded the hôtelin 1869 he had set himself to cater for Royalty, and that was the secretof his triumphant eminence. 

The son of a rich Swiss hôtel proprietor and financier, he had contrivedto established a connection with the officials of several EuropeanCourts, and he had not spared money in that respect. Sundry kings andnot a few princesses called him Felix, and spoke familiarly of the hôtelas 'Felix's'; and Felix had found that this was very good for trade. The Grand Babylon was managed accordingly. The 'note' of its policy wasdiscretion, always discretion, and quietude, simplicity, remoteness. Theplace 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 smallside street off the Strand, you saw a plain brown building in front ofyou, with two mahogany swing doors, and an official behind each; thedoors opened noiselessly; you entered; you were in Felix's. If youmeant to be a guest, you, or your courier, gave your card to MissSpencer. Upon no consideration did you ask for the tariff. It wasnot good form to mention prices at the Grand Babylon; the prices wereenormous, but you never mentioned them. At the conclusion of your staya bill was presented, brief and void of dry details, and you paid itwithout a word. You met with a stately civility, that was all. No onehad originally asked you to come; no one expressed the hope that youwould come again. The Grand Babylon was far above such manoeuvres; itdefied competition by ignoring it; and consequently was nearly alwaysfull during the season. 

If there was one thing more than another that annoyed the GrandBabylon--put its back up, so to speak--it was to be compared with, orto be mistaken for, an American hôtel. The Grand Babylon was resolutelyopposed to American methods of eating, drinking, and lodging--butespecially American methods of drinking. The resentment of Jules, onbeing requested to supply Mr Theodore Racksole with an Angel Kiss, willtherefore be appreciated. 

'Anybody with Mr Theodore Racksole?' asked Jules, continuing hisconversation with Miss Spencer. He put a scornful stress on everysyllable of the guest's name. 

'Miss Racksole--she's in No. 111. '

Jules paused, and stroked his left whisker as it lay on his gleamingwhite collar. 

'She's where?' he queried, with a peculiar emphasis. 

'No. 111. I couldn't help it. There was no other room with a bathroomand dressing-room on that floor. ' Miss Spencer's voice had an appealingtone of excuse. 

'Why didn't you tell Mr Theodore Racksole and Miss Racksole that we wereunable to accommodate them?'

'Because Babs was within hearing. '

Only three people in the wide world ever dreamt of applying to Mr FelixBabylon the playful but mean abbreviation--Babs: those three were Jules, Miss Spencer, and Rocco. Jules had invented it. No one but he would havehad either the wit or the audacity to do so. 

'You'd better see that Miss Racksole changes her room to-night, ' Julessaid after another pause. 'Leave it to me: I'll fix it. Au revoir! It'sthree minutes to eight. I shall take charge of the dining-room myselfto-night. '

And Jules departed, rubbing his fine white hands slowly andmeditatively. It was a trick of his, to rub his hands with a strange, roundabout motion, and the action denoted that some unusual excitementwas in the air. 

At eight o'clock precisely dinner was served in the immense sallemanger, that chaste yet splendid apartment of white and gold. At a smalltable near one of the windows a young lady sat alone. Her frocks saidParis, but her face unmistakably said New York. It was a self-possessedand bewitching face, the face of a woman thoroughly accustomed to doingexactly what she liked, when she liked, how she liked: the face ofa woman who had taught hundreds of gilded young men the true art offetching and carrying, and who, by twenty years or so of parentalspoiling, had come to regard herself as the feminine equivalent of theTsar of All the Russias. Such women are only made in America, and theyonly come to their full bloom in Europe, which they imagine to be acontinent 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 gazedthrough the open window, and told herself that though the Thames bytwilight was passable enough, it was by no means level with the Hudson, on whose shores her father had a hundred thousand dollar countrycottage. Then she returned to the menu, and with a pursing of lovelylips said that there appeared to be nothing to eat. 

'Sorry to keep you waiting, Nella. ' It was Mr Racksole, the intrepidmillionaire who had dared to order an Angel Kiss in the smoke-roomof the Grand Babylon. Nella--her proper name was Helen--smiled at herparent cautiously, reserving to herself the right to scold if she shouldfeel 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 beingseriously idle. '

'Consommé Britannia, ' she began to read out from the menu, 'Saumond'Ecosse, Sauce Genoise, Aspics de Homard. Oh, heavens! Who wants thesehorrid 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 forgottenit'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 answeredsweetly, 'and to reward you I'll be content this year with the cheapestbirthday treat you ever gave me. Only I'll have it to-night. '

'Well, ' he said, with the long-suffering patience, the readiness for anysurprise, 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 dinnerto-night. It will be simply exquisite. I shall love it. '

'But my dear Nella, ' he exclaimed, 'steak and beer at Felix 's! It'simpossible! Moreover, young women still under twenty-three cannot bepermitted to drink Bass. '

'I said steak and Bass, and as for being twenty-three, shall be going intwenty-four to-morrow. '

Miss Racksole set her small white teeth. 

There was a gentle cough. Jules stood over them. It must have been outof a pure spirit of adventure that he had selected this table for hisown services. Usually Jules did not personally wait at dinner. He merelyhovered observant, like a captain on the bridge during the mate's watch. Regular frequenters of the hôtel felt themselves honoured when Julesattached himself to their tables. 

Theodore Racksole hesitated one second, and then issued the order with afine air of carelessness:

'Filleted steak for two, and a bottle of Bass. ' It was the bravest actof Theodore Racksole's life, and yet at more than one previous crisis ahigh 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 steakand 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 isasked to explain who Shakespeare was. 

The two men looked at each other. It seemed incredible that TheodoreRacksole, the ineffable Racksole, who owned a thousand miles of railway, several towns, and sixty votes in Congress, should be defied by awaiter, or even by a whole hôtel. Yet so it was. When Europe's effeteback is against the wall not a regiment of millionaires can turn itsflank. 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 Yorkfriend!'

As for Nella, knowing her father, she foresaw interesting events, andwaited confidently for the steak. She did not feel hungry, and she couldafford to wait. 

'Excuse me a moment, Nella, ' said Theodore Racksole quietly, 'I shall beback 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 toLondon, this being his first visit to Europe for over twenty years. Hadanyone done so, and caught the expression on his face, that man mighthave trembled for an explosion which should have blown the entire GrandBabylon into the Thames. 

Jules retired strategically to a corner. He had fired; it was theantagonist's turn. A long and varied experience had taught Jules that aguest 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 ownway, even as guests in an exclusive hôtel: and Theodore Racksole hadlong since fallen into that useful practice--except when his onlydaughter Helen, motherless but high-spirited girl, chose to think thathis way crossed hers, in which case Theodore capitulated and fell back. But when Theodore and his daughter happened to be going one and the sameroad, which was pretty often, then Heaven alone might help any obstaclethat was so ill-advised as to stand in their path. Jules, great andobservant man though he was, had not noticed the terrible projectingchins of both father and daughter, otherwise it is possible he wouldhave reconsidered the question of the steak and Bass. 

Theodore Racksole went direct to the entrance-hall of the hôtel, andentered 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 dailyduty to discourage guests who desired to see Mr Babylon. 

'No, no, ' said Racksole quickly, 'I don't want any "I'm afraids. " Thisis business. If you had been the ordinary hôtel clerk I should haveslipped you a couple of sovereigns into your hand, and the thing wouldhave 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. Myname is Racksole--Theodore Racksole. '

'Of New York?' questioned a voice at the door, with a slight foreignaccent. 

The millionaire turned sharply, and saw a rather short, French-lookingman, with a bald head, a grey beard, a long and perfectly-built frockcoat, eye-glasses attached to a minute silver chain, and blue eyes thatseemed 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, MrBabylon. 

I only want a few minutes' quiet chat. I fancy I can settle my businessin 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 XVfurniture and tapestry: like most unmarried men with large incomes, MrBabylon had 'tastes' of a highly expensive sort. 

The landlord and his guest sat down opposite each other. TheodoreRacksole had met with the usual millionaire's luck in this adventure, for Mr Babylon made a practice of not allowing himself to be interviewedby his guests, however distinguished, however wealthy, howeverpertinacious. If he had not chanced to enter Miss Spencer's office atthat precise moment, and if he had not been impressed in a somewhatpeculiar way by the physiognomy of the millionaire, not all MrRacksole's American energy and ingenuity would have availed for aconfabulation with the owner of the Grand Babylon Hôtel that night. Theodore Racksole, however, was ignorant that a mere accident had servedhim. 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 hôtel of yours, MrBabylon, was to be sold to a limited company, but it appears that thesale was not carried out. '

'It was not, ' answered Mr Babylon frankly, 'and the reason was thatthe middle-men between the proposed company and myself wished to make alarge secret profit, and I declined to be a party to such a profit. Theywere 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 thousandpounds, including the leasehold and goodwill. But I sell only on thecondition that the buyer does not transfer the property to a limitedcompany 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, ifyou please, exchange contract-letters on the spot. '

'You come quickly to a resolution, Mr Racksole. But perhaps you havebeen considering this question for a long time?'

'On the contrary, ' Racksole looked at his watch, 'I have beenconsidering it for six minutes. '

Felix Babylon bowed, as one thoroughly accustomed to eccentricity ofwealth. 

'The beauty of being well-known, ' Racksole continued, 'is that youneedn't trouble about preliminary explanations. You, Mr Babylon, probably know all about me. I know a good deal about you. We can takeeach other for granted without reference. Really, it is as simple to buyan hôtel or a railroad as it is to buy a watch, provided one is equal tothe transaction. '

'Precisely, ' agreed Mr Babylon smiling. 'Shall we draw up the littleinformal contract? There are details to be thought of. But it occurs tome that you cannot have dined yet, and might prefer to deal with minorquestions after dinner. '

'I have not dined, ' said the millionaire, with emphasis, 'and in thatconnexion 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 thepage who answered his summons, 'and if it is quite convenient I shouldbe 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 silkymoustache. 

'Rocco, ' said Felix Babylon, 'let me introduce Mr Theodore Racksole, ofNew York. '

'Sharmed, ' said Rocco, bowing. 'Ze--ze, vat you call it, millionaire?'

'Exactly, ' Racksole put in, and continued quickly: 'Mr Rocco, I wish toacquaint you before any other person with the fact that I have purchasedthe Grand Babylon Hôtel. If you think well to afford me the privilege ofretaining your services I shall be happy to offer you a remuneration ofthree thousand a year. '

'Tree, you said?'

'Three. '

'Sharmed. '

'And now, Mr Rocco, will you oblige me very much by ordering a plainbeefsteak and a bottle of Bass to be served by Jules--I particularlydesire Jules--at table No. 17 in the dining-room in ten minutes fromnow? 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 hadeach signed a curt document, scribbled out on the hôtel note-paper. Felix Babylon asked no questions, and it was this heroic absenceof curiosity, of surprise on his part, that more than anything elseimpressed Theodore Racksole. How many hôtel proprietors in the world, Racksole asked himself, would have let that beef-steak and Bass go bywithout 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 fromto-night?'

'As you will. I have long wished to retire. And now that the moment hascome--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 bethe richest man in Switzerland. ' He smiled with a kind of sad amusement. 

'I suppose you are fairly well off?' said Racksole, in that easyfamiliar 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 judgeaddressing 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 onemight guess at your own wealth?' Felix Babylon was imitating the other'sfreedom. 

'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 givethe 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 inorder to get rid of them for a time. '

'Is the purchase of hôtels your notion of relaxation, then?'

Racksole shrugged his shoulders. 'It is a change from railroads, ' helaughed. 

'Ah, my friend, you little know what you have bought. '

'Oh! yes I do, ' returned Racksole; 'I have bought just the first hôtelin the world. '

'That is true, that is true, ' Babylon admitted, gazing meditatively atthe antique Persian carpet. 'There is nothing, anywhere, like my hôtel. But you will regret the purchase, Mr Racksole. It is no business ofmine, of course, but I cannot help repeating that you will regret thepurchase. '

'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 youcontrol a railroad, or an iron-works, or a line of steamers, thereforeyou can control anything. But no. Not the Grand Babylon. There issomething 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. Butit is not that I mean. It is the guests. The guests are too--toodistinguished. 

The great Ambassadors, the great financiers, the great nobles, all themen that move the world, put up under my roof. London is the centre ofeverything, and my hôtel--your hôtel--is the centre of London. Once Ihad a King and a Dowager Empress staying here at the same time. Imaginethat!'

'A great honour, Mr Babylon. But wherein lies the difficulty?'

'Mr Racksole, ' was the grim reply, 'what has become of yourshrewdness--that shrewdness which has made your fortune so immense thateven you cannot calculate it? Do you not perceive that the roof whichhabitually shelters all the force, all the authority of the world, mustnecessarily also shelter nameless and numberless plotters, schemers, evil-doers, and workers of mischief? The thing is as clear as day--andas dark as night. Mr Racksole, I never know by whom I am surrounded. Inever know what is going forward. 

Only sometimes I get hints, glimpses of strange acts and strangesecrets. 

You mentioned my servants. They are almost all good servants, skilled, competent. But what are they besides? For anything I know my fourthsub-chef may be an agent of some European Government. For anything Iknow my invaluable Miss Spencer may be in the pay of a court dressmakeror a Frankfort banker. Even Rocco may be someone else in addition toRocco. '

'That makes it all the more interesting, ' remarked Theodore Racksole. 

'What a long time you have been, Father, ' said Nella, when he returnedto table No. 17 in the salle 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 hôtel. But don't split. '

'Father, you always were a delicious parent. Shall you give me the hôtelfor a birthday present?'

'No. I shall run it--as an amusement. By the way, who is that chairfor?'

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. Ofcourse 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 toPrince Aribert of Posen. I met him when I was in St Petersburg withcousin Hetty last fall. Oh; here he is. Mr Dimmock, this is my dearfather. He has succeeded with the steak. '

Theodore Racksole found himself confronted by a very young man, withdeep black eyes, and a fresh, boyish expression. They began to talk. 

Jules approached with the steak. Racksole tried to catch the waiter'seye, 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 hisleft hand between two windows. He saw the reflection of Jules, who stoodbehind his chair, and he saw Jules give a slow, significant, ominouswink to Mr Dimmock--Christian name, Reginald. 

He examined his mustard in silence. He thought that perhaps he hadhelped himself rather plenteously to mustard. 

Chapter Three AT THREE A. M. 

MR REGINALD DIMMOCK proved himself, despite his extreme youth, to bea man of the world and of experiences, and a practised talker. Conversation between him and Nella Racksole seemed never to flag. Theychattered about St Petersburg, and the ice on the Neva, and the tenorat the opera who had been exiled to Siberia, and the quality of Russiantea, and the sweetness of Russian champagne, and various other aspectsof Muscovite existence. Russia exhausted, Nella lightly outlined her owndoings since she had met the young man in the Tsar's capital, and thisrecital brought the topic round to London, where it stayed till thefinal piece of steak was eaten. Theodore Racksole noticed that MrDimmock gave very meagre information about his own movements, eitherpast 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 Aribertof Posen, and who Prince Aribert of Posen might be. The millionairethought he had once heard of Posen, but he wasn't sure; he ratherfancied it was one of those small nondescript German States ofwhich five-sixths of the subjects are Palace officials, and the restcharcoal-burners or innkeepers. Until the meal was nearly over, Racksolesaid little--perhaps his thoughts were too busy with Jules' wink to MrDimmock, but when ices had been followed by coffee, he decided that itmight be as well, in the interests of the hôtel, to discover somethingabout his daughter's friend. He never for an instant questioned herright to possess her own friends; he had always left her in the mostamazing liberty, relying on her inherited good sense to keep her outof mischief; but, quite apart from the wink, he was struck by Nella'sattitude towards Mr Dimmock, an attitude in which an amiable scorn wasblended with an evident desire to propitiate and please. 

'Nella tells me, Mr Dimmock, that you hold a confidential position withPrince Aribert of Posen, ' said Racksole. 'You will pardon an American'signorance, but is Prince Aribert a reigning Prince--what, I believe, youcall in Europe, a Prince Regnant?'

'His Highness is not a reigning Prince, nor ever likely to be, ' answeredDimmock. 'The Grand Ducal Throne of Posen is occupied by his Highness'snephew, 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 sometimesin the history of families, is precisely the same age as the Grand Duke. The late Grand Duke's father was twice married. Hence this youthfulnesson the part of an uncle. '

'How delicious to be the uncle of someone as old as yourself! ButI suppose it is no fun for Prince Aribert. I suppose he has to befrightfully respectful and obedient, and all that, to his nephew?'

'The Grand Duke and my Serene master are like brothers. At present, ofcourse, Prince Aribert is nominally heir to the throne, but as no doubtyou are aware, the Grand Duke will shortly marry a near relative ofthe Emperor's, and should there be a family--' Mr Dimmock stopped andshrugged his straight shoulders. 'The Grand Duke, ' he went on, withoutfinishing the last sentence, 'would much prefer Prince Aribert to be hissuccessor. He really doesn't want to marry. Between ourselves, strictlybetween 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 hiscountry, to Posen. '

'How large is Posen?' asked Racksole bluntly. 

'Father, ' Nella interposed laughing, 'you shouldn't ask suchinconvenient questions. You ought to have guessed that it isn'tetiquette to inquire about the size of a German Dukedom. '

'I am sure, ' said Dimmock, with a polite smile, 'that the Grand Dukeis as much amused as anyone at the size of his territory. I forget theexact acreage, but I remember that once Prince Aribert and myself walkedacross 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 contentalways to stay at home?'

'On the contrary, he is a great traveller, much more so than PrinceAribert. 

I may tell you, what no one knows at present, outside this hôtel, thathis Royal Highness the Grand Duke, with a small suite, will be hereto-morrow. '

'In London?' asked Nella. 

'Yes. '

'In this hôtel?'

'Yes. '

'Oh! How lovely!'

'That is why your humble servant is here to-night--a sort of advanceguard. '

'But I understood, ' Racksole said, 'that you were--er--attached toPrince Aribert, the uncle. '

'I am. Prince Aribert will also be here. The Grand Duke and the Princehave business about important investments connected with the GrandDuke's marriage settlement. .. . In the highest quarters, you understand. '

'For so discreet a person, ' thought Racksole, 'you are fairlycommunicative. ' Then he said aloud: 'Shall we go out on the terrace?'

As they crossed the dining-room Jules stopped Mr Dimmock and handed hima letter. 'Just come, sir, by messenger, ' said Jules. 

Nella dropped behind for a second with her father. 'Leave me alone withthis boy a little--there's a dear parent, ' she whispered in his ear. 

'I am a mere cypher, an obedient nobody, ' Racksole replied, pinching herarm surreptitiously. 'Treat me as such. Use me as you like. I will goand look after my hôtel' 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 thecommand of a Chelsea wholesale florist. People who passed by remarkedprivately that from the look of things there was the beginning of aromance in that conversation. Perhaps there was, but a more intimateacquaintance with the character of Nella Racksole would have beennecessary in order to predict what precise form that romance would take. 

Jules himself served the liquids, and at ten o'clock he brought anothernote. Entreating a thousand pardons, Reginald Dimmock, after he hadglanced at the note, excused himself on the plea of urgent businessfor his Serene master, uncle of the Grand Duke of Posen. He asked if hemight fetch Mr Racksole, or escort Miss Racksole to her father. But MissRacksole said gaily that she felt no need of an escort, and should goto bed. She added that her father and herself always endeavoured to beindependent of each other. 

Just then Theodore Racksole had found his way once more into MrBabylon's private room. Before arriving there, however, he haddiscovered that in some mysterious manner the news of the change ofproprietorship had worked its way down to the lowest strata of thehôtel's cosmos. The corridors hummed with it, and even under-servantswere to be seen discussing the thing, just as though it mattered tothem. 

'Have a cigar, Mr Racksole, ' said the urbane Mr Babylon, 'and a mouthfulof the oldest cognac in all Europe. '

In a few minutes these two were talking eagerly, rapidly. Felix Babylonwas astonished at Racksole's capacity for absorbing the details of hôtelmanagement. And as for Racksole he soon realized that Felix Babylon mustbe a prince of hôtel managers. It had never occurred to Racksole beforethat to manage an hôtel, even a large hôtel, could be a speciallyinteresting affair, or that it could make any excessive demands uponthe brains of the manager; but he came to see that he had underratedthe possibilities of an hôtel. The business of the Grand Babylon wasenormous. It took Racksole, with all his genius for organization, exactly half an hour to master the details of the hôtel laundry-work. And the laundry-work was but one branch of activity amid scores, andnot a very large one at that. The machinery of checking supplies, and ofestablishing a mean ratio between the raw stuff received in the kitchenand the number of meals served in the salle à manger and the privaterooms, was very complicated and delicate. When Racksole had graspedit, he at once suggested some improvements, and this led to a longtheoretical discussion, and the discussion led to digressions, and thenFelix 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 myapologies for having kept you up to such an absurd hour. '

'I have not spent so pleasant an evening for many years. You have let meride 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 everhad anything to do with hôtels before?'

'Never, ' said Racksole. 

'Then you have missed your vocation. You could have been the greatestof all hôtel-managers. You would have been greater than me, and I amunequalled, though I keep only one hôtel, and some men have half adozen. Mr Racksole, why have you never run an hôtel?'

'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 givesuitable instructions as to the bill. '

'Speaking of distinguished guests, I am told that a couple of Germanprinces are coming here to-morrow. '

'That is so. '

'Does one do anything? Does one receive them formally--stand bowing inthe entrance-hall, or anything of that sort?'

'Not necessarily. Not unless one wishes. The modern hôtel proprietor isnot like an innkeeper of the Middle Ages, and even princes do not expectto see him unless something should happen to go wrong. As a matterof fact, though the Grand Duke of Posen and Prince Aribert have bothhonoured 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. 'Letme see you to your room. The lifts will be closed and the place will bedeserted. 

As for myself, I sleep here, ' and Mr Babylon pointed to an inner door. 

'No, thanks, ' said Racksole; 'let me explore my own hôtel 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 numberwas 107, but he had forgotten whether it was on the first or secondfloor. 

Travelling in a lift, one is unconscious of floors. He passed severallift-doorways, but he could see no glint of a staircase; in allself-respecting hôtels staircases have gone out of fashion, andthough hôtel architects still continue, for old sakes' sake, to buildstaircases, they are tucked away in remote corners where their presenceis not likely to offend the eye of a spoiled and cosmopolitan public. The hôtel seemed vast, uncanny, deserted. An electric light glowedhere and there at long intervals. On the thick carpets, Racksole'sthinly-shod feet made no sound, and he wandered at ease to and fro, rather amused, rather struck by the peculiar senses of night and mysterywhich had suddenly come over him. He fancied he could hear a thousandsnores peacefully descending from the upper realms. At length he found astaircase, a very dark and narrow one, and presently he was on the firstfloor. He soon discovered that the numbers of the rooms on this floordid not get beyond seventy. He encountered another staircase andascended to the second floor. By the decoration of the walls herecognized this floor as his proper home, and as he strolled through thelong corridor he whistled a low, meditative whistle of satisfaction. Hethought he heard a step in the transverse corridor, and instinctivelyhe obliterated himself in a recess which held a service-cabinet and achair. He did hear a step. Peeping cautiously out, he perceived, what hehad not perceived previously, that a piece of white ribbon had been tiedround the handle of the door of one of the bedrooms. Then a man cameround the corner of the transverse corridor, and Racksole drew back. Itwas Jules--Jules with his hands in his pockets and a slouch hat over hiseyes, but in other respects attired as usual. 

Racksole, at that instant, remembered with a special vividness whatFelix Babylon had said to him at their first interview. He wished he hadbrought his revolver. He didn't know why he should feel the desirabilityof a revolver in a London hôtel of the most unimpeachable fair fame, but he did feel the desirability of such an instrument of attack anddefence. He privately decided that if Jules went past his recess hewould take him by the throat and in that attitude put a few plainquestions to this highly dubious waiter. But Jules had stopped. Themillionaire made another cautious observation. Jules, with infinitegentleness, was turning the handle of the door to which the white ribbonwas attached. The door slowly yielded and Jules disappeared withinthe 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 stoletowards it. 

'Well, I'm d--d!' he murmured wonderingly. 

The number was 111, his daughter's room! He tried to open it, but thedoor was locked. Rushing to his own room, No. 107, he seized one of apair of revolvers (the kind that are made for millionaires) and followedafter Jules down the transverse corridor. At the end of this corridorwas a window; the window was open; and Jules was innocently gazing outof the window. Ten silent strides, and Theodore Racksole was upon him. 

'One word, my friend, ' the millionaire began, carelessly waving therevolver in the air. Jules was indubitably startled, but by an admirableexercise of self-control he recovered possession of his faculties in asecond. 

'Sir?' said Jules. 

'I just want to be informed, what the deuce you were doing in No. 111 amoment 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 intothe 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 youshall 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. Themillionaire knew for a certainty that Nella occupied No. 111, for he hadexamined the room her, and himself seen that her trunks and her maidand herself had arrived there in safety. 'Now open the door, ' whisperedRacksole, when they reached No. 111. 

'I must knock. '

'That is just what you mustn't do. Open it. No doubt you have yourpass-key. '

Confronted by the revolver, Jules readily obeyed, yet with a deprecatorygesture, as though he would not be responsible for this outrage againstthe decorum of hôtel life. Racksole entered. The room was brilliantlylighted. 

'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 athing. 

Only my respect for your daughter prevents me from expelling youforcibly, for such an extraordinary suggestion. '

A small spot half-way down the bridge of the millionaire's nose turnedsuddenly white. 

'With your permission, ' he said in a low calm voice, 'I will examine thedressing-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 heproceeded to search the bath-room, and the dressing-room, without anyresult whatever. 'Lest my attitude might be open to misconstruction, MrDimmock, I may as well tell you that I have the most perfect confidencein my daughter, who is as well able to take care of herself as any womanI ever met, but since you entered it there have been one or two rathermysterious occurrences in this hôtel. That is all. ' Feeling a draught ofair on his shoulder, Racksole turned to the window. 'For instance, ' headded, 'I perceive that this window is broken, badly broken, and fromthe outside. 

Now, how could that have occurred?'

'If you will kindly hear reason, Mr Racksole, ' said Dimmock in hisbest diplomatic manner, 'I will endeavour to explain things to you. Iregarded your first question to me when you entered my room as beingoffensively put, but I now see that you had some justification. 'He smiled politely. 'I was passing along this corridor about eleveno'clock, when I found Miss Racksole in a difficulty with the hôtelservants. Miss Racksole was retiring to rest in this room when a largestone, which must have been thrown from the Embankment, broke thewindow, as you see. Apart from the discomfort of the broken window, shedid not care to remain in the room. She argued that where one stonehad come another might follow. She therefore insisted on her room beingchanged. The servants said that there was no other room available with adressing-room and bath-room attached, and your daughter made a point ofthese matters. I at once offered to exchange apartments with her. Shedid me the honour to accept my offer. Our respective belongings weremoved--and that is all. Miss Racksole is at this moment, I trust, asleepin 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 wasNella's maid, in a dressing-gown. 

'Miss Racksole's compliments, and a thousand excuses, but a book of herswas left on the mantelshelf in this room. She cannot sleep, and wishesto 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. Firstthere was Jules' wink. Then there was the ribbon on the door-handle andJules' 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 littlethat 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 myprivate room of all personal papers, ' said Babylon, 'and it is now atyour disposal. 

I purpose, if agreeable to yourself, to stay on in the hôtel as a guestfor the present. We have much to settle with regard to the completion ofthe 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 withtoo much suddenness. It will be a wrench to me. '

'I shall be delighted if you will stay, ' said the millionaire, 'but itmust be as my guest, not as the guest of the hôtel. '

'You are very kind. '

'As for wishing to consult you, no doubt I shall have need to do so, butI must say that the show seems to run itself. '

'Ah!' said Babylon thoughtfully. 'I have heard of hôtels that runthemselves. If they do, you may be sure that they obey the laws ofgravity 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 tobe able to throw any light on the affair. Her room is empty, her boxesgone. 

You will want someone to take her place, and that someone will not bevery easy to get. '

'H'm!' Racksole said, after a pause. 'Hers is not the only post thatfalls vacant to-day. '

A little later, the millionaire installed himself in the late owner'sprivate room and rang the bell. 

'I want Jules, ' he said to the page. 

While waiting for Jules, Racksole considered the question of MissSpencer's disappearance. 

'Good morning, Jules, ' was his cheerful greeting, when the imperturbablewaiter 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?' suggestedRacksole. 

'It is remarkable, sir. '

'You are aware, of course, that Mr Babylon has transferred all hisinterests in this hôtel to me?'

'I have been informed to that effect, sir. '

'I suppose you know everything that goes on in the hôtel, Jules?'

'As the head waiter, sir, it is my business to keep a general eye onthings. '

'You speak very good English for a foreigner, Jules. '

'For a foreigner, sir! I am an Englishman, a Hertfordshire man bornand bred. Perhaps my name has misled you, sir. I am only called Julesbecause the head waiter of any really high-class hôtel must have eithera 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 hôtel 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 yougot out of the rut? You are still young, and might make a reputation foryourself in another and wider sphere. '

Racksole looked at the man steadily, and his glance was steadilyreturned. 

'You aren't satisfied with me, sir?'

'To be frank, Jules, I think--I think you--er--wink too much. And Ithink that it is regrettable when a head waiter falls into a habit oftaking white ribbons from the handles of bedroom doors at three in themorning. '

Jules started slightly. 

'I see how it is, sir. You wish me to go, and one pretext, if I mayuse the term, is as good as another. Very well, I can't say that I'msurprised. It sometimes happens that there is incompatibility of temperbetween a hôtel proprietor and his head waiter, and then, unless oneof them goes, the hôtel is likely to suffer. I will go, Mr Racksole. Infact, I had already thought of giving notice. '

The millionaire smiled appreciatively. 'What wages do you require inlieu of notice? It is my intention that you leave the hôtel within anhour. '

'I require no wages in lieu of notice, sir. I would scorn to acceptanything. And I will leave the hôtel in fifteen minutes. '

'Good-day, then. You have my good wishes and my admiration, so long asyou keep out of my hôtel. '

Racksole got up. 'Good-day, sir. And thank you. '

'By the way, Jules, it will be useless for you to apply to any otherfirst-rate European hôtel for a post, because I shall take measureswhich will ensure the rejection of any such application. '

'Without discussing the question whether or not there aren't at leasthalf a dozen hôtels in London alone that would jump for joy at thechance of getting me, ' answered Jules, 'I may tell you, sir, that Ishall 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 twentythousand pounds--a mere trifle, but sufficient for my needs, and I shallnow proceed to enjoy it. Pardon me for troubling you with my personalaffairs. And good-day again. '

That afternoon Racksole went with Felix Babylon first to a firm ofsolicitors in the City, and then to a stockbroker, in order to carry outthe practical details of the purchase of the hôtel. 

'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 witha feeling of security. In the United States there is nothing worthspending money on, nothing to buy. In France or Italy, there is no realsecurity. '

'But surely you are a true American?' questioned Babylon. 

'I am a true American, ' said Racksole, 'but my father, who began bybeing a bedmaker at an Oxford college, and ultimately made ten milliondollars out of iron in Pittsburg--my father took the wise precaution ofhaving me educated in England. I had my three years at Oxford, like anyson of the upper middle class! It did me good. It has been worth moreto me than many successful speculations. It taught me that the Englishlanguage is different from, and better than, the American language, and that there is something--I haven't yet found out exactly what--inEnglish life that Americans will never get. Why, ' he added, 'in theUnited States we still bribe our judges and our newspapers. And we talkof 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 inPark Lane, and I shall buy some immemorial country seat with a historyas long as the A. T. And S. Railroad, and I shall calmly and graduallysettle down. D'you know--I am rather a good-natured man for amillionaire, and of a social disposition, and yet I haven't six realfriends in the whole of New York City. Think of that!'

'And I, ' said Babylon, 'have no friends except the friends of my boyhoodin Lausanne. I have spent thirty years in England, and gained nothingbut a perfect knowledge of the English language and as much gold coin aswould fill a rather large box. '

These two plutocrats breathed a simultaneous sigh. 

'Talking of gold coin, ' said Racksole, 'how much money should you thinkJules has contrived to amass while he has been with you?'

'Oh!' Babylon smiled. 'I should not like to guess. He has had uniqueopportunities--opportunities. '

'Should you consider twenty thousand an extraordinary sum under thecircumstances?'

'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 forthe past ten years, and never found courage to do it. '

'It was a perfectly simple proceeding, I assure you. Before I had donewith 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 hôtelcontinues its way!'

But when Racksole reached the Grand Babylon he found that Miss Spencer'schair 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 doinghere?'

'I am taking Mis Spencer's place. I want to help you with your hôtel, Dad. I fancy I shall make an excellent hôtel clerk. I have arranged witha Miss Selina Smith, one of the typists in the office, to put me up toall the tips and tricks, and I shall do very well. '

'But look here, Helen Racksole. We shall have the whole of Londontalking about this thing--the greatest of all American heiresses a hôtelclerk! And I came here for quiet and rest!'

'I suppose it was for the sake of quiet and rest that you bought thehôtel, Papa?'

'You would insist on the steak, ' he retorted. 'Get out of this, on theinstant. '

'Here I am, here to stay, ' said Nella, and deliberately laughed at herparent. 

Just then the face of a fair-haired man of about thirty years appearedat the bureau window. He was very well-dressed, very aristocratic in hispose, 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 HighnessPrince 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 CountSteenbock last spring in Paris--doubtless travelling incognito--'

'Silence, ' he entreated, with a wave of the hand, and his forehead wentas white as paper. 

Chapter Five WHAT OCCURRED TO REGINALD DIMMOCK

IN another moment they were all three talking quite nicely, and with atany rate an appearance of being natural. Prince Aribert became suave, even deferential to Nella, and more friendly towards Nella's fatherthan their respective positions demanded. The latter amused himself bystudying this sprig of royalty, the first with whom he had ever comeinto contact. He decided that the young fellow was personable enough, 'had no frills on him, ' and would make an exceptionally good commercialtraveller for a first-class firm. Such was Theodore Racksole'spreliminary estimate of the man who might one day be the reigning GrandDuke of Posen. 

It occurred to Nella, and she smiled at the idea, that the bureau ofthe hôtel was scarcely the correct place in which to receive this augustyoung man. There he stood, with his head half-way through the bureauwindow, negligently leaning against the woodwork, just as though he werea 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 meat 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 appointmentbefore. 

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 suiteadjoining the State apartments--No. 55. That is so, isn't it, Nella?'

'Yes, Papa, ' she said, having first demurely examined a ledger. 'YourHighness would doubtless like to be conducted to your room--apartments Imean. ' Then Nella laughed deliberately at the Prince, and said, 'I don'tknow who is the proper person to conduct you, and that's a fact. Thetruth is that Papa and I are rather raw yet in the hôtel line. You see, we only bought the place last night. '

'You have bought the hôtel!' 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. Ihave 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 hadquietly entered the bureau and was making urgent mysterious signs tohim. 

'If you please, sir, ' the man by frantic gestures implored Mr TheodoreRacksole to come out. 

'Pray don't let me detain you, Mr Racksole, ' said the Prince, andtherefore the proprietor of the Grand Babylon departed after theservant, with a queer, curt little bow to Prince Aribert. 

'Mayn't I come inside?' said the Prince to Nella immediately themillionaire had gone. 

'Impossible, Prince, ' Nella laughed. 'The rule against visitors enteringthis bureau is frightfully strict. '

'How do you know the rule is so strict if you only came into possessionlast 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--theacquaintance--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 yourapartments?'

'Not yet. I will wait till Dimmock comes; he cannot fail to be heresoon. '

'Then we will have tea served in father's private room--the proprietor'sprivate room, you know. '

'Good!' he said. 

Nella talked through a telephone, and rang several bells, and behavedgenerally in a manner calculated to prove to Princes and to whomeverit might concern that she was a young woman of business instincts andtraining, and then she stepped down from her chair of office, emergedfrom the bureau, and, preceded by two menials, led Prince Aribert tothe Louis XV chamber in which her father and Felix Babylon had had theirlong confabulation on the previous evening. 

'What do you want to talk to me about?' she asked her companion, as shepoured out for him a second cup of tea. The Prince looked at her fora 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 herloveliness. 

Nella was indeed beautiful that afternoon. The beauty of even the mostbeautiful woman ebbs and flows from hour to hour. Nella's this afternoonwas 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 tounderstand that it was something terribly important. But of course Iknew it couldn't be, because no man, and especially no Prince, everdiscussed anything really important with a woman. '

'Recollect, Miss Racksole, that this afternoon, here, I am not thePrince. '

'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 Iwas in Paris last spring. '

'An affair of State?' she smiled. 

'An affair of State, ' he replied soberly. 'Even Dimmock doesn't know. Itwas strange that we should be fellow guests at that quiet out-of-the-wayhôtel--strange but delightful. I shall never forget that rainy afternoonthat we spent together in the Museum of the Trocadéro. Let us talk aboutthat. '

'About the rain, or the museum?'

'I shall never forget that afternoon, ' he repeated, ignoring thelightness 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 theceiling. 

'Ah! So they were! Tell me, Miss Racksole, how did you discover myidentity. '

'I must not say, ' she answered. 'That is my secret. Do not seek topenetrate it. Who knows what horrors you might discover if you probedtoo far?' She laughed, but she laughed alone. The Prince remainedpensive--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 manwho 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 whatI 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 awfulthe amount of dollars poor Papa makes. And the worst of it is he can'thelp it. 

He told me once that when a man had made ten millions no power onearth could stop those ten millions from growing into twenty. And so itcontinues. 

I spend what I can, but I can't come near coping with it; and of coursePapa 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 willfeel 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 SereneHighness who has to pretend to be very important, always taking immensecare 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 tothe throne, and would you not then have these responsibilities which youso much desire?'

'Eugen die?' said Prince Aribert, in a curious tone. 'Impossible. Heis the perfection of health. In three months he will be married. No, Ishall never be anything but a Serene Highness, the most despicable ofGod's creatures. '

'But what about the State secret which you mentioned? Is not that aresponsibility?'

'Ah!' he said. 'That is over. That belongs to the past. It was anaccident in my dull career. I shall never be Count Steenbock again. '

'Who knows?' she said. 'By the way, is not Prince Eugen coming hereto-day? Mr Dimmock told us so. '

'See!' answered the Prince, standing up and bending over her. 'I amgoing 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. Twomen entered, bearing a prone form on a stretcher, and Racksole followedthem. 

Nella sprang up. Racksole stared to see his daughter. 

'I didn't know you were in here, Nell. Here, ' to the two men, 'outagain. '

'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'dhave 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 hekneeled down by the side of the stretcher. 'What does this mean?'

The poor fellow was just walking across the quadrangle towards theportico when he fell down. A commissionaire who saw him says he waswalking very quickly. At first I thought it was sunstroke, but itcouldn't have been, though the weather certainly is rather warm. It mustbe heart disease. But anyhow, he's dead. We did what we could. I'vesent for a doctor, and for the police. I suppose there'll have to be aninquest. '

Theodore Racksole stopped, and in an awkward solemn silence they allgazed at the dead youth. His features were slightly drawn, and his eyesclosed; that was all. He might have been asleep. 

'My poor Dimmock!' exclaimed the Prince, his voice broken. 'And I wasangry 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 girlstood still, and began to sob quietly. On the previous night she hadsecretly made fun of Reginald Dimmock. She had deliberately set herselfto get information from him on a topic in which she happened to bespecially interested and she had got it, laughing the while at hisyouthful crudities--his vanity, his transparent cunning, his absurdairs. She had not liked him; she had even distrusted him, and decidedthat he was not 'nice'. But now, as he lay on the stretcher, thesethings 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 hôtelproprietor with an awkward affair on his hands. For a fraction of asecond 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. Theyhad just come from an ante-chamber, in which lay the mortal remains ofReginald 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 thedoctor. 'I certainly can't answer it now. The symptoms are unusual to adegree. '

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 hôtel, though scarcely part of it, andcertainly less exclusive than the hôtel itself. Theodore Racksole knewnothing of the affair, except that it was an entertainment offered bya Mr and Mrs Sampson Levi to their friends. Who Mr and Mrs Sampson Leviwere he did not know, nor could anyone tell him anything about themexcept that Mr Sampson Levi was a prominent member of that part of theStock Exchange familiarly called the Kaffir Circus, and that his wifewas a stout lady with an aquiline nose and many diamonds, and that theywere very rich and very hospitable. Theodore Racksole did not want aball in his hôtel that evening, and just before dinner he had almost amind to issue a decree that the Gold Room was to be closed and the ballforbidden, and Mr and Mrs Sampson Levi might name the amount of damagessuffered by them. His reasons for such a course were threefold--first, he felt depressed and uneasy; second, he didn't like the name of SampsonLevi; and, third, he had a desire to show these so-called plutocratsthat their wealth was nothing to him, that they could not do what theychose with Theodore Racksole, and that for two pins Theodore Racksolewould buy them up, and the whole Kaffir Circus to boot. But somethingwarned him that though such a high-handed proceeding might be toleratedin America, that land of freedom, it would never be tolerated inEngland. He felt instinctively that in England there are things youcan't do, and that this particular thing was one of them. So the ballwent forward, and neither Mr nor Mrs Sampson Levi had ever the leastsuspicion what a narrow escape they had had of looking very foolish inthe eyes of the thousand or so guests invited by them to the Gold Roomof 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, andfrom this vantage men and maidens and chaperons who could not or wouldnot dance might survey the scene. Everyone knew this, and most peopletook advantage of it. What everyone did not know--what no one knew--wasthat higher up than the balcony there was a little barred window in theend wall from which the hôtel authorities might keep a watchful eye, notonly on the dancers, but on the occupants of the balcony itself. 

It may seem incredible to the uninitiated that the guests at any socialgathering held in so gorgeous and renowned an apartment as the Gold Roomof the Grand Babylon should need the observation of a watchful eye. Yetso it was. Strange matters and unexpected faces had been descried fromthe little window, and more than one European detective had kept vigilthere 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 waswith him. 

Together they had been wandering about the corridors of the hôtel, stillstrange to them both, and it was quite by accident that they had lightedupon the small room which had a surreptitious view of Mr and Mrs SampsonLevi's ball. Except for the light of the chandelier of the ball-room thelittle cubicle was in darkness. Nella was looking through the window;her father stood behind. 

'I wonder which is Mrs Sampson Levi?' Nella said, 'and whethershe 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 tothem. 

'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 beendoing?'

'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 deaththat has started 'em. '

'Well, Father, you surely didn't expect to keep yourself out of thepapers. Besides, as regards newspapers, you ought to be glad you aren'tin New York. Just fancy what the dear old Herald would have made out ofa little transaction like yours of last night. '

'That's true, ' assented Racksole. 'But it'll be all over New Yorkto-morrow morning, all the same. The worst of it is that Babylon hasgone 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 upagainst in running this hôtel. '

'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'tgrasped the fact, Nella, that we're in the middle of a rather queerbusiness. '

'You mean about poor Mr Dimmock?'

'Partly Dimmock and partly other things. First of all, that MissSpencer, or whatever her wretched name is, mysteriously disappears. Thenthere was the stone thrown into your bedroom. Then I caught that rascalJules conspiring with Dimmock at three o'clock in the morning. Then yourprecious Prince Aribert arrives without any suite--which I believe is amost peculiar and wicked thing for a Prince to do--and moreover I findmy daughter on very intimate terms with the said Prince. Then youngDimmock goes and dies, and there is to be an inquest; then Prince Eugenand his suite, who were expected here for dinner, fail to turn up atall--'

'Prince Eugen has not come?'

'He has not; and Uncle Aribert is in a deuce of a stew about him, andtelegraphing all over Europe. Altogether, things are working up prettylively. '

'Do you really think, Dad, there was anything between Jules and poor MrDimmock?'

'Think! I know! I tell you I saw that scamp give Dimmock a wink lastnight 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 thebalcony immediately below them. 'Who's that?' She indicated a man with abald patch on the back of his head, who was propping himself up againstthe 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 hôtel, even if I have to throwhim out myself. '

Theodore Racksole disappeared without another word, and Nella followedhim. 

But when the millionaire arrived on the balcony floor he could seenothing of Jules, neither there nor in the ball-room itself. Sayingno word aloud, but quietly whispering wicked expletives, he searchedeverywhere in vain, and then, at last, by tortuous stairways andcorridors returned to his original post of observation, that he mightsurvey the place anew from the vantage ground. To his surprise hefound a man in the dark little room, watching the scene of the ballas intently as he himself had been doing a few minutes before. Hearingfootsteps, 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 forbeing here. '

'Force of habit, I suppose, ' said Theodore Racksole drily. 

'Just so, sir. '

'I fancied I had forbidden you to re-enter this hôtel?'

'I thought your order applied only to my professional capacity. I amhere 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 mydisinterested advice to you. '

'Good night, sir. '

'And, I say, Mr Jules, if Mr and Mrs Sampson Levi, or any other Hebrewsor Christians, should again invite you to my hôtel you will oblige me bydeclining the invitation. You'll find that will be the safest course foryou. '

'Good night, sir. '

Before midnight struck Theodore Racksole had ascertained that theinvitation-list of Mr and Mrs Sampson Levi, though a somewhat lengthyone, 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 manwho, by dint of training, could comfortably dispense with sleep when hefelt so inclined, or when circumstances made such a course advisable. He walked to and fro in his room, and cogitated as few people besideTheodore Racksole could cogitate. At 6 a. M. He took a stroll round thebusiness part of his premises, and watched the supplies come in fromCovent Garden, from Smithfield, from Billingsgate, and from otherstrange places. He found the proceedings of the kitchen department quiteinteresting, and made mental notes of things that he would have altered, of men whose wages he would increase and men whose wages he wouldreduce. At 7 a. M. He happened to be standing near the luggage lift, and witnessed the descent of vast quantities of luggage, and itsdisappearance into a Carter Paterson van. 

'Whose luggage is that?' he inquired peremptorily. 

The luggage clerk, with an aggrieved expression, explained to him thatit was the luggage of nobody in particular, that it belonged to variousguests, and was bound for various destinations; that it was, in fact, 'expressed' luggage despatched in advance, and that a similar quantityof it left the hôtel every morning about that hour. 

Theodore Racksole walked away, and breakfasted upon one cup of tea andhalf a slice of toast. 

At ten o'clock he was informed that the inspector of police desired tosee him. The inspector had come, he said, to superintend the removalof the body of Reginald Dimmock to the mortuary adjoining the placeof inquest, and a suitable vehicle waited at the back entrance of thehôtel. 

The inspector had also brought subpoenas for himself and Prince Aribertof Posen and the commissionaire to attend the inquest. 

'I thought Mr Dimmock's remains were removed last night, ' said Racksolewearily. 

'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 MrRacksole to be good enough to come to him on the first floor. Racksolewent. In the ante-room, where the body of Reginald Dimmock hadoriginally been placed, were the inspector and Prince Aribert, and twopolicemen. 

'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 beenobtained, ' he remarked. 'Quite right' He approached it. 'It's empty, ' heobserved unthinkingly. 

'Just so, ' said the inspector. 'The body of the deceased hasdisappeared. 

And his Serene Highness Prince Aribert informs me that though he hasoccupied 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 sufficientcalmness and dignity, you could see that he was deeply pained, evendistressed. 

'Well, I'm--' murmured Racksole, and stopped. 

Chapter Seven NELLA AND THE PRINCE

IT appeared impossible to Theodore Racksole that so cumbrous an articleas a corpse could be removed out of his hôtel, 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 severelyangry. He had a mind to dismiss the entire staff of the hôtel. Hepersonally examined the night-watchman, the chambermaids and all otherpersons who by chance might or ought to know something of the affair;but without avail. The corpse of Reginald Dimmock had vanishedutterly--disappeared like a fleshless spirit. 

Of course there were the police. But Theodore Racksole held the policein sorry esteem. He acquainted them with the facts, answered theirqueries with a patient weariness, and expected, nothing whatever fromthat quarter. He also had several interviews with Prince Aribertof Posen, but though the Prince was suavity itself and beyond doubtgenuinely concerned about the fate of his dead attendant, yet it seemedto Racksole that he was keeping something back, that he hesitated tosay all he knew. Racksole, with characteristic insight, decided that thedeath 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, untilsomething else happened that would throw light on the business. At themoment he took only one measure--he arranged that the theft of Dimmock'sbody should not appear in the newspapers. It is astonishing how well asecret can be kept, when the possessors of the secret are handled withthe proper mixture of firmness and persuasion. Racksole managed thisvery neatly. It was a complicated job, and his success in it ratherpleased him. 

At the same time he was conscious of being temporarily worsted by anunknown group of schemers, in which he felt convinced that Jules was animportant item. He could scarcely look Nella in the eyes. The girl hadevidently expected him to unmask this conspiracy at once, with a singlestroke of the millionaire's magic wand. She was thoroughly accustomed, in the land of her birth, to seeing him achieve impossible feats. Overthere he was a 'boss'; men trembled before his name; when he wished athing to happen--well, it happened; if he desired to know a thing, hejust knew it. But here, in London, Theodore Racksole was not quite thesame Theodore Racksole. He dominated New York; but London, for the mostpart, seemed not to take much interest in him; and there were certainlyvarious persons in London who were capable of snapping their fingers athim--at Theodore Racksole. Neither he nor his daughter could get used tothat fact. 

As for Nella, she concerned herself for a little with the ordinarybusiness of the bureau, and watched the incomings and outgoings ofPrince Aribert with a kindly interest. She perceived, what her fatherhad failed to perceive, that His Highness had assumed an attitude ofreserve merely to hide the secret distraction and dismay which consumedhim. She saw that the poor fellow had no settled plan in his head, andthat he was troubled by something which, so far, he had confided tonobody. It came to her knowledge that each morning he walked to and froon the Victoria Embankment, alone, and apparently with no object. On thethird morning she decided that driving exercise on the Embankment wouldbe good for her health, and thereupon ordered a carriage and issuedforth, arrayed in a miraculous putty-coloured gown. Near BlackfriarsBridge she met the Prince, and the carriage was drawn up by thepavement. 

'Good morning, Prince, ' she greeted him. 'Are you mistaking this forHyde 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 inLondon who preferred the Embankment, with this view of the river, to thedustiness of Hyde Park. I can't imagine how it is that London will nevertake exercise anywhere except in that ridiculous Park. Now, if they hadCentral 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; andthen, '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 thismorning. You have no idea how busy we are. '

'Ah! then I will not trouble you. But I leave the Grand Babylonto-night. '

'Do you?' she said. 'Then will your Highness do me the honour oflunching with me today in Father's room? Father will be out--he ishaving a day in the City with some stockbroking persons. '

'I shall be charmed, ' said the Prince, and his face showed that he meantit. 

Nella drove off. 

If the lunch was a success that result was due partly to Rocco, andpartly to Nella. The Prince said little beyond what the ordinary rulesof the conversational game demanded. His hostess talked much and talkedwell, but she failed to rouse her guest. When they had had coffee hetook 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 havedecided 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, Icannot tell; but I feel that I must. I feel that you will understand mebetter than anyone else in the world. And yet why should you understandme? Again, I don't know. Miss Racksole, I will disclose to you the wholetrouble 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 hadaffairs in London. He wished me to come with him. I sent Dimmock on infront, and waited for Eugen. He did not arrive. I telegraphed back toCologne, his last stopping-place, and I learned that he had left therein accordance with his programme; I learned also that he had passedthrough Brussels. It must have been between Brussels and the railwaystation at Ostend Quay that he disappeared. He was travelling with asingle equerry, and the equerry, too, has vanished. I need not explainto you, Miss Racksole, that when a person of the importance of my nephewcontrives to get lost one must proceed cautiously. One cannot advertisefor 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 hôtel; or, rather, they did so believe. But this morningI received a cypher telegram from--from His Majesty the Emperor, a verypeculiar telegram, asking when Eugen might be expected to return toPosen, and requesting that he should go first to Berlin. That telegramwas addressed to myself. Now, if the Emperor thought that Eugen washere, 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 mustmyself go to the Emperor and acquaint him with the facts. '

'I suppose you've just got to keep straight with him?' Nella was on thepoint of saying, but she checked herself and substituted, 'The Emperoris 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 ofyour Royal nephew?' she asked simply. The affair seemed to her just thenso plain and straightforward. 

'Because one of two things may have happened. Either Eugen may havebeen, in plain language, abducted, or he may have had his own reasonsfor changing his programme and keeping in the background--out of reachof telegraph and post and railways. '

'What sort of reasons?'

'Do not ask me. In the history of every family there are passages--' Hestopped. 

'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 thananyone in Berlin suspects. '

'Prince Aribert, ' Nella said, 'shall I tell you what I think?' Sheleaned back in her chair, and looked at him out of half-closed eyes. Hispale, 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 remarkeddrily. 

'Ah! Perhaps, perhaps, ' he said. 'But, dear Miss Racksole, why are youso sure?'

'There are several reasons, and they are connected with Mr Dimmock. Did you ever suspect, your Highness, that that poor young man was notentirely loyal to you?'

'He was absolutely loyal, ' said the Prince, with all the earnestness ofconviction. 

'A thousand pardons, but he was not. '

'Miss Racksole, if any other than yourself made that assertion, Iwould--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 thenight preceding his arrival in the hôtel. 

'Do you mean, Miss Racksole, that there was an understanding betweenpoor Dimmock and this fellow Jules?'

'There was an understanding. '

'Impossible!'

'Your Highness, the man who wishes to probe a mystery to its root neveruses 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 thathe--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 ofcomplete acquaintance with the world. 

'Miss Racksole, ' he said, 'if you will permit me to say it, I havenever in my life met a woman like you. May I rely on your sympathy--yoursupport?'

'My support, Prince? But how?'

'I do not know, ' he replied. 'But you could help me if you would. Awoman, when she has brain, always has more brain than a man. '

'Ah!' she said ruefully, 'I have no brains, but I do believe I couldhelp 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--aprescience--that it would be justified, though by what means, throughwhat good fortune, was still a mystery to her. 

'Go to Berlin, ' she said. 'I see that you must do that; you have noalternative. As for the rest, we shall see. Something will occur. I shall be here. My father will be here. You must count us as yourfriends. '

He kissed her hand when he left, and afterwards, when she was alone, shekissed the spot his lips had touched again and again. Now, thinkingthe matter out in the calmness of solitude, all seemed strange, unreal, uncertain to her. Were conspiracies actually possible nowadays? Didqueer things actually happen in Europe? And did they actually happen inLondon hôtels? 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 amaid and a considerable quantity of luggage, came to the Grand BabylonHôtel. She was a plump, little old lady, with white hair and anold-fashioned bonnet, and she had a quaint, simple smile of surprise ateverything in general. 

Nevertheless, she gave the impression of belonging to some aristocracy, though not the English aristocracy. Her tone to her maid, whom sheaddressed in broken English--the girl being apparently English--wasdistinctly insolent, with the calm, unconscious insolence peculiar toa certain type of Continental nobility. The name on the lady's card ranthus: 'Baroness Zerlinski'. She desired rooms on the third floor. Ithappened that Nella was in the bureau. 

'On the third floor, madam?' questioned Nella, in her best clerklymanner. 

'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 theBaroness. 

'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 thenbit 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 asa curious chance, but afterwards, when the Baroness had ascended in thelift, the thing struck her as somewhat strange. Perhaps the BaronessZerlinski had stayed at the hôtel before. For the sake of convenience anindex of visitors to the hôtel was kept and the index extended backfor thirty years. Nella examined it, but it did not contain the nameof Zerlinski. Then it was that Nella began to imagine, what had swiftlycrossed her mind when first the Baroness presented herself at thebureau, 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 thatshe had seen somewhere, some time, a face of a similar cast. It occurredto Nella to look at the 'Almanach de Gotha'--that record of all themazes of Continental blue blood; but the 'Almanach de Gotha' made noreference to any barony of Zerlinski. Nella inquired where the Baronessmeant to take lunch, and was informed that a table had been reservedfor her in the dining-room, and she at once decided to lunch in thedining-room herself. Seated in a corner, half-hidden by a pillar, shecould survey all the guests, and watch each group as it entered or left. Presently the Baroness appeared, dressed in black, with a tiny laceshawl, despite the June warmth; very stately, very quaint, and gentlysmiling. Nella observed her intently. The lady ate heartily, workingwithout haste and without delay through the elaborate menu of theluncheon. Nella noticed that she had beautiful white teeth. Then aremarkable thing happened. A cream puff was served to the Baroness byway of sweets, and Nella was astonished to see the little lady removethe top, and with a spoon quietly take something from the interior whichlooked like a piece of folded paper. No one who had not been watchingwith the eye of a lynx would have noticed anything extraordinary in theaction; indeed, the chances were nine hundred and ninety-nine to onethat it would pass unheeded. But, unfortunately for the Baroness, it wasthe thousandth chance that happened. Nella jumped up, and walking overto 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 hadvanished. 'Who are you? I thought you were de bureau clerk. '

'My father is the owner of this hôtel. I thought there was something inthe 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 aplate. 

'No, thanks. ' The Baroness smiled her simple smile. 

Nella departed. She had noticed one trifling thing besides thepaper--namely, that the Baroness could pronounce the English 'th' soundif she chose. 

That afternoon, in her own room, Nella sat meditating at the window forlong 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 PrinceAribert. 'Perhaps I can help him, ' she said to herself, and gave alittle sigh. She went down to the office and inquired whether theBaroness had given any instructions about dinner. She felt that someplan must be formulated. She wanted to get hold of Rocco, and put him inthe rack. She knew now that Rocco, the unequalled, was also concerned inthis mysterious affair. 

'The Baroness Zerlinski has left, about a quarter of an hour ago, ' saidthe attendant. 

'But she only arrived this morning. '

'The Baroness's maid said that her mistress had received a telegramand must leave at once. The Baroness paid the bill, and went away in afour-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 steamerfor Ostend which leaves Dover at 11 p. M. She told no one of herintentions--not even her father, who was not in the hôtel when she left. She had scribbled a brief note to him to expect her back in a day ortwo, and had posted this at Dover. The steamer was the Marie Henriette, a large and luxurious boat, whose state-rooms on deck vie with theglories of the Cunard and White Star liners. One of these state-rooms, the best, was evidently occupied, for every curtain of its windows wascarefully drawn. Nella did not hope that the Baroness was on board; itwas quite possible for the Baroness to have caught the eight o'clocksteamer, and it was also possible for the Baroness not to have goneto Ostend at all, but to some other place in an entirely differentdirection. Nevertheless, Nella had a faint hope that the lady who calledherself Zerlinski might be in that curtained stateroom, and throughoutthe smooth moonlit voyage she never once relaxed her observation of itsdoors and its windows. 

The Maria Henriette arrived in Ostend Harbour punctually at 2 a. M. Inthe morning. There was the usual heterogeneous, gesticulating crowd onthe quay. 

Nella kept her post near the door of the state-room, and at length shewas rewarded by seeing it open. Four middle-aged Englishmen issued fromit. From a glimpse of the interior Nella saw that they had spent thevoyage in card-playing. 

It would not be too much to say that she was distinctly annoyed. Shepretended to be annoyed with circumstances, but really she was annoyedwith Nella Racksole. At two in the morning, without luggage, without anycompanionship, and without a plan of campaign, she found herself ina strange foreign port--a port of evil repute, possessing some of theworst-managed hôtels in Europe. She strolled on the quay for a fewminutes, and then she saw the smoke of another steamer in the offing. She inquired from an official what that steamer might be, and was toldthat it was the eight o'clock from Dover, which had broken down, putinto Calais for some slight necessary repairs, and was arriving at itsdestination nearly four hours late. Her mercurial spirits rose again. Aminute ago she was regarding herself as no better than a ninny engagedin a wild-goose chase. Now she felt that after all she had been verysagacious and cunning. She was morally sure that she would find theZerlinski woman on this second steamer, and she took all the credit toherself in advance. Such is human nature. 

The steamer seemed interminably slow in coming into harbour. Nellawalked on the Digue for a few minutes to watch it the better. The townwas silent and almost deserted. It had a false and sinister aspect. Sheremembered tales which she had heard of this glittering resort, whichin the season holds more scoundrels than any place in Europe, save onlyMonte Carlo. She remembered that the gilded adventures of every nationunder the sun forgathered there either for business or pleasure, andthat some of the most wonderful crimes of the latter half of the centuryhad 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 shorewas--not the Baroness Zerlinski, but Miss Spencer herself! Nella turnedaside instantly, hiding her face, and Miss Spencer, carrying a smallbag, hurried with assured footsteps to the Custom House. It seemed asif 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 nowquite plainly that the Baroness Zerlinski had been only Miss Spencer indisguise. There was the same gait, the same movement of the head and ofthe hips; the white hair was easily to be accounted for by a wig, andthe wrinkles by a paint brush and some grease paints. Miss Spencer, whose hair was now its old accustomed yellow, got through the CustomHouse without difficulty, and Nella saw her call a closed carriage andsay something to the driver. The vehicle drove off. Nella jumped intothe 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 shotforward with a terrific clatter over the cobbles. It appeared that thisdriver was quite accustomed to following other carriages. 

'Now I am fairly in for it!' said Nella to herself. She laughedunsteadily, but her heart was beating with an extraordinary thump. 

For some time the pursued vehicle kept well in front. It crossed thetown nearly from end to end, and plunged into a maze of small streetsfar on the south side of the Kursaal. Then gradually Nella's equipagebegan to overtake it. The first carriage stopped with a jerk before atall dark house, and Miss Spencer emerged. Nella called to her driver tostop, but he, determined to be in at the death, was engaged inwhipping his horse, and he completely ignored her commands. He drew uptriumphantly at the tall dark house just at the moment when Miss Spencerdisappeared into it. The other carriage drove away. Nella, uncertainwhat to do, stepped down from her carriage and gave the driver somemoney. At the same moment a man reopened the door of the house, whichhad closed on Miss Spencer. 

'I want to see Miss Spencer, ' said Nella impulsively. She couldn't thinkof 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. Shewas astonished at her own audacity. 

Miss Spencer was just going into a room off the narrow hall. Nellafollowed her into the apartment, which was shabbily furnished in theBelgian lodging-house style. 

'Well, Miss Spencer, ' she greeted the former Baroness Zerlinski, 'Iguess you didn't expect to see me. You left our hôtel very suddenly thisafternoon, and you left it very suddenly a few days ago; and so I'vejust called to make a few inquiries. '

To do the lady justice, Miss Spencer bore the surprising ordeal verywell. 

She did not flinch; she betrayed no emotion. The sole sign ofperturbation was in her hurried breathing. 

'You have ceased to be the Baroness Zerlinski, ' Nella continued. 'May Isit 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 havecome about the murder of Reginald Dimmock, the disappearance of hiscorpse, and the disappearance of Prince Eugen of Posen. I thought youmight 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 themantelpiece. 

'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 shepulled 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, ina low, quavering voice. 

'Am I?' Nella replied, as firmly as she could, though her hand shookviolently with excitement, could Miss Spencer but have observed it. 'AmI? 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 theydon't teach revolver-shooting in boarding-schools, there are at leasta lot of girls who can handle a revolver. I happen to be one of them. Itell you that if you ring that bell you will suffer. '

Most of this was simple bluff on Nella's part, and she trembled lestMiss Spencer should perceive that it was simple bluff. Happily for her, Miss Spencer belonged to that order of women who have every sort ofcourage except physical courage. Miss Spencer could have withstoodsuccessfully any moral trial, but persuade her that her skin was indanger, and she would succumb. Nella at once divined this useful fact, and proceeded accordingly, hiding the strangeness of her own sensationsas well as she could. 

'You had better sit down now, ' said Nella, 'and I will ask you a fewquestions. '

And Miss Spencer obediently sat down, rather white, and trying to screwher lips into a formal smile. 

'Why did you leave the Grand Babylon that night?' Nella began herexamination, 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 myhusband's orders. '

'Who is your husband? 'Tom Jackson--Jules, you know, head waiter at theGrand Babylon. '

'So Jules's real name is Tom Jackson? Why did he want you to leavewithout giving notice?'

'I'm sure I don't know, Miss Racksole. I swear I don't know. He's myhusband, and, of course, I do what he tells me, as you will some day dowhat your husband tells you. Please heaven you'll get a better husbandthan mine!'

Miss Spencer showed a sign of tears. 

Nella fingered the revolver, and put it at full cock. 'Well, ' sherepeated, 'why did he want you to leave?' She was tremendously surprisedat 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 hôtel, 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 moneybusiness. '

'And was Mr Dimmock in this business? 'I fancy so, Miss Racksole. I'mtelling 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 fromthis husband of yours?'

Miss Spencer's head dropped on her arms on the table which separated herfrom 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 thelast time I shall warn you. Let me tell you plainly I've got the bestreasons for being desperate, and if anything happens to you I shall sayI did it in sell-defence. Now, what were you to do in Ostend?'

'I shall die for this anyhow, ' whined Miss Spencer, and then, with asort 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 oftears in her face. 

'Then Prince Eugen was a prisoner? Some one had captured him at theinstigation 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 atthe Grand Babylon I had travelled over Europe, and Tom knew that I knewa 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 thosethat keep themselves to themselves. '

'Do you know if he has ever committed a murder? 'Never!' said MissSpencer, with righteous repudiation of the mere idea. 

'But Mr Dimmock was murdered. He was poisoned. If he had not beenpoisoned why was his body stolen? It must have been stolen to preventinquiry, to hide traces. Tell me about that. '

'I take my dying oath, ' said Miss Spencer, standing up a little way fromthe table, 'I take my dying oath I didn't know Mr Dimmock was dead tillI 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 girllooked at each other in the tawdry, frowsy, lamp-lit room. Miss Spencernervously patted her yellow hair into shape, as if gradually recoveringher composure and equanimity. The whole affair seemed like a dream toNella, a disturbing, sinister nightmare. She was a little uncertainwhat to say. She felt that she had not yet got hold of any very definiteinformation. '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 Spencerquavered. 

'Oh, but you must know, ' smiled Nella calmly. 'You can't possibly beso innocent as all that, Mrs Tom Jackson. You can't play games withme. 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 whyhe kidnapped him. Let us begin with the second question. You have evadedit once. '

Miss Spencer looked into Nella's face, and then her eyes dropped, andher fingers worked nervously with the tablecloth. 

'How can I tell you, ' she said, 'when I don't know? You've got thewhip-hand of me, and you're tormenting me for your own pleasure. ' Shewore 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 comingto London?'

'Perhaps he had. I don't know. If you kill me, I don't know. ' Nellastopped to reflect. Then she raised the revolver. It was a mechanical, unintentional sort of action, and certainly she had no intention ofusing the weapon, but, strange to say, Miss Spencer again cowered beforeit. Even at that moment Nella wondered that a woman like Miss Spencercould be so simple as to think the revolver would actually be used. Having absolutely no physical cowardice herself, Nella had the greatestdifficulty in imagining that other people could be at the mercy of abodily fear. Still, she saw her advantage, and used it relentlessly, and with as much theatrical gesture as she could command. She raised therevolver 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 thatrevolver 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--thepolice--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 PrinceEugen 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 saidMr Dimmock had turned tail, and he should have to settle him and thenRocco--'

'Rocco! What about Rocco?' Nella could scarcely hear herself. Her gripof the revolver tightened. 

Miss Spencer's eyes opened wider; she gazed at Nella with a glassystare. 

'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 issuefrom the lips of some third person. 

'It's death, ' repeated Miss Spencer, and gradually her head andshoulders sank back, and hung loosely over the chair. Nella wasconscious of a sudden revulsion. The woman had surely fainted. Droppingthe revolver she ran round the table. She was herself again--feminine, sympathetic, the old Nella. She felt immensely relieved that this hadhappened. But at the same instant Miss Spencer sprang up from the chairlike a cat, seized the revolver, and with a wild movement of the armflung it against the window. It crashed through the glass, exploding asit went, and there was a tense silence. 

'I told you that you were a fool, ' remarked Miss Spencer slowly, 'cominghere like a sort of female Jack Sheppard, and trying to get the best ofme. 

We are on equal terms now. You frightened me, but I knew I was acleverer 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 MissSpencer's words, Nella stood still. The idea of her colossal foolishnessswept through her like a flood. She felt almost ashamed. But even atthis juncture she had no fear. She faced the woman bravely, her mindleaping about in search of some plan. She could think of nothing but abribe--an enormous bribe. 

'I admit you've won, ' she said, 'but I've not finished yet. Justlisten. '

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 oneof the richest men in the world. If I give you my word of honour notto reveal anything that you've told me, what will you take to let me gofree?'

'What sum do you suggest?' asked Miss Spencer carelessly. 

'Twenty thousand pounds, ' said Nella promptly. She had begun to regardthe 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 gofree 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'tlet you go for all the dollars in America. '

Nella felt cold down the spine, and sat down again in her chair. Adraught of air from the broken window blew on her cheek. Steps soundedin the passage; the door opened, but Nella did not turn round. She couldnot move her eyes from Miss Spencer's. There was a noise of rushingwater in her ears. She lost consciousness, and slipped limply to theground. 

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 incrediblygentle. This sensation continued for some time, and there was added toit the sound of a quick, quiet, muffled beat. Soft, exhilarating breezeswafted her forward in spite of herself, and yet she remained in adelicious calm. She wondered if her mother was kneeling by her side, whispering some lullaby in her childish ears. Then strange colours swambefore her eyes, her eyelids wavered, and at last she awoke. For a fewmoments her gaze travelled to and fro in a vain search for some clueto her surroundings, was aware of nothing except sense of repose anda feeling of relief that some mighty and fatal struggle was over; shecared not whether she had conquered or suffered defeat in the struggleof her soul with some other soul; it was finished, done with, and theconsciousness of its conclusion satisfied and contented her. Graduallyher brain, recovering from its obsession, began to grasp the phenomenaof her surroundings, and she saw that she was on a yacht, and that theyacht was moving. The motion of the cradle was the smooth rolling of thevessel; the beat was the beat of its screw; the strange colours werethe cloud tints thrown by the sun as it rose over a distant and recedingshore in the wake of the yacht; her mother's lullaby was the croonedsong of the man at the wheel. Nella all through her life had had manyexperiences of yachting. From the waters of the River Hudson to thosebluer tides of the Mediterranean Sea, she had yachted in all seasons andall weathers. She loved the water, and now it seemed deliciously rightand proper that she should be on the water again. She raised her head tolook round, and then let it sink back: she was fatigued, enervated; shedesired only solitude and calm; she had no care, no anxiety, noresponsibility: a hundred years might have passed since her meeting withMiss Spencer, and the memory of that meeting appeared to have faded intothe remotest background of her mind. 

It was a small yacht, and her practised eye at once told that itbelonged to the highest aristocracy of pleasure craft. As she reclinedin the deck-chair (it did not occur to her at that moment to speculateas to the identity of the person who had led her therein) she examinedall visible details of the vessel. The deck was as white and smooth asher own hand, and the seams ran along its length like blue veins. Allthe brass-work, from the band round the slender funnel to the concavesurface of the binnacle, shone like gold. 

The tapered masts stretched upwards at a rakish angle, and the riggingseemed 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 ahundred tons or so, probably Clyde-built, and not more than two or threeyears old. 

No one was to be seen on deck except the man at the wheel: this man worea blue jersey; but there was neither name nor initial on the jersey, norwas there a name on the white life-buoys lashed to the main rigging, noron the polished dinghy which hung on the starboard davits. She calledto the man, and called again, in a feeble voice, but the steerer tookno notice of her, and continued his quiet song as though nothing elseexisted in the universe save the yacht, the sea, the sun, and himself. 

Then her eyes swept the outline of the land from which they werehastening, and she could just distinguish a lighthouse and a great whiteirregular dome, which she recognized as the Kursaal at Ostend, thatgorgeous rival of the gaming palace at Monte Carlo. So she was leavingOstend. The rays of the sun fell on her caressingly, like a restorative. All around the water was changing from wonderful greys and dark blues tostill more wonderful pinks and translucent unearthly greens; the magickaleidoscope of dawn was going forward in its accustomed way, regardlessof the vicissitudes of mortals. 

Here and there in the distance she descried a sail--the brown sail ofsome 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 Swallowfrom London. She could see some of its passengers leaning curiously overthe aft-rail. A girl in a mackintosh signalled to her, and mechanicallyshe answered the salute with her arm. The officer of the bridge of theSwallow hailed the yacht, but the man at the wheel offered no reply. Inanother minute the Swallow was nothing but a blot in the distance. 

Nella tried to sit straight in the deck-chair, but she found herselfunable to do so. Throwing off the rug which covered her, she discoveredthat she had been tied to the chair by means of a piece of broadwebbing. Instantly she was alert, awake, angry; she knew that her perilswere not over; she felt that possibly they had scarcely yet begun. Her lazy contentment, her dreamy sense of peace and repose, vanishedutterly, and she steeled herself to meet the dangers of a grave anddifficult situation. 

Just at that moment a man came up from below. He was a man of forty orso, clad in irreproachable blue, with a peaked yachting cap. He raisedthe cap politely. 

'Good morning, ' he said. 'Beautiful sunrise, isn't it?' The clever andcalculated insolence of his tone cut her like a lash as she lay bound inthe chair. Like all people who have lived easy and joyous lives in thosefair regions where gold smoothes every crease and law keeps a tight handon disorder, she found it hard to realize that there were other regionswhere gold was useless and law without power. Twenty-four hours ago shewould have declared it impossible that such an experience as she hadsuffered could happen to anyone; she would have talked airily aboutcivilization and the nineteenth century, and progress and the police. But her experience was teaching her that human nature remains alwaysthe same, and that beneath the thin crust of security on which we goodcitizens 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 toChelsea without being set upon by thieves. Her experience was in a fairway to teach her this lesson better than she could have learnt iteven in the bureaux of the detective police of Paris, London, and StPetersburg. 

'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 asshe spoke, and the contempt in them added mightily to her beauty. MrThomas Jackson, otherwise Jules, erstwhile head waiter at the GrandBabylon, considered himself a connoisseur in feminine loveliness, andthe vision of Nella Racksole smote him like an exquisite blow. 

'With pleasure, ' he replied. 'I had forgotten that to prevent you fromfalling I had secured you to the chair'; and with a quick movement heunfastened the band. Nella stood up, quivering with fiery annoyance andscorn. 

'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. Nellawas obliged to acknowledge, in spite of herself, that the fellow haddistinction, an air of breeding. No one would have guessed that fortwenty years he had been an hôtel waiter. His long, lithe figure, andeasy, careless carriage seemed to be the figure and carriage of anaristocrat, and his voice was quiet, restrained, and authoritative. 

'That has nothing to do with my being carried off in this yacht ofyours. '

'It is not my yacht, ' he said, 'but that is a minor detail. As to themore important matter, forgive me that I remind you that only a fewhours 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 takeme back. ' She tried to speak firmly. 

'Ah!' he said, 'I am afraid that's impossible. I didn't put out to seawith the intention of returning at once, instantly. ' In the last wordshe gave a faint imitation of her tone. 

'When I do get back, ' she said, 'when my father gets to know of thisaffair, 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 myfriend, Miss Spencer. At least, so she tells me. '

'Is Miss Spencer on board?' Nella asked, seeing perhaps a faint ray ofhope in the possible presence of a woman. 

'Miss Spencer is not on board. There is no one on board except you andmyself 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 somebreakfast. '

He went to the saloon stairs and whistled, and a Negro boy appearedwith a tray of chocolate. Nella took it, and, without the slightesthesitation, threw it overboard. Mr Jackson walked away a few steps andthen 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 quiteat variance with the usual methods of her gay and butterfly existence tomeddle at all with serious things. Had she acted merely from a desireto see justice done and wickedness punished? Or was it the desire ofadventure? Or was it, perhaps, the desire to be of service to His SereneHighness Prince Aribert? 'It is no fault of mine that you are in thisfix, ' Jules continued. 'I didn't bring you into it. You brought yourselfinto it. You and your father--you have been moving along at a pace whichis rather too rapid. '

'That remains to be seen, ' she put in coldly. 

'It does, ' he admitted. 'And I repeat that I can't help admiringyou--that is, when you aren't interfering with my private affairs. Thatis a proceeding which I have never tolerated from anyone--not even froma millionaire, nor even from a beautiful woman. ' He bowed. 'I will tellyou what I propose to do. I propose to escort you to a place ofsafety, and to keep you there till my operations are concluded, andthe possibility of interference entirely removed. You spoke just now ofmurder. What a crude notion that was of yours! It is only the amateurwho practises murder--'

'What about Reginald Dimmock?' she interjected quickly. 

He paused gravely. 

'Reginald Dimmock, ' he repeated. 'I had imagined his was a case ofheart disease. Let me send you up some more chocolate. I'm sure you'rehungry. '

'I will starve before I touch your food, ' she said. 

'Gallant creature!' he murmured, and his eyes roved over her face. Hersuperb, supercilious beauty overcame him. 'Ah!' he said, 'what a wifeyou would make!' He approached nearer to her. 'You and I, Miss Racksole, your beauty and wealth and my brains--we could conquer the world. Fewmen are worthy of you, but I am one of the few. Listen! You might doworse. 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 beginagain. 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 occurto 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. ' Nellastood like a statue of scorn before him. 

He went still nearer to her. 'Give me a kiss, then; one kiss--I won'task for more; one kiss from those lips, and you shall go free. Men haveruined themselves for a kiss. I will. '

'Coward!' she ejaculated. 

'Coward!' he repeated. 'Coward, am I? Then I'll be a coward, and youshall kiss me whether you will or not. '

He put a hand on her shoulder. As she shrank back from his lustrouseyes, with an involuntary scream, a figure sprang out of the dinghy afew feet away. With a single blow, neatly directed to Mr Jackson's ear, Mr Jackson was stretched senseless on the deck. Prince Aribert of Posenstood over him with a revolver. It was probably the greatest surprise ofMr Jackson's whole life. 

'Don't be alarmed, ' said the Prince to Nella, 'my being here is thesimplest thing in the world, and I will explain it as soon as I havefinished with this fellow. '

Nella could think of nothing to say, but she noticed the revolver in thePrince'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 themillionaire from a reverie which had been the reverse of pleasant. Thefact 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 ofself-satisfaction. A mystery had attached itself to his hôtel, and withall his acumen and knowledge of things in general he was unable to solvethat mystery. He laughed at the fruitless efforts of the police, but hecould not honestly say that his own efforts had been less barren. Thepublic was talking, for, after all, the disappearance of poor Dimmock'sbody had got noised abroad in an indirect sort of way, and TheodoreRacksole did not like the idea of his impeccable hôtel being the subjectof sinister rumours. He wondered, grimly, what the public and the Sundaynewspapers would say if they were aware of all the other phenomena, notyet common property: of Miss Spencer's disappearance, of Jules' strangevisits, and of the non-arrival of Prince Eugen of Posen. TheodoreRacksole had worried his brain without result. He had conducted anelaborate private investigation without result, and he had spent acertain amount of money without result. The police said that they hada clue; but Racksole remarked that it was always the business of thepolice to have a clue, that they seldom had more than a clue, and thata clue without some sequel to it was a pretty stupid business. The onlysure thing in the whole affair was that a cloud rested over his hôtel, his beautiful new toy, the finest of its kind. The cloud was notinterfering with business, but, nevertheless, it was a cloud, and hefiercely resented its presence; perhaps it would be more correct to saythat he fiercely resented his inability to dissipate it. 

'Mr Sampson Levi wishes to see you, sir, ' the servant repeated, havingreceived 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 thatkind?'

'I will inquire, sir, ' and the servant made a move to withdraw. 

'Stop, ' Racksole commanded suddenly. 'Desire Mr Sampson Levi to stepthis way. '

The great stockbroker of the 'Kaffir Circus' entered with a simpleunassuming air. He was a rather short, florid man, dressed like atypical Hebraic financier, with too much watch-chain and too littlewaistcoat. In his fat hand he held a gold-headed cane, and an absolutelynew silk hat--for it was Friday, and Mr Levi purchased a new hat everyFriday of his life, holiday times only excepted. He breathed heavily andsniffed through his nose a good deal, as though he had just performedsome Herculean physical labour. He glanced at the American millionairewith an expression in which a slight embarrassment might have beendetected, but at the same time his round, red face disclosed a certainfrank 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 thegreeting of a third-rate chimney-sweep, but, strangely enough, TheodoreRacksole liked their tone. He said to himself that here, precisely whereno 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, mineis, and so I'll come straight to the point, Mr Racksole. I'm a plainman. 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. Theother night I had a ball in this hôtel. It cost me a couple of thousandand odd pounds, and, by the way, I wrote out a cheque for your bill thismorning. I don't like balls, but they're useful to me, and my littlewife likes 'em, and so we give 'em. Now, I've nothing to say against thehôtel management as regards that ball: it was very decently done, verydecently, but what I want to know is this--Why did you have a privatedetective among my guests?'

'A private detective?' exclaimed Racksole, somewhat surprised at thischarge. 

'Yes, ' Mr Sampson Levi said firmly, fanning himself in his chair, andgazing at Theodore Racksole with the direct earnest expression of a manhaving a grievance. 'Yes; a private detective. It's a small matter, Iknow, and I dare say you think you've got a right, as proprietor of theshow, to do what you like in that line; but I've just called to tell youthat I object. I've called as a matter of principle. I'm not angry; it'sthe principle of the thing. '

'My dear Mr Levi, ' said Racksole, 'I assure you that, having let theGold Room to a private individual for a private entertainment, I shouldnever 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 gota wonderful memory for faces, and I know. Several fellows asked meafterwards what he was doing there. I was told by someone that he wasone of your waiters, but I didn't believe that. I know nothing of theGrand Babylon; it's not quite my style of tavern, but I don't thinkyou'd send one of your own waiters to watch my guests--unless, ofcourse, 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. 'Imay tell you that I was already aware that man had attended your balluninvited. '

'How did you get to know?'

'By pure chance, Mr Levi, and not by inquiry. That man was a formerwaiter at this hôtel--the head waiter, in fact--Jules. No doubt you haveheard of him. '

'Not I, ' said Mr Levi positively. 

'Ah!' said Racksole, 'I was informed that everyone knew Jules, but itappears not. Well, be that as it may, previously to the night of yourball, I had dismissed Jules. I had ordered him never to enter theBabylon again. 

But on that evening I encountered him here--not in the Gold Room, but inthe hôtel itself. I asked him to explain his presence, and he statedhe was your guest. That is all I know of the matter, Mr Levi, and I amextremely sorry that you should have thought me capable of the enormityof placing a private detective among your guests. '

'This is perfectly satisfactory to me, ' Mr Sampson Levi said, after apause. 

'I only wanted an explanation, and I've got it. I was told by some palsof mine in the City I might rely on Mr Theodore Racksole going straightto the point, and I'm glad they were right. Now as to that fellerJules, I shall make my own inquiries as to him. Might I ask you why youdismissed him?'

'I don't know why I dismissed him. '

'You don't know? Oh! come now! I'm only asking because I thought youmight 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 thathe was a suspicious character. I dismissed him on instinct, as it were. See?'

Without answering this question Mr Levi asked another. 'If this Jules issuch a well-known person, ' he said, 'how could the feller hope to cometo 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 thedoor. 

With his hand on the handle of the door, Mr Levi stopped, and, gazing atTheodore 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 Imight 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 theevident straightforwardness of the man's tone. 'Now, how can we be ofservice to each other? I flatter myself I'm something of a judge ofcharacter, especially financial character, and I tell you--if you'll putyour cards on the table, I'll do ditto with mine. '

'Agreed, ' said Mr Sampson Levi. 'I'll begin by explaining my interestin your hôtel. I have been expecting to receive a summons from a certainPrince Eugen of Posen to attend him here, and that summons hasn'tarrived. 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 yesterdayat the latest. '

'Why were you so sure?'

'Question for question, ' said Levi. 'Let's clear the ground first, MrRacksole. Why did you buy this hôtel? That's a conundrum that's beenpuzzling a lot of our fellows in the City for some days past. Why didyou buy the Grand Babylon? And what is the next move to be?'

'There is no next move, ' answered Racksole candidly, 'and I will tellyou why I bought the hôtel; there need be no secret about it. I boughtit because of a whim. ' And then Theodore Racksole gave this little Jew, whom he had begun to respect, a faithful account of the transactionwith Mr Felix Babylon. 'I suppose, ' he added, 'you find a difficulty inappreciating my state of mind when I did the deal. '

'Not a bit, ' said Mr Levi. 'I once bought an electric launch on theThames in a very similar way, and it turned out to be one of the mostsatisfactory purchases I ever made. Then it's a simple accident that youown this hôtel 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 HisHighness here. The State apartments had been prepared for him. He wasdue 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 hisname 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 aloan. '

'A State loan?'

'No--a private loan. '

'Whom from?'

'From me, Sampson Levi. You look surprised. If you'd lived in London alittle longer, you'd know that I was just the person the Prince wouldcome to. Perhaps you aren't aware that down Throgmorton Street way I'mcalled "The Court Pawnbroker", because I arrange loans for the minor, second-class Princes of Europe. I'm a stockbroker, but my real businessis financing some of the little Courts of Europe. Now, I may tell youthat the Hereditary Prince of Posen particularly wanted a million, andhe wanted it by a certain date, and he knew that if the affair wasn'tfixed up by a certain time here he wouldn't be able to get it by thatcertain 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 amillion of debts in a dozen years. To a Prince the thing is as easy aseating 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 hehas done so! And quite right, too! He's got to show a clean sheet, orthe Princess Anna of Eckstein-Schwartzburg will never be Princess ofPosen. Even now the Emperor has no idea how much Prince Eugen's debtsamount 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 SampsonLevi laughed. 'I've carried these little affairs through before. Aftermarriage it might be allowed to leak out. And you know the PrincessAnna's fortune is pretty big! Now, Mr Racksole, ' he added, abruptlychanging his tone, 'where do you suppose Prince Eugen has disappearedto? 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 friendshave 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. TheDimmock business is very peculiar--very peculiar, indeed. Dimmock wasa left-handed relation of the Posen family. Twig? Scarcely anyone knowsthat. 

He was made secretary and companion to Prince Aribert, just to keep himin the domestic circle. His mother was an Irishwoman, whose misfortunewas that she was too beautiful. Twig?' (Mr Sampson Levi always used thisextraordinary word when he was in a communicative mood. ) 'My beliefis that Dimmock's death has something to do with the disappearance ofPrince Eugen. 

The only thing that passes me is this: Why should anyone want to makePrince Eugen disappear? The poor little Prince hasn't an enemy in theworld. If he's been "copped", as they say, why has he been "copped"? Itwon'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 anxiousto marry Princess Anna and her fortune, wouldn't that Prince have aninterest in stopping this loan of yours to Prince Eugen? Wouldn't hehave an interest in causing Prince Eugen to disappear--at any rate, fora time?'

Sampson Levi thought hard for a few moments. 

'Mr Theodore Racksole, ' he said at length, 'I do believe you have hit onsomething. '

Chapter Twelve ROCCO AND ROOM NO. 111

ON the afternoon of the same day--the interview just described hadoccurred in the morning--Racksole was visited by another idea, andhe said to himself that he ought to have thought of it before. Theconversation 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 hisfamily--a traitor whose repentance had caused his death--had notbeen thoroughly discussed; the talk had tended rather to Continentalpolitics, with a view to discovering what princely family might havean interest in the temporary disappearance of Prince Eugen. Now, asRacksole considered in detail the particular affair of Reginald Dimmock, deceased, he was struck by one point especially, to wit: Why had Dimmockand Jules manoeuvred to turn Nella Racksole out of Room No. 111 on thatfirst night? That they had so manoeuvred, that the broken window-panewas not a mere accident, Racksole felt perfectly sure. He had feltperfectly sure all along; but the significance of the facts had notstruck him. It was plain to him now that there must be something ofextraordinary and peculiar importance about Room No. 111. After lunch hewandered quietly upstairs and looked at Room No. 111; that is to say, helooked at the outside of it; it happened to be occupied, but the guestwas leaving that evening. The thought crossed his mind that there couldbe 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 passingalong the corridor of that floor he stopped, and with an involuntarygesture stamped his foot. 

'Great Scott!' he said, 'I've got hold of something--No. 111 is exactlyover the State apartments. '

He went to the bureau, and issued instructions that No. 111 was not tobe re-let to anyone until further orders. At the bureau they gave himNella's note, which ran thus:

Dearest Papa, --I am going away for a day or two on the trail of a due. 

If I'm not back in three days, begin to inquire for me at Ostend. Tillthen leave me alone. --Your sagacious daughter, NELL. 

These few words, in Nella's large scrawling hand, filled one side of thepaper. 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 torethe letter into small fragments, and threw them into the waste-paperbasket. 

Then, without any delay, he took the lift down to the basement, with theobject of making a preliminary inspection of Rocco in his lair. He couldscarcely bring himself to believe that this suave and stately gentleman, this enthusiast of gastronomy, was concerned in the machinations ofJules and other rascals unknown. Nevertheless, from habit, he obeyedhis daughter, giving her credit for a certain amount of perspicuity andcleverness. 

The kitchens of the Grand Babylon Hôtel are one of the wonders ofEurope. 

Only three years before the events now under narration Felix Babylon hadhad them newly installed with every device and patent that theingenuity of two continents could supply. They covered nearly an acre ofsuperficial 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 aman-of-war. 

Visitors were sometimes taken to see the potato-paring machine, thepatent plate-dryer, the Babylon-spit (a contrivance of Felix Babylon'sown), the silver-grill, the system of connected stock-pots, and otheramazing phenomena of the department. Sometimes, if they were fortunate, they might also see the artist who sculptured ice into forms of men andbeasts for table ornaments, or the first napkin-folder in London, or theman who daily invented fresh designs for pastry and blancmanges. Twelve chefs pursued their labours in those kitchens, helped by ninetyassistant chefs, and a further army of unconsidered menials. Over allthese was Rocco, supreme and unapproachable. Half-way along the suiteof kitchens, Rocco had an apartment of his own, wherein he thought outthose magnificent combinations, those marvellous feats of succulenceand originality, which had given him his fame. Visitors never caught aglimpse of Rocco in the kitchens, though sometimes, on a special night, he would stroll nonchalantly through the dining-room, like the greatman he was, to receive the compliments of the hôtel habitués--people ofinsight who recognized his uniqueness. 

Theodore Racksole's sudden and unusual appearance in the kitchen causeda little stir. He nodded to some of the chefs, but said nothing toanyone, merely wandering about amid the maze of copper utensils, andwhite-capped workers. At length he saw Rocco, surrounded by severaladmiring chefs. Rocco was bending over a freshly-roasted partridge whichlay 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 along glittering carving-knife. He was giving one of his world-famousexhibitions of carving. In four swift, unerring, delicate, perfectstrokes he cleanly severed the limbs of the partridge. It was awonderful achievement--how wondrous none but the really skilful carvercan properly appreciate. The chefs emitted a hum of applause, andRocco, long, lean, and graceful, retired to his own apartment. Racksolefollowed him. Rocco sat in a chair, one hand over his eyes; he had notnoticed Theodore Racksole. 

'What are you doing, M. Rocco?' the millionaire asked smiling. 'Ah!'exclaimed Rocco, starting up with an apology. 'Pardon! I was inventing anew mayonnaise, which I shall need for a certain menu next week. '

'Do you invent these things without materials, then?' questionedRacksole. 

'Certainly. I do dem in my mind. I tink dem. Why should I wantmaterials? I know all flavours. I tink, and tink, and tink, and it isdone. 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 composersdo 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 areimplicated in a murder case--the murder of Reginald Dimmock. '

'Truly?' drawled Rocco, scarcely hiding a yawn. His indifference was sosuperb, so gorgeous, that Racksole instantly divined that it was assumedfor the occasion. 

'It seems that, after all, the police are good for something. But thisis the first time I ever knew them to be worth their salt. There is tobe a thorough and systematic search of the hôtel to-morrow, ' Racksolewent on. 'I have mentioned it to you to warn you that so far as you areconcerned the search is of course merely a matter of form. You will notobject 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 knownothing of it. You comprehend?'

Rocco smiled in his grand manner, and Rocco's master thereupon wentaway. 

Racksole was very well satisfied with the little conversation. It wasperhaps dangerous to tell a series of mere lies to a clever fellow likeRocco, and Racksole wondered how he should ultimately explain themto this great master-chef if his and Nella's suspicions should beunfounded, and nothing came of them. Nevertheless, Rocco's manner, a strange elusive something in the man's eyes, had nearly convincedRacksole that he was somehow implicated in Jules' schemes--and probablyin the death of Reginald Dimmock and the disappearance of Prince Eugenof Posen. 

That night, or rather about half-past one the next morning, when thelast noises of the hôtel's life had died down, Racksole made his wayto Room 111 on the second floor. He locked the door on the inside, andproceeded to examine the place, square foot by square foot. Everynow and then some creak or other sound startled him, and he listenedintently for a few seconds. The bedroom was furnished in the ordinarysplendid style of bedrooms at the Grand Babylon Hôtel, and in thatrespect called for no remark. What most interested Racksole was theflooring. He pulled up the thick Oriental carpet, and peered along everyplank, but could discover nothing unusual. 

Then he went to the dressing-room, and finally to the bathroom, bothof which opened out of the main room. But in neither of these smallerchambers was he any more successful than in the bedroom itself. Finallyhe came to the bath, which was enclosed in a panelled casing of polishedwood, after the manner of baths. Some baths have a cupboard beneath thetaps, with a door at the side, but this one appeared to have none. Hetapped the panels, but not a single one of them gave forth that 'curioushollow sound' which usually betokens a secret place. Idly he turned thecold-tap of the bath, and the water began to rush in. He turned off thecold-tap and turned on the waste-tap, and as he did so his knee, whichwas pressing against the panelling, slipped forward. The panelling hadgiven 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 thecasing of the end of the bath was thus revealed. Before doing anythingelse, Racksole tried to repeat the trick with the waste-tap, but hefailed; it would not work again, nor could he in any way perceive thatthere was any connection between the rod of the waste-tap and the haspof the panel. Racksole could not see into the cavity within the casing, and the electric light was fixed, and could not be moved about likea candle. He felt in his pockets, and fortunately discovered a box ofmatches. Aided by these, he looked into the cavity, and saw nothing;nothing except a rather large hole at the far end--some three feet fromthe casing. With some difficulty he squeezed himself through the openpanel, and took a half-kneeling, half-sitting posture within. There hestruck 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 halfsmothered in the atrocious stink of phosphorus which resulted. One matchburned clear on the floor of the cavity, and, rubbing his eyes, Racksolepicked 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 thehôtel, for a fresh box of matches, or should he attempt to descend thatrope-ladder in the dark? He decided on the latter course, and he was themore strongly moved thereto as he could now distinguish a faint, a veryfaint tinge of light at the bottom of the hole. 

With infinite care he compressed himself into the well-like hole, anddescended the latter. At length he arrived on firm ground, perspiring, but quite safe and quite excited. He saw now that the tinge of lightcame through a small hole in the wood. He put his eye to the wood, andfound that he had a fine view of the State bathroom, and through thedoor of the State bathroom into the State bedroom. At the massivemarble-topped washstand in the State bedroom a man was visible, bendingover 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 hehad, at great personal inconvenience, discovered between the bathroomof No. 111 and the State bathroom on the floor below must have beenspecially designed by some person or persons for the purpose of keepinga nefarious watch upon the occupants of the State suite of apartments. It was a means of communication at once simple and ingenious. At thatmoment he could not be sure of the precise method employed for it, buthe 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 ofthe ample brick walls of the Grand Babylon. The eye-hole, through whichhe now had a view of the bedroom, was a very minute one, and probablywould scarcely be noticed from the exterior. One thing he observedconcerning it, namely, that it had been made for a man somewhat tallerthan himself; he was obliged to stand on tiptoe in order to get his eyein the correct position. He remembered that both Jules and Rocco weredistinctly above the average height; also that they were both thinmen, and could have descended the well with comparative ease. TheodoreRacksole, though not stout, was a well-set man with large bones. 

These things flashed through his mind as he gazed, spellbound, at themysterious movements of Rocco. The door between the bathroom and thebedroom was wide open, and his own situation was such that his viewembraced a considerable portion of the bedroom, including the whole ofthe immense and gorgeously-upholstered bedstead, but not including thewhole 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 overthe object which lay on the marble. At first Theodore Racksole couldnot decide what this object was, but after a time, as his eyes grewaccustomed to the position and the light, he made it out. 

It was the body of a man. Or, rather, to be more exact, Racksole coulddiscern the legs of a man on that half of the table which was visibleto him. Involuntarily he shuddered, as the conviction forced itself uponhim that Rocco had some unconscious human being helpless on that coldmarble surface. The legs never moved. Therefore, the hapless creaturewas either asleep or under the influence of an anaesthetic--or (horriblethought!) dead. 

Racksole wanted to call out, to stop by some means or other the dreadfulmidnight activity which was proceeding before his astonished eyes; butfortunately he restrained himself. 

On the washstand he could see certain strangely-shaped utensils andinstruments which Rocco used from time to time. The work seemed toRacksole to continue for interminable hours, and then at last Roccoceased, gave a sign of satisfaction, whistled several bars from'Cavalleria Rusticana', and came into the bath-room, where he took offhis coat, and very quietly washed his hands. As he stood calmly andleisurely wiping those long fingers of his, he was less than four feetfrom Racksole, and the cooped-up millionaire trembled, holding hisbreath, lest Rocco should detect his presence behind the woodwork. Butnothing happened, and Rocco returned unsuspectingly to the bedroom. Racksole saw him place some sort of white flannel garment over the proneform on the table, and then lift it bodily on to the great bed, where itlay awfully still. The hidden watcher was sure now that it was acorpse upon which Rocco had been exercising his mysterious and sinisterfunctions. 

But whose corpse? And what functions? Could this be a West End hôtel, Racksole's own hôtel, in the very heart of London, the best-policed cityin the world? It seemed incredible, impossible; yet so it was. Once morehe remembered what Felix Babylon had said to him and realized thetruth of the saying anew. The proprietor of a vast and complicatedestablishment like the Grand Babylon could never know a tithe of theextraordinary and queer occurrences which happened daily under hisvery nose; the atmosphere of such a caravanserai must necessarily bean atmosphere of mystery and problems apparently inexplicable. Nevertheless, Racksole thought that Fate was carrying things with rathera high hand when she permitted his chef to spend the night hours overa man's corpse in his State bedroom, this sacred apartment which wassupposed to be occupied only by individuals of Royal Blood. Racksolewould not have objected to a certain amount of mystery, but he decidedlythought that there was a little too much mystery here for his taste. Hethought 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 onthe bed to enable Racksole to see them clearly. In vain the millionairestrained his eyes; he could only make out that the corpse was probablythat of a young man. Just as he was wondering what would be the bestcourse of action to pursue, he saw Rocco with a square-shaped black boxin his hand. Then the chef switched off the two electric lights, andthe State bedroom was in darkness. In that swift darkness Racksole heardRocco spring on to the bed. Another half-dozen moments of suspense, andthere was a blinding flash of white, which endured for several seconds, and showed Rocco standing like an evil spirit over the corpse, the blackbox in one hand and a burning piece of aluminium wire in the other. Thealuminium 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 manto the insensible lens of the camera had disclosed them also to TheodoreRacksole. The dead man was Reginald Dimmock!

Stung into action by this discovery, Racksole tried to find the exitfrom his place of concealment. He felt sure that there existed some wayout into the State bathroom, but he sought for it fruitlessly, gropingwith both hands and feet. Then he decided that he must ascend therope-ladder, make haste for the first-floor corridor, and interceptRocco when he left the State apartments. It was a painful and difficultbusiness to ascend that thin and yielding ladder in such a confinedspace, but Racksole was managing it very nicely, and had nearly reachedthe top, when, by some untoward freak of chance, the ladder broke abovehis weight, and he slipped ignominiously down to the bottom of thewooden tube. Smothering an excusable curse, Racksole crouched, baffled. Then he saw that the force of his fall had somehow opened a trap-doorat his feet. He squeezed through, pushed open another tiny door, andin another second stood in the State bathroom. He was dishevelled, perspiring, rather bewildered; but he was there. In the next second hehad resumed absolute command of all his faculties. 

Strange to say, he had moved so quietly that Rocco had apparently notheard him. He stepped noiselessly to the door between the bathroom andthe bedroom, and stood there in silence. Rocco had switched on again thelights 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 gaveTheodore Racksole one long piercing glance. 

'D--n!' said Rocco, with as pure an Anglo-Saxon accent and intonation asRacksole himself could have accomplished. 

The most extraordinary thing about the situation was that at thisjuncture Theodore Racksole did not know what to say. He was sodumbfounded by the affair, and especially by Rocco's absolute andsublime calm, that both speech and thought failed him. 

'I give in, ' said Rocco. 'From the moment you entered this cursed hôtelI was afraid of you. I told Jules I was afraid of you. I knew therewould be trouble with a man of your kidney, and I was right; confoundit! I tell you I give in. I know when I'm beaten. I've got no revolverand no weapons of any kind. I surrender. Do what you like. '

And with that Rocco sat down on a chair. It was magnificently done. Onlya truly great man could have done it. Rocco actually kept his dignity. 

For answer, Racksole walked slowly into the vast apartment, seized achair, and, dragging it up to Rocco's chair, sat down opposite to him. Thus they faced each other, their knees almost touching, both in eveningdress. On Rocco's right hand was the bed, with the corpse of ReginaldDimmock. On Racksole's right hand, and a little behind him, was themarble washstand, still littered with Rocco's implements. The electriclight shone on Rocco's left cheek, leaving the other side of his face inshadow. Racksole tapped him on the knee twice. 

'So you're another Englishman masquerading as a foreigner in my hôtel, '

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 callmyself an Italian because it was in Italy that I first made a name as achef--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. Ichanged 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 ofhis methods no less than a week ago, and my disapproval will now takeactive 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 olderyou'll be in the kind hands of the police, and your activities, in nomatter 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 privatesatisfaction. You've acknowledged that the game is up, and you may aswell 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 allquestions. 

I'll do what I can. '

'Well, ' said Racksole, clearing his throat, 'what's the scheme allabout? 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 softenedas 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 objectedto that part of the business. I wasn't made aware of it till after itwas 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 shareof it. I don't mind saying that much, because you probably guessed itfor yourself. But I solemnly state that I have a conscientious objectionto 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 sublimeimpudence. 

'Don't question me, Mr Rucker, ' said Theodore Racksole. 'I feel verymuch inclined to break your back across my knee. Therefore I advise younot 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 improvedby myself. You weren't aware that I included the art of embalming amongmy accomplishments. Nevertheless, it is so. '

'But why?' asked Racksole, more mystified than ever. 'Why should youtrouble to embalm the poor chap's corpse?'

'Can't you see? Doesn't it strike you? That corpse has to be taken careof. 

It contains, or rather, it did contain, very serious evidence againstsome person or persons unknown to the police. It may be necessary tomove it about from place to place. A corpse can't be hidden for long; acorpse betrays itself. One couldn't throw it in the Thames, for it wouldhave been found inside twelve hours. One couldn't bury it--it wasn'tsafe. The only thing was to keep it handy and movable, ready foremergencies. I needn't inform you that, without embalming, you can'tkeep a corpse handy and movable for more than four or five days. It'sthe kind of thing that won't keep. And so it was suggested that I shouldembalm it, and I did. Mind you, I still objected to the murder, but Icouldn'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 thatought to be said. He closed his eyes to indicate that so far as he wasconcerned the conversation was also closed. Theodore Racksole stood up. 

'I hope, ' said Rocco, suddenly opening his eyes, 'I hope you'll call inthe police without any delay. It's getting late, and I don't like goingwithout 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'mnot so blind as not to be able to see that there's at any rate a primafacie case against me. I expect I shall get off with a year or two'simprisonment as accessory after the fact--I think that's what they callit. Anyhow, I shall be in a position to prove that I am not implicatedin the murder of this unfortunate nincompoop. ' He pointed, with astrange, scornful gesture of his elbow, to the bed. 'And now, shall wego? Everyone is asleep, but there will be a policeman within call of thewatchman 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. Itwon't do you any harm to forego another hour's sleep, especially as youwill have no work to do to-morrow. I have one or two more questions toput 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 thequestion. 'It's been in my room, and one night it was on the roof; onceit went out of the hôtel as luggage, but it came back the next day as acase of Demerara sugar. I forgot where else it has been, but it's beenkept perfectly safe and treated with every consideration. '

'And who contrived all these manoeuvres?' asked Racksole as calmly as hecould. 

'I did. That is to say, I invented them and I saw that they werecarried out. You see, the suspicions of your police obliged me to beparticularly spry. '

'And who carried them out?'

'Ah! that would be telling tales. But I don't mind assuring you thatmy accomplices were innocent accomplices. It is absurdly easy for a manlike me to impose on underlings--absurdly easy. '

'What did you intend to do with the corpse ultimately?' Racksole pursuedhis inquiry with immovable countenance. 

'Who knows?' said Rocco, twisting his beautiful moustache. 'That wouldhave depended on several things--on your police, for instance. Butprobably in the end we should have restored this mortal clay'--again hejerked 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 aPrince for his father. '

'It seems to me, ' said Racksole, with cold sarcasm, 'that youbehaved rather clumsily in choosing this bedroom as the scene of youroperations. '

'Not at all, ' said Rocco. 'There was no other apartment so suitable inthe whole hôtel. 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 arethe only smart man in the business. You are an American citizen, and Ihadn'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 tofrighten me. You must really credit me with a little sagacity andinsight, Mr Racksole. Immediately you began to talk to me in the kitchenthis 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 actquickly. I did act quickly, but, it seems, not quickly enough. I grantthat your rapidity exceeded mine. Let us go downstairs, I beg. '

Rocco rose and moved towards the door. With an instinctive actionRacksole 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. 'HaveI not informed you, ' he said, 'that I have the intention of goingquietly?'

Racksole felt almost ashamed for the moment. It flashed across him thata man can be great, even in crime. 

'What an ineffable fool you were, ' said Racksole, stopping him at thethreshold, 'with your talents, your unique talents, to get yourselfmixed up in an affair of this kind. You are ruined. And, by Jove! youwere a great man in your own line. '

'Mr Racksole, ' said Rocco very quickly, 'that is the truest word youhave spoken this night. I was a great man in my own line. And I am anineffable fool. Alas!' He brought his long arms to his sides with athud. 

'Why did you do it?'

'I was fascinated--fascinated by Jules. He, too, is a great man. We hadgreat opportunities, here in the Grand Babylon. It was a great game. Itwas worth the candle. The prizes were enormous. You would admit thesethings if you knew the facts. Perhaps some day you will know them, foryou 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 upagain. 

A man of genius like me is never ruined till he is dead. Genius isalways forgiven. I shall be forgiven. Suppose I am sent to prison. WhenI emerge I shall be no gaol-bird. I shall be Rocco--the great Rocco. Andhalf the hôtels in Europe will invite me to join them. '

'Let me tell you, as man to man, that you have achieved your owndegradation. There is no excuse. '

'I know it, ' said Rocco. 'Let us go. '

Racksole was distinctly and notably impressed by this man--by thismaster spirit to whom he was to have paid a salary at the rate of threethousand pounds a year. He even felt sorry for him. And so, side byside, the captor and the captured, they passed into the vast desertedcorridor of the hôtel. 

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 oneout 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 Racksolestepped into the lift. 

With the swiftness of lighting Rocco pushed forward the iron screen, which locked itself automatically. Theodore Racksole was hopelessly aprisoner within the lift, while Rocco stood free in the corridor. 

'Good-bye, Mr Racksole, ' he remarked suavely, bowing again, lowerthan before. 'Good-bye: I hate to take a mean advantage of you in thisfashion, but really you must allow that you have been very simple. Youare a clever man, as I have already said, up to a certain point. It ispast that point that my own cleverness comes in. Again, good-bye. Afterall, I shall have no rest to-night, but perhaps even that will be betterthat sleeping in a police cell. If you make a great noise you may wakesomeone and ultimately get released from this lift. But I advise you tocompose yourself, and wait till morning. It will be more dignified. Forthe third time, good-bye. '

And with that Rocco, without hastening, walked down the corridor and soout 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 onthe thick carpet. 

It was the greatest blow of Racksole's life. 

The next morning the high-born guests of the Grand Babylon were arousedby a rumour that by some accident the millionaire proprietor of thehôtel had remained all night locked up m the lift. It was also statedthat Rocco had quarrelled with his new master and incontinently left theplace. A duchess said that Rocco's departure would mean the ruin of thehôtel, whereupon her husband advised her not to talk nonsense. 

As for Racksole, he sent a message for the detective in charge of theDimmock affair, and bravely told him the happenings of the previousnight. 

The narration was a decided ordeal to a man of Racksole's temperament. 

'A strange story!' commented Detective Marshall, and he could not avoida smile. 'The climax was unfortunate, but you have certainly got somevaluable facts. '

Racksole said nothing. 

'I myself have a clue, ' added the detective. When your message arrivedI was just coming up to see you. I want you to accompany me to a certainspot 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 isurgent. '

'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 onboard the yacht without a name. The Prince's first business was to makeJules, otherwise Mr Tom Jackson, perfectly secure by means of severalpieces of rope. Although Mr Jackson had been stunned into a completeunconsciousness, and there was a contused wound under his ear, no onecould say how soon he might not come to himself and get very violent. Sothe 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 noone has interfered with us. Perhaps they are discreetly afraid of myrevolver--of your revolver, I mean. '

Both he and Nella glanced up at the imperturbable steersman, who keptthe yacht's head straight out to sea. By this time they were about acouple of miles from the Belgian shore. 

Addressing him in French, the Prince ordered the sailor to put the yachtabout, and make again for Ostend Harbour, but the fellow took no noticewhatever of the summons. The Prince raised the revolver, with the ideaof frightening the steersman, and then the man began to talk rapidlyin 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 happenon the deck of the yacht. He was the captain of the yacht, and he had tomake for a certain English port, the name of which he could notdivulge: he was to keep the vessel at full steam ahead under any andall circumstances. He seemed to be a very big, a very strong, and a verydetermined man, and the Prince was at a loss what course of action topursue. He asked several more questions, but the only effect of them wasto render the man taciturn and ill-humoured. 

In vain Prince Aribert explained that Miss Nella Racksole, daughter ofmillionaire Racksole, had been abducted by Mr Tom Jackson; in vain heflourished the revolver threateningly; the surly but courageous captainsaid merely that that had nothing to do with him; he had instructions, and he should carry them out. He sarcastically begged to remind hisinterlocutor that he was the captain of the yacht. 

'It won't do to shoot him, I suppose, ' said the Prince to Nella. 'Imight bore a hole into his leg, or something of that kind. '

'It's rather risky, and rather hard on the poor captain, with hisextraordinary sense of duty, ' said Nella. 'And, besides, the whole crewmight 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 ofrecovering from his swoon. His eyes opened, and he gazed vacantlyaround. At length he caught sight of the Prince, who approached him withthe 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, butthis yacht must return to Ostend at once, where you will be given up tothe authorities. '

'Really!' snarled Mr Tom Jackson. 'Shall I!' Then he called out inFrench to the man at the wheel, 'Hi André! let these two be put off inthe dinghy. '

It was a peculiar situation. Certain of nothing but the possession ofNella's revolver, the Prince scarcely knew whether to carry the argumentfurther, and with stronger measures, or to accept the situation with asmuch 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 seemedsomewhat ignominious, and it certainly involved the escape of thatprofound villain, Mr Thomas Jackson. But what else could be done? ThePrince and Nella constituted one party on the vessel; they knew theirown strength, but they did not know the strength of their opponents. They held the hostile ringleader bound and captive, but this man hadproved himself capable of giving orders, and even to gag him would nothelp them if the captain of the yacht persisted in his obstinate course. Moreover, there was a distinct objection to promiscuous shooting; thePrince felt that; there was no knowing how promiscuous shooting mightend. 

'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. Thepulsations of the screw grew less rapid. The yacht stopped. The dinghywas lowered. As the Prince and Nella prepared to descend into the littlecock-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 chumed the water, and the beautiful vessel slippedaway from them. As it receded a figure appeared at the stem. It was MrThomas Jackson. 

He had been released by his minions. He held a white handkerchief tohis ear, and offered a calm, enigmatic smile to the two forlorn butvictorious occupants of the dinghy. Jules had been defeated for oncein his life; or perhaps it would be more just to say that he had beenout-manoeuvred. Men like Jules are incapable of being defeated. It wascharacteristic of his luck that now, in the very hour when he had beencaught red-handed in a serious crime against society, he should beeffecting a leisurely escape--an escape which left no clue behind. 

The sea was utterly calm and blue in the morning sun. The dinghy rockeditself lazily in the swell of the yacht's departure. As the mist clearedaway the outline of the shore became more distinct, and it appeared asif Ostend was distant scarcely a cable's length. The white dome of thegreat Kursaal glittered in the pale turquoise sky, and the smoke ofsteamers in the harbour could be plainly distinguished. On the offingwas a crowd of brown-sailed fishing luggers returning with the night'scatch. The many-hued bathing-vans could be counted on the distant beach. Everything seemed perfectly normal. It was difficult for either Nella orher companion to realize that anything extraordinary had happened withinthe last hour. Yet there was the yacht, not a mile off, to prove to themthat something very extraordinary had, in fact, happened. The yacht wasno 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 cameto be on board his yacht, ' said the Prince, taking the oars. 

'Oh! How did you?' asked Nella, her face lighting up. 'Really, I hadalmost forgotten that part of the affair. '

'I must begin at the beginning and it will take some time, ' answered thePrince. '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 satin the stern-sheets. 

'There is no rudder, ' he remarked, 'so you must direct me. Keep theboat'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 beenfor a little early morning excursion. '

'Will you kindly tell me how it came about that you were able to save mylife, Prince?' she said. 

'Save your life, Miss Racksole? I didn't save your life; I merelyknocked a man down. '

'You saved my life, ' she repeated. 'That villain would have stopped atnothing. I saw it in his eye. '

'Then you were a brave woman, for you showed no fear of death. ' Hisadmiring 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. 'Thefact is, I had not had the audacity to go to Berlin with my story. Istopped in Ostend to see whether I could do a little detective work onmy own account. 

It was a piece of good luck that I saw you. I followed the carriage asquickly as I could, and I just caught a glimpse of you as you enteredthat 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 hadsurveyed the house pretty thoroughly. There is an entrance to it at theback, from a narrow lane. I made my way there. I got into the yard atthe back, and I stood under the window of the room where you had theinterview with Miss Spencer. I heard everything that was said. It was acourageous enterprise on your part to follow Miss Spencer from the GrandBabylon to Ostend. Well, I dared not force an entrance, lest Imight precipitate matters too suddenly, and involve both of us in adifficulty. I merely kept watch. Ah, Miss Racksole! you were magnificentwith Miss Spencer; as I say, I could hear every word, for the window wasslightly open. I felt that you needed no assistance from me. And thenshe cheated you with a trick, and the revolver came flying through thewindow. I picked it up, I thought it would probably be useful. There wasa silence. I did not guess at first that you had fainted. I thought thatyou had escaped. When I found out the truth it was too late for me tointervene. 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 yachtweighed anchor I managed to climb unobserved into the dinghy. I lay downfull length in it, and no one suspected that I was there. I think youknow 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 thecarriage. He was the driver. '

'And no one else saw the business?'

'The quay was deserted. You see, the last steamer had arrived for thenight. '

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 thesense which Nella Racksole had intended. They had just emerged from ahighly disconcerting experience. Among other minor inconveniences, theyhad had no breakfast. They were out in the sea in a tiny boat. Neitherof them knew what the day might bring forth. The man, at least, had themost serious anxieties for the safety of his Royal nephew. And yet--andyet--neither of them wished that that voyage of the little boat on thesummer tide should come to an end. Each, perhaps unconsciously, hada vague desire that it might last for ever, he lazily pulling, shedirecting his course at intervals by a movement of her distractinglypretty head. How was this condition of affairs to be explained? Well, they were both young; they both had superb health, and all the ardour ofyouth; 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 andthe brilliance of a throne. 

But all voyages come to an end, either at the shore or at the bottom ofthe sea, and at length the dinghy passed between the stone jetties ofthe 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 ofgorgeous sunlight had opened. Few people were about at that early hour. 

'And now, what next?' said the Prince. 'I must take you to an hôtel. '

'I am in your hands, ' she acquiesced, with a smile which sent theblood racing through his veins. He perceived now that she was tired andovercome, suffering from a sudden and natural reaction. 

At the Hôtel Wellington the Prince told the sleepy door-keeper that theyhad come by the early train from Bruges, and wanted breakfast at once. It was absurdly early, but a common English sovereign will work wondersin any Belgian hôtel, and in a very brief time Nella and the Prince werebreakfasting on the verandah of the hôtel upon chocolate that had beenspecially and hastily brewed for them. 

'I never tasted such excellent chocolate, ' claimed the Prince. 

The statement was wildly untrue, for the Hôtel Wellington isnot celebrated for its chocolate. Nevertheless Nella repliedenthusiastically, 'Nor I. '

Then there was a silence, and Nella, feeling possibly that she had beentoo ecstatic, remarked in a very matter-of-fact tone: 'I must telegraphto Papa instantly. '

Thus it was that Theodore Racksole received the telegram which drew himaway from Detective Marshall. 

Chapter Sixteen THE WOMAN WITH THE RED HAT

'THERE is one thing, Prince, that we have just got to settle straightoff, ' said Theodore Racksole. 

They were all three seated--Racksole, his daughter, and PrinceAribert--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 thequay by the other two. They had dined early, and Racksole had heard thefull story of the adventures by sea and land of Nella and the Prince. Asto his own adventure of the previous night he said very little, merelyexplaining, with as little detail as possible, that Dimmock's body hadcome 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 thathas occurred, or whether we shall proceed on our own responsibility. There can be no doubt as to which course we ought to pursue. Everyconsideration of prudence points to the advisability of taking thepolice into our confidence, and leaving the matter entirely in theirhands. '

'Oh, Papa!' Nella burst out in her pouting, impulsive way. 'You surelycan't think of such a thing. Why, the fun has only just begun. '

'Do you call last night fun?' questioned Racksole, gazing at hersolemnly. 

'Yes, I do, ' she said promptly. 'Now. '

'Well, I don't, ' was the millionaire's laconic response; but perhaps hewas thinking of his own situation in the lift. 

'Do you not think we might investigate a little further, ' said thePrince judiciously, as he cracked a walnut, 'just a little further--andthen, if we fail to accomplish anything, there would still be ampleopportunity to consult the police?'

'How do you suggest we should begin?' asked Racksole. 

'Well, there is the house which Miss Racksole so intrepidly entered lastevening'--he gave her the homage of an admiring glance; 'you and I, MrRacksole, 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 weoutstepped the law, it would be no excuse for us that we had been actingin a good cause. '

'True, ' said the Prince. 'Nevertheless--' He stopped. 

'Nevertheless you have a distaste for bringing the police into thebusiness. 

You want the hunt all to yourself. You are on fire with the ardour ofthe chase. Is not that it? Accept the advice of an older man, Prince, and sleep on this affair. I have little fancy for nocturnal escapadestwo nights together. As for you, Nella, off with you to bed. The Princeand I will have a yarn over such fluids as can be obtained in thishole. '

'Papa, ' she said, 'you are perfectly horrid to-night. '

'Perhaps I am, ' he said. 'Decidedly I am very cross with you for comingover here all alone. It was monstrous. If I didn't happen to be the mostfoolish of parents--There! Good-night. It's nine o'clock. The Prince, Iam sure, will excuse you. '

If Nella had not really been very tired Prince Aribert might havebeen the witness of a good-natured but stubborn conflict between themillionaire and his spirited offspring. As it was, Nella departed withsurprising docility, and the two men were left alone. 

'Now, ' said Racksole suddenly, changing his tone, 'I fancy that afterall I'm your man for a little amateur investigation to-night. And, if Imust speak the exact truth, I think that to sleep on this affair wouldbe about the very worst thing we could do. But I was anxious to keepNella out of harm's way at any rate till to-morrow. She is a verydifficult creature to manage, Prince, and I may warn you, ' he laughedgrimly, 'that if we do succeed in doing anything to-night we shall catchit 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 quiteremarkable nerve. '

'She is, ' said Racksole drily. 'I wish sometimes she had less. '

'I have the highest admiration for Miss Racksole, ' said the Prince, andhe looked Miss Racksole's father full in the face. 

'You honour us, Prince, ' Racksole observed. 'Let us come to business. AmI right in assuming that you have a reason for keeping the police out ofthis business, if it can possibly be done?'

'Yes, ' said the Prince, and his brow clouded. 'I am very much afraidthat my poor nephew has involved himself in some scrape that he wouldwish 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 myfoolish nephew had an affair--an affair with a feminine star of theBerlin stage. For anything I know, the lady may have been the verypattern of her sex, but where a reigning Prince is concerned scandalcannot be avoided in such a matter. I had thought that the affairwas quite at an end, since my nephew's betrothal to Princess Anna ofEckstein-Schwartzburg is shortly to be announced. But yesterday I sawthe lady to whom I have referred driving on the Digue. The coincidenceof her presence here with my nephew's disappearance is too extraordinaryto 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 Dimmockand 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 andto find out something definite. '

'I concur, ' said Racksole. 'I shall heartily enjoy it. But let metell you, Prince, and pardon me for speaking bluntly, your surmise isincorrect. I would wager a hundred thousand dollars that Prince Eugenhas been kidnapped. '

'What grounds have you for being so sure?'

'Ah! said Racksole, 'that is a long story. Let me begin by asking youthis. 

Are you aware that your nephew, Prince Eugen, owes a million of money?'

'A million of money!' cried Prince Aribert astonished. 'It isimpossible!'

'Nevertheless, he does, ' said Racksole calmly. Then he told him all hehad learnt from Mr Sampson Levi. 

'What have you to say to that?' Racksole ended. Prince Aribert made noreply. 

'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 shallsee about that. The special thing that I want to know just now from youis this:

Has any previous application ever been made for the hand of the PrincessAnna?'

'Yes. Last year. The King of Bosnia sued for it, but his proposal wasdeclined. '

'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 scarcelyof the brightest?'

'No. Unfortunately it is usually impossible to consider questions ofpersonal character when a royal match is concerned. '

'Then, if for any reason the marriage of Princess Anna with your nephewwas frustrated, the King of Bosnia would have a fair chance in thatquarter?'

'He would. The political aspect of things would be perfectlysatisfactory. '

'Thanks!' said Racksole. 'I will wager another hundred thousand dollarsthat someone in Bosnia--I don't accuse the King himself--is at thebottom of this business. The methods of Balkan politicians have alwaysbeen 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 alantern. '

'And a revolver?' suggested Prince Aribert. 

'Does it mean revolvers?' The millionaire laughed. 'It may come tothat. ' 'Here you are, then, my friend, ' said Racksole, and he pulled oneout 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 tobegin their operations till after midnight. There were three hours tospare. 

'Let us go and see the gambling, ' Racksole suggested. 'We mightencounter the Berlin lady. '

The suggestion, in the first instance, was not made seriously, but itappeared to both men that they might do worse than spend the interveningtime 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 teno'clock as they entered the rooms. There was a large company present--acompany which included some of the most notorious persons in Europe. Inthat multifarious assemblage all were equal. The electric light shonecoldly and impartially on the just and on the unjust, on the fool andthe knave, on the European and the Asiatic. As usual, women monopolizedthe best places at the tables. 

The scene was familiar enough to Prince Aribert, who had witnessed itfrequently at Monaco, but Theodore Racksole had never before enteredany European gaming palace; he had only the haziest idea of the rules ofplay, and he was at once interested. For some time they watched the playat the table which happened to be nearest to them. Racksole never movedhis lips. 

With his eyes glued on the table, and ears open for every remark, of theplayers and the croupier, he took his first lesson in roulette. He sawa mere youth win fifteen thousand francs, which were stolen in the mostbarefaced mariner by a rouged girl scarcely older than the youth; he sawtwo old gamesters stake their coins, and lose, and walk quietly out ofthe 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 aretoo small to make it really exciting. I'll try my luck, just for theexperience. I'm bound to win. '

'Why?' asked the Prince. 

'Because I always do, in games of chance, ' Racksole answered with gayconfidence. 'It is my fate. Then to-night, you must remember, I shall bea beginner, and you know the tyro's luck. '

In ten minutes the croupier of that table was obliged to suspendoperations pending the arrival of a further supply of coin. 

'What did I tell you?' said Racksole, leading the way to another tablefurther up the room. A hundred curious glances went after him. One oldwoman, whose gay attire suggested a false youthfulness, begged him inFrench to stake a five-franc piece for her. She offered him the coin. Hetook it, and gave her a hundred-franc note in exchange. She clutched thecrisp rustling paper, and with hysterical haste scuttled back to her owntable. 

At the second table there was a considerable air of excitement. In theforefront of the players was a woman in a low-cut evening dress ofblack silk and a large red picture hat. Her age appeared to be abouttwenty-eight; she had dark eyes, full lips, and a distinctly Jewishnose. She was handsome, but her beauty was of that forbidding, sinisterorder which is often called Junoesque. This woman was the centre ofattraction. People said to each other that she had won a hundred andsixty thousand francs that day at the table. 

'You were right, ' Prince Aribert whispered to Theodore Racksole; 'thatis 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. ' Bydint of a carefully-exercised diplomacy, Racksole manoeuvred himselfinto a seat opposite to the lady in the red hat. The fame of his successat the other table had followed him, and people regarded him as aserious and formidable player. In the first turn the lady put a thousandfrancs on double zero; Racksole put a hundred on number nineteen and athousand on the odd numbers. 

Nineteen won. Racksole received four thousand four hundred francs. Ninetimes in succession Racksole backed number nineteen and the odd numbers;nine times the lady backed double zero. Nine times Racksole won and thelady lost. The other players, perceiving that the affair had resolveditself into a duel, stood back for the most part and watched those two. Prince Aribert never stirred from his position behind the great redhat. The game continued. Racksole lost trifles from time to time, butninety-nine hundredths of the luck was with him. As an English spectatorat the table remarked, 'he couldn't do wrong. ' When midnight struck thelady in the red hat was reduced to a thousand francs. Then she fell intoa winning vein for half an hour, but at one o'clock her resourceswere exhausted. Of the hundred and sixty thousand francs which she wasreputed to have had early in the evening, Racksole held about ninetythousand, and the bank had the rest. 

It was a calamity for the Juno of the red hat. She jumped up, stampedher foot, and hurried from the room. At a discreet distance Racksole andthe 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 thesurf which beats always at the very foot of the Kursaal, the Juno ofthe red hat summoned a fiacre and drove rapidly away. Racksole andthe Prince took an open carriage and started in pursuit. They had not, however, travelled more than half a mile when Prince Aribert stopped thecarriage, and, bidding Racksole get out, paid the driver and dismissedhim. 

'I feel sure I know where she is going, ' he explained, 'and it will bebetter for us to follow on foot. '

'You mean she is making for the scene of last night's affair?' saidRacksole. 

'Exactly. We shall--what you call, kill two birds with one stone. '

Prince Aribert's guess was correct. The lady's carriage stopped infront of the house where Nella Racksole and Miss Spencer had had theirinterview on the previous evening, and the lady vanished into thebuilding just as the two men appeared at the end of the street. Insteadof proceeding along that street, the Prince led Racksole to the lanewhich gave on to the backs of the houses, and he counted the houses asthey went up the lane. In a few minutes they had burglariously climbedover a wall, and crept, with infinite caution, up a long, narrow pieceof ground--half garden, half paved yard, till they crouched under awindow--a window which was shielded by curtains, but which had been leftopen 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 puthis 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 listenedintently. 

'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-fivethousand. '

Again no answer. 

'Then I'll tell the whole story, ' the lady went on, in an angry rush ofwords. 'I did what I promised to do. I enticed him here, and you've gothim safe in your vile cellar, poor little man, and you won't give me apaltry thousand francs. '

'You have already had your price. ' The words were Miss Spencer's. Theyfell 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--adoor banged, and the beam of light through the aperture of the windowsuddenly disappeared. He pushed the window wide open. The room was indarkness, 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 dustcoat, and lighted it. The ray flashed about the ground. 

'What is it?' exclaimed Prince Aribert with a swift cry, pointing to theground. The lantern threw its light on a perpendicular grating at theirfeet, through which could be discerned a cellar. They both knelt down, and peered into the subterranean chamber. On a broken chair a young mansat listlessly with closed eyes, his head leaning heavily forward on hischest. 

In the feeble light of the lantern he had the livid and ghastlyappearance 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 namethe young man in the cellar feebly raised his head and stared up atthe grating which separated him from his two rescuers. But his featuresshowed no recognition. He gazed in an aimless, vague, silly manner for afew seconds, his eyes blinking under the glare of the lantern, and thenhis head slowly drooped again on to his chest. He was dressed in adark tweed travelling suit, and Racksole observed that one sleeve--theleft--was torn across the upper part of the cuff, and that there werestains of dirt on the left shoulder. A soiled linen collar, which hadlost all its starch and was half unbuttoned, partially encircled thecaptive'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, buthe could discover no other furniture except the chair on which theHereditary Prince of Posen sat and a small deal table on which were aplate and a cup. 

'Eugen, ' cried Prince Aribert once more, but this time his forlornnephew made no response whatever, and then Aribert added in a low voiceto 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 ateach other hesitatingly. Each knew that they must enter that cellar andget Prince Eugen out of it, and each was somehow afraid to take the nextstep. 

'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 wildimpulse for action. And, snatching the lantern from Racksole, he rushedinto the dark room where they had heard the conversation of Miss Spencerand the lady in the red hat. For a moment Racksole did not stir from thethreshold of the window. 'Come, ' Prince Aribert repeated, and there wasan 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 themantelpiece were a couple of candles which had been blown out, and ina mechanical, unthinking way, Racksole lighted them, and the two menglanced round the room. It presented no peculiar features: it was justan ordinary room, rather small, rather mean, rather shabby, with an uglywallpaper and ugly pictures in ugly frames. Thrown over a chair was aman's evening-dress jacket. The door was closed. Prince Aribert turnedthe 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, takinghold of the knob, he violently shook the door, and it opened. 'I toldyou it wasn't locked, ' he added, and this small success of opening thedoor seemed to steady the man. It was a curious psychological effect, this terrorizing (for it amounted to that) of two courageous full-grownmen by the mere apparition of a helpless creature in a cellar. Graduallythey both recovered from it. The next moment they were out in thepassage which led to the front door of the house. The front door stoodopen. They looked into the street, up and down, but there was not a soulin sight. The street, lighted by three gas-lamps only, seemed strangelysinister and mysterious. 

'She has gone, that's clear, ' said Racksole, meaning the woman with thered hat. 

'And Miss Spencer after her, do you think?' questioned Aribert. 

'No. She would stay. She would never dare to leave. Let us find thecellar steps. '

The cellar steps were happily not difficult to discover, for in movinga pace backwards Prince Aribert had a narrow escape of precipitatinghimself to the bottom of them. The lantern showed that they were builton a curve. 

Silently Racksole resumed possession of the lantern and went first, thePrince close behind him. At the foot was a short passage, and in thispassage crouched the figure of a woman. Her eyes threw back the raysof the lantern, shining like a cat's at midnight. Then, as the men wentnearer, they saw that it was Miss Spencer who barred their way. Sheseemed half to kneel on the stone floor, and in one hand she held whatat first appeared to be a dagger, but which proved to be nothing moreromantic than a rather long bread-knife. 

'I heard you, I heard you, ' she exclaimed. 'Get back; you mustn't comehere. '

There was a desperate and dangerous look on her face, and her form shookwith scarcely controlled passionate energy. 

'Now see here, Miss Spencer, ' Racksole said calmly, 'I guess we've hadenough of this fandango. You'd better get up and clear out, or we'lljust have to drag you off. '

He went calmly up to her, the lantern in his hand. Without another wordshe struck the knife into his arm, and the lantern fell extinguished. Racksole gave a cry, rather of angry surprise than of pain, andretreated a few steps. In the darkness they could still perceive theglint 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 abread-knife aroused his sense of humour. He struck a match, relightedthe 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 hisrevolver, 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 Spencernever blenched. Racksole was tremendously surprised--and he wouldhave been a thousandfold more surprised could he have contrasted herbehaviour now with her abject terror on the previous evening when Nellahad threatened her. 

'You've got a bit of pluck, ' he said, 'but it won't help you. Why won'tyou let us pass?'

As a matter of fact, pluck was just what she had not, really; she hadmerely subordinated one terror to another. She was desperately afraid ofRacksole'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 wrinkledface. 

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 headand 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 thatrevolver--to mean business with it, of course. '

They carried her, unresisting, upstairs and on to the upper floor, wherethey 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?' Racksolesuggested; 'it will be safer to know just how we stand. We can't affordany ambushes or things of that kind, you know. '

The Prince agreed, and they searched the house from top to bottom, butfound no one. Then, having locked the front door and the french windowof 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 wasincarcerated, in order to demand the key of the cellar from her. Shestill 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 thirdtime they went to the cellar door. In vain Racksole thrust himselfagainst it; he could do no more than shake it. 

'Let's try both together, ' said Prince Aribert. 'Now!' There was acrack. 

'Again, ' said Prince Aribert. There was another crack, and then theupper hinge gave way. The rest was easy. Over the wreck of the door theyentered Prince Eugen's prison. 

The captive still sat on his chair. The terrific noise and bustle ofbreaking 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'tstay here any longer, you know. '

'Leave me alone, ' was the strange reply; 'leave me alone. What do youwant?'

'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. Youdidn't think anyone had kept me here, did you, against my will? I tellyou 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'task. 

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 onthe other's shoulder, but Eugen shook him off violently, stood up, andthen sat down again. 

Aribert looked at Racksole, and they both looked at Prince Eugen. Thelatter's face was flushed, and Racksole observed that the left pupil wasmore dilated than the right. The man started, muttered odd, fragmentaryscraps of sentences, now grumbling, now whining. 

'His mind is unhinged, ' Racksole whispered in English. 

'Hush!' said Prince Aribert. 'He understands English. ' But Prince Eugentook 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 youare waiting for, is upstairs. She has sent us down to ask you to comeup. Won't you come?'

'Himmel!' the poor fellow exclaimed, with a kind of weak anger. 'Why didyou not say this before?'

He rose, staggered towards Aribert, and fell headlong on the floor. Hehad swooned. The two men raised him, carried him up the stone steps, andlaid him with infinite care on a sofa. He lay, breathing queerly throughthe nostrils, his eyes closed, his fingers contracted; every now andthen 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 rapon the french window, and both Racksole and the Prince glanced roundstartled. A girl's face was pressed against the large window-pane. Itwas Nella's. 

Racksole unfastened the catch, and she entered. 

'I have found you, ' she said lightly; 'you might have told me. Icouldn't sleep. I inquired from the hôtel-folks if you had retired, and they said no; so I slipped out. I guessed where you were. ' Racksoleinterrupted her with a question as to what she meant by this escapade, but she stopped him with a careless gesture. What's this?' She pointedto 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 movementsof a girl who had passed through the best hospital course to be obtainedin 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 hesaid it with much positiveness. 

That pronouncement rather settled their plans for them. It was certainlya professional triumph for Nella, who, previous to the doctor's arrival, had told them the very same thing. Considerable argument had passedbefore the doctor was sent for. Prince Aribert was for keeping the wholeaffair a deep secret among their three selves. Theodore Racksole agreedso far, but he suggested further that at no matter what risk they shouldtransport the patient over to England at once. Racksole had an idea thathe should feel safer in that hôtel of his, and better able to deal withany situation that might arise. Nella scorned the idea. In her qualityof an amateur nurse, she assured them that Prince Eugen was much moreseriously ill than either of them suspected, and she urged that theyshould take absolute possession of the house, and keep possession tillPrince 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 againstall comers. If Jules should come back, simply defy him to enter--that isall. 

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. Butfirst, you must send for a doctor. '

'Doctor!' Prince Aribert had said, alarmed. 'Will it not be necessary tomake some awkward explanation to the doctor?'

'Not at all!' she replied. 'Why should it be? In a place like Ostenddoctors are far too discreet to ask questions; they see too much toretain their curiosity. Besides, do you want your nephew to die?'

Both the men were somewhat taken aback by the girl's sagacious graspof the situation, and it came about that they began to obey her likesubordinates. 

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 executedthem. 

By the evening of the following day, everything was going smoothly. Thedoctor came and departed several times, and sent medicine, and seemedfairly optimistic as to the issue of the illness. An old woman had beeninduced to come in and cook and clean. Miss Spencer was kept out ofsight on the attic floor, pending some decision as to what to dowith her. And no one outside the house had asked any questions. Theinhabitants of that particular street must have been accustomed tostrange behaviour on the part of their neighbours, unaccountableappearances and disappearances, strange flittings and arrivals. This strong-minded and active trio--Racksole, Nella, and PrinceAribert--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 andseriously worse. Nella had sat up with him the previous night andthroughout the day. 

Her father had spent the morning at the hôtel, and Prince Aribert hadkept watch. The two men were never absent from the house at the sametime, and one of them always did duty as sentinel at night. On thisafternoon Prince Aribert and Nella sat together in the patient'sbedroom. The doctor had just left. Theodore Racksole was downstairsreading 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 aEuropean personage like Prince Eugen of Posen. Curiously enough, bothNella and her father, ardent democrats though they were, had beensomehow impressed by the royalty and importance of the fever-strickenPrince--impressed as they had never been by Aribert. They had both feltthat here, under their care, was a species of individuality quite new tothem, and different from anything they had previously encountered. Even the gestures and tones of his delirium had an air of abrupt yetcondescending command--an imposing mixture of suavity and haughtiness. As for Nella, she had been first struck by the beautiful 'E' over acrown on the sleeves of his linen, and by the signet ring on his pale, emaciated hand. After all, these trifling outward signs are at leastas effective as others of deeper but less obtrusive significance. The Racksoles, too, duly marked the attitude of Prince Aribert to hisnephew: it was at once paternal and reverential; it disclosed clearlythat Prince Aribert continued, in spite of everything, to regard hisnephew as his sovereign lord and master, as a being surrounded by anatural and inevitable pomp and awe. This attitude, at the beginning, seemed false and unreal to the Americans; it seemed to them to beassumed; but gradually they came to perceive that they weremistaken, and that though America might have cast out 'the monarchialsuperstition', nevertheless that 'superstition' had vigorously survivedin another part of the world. 

'You and Mr Racksole have been extraordinarily kind to me, ' said PrinceAribert very quietly, after the two had sat some time in silence. 

'Why? How?' she asked unaffectedly. 'We are interested in this affairourselves, you know. It began at our hôtel--you mustn't forget that, Prince. '

'I don't, ' he said. 'I forget nothing. But I cannot help feeling that Ihave led you into a strange entanglement. Why should you and Mr Racksolebe here--you who are supposed to be on a holiday!--hiding in a strangehouse in a foreign country, subject to all sorts of annoyances and allsorts of risks, simply because I am anxious to avoid scandal, to avoidany sort of talk, in connection with my misguided nephew? It is nothingto you that the Hereditary Prince of Posen should be liable to a publicdisgrace. What will it matter to you if the throne of Posen becomes thelaughing-stock of Europe?'

'I really don't know, Prince, ' Nella smiled roguishly. 'But we Americanshave, a habit of going right through with anything we have begun. '

'Ah!' he said, 'who knows how this thing will end? All our trouble, ouranxieties, our watchfulness, may come to nothing. I tell you that when Isee Eugen lying there, and think that we cannot learn his story untilhe recovers, I am ready to go mad. We might be arranging things, makingmatters smooth, preparing for the future, if only we knew--knew what hecan tell us. I tell you that I am ready to go mad. If anything shouldhappen to you, Miss Racksole, I would kill myself. '

'But why?' she questioned. 'Supposing, that is, that anything couldhappen to me--which it can't. '

'Because I have dragged you into this, ' he replied, gazing at her. 'Itis 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 thebed and soothed him. From the head of the bed she looked over at PrinceAribert, and he returned her bright, excited glance. She was in hertravelling-frock, with a large white Belgian apron tied over it. Largedark circles of fatigue and sleeplessness surrounded her eyes, and tothe Prince her cheek seemed hollow and thin; her hair lay thick overthe temples, half covering the ears. Aribert gave no answer to herquery--merely gazed at her with melancholy intensity. 

'I think I will go and rest, ' she said at last. 'You will know all aboutthe medicine. '

'Sleep well, ' he said, as he softly opened the door for her. And thenhe was alone with Eugen. It was his turn that night to watch, for theystill half-expected some strange, sudden visit, or onslaught, or moveof one kind or another from Jules. Racksole slept in the parlour on theground floor. 

Nella had the front bedroom on the first floor; Miss Spencer wasimmured in the attic; the last-named lady had been singularly quiet andincurious, taking her food from Nella and asking no questions, the oldwoman 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, attendingmechanically to his wants, and every now and then gazing hard intothe vacant, anguished face, as if trying to extort from that mask thesecrets which it held. Aribert was tortured by the idea that if he couldhave only half an hour's, only a quarter of an hour's, rational speechwith Prince Eugen, all might be cleared up and put right, and by thefact that that rational talk was absolutely impossible on Eugen's partuntil the fever had run its course. As the minutes crept on to midnightthe watcher, made nervous by the intense, electrical atmosphere whichseems always to surround a person who is dangerously ill, grew moreand more a prey to vague and terrible apprehensions. His mind dwelthysterically on the most fatal possibilities. 

He wondered what would occur if by any ill-chance Eugen should die inthat 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 sceneunparalleled in Europe for over a century! . .. Then he gazed anew atthe sick man, and thought he saw death in every drawn feature of thatagonized face. He could have screamed aloud. His ears heard a peculiarresonant boom. He started--it was nothing but the city clock strikingtwelve. But there was another sound--a mysterious shuffle at the door. He listened; then jumped from his chair. Nothing now! Nothing! Butstill he felt drawn to the door, and after what seemed an interminableinterval he went and opened it, his heart beating furiously. Nella layin a heap on the door mat. She was fully dressed, but had apparentlylost 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 hadforgotten all about Eugen. 

'What is it, my angel?' he whispered, and then he kissed her--kissed hertwice. He could only look at her; he did not know what to do to succourher. 

At last she opened her eyes and sighed. 

'Where am I?' she asked vaguely, in a tremulous tone as she recognizedhim. 'Is it you? Did I do anything silly? Did I faint?'

'What has happened? Were you ill?' he questioned anxiously. He waskneeling 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 hehad 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 haveentered. 

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 upbefore 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. Idid 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 worthforty millions. Would you not abdicate?'

'Ah!' he gave a low cry. 'Will you force me to say these things? I couldnot shirk my duty to Posen, and the reigning Prince of Posen can onlymarry 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 windowand opened it. In the starlit gloom he could see that a ladder had beenraised against the back of the house. He thought he heard footsteps atthe end of the garden. 

'It was Jules, ' he exclaimed to Nella, and without another wordrushed upstairs to the attic. The attic was empty. Miss Spencer hadmysteriously vanished. 

Chapter Nineteen ROYALTY AT THE GRAND BABYLON

THE Royal apartments at the Grand Babylon are famous in the world ofhôtels, and indeed elsewhere, as being, in their own way, unsurpassed. Some of the palaces of Germany, and in particular those of the madLudwig of Bavaria, may possess rooms and saloons which outshine them ingorgeous luxury and the mere wild fairy-like extravagance of wealth; butthere is nothing, anywhere, even on Eighth Avenue, New York, which canfairly be called more complete, more perfect, more enticing, or--notleast important--more comfortable. 

The suite consists of six chambers--the ante-room, the saloon oraudience chamber, the dining-room, the yellow drawing-room (whereRoyalty receives its friends), the library, and the State bedroom--tothe last of which we have already been introduced. The most importantand most impressive of these is, of course, the audience chamber, anapartment fifty feet long by forty feet broad, with a superb outlookover the Thames, the Shot Tower, and the higher signals of theSouth-Western Railway. The decoration of this room is mainly in theGerman taste, since four out of every six of its Royal occupants are ofTeutonic blood; but its chief glory is its French ceiling, a masterpieceby Fragonard, taken bodily from a certain famous palace on the Loire. The walls are of panelled oak, with an eight-foot dado of Arras clothimitated from unique Continental examples. The carpet, woven in onepiece, is an antique specimen of the finest Turkish work, and it wasobtained, a bargain, by Felix Babylon, from an impecunious RoumanianPrince. The silver candelabra, now fitted with electric light, came fromthe Rhine, and each had a separate history. The Royal chair--it is notetiquette to call it a throne, though it amounts to a throne--was lootedby Napoleon from an Austrian city, and bought by Felix Babylon at thesale of a French collector. At each corner of the room stands a giganticgrotesque vase of German faïence of the sixteenth century. These werepresented to Felix Babylon by William the First of Germany, upon theconclusion of his first incognito visit to London in connection with theFrench trouble of 1875. 

There is only one picture in the audience chamber. It is a portrait ofthe luckless but noble Dom Pedro, Emperor of the Brazils. Given to FelixBabylon by Dom Pedro himself, it hangs there solitary and sublime as areminder to Kings and Princes that Empires may pass away and greatnessfall. A certain Prince who was occupying the suite during the Jubilee of1887--when the Grand Babylon had seven persons of Royal blood under itsroof--sent a curt message to Felix that the portrait must be removed. Felix respectfully declined to remove it, and the Prince left foranother hôtel, where he was robbed of two thousand pounds' worth ofjewellery. The Royal audience chamber of the Grand Babylon, if peopleonly knew it, is one of the sights of London, but it is never shown, andif you ask the hôtel servants about its wonders they will tell youonly foolish facts concerning it, as that the Turkey carpet costs fiftypounds to clean, and that one of the great vases is cracked across thepedestal, owing to the rough treatment accorded to it during a riotousgame of Blind Man's Buff, played one night by four young Princesses, aBalkan King, and his aides-de-camp. 

In one of the window recesses of this magnificent apartment, on acertain afternoon in late July, stood Prince Aribert of Posen. Hewas faultlessly dressed in the conventional frock-coat of Englishcivilization, with a gardenia in his button-hole, and the indispensablecrease down the front of the trousers. He seemed to be fairly amused, and also to expect someone, for at frequent intervals he looked rapidlyover his shoulder in the direction of the door behind the Royal chair. At last a little wizened, stooping old man, with a distinctly Germancast of countenance, appeared through the door, and laid some papers ona small table by the side of the chair. 

'Ah, Hans, my old friend!' said Aribert, approaching the old man. 'Imust have a little talk with you about one or two matters. How do youfind 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 hismajority, and I was valet to his Royal father before him, but I neversaw--' 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 thefinancier, Sampson Levi--is that his name?--in the audience chamber?Surely, if I may humbly suggest, the library would have been good enoughfor a financier?'

'One would have thought so, ' agreed Prince Aribert, 'but perhaps yourmaster has a special reason. Tell me, ' he went on, changing the subjectquickly, '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 ofRoyal whims and knew half the secrets of the Courts of Europe, gaveAribert a look which might have meant anything. 'He sent me back onan--an errand, your Highness. '

'And you were to rejoin him here?'

'Just so, Highness. And I did rejoin him here, although, to tell thetruth, 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 handstogether. 'And his Highness is not yet perfectly recovered. '

'Not yet. We despaired of his life, Hans, at one time, but thanks to anexcellent 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 toPosen. '

At that moment, Eugen, Hereditary Prince of Posen, entered the audiencechamber. He was pale and languid, and his uniform seemed to be a troubleto him. His hair had been slightly ruffled, and there was a look ofuneasiness, almost of alarmed unrest, in his fine dark eyes. He waslike a man who is afraid to look behind him lest he should see somethingthere which ought not to be there. But at the same time, here beyonddoubt was Royalty. Nothing could have been more striking than thecontrast between Eugen, a sick man in the shabby house at Ostend, andthis Prince Eugen in the Royal apartments of the Grand Babylon Hôtel, surrounded by the luxury and pomp which modern civilization can offer tothose born in high places. All the desperate episode of Ostend was nowhidden, passed over. It was supposed never to have occurred. It existedonly 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 hadbeen removed to London, where he took up again the dropped thread of hisprincely life. The lady with the red hat, the incorruptible and savageMiss Spencer, the unscrupulous and brilliant Jules, the dark, dampcellar, the horrible little bedroom--these things were over. Thanks toPrince Aribert and the Racksoles, he had emerged from them in safety. Hewas able to resume his public and official career. The Emperor had beeninformed of his safe arrival in London, after an unavoidable delayin Ostend; his name once more figured in the Court chronicle of thenewspapers. In short, everything was smothered over. Only--only Jules, Rocco, and Miss Spencer were still at large; and the body of ReginaldDimmock lay buried in the domestic mausoleum of the palace at Posen; andPrince Eugen had still to interview Mr Sampson Levi. 

That various matters lay heavy on the mind of Prince Eugen was beyondquestion. He seemed to have withdrawn within himself. Despite theextraordinary experiences through which he had recently passed, eventswhich called aloud for explanations and confidence between the nephewand the uncle, he would say scarcely a word to Prince Aribert. Anyallusion, however direct, to the days at Ostend, was ignored by him withmore or less ingenuity, and Prince Aribert was really no nearer a fullsolution of the mystery of Jules' plot than he had been on the nightwhen he and Racksole visited the gaming tables at Ostend. Eugen was wellaware that he had been kidnapped through the agency of the woman in thered hat, but, doubtless ashamed at having been her dupe, he would notproceed 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 noproper retinue here, surely that is no reason why I should not holdaudience in a proper manner?. .. Hans, you can go. ' The old valetpromptly disappeared. 

'Aribert, ' the Hereditary Prince continued, when they were alone in thechamber, '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 hasleft its permanent mark on me. Well, perhaps I am mad. Who can tell? Godknows that I have been through enough lately to drive me mad. '

Aribert made no reply. As a matter of strict fact, the thought hadcrossed his mind that Eugen's brain had not yet recovered its normaltone and activity. This speech of his nephew's, however, had the effectof immediately restoring his belief in the latter's entire sanity. Hefelt convinced that if only he could regain his nephew's confidence, theold brotherly confidence which had existed between them since the yearswhen they played together as boys, all might yet be well. But at presentthere appeared to be no sign that Eugen meant to give his confidence toanyone. 

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 wasunable to dissipate it. 

'By the way, ' said Eugen suddenly, 'I must reward these Racksoles, Isuppose. 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! Doyou know that Theodore Racksole could buy up all Posen from end to endwithout making himself a pauper. A thousand guineas! You might as welloffer him sixpence. '

'Then what must I offer?'

'Nothing, except your thanks. Anything else would be an insult. Theseare no ordinary hôtel people. '

'Can't I give the little girl a bracelet?' Prince Eugen gave a sinisterlaugh. 

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 mostdetermined 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. Youthought I was in a delirium. Perhaps I was. But somehow I rememberthat with extraordinary distinctness. I remember raising my head fora fraction of an instant, and just in that fraction of an instant youkissed her. Oh, Uncle Aribert!'

'Listen, Eugen, for God's sake. I love Nella Racksole. I shall marryher. '

'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. Someaccent of determination in the latter's tone made Eugen rather moreserious. 

'You can't marry her, ' he said. 'The Emperor won't permit a morganaticmarriage. '

'The Emperor has nothing to do with the affair. I shall renounce myrights. 

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 shallhave made in order to marry her, she will not hesitate to place thatfortune in my hands for our mutual use, ' said Aribert stiffly. 

'You will decidedly be rich, ' mused Eugen, as his ideas dwelt onTheodore Racksole's reputed wealth. 'But have you thought of this, ' heasked, and his mild eyes glowed again in a sort of madness. 'Have youthought that I am unmarried, and might die at any moment, and then thethrone will descend to you--to you, Aribert?'

'The throne will never descend to me, Eugen, ' said Aribert softly, 'foryou will live. You are thoroughly convalescent. You have nothing tofear. '

'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 Hansas if to indicate that Mr Sampson Levi might enter at once. 

'I beg one moment first, ' said Aribert, laying a hand gently on hisnephew's arm, and giving old Hans a glance which had the effect ofprecipitating 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 mustnot keep him waiting. Someone said that punctuality is the politeness ofprinces. '

'Eugen, ' said Aribert, 'I wish you to be as serious as I am. Why cannotwe have faith in each other? I want to help you. I have helped you. Youare my titular Sovereign; but on the other hand I have the honour to beyour uncle:

I have the honour to be the same age as you, and to have been yourcompanion from youth up. Give me your confidence. I thought you hadgiven it me years ago, but I have lately discovered that you had yoursecrets, even then. And now, since your illness, you are still moresecretive. '

'What do you mean, Aribert?' said Eugen, in a tone which might have beeneither inimical or friendly. 'What do you want to say?'

'Well, in the first place, I want to say that you will not succeed withthe estimable Mr Sampson Levi. '

'Shall I not?' said Eugen lightly. 'How do you know what my business iswith him?'

'Suffice it to say that I know. You will never get that million poundsout of him. '

Prince Eugen gasped, and then swallowed his excitement. 'Who has beentalking? What million?' His eyes wandered uneasily round the room. 'Ah!'he said, pretending to laugh. 'I see how it is. I have been chatteringin my delirium. You mustn't take any notice of that, Aribert. When onehas a fever one's ideas become grotesque and fanciful. '

'You never talked in your delirium, ' Aribert replied; 'at least notabout yourself. I knew about this projected loan before I saw you inOstend. '

'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 fromeach 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 youraffairs than I knew myself. Happily, he is a good fellow; one can trusthim; otherwise I should have been tempted to do something desperate whenI discovered that all your private history was in his hands. Eugen, letus come to the point; why do you want that million? Is it actuallytrue that you are so deeply in debt? I have no desire to improve theoccasion. 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 tohave 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 thewoman 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 besmooth. 

Aribert, I wouldn't lose Anna for the Imperial throne. She is a good andpure 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 haveheard rumours, and I must set those rumours at rest by presenting tothem 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 topresent a clean sheet to them. Because this Sampson Levi will never lendyou a million. '

'Explain yourself. '

'I propose to do so. You were kidnapped--it is a horrid word, but wemust use it--in Ostend. '

'True. '

'Do you know why?'

'I suppose because that vile old red-hatted woman and her accompliceswanted to get some money out of me. Fortunately, thanks to you, theydidn't. '

'Not at all, ' said Aribert. 'They wanted no money from you. They knewwell enough that you had no money. They knew you were the naughtyschoolboy among European Princes, with no sense of responsibility or ofduty 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. Andit appears to me that they succeeded. Assuming that you don't obtain themoney from Levi, is there another financier in all Europe from whom youcan get it--on such strange security as you have to offer?'

'Possibly there is not, ' said Prince Eugen calmly. 'But, you see, Ishall get it from Sampson Levi. Levi promised it, and I know from othersources that he is a man of his word. He said that the money, subject tocertain 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 willget excellent interest. How on earth have you got into your sage oldhead this notion of a plot against me? The idea is ridiculous. A plotagainst 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 underobligations to Austria, to whom he owes his crown. Austria is anxiousfor 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 wasrebuffed. '

'Yes; but he will make overtures again, and this time he will not berebuffed. Oh, Eugen! can't you see that this plot against you is beingengineered by some persons who know all about your affairs, and whosedesire is to prevent your marriage with Princess Anna? Only one man inEurope can have any motive for wishing to prevent your marriage withPrincess 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 Ostendwas contrived by the agents of the King of Bosnia?'

'I do. '

'With a view to stopping my negotiations with Sampson Levi, and soputting 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 aremistaken. 

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. Thatwas part of it, my poor Eugen. '

'Pooh!' said Eugen. 'I don't believe he was assassinated. And as forSampson Levi, I will bet you a thousand marks that he and I come toterms this morning, and that the million is in my hands before I leaveLondon. ' Aribert shook his head. 

'You seem to be pretty sure of Mr Levi's character. Have you had much todo with him before?'

'Well, ' Eugen hesitated a second, 'a little. What young man in myposition hasn't had something to do with Mr Sampson Levi at one time oranother?'

'I haven't, ' said Aribert. 

'You! You are a fossil. ' He rang a silver bell. 'Hans! I will receive MrSampson Levi. '

Whereupon Aribert discreetly departed, and Prince Eugen sat down inthe great velvet chair, and began to look at the papers which Hans hadpreviously placed upon the table. 

'Good morning, your Royal Highness, ' said Sampson Levi, bowing as heentered. '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 Royalblood as any plain man in Europe, Sampson Levi had never yet learnedhow to be at ease with these exalted individuals during the first fewminutes of an interview. Afterwards, he resumed command of himself andhis faculties, but at the beginning he was invariably flustered, scarletof face, and inclined to perspiration. 

'We will proceed to business at once, ' said Prince Eugen. 'Will you takea seat, Mr Levi?'

'I thank your Royal Highness. '

'Now as to that loan which we had already practically arranged--amillion, 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 tofinish the matter up at once. '

'Exactly, your Highness, but--'

'But what? You months ago expressed the warmest satisfaction at thesecurity, though I am quite prepared to admit that the security, is ofrather an unusual nature. You also agreed to the rate of interest. It isnot 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 Iinformed you that the fortune of Princess Anna, who is about to acceptmy hand, will ultimately amount to something like fifty millions ofmarks, which is over two million pounds in your English money. ' PrinceEugen stopped. He had no fancy for talking in this confidential mannerto 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 thatbit of money available till the end of June, and you were to give me aninterview here before that date. Not having heard from your Highness, and not knowing your Highness's address, though my German agents madeevery inquiry, I concluded, that you had made other arrangements, moneybeing so cheap this last few months. '

'I was unfortunately detained at Ostend, ' said Prince Eugen, with asmuch haughtiness as he could assume, 'by--by important business. I havemade no other arrangements, and I shall have need of the million. If youwill be so good as to pay it to my London bankers--'

'I'm very sorry, ' said Mr Sampson Levi, with a tremendous and dazzlingair of politeness, which surprised even himself, 'but my syndicatehas now lent the money elsewhere. It's in South America--I don't mindtelling your Highness that we've lent it to the Chilean Government. '

'Hang the Chilean Government, Mr Levi, ' exclaimed the Prince, and hewent white. 'I must have that million. It was an arrangement. '

'It was an arrangement, I admit, ' said Mr Sampson Levi, 'but yourHighness broke the arrangement. '

There was a long silence. 

'Do you mean to say, ' began the Prince with tense calmness, 'that youare 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 youdo not place the money in my hands to-morrow you will ruin one of theoldest of reigning families, and, incidentally, you will alter the mapof Europe. You are not keeping faith, and I had relied on you. '

'Pardon me, your Highness, ' said little Levi, rising in resentment, 'itis not I who have not kept faith. I beg to repeat that the money is nolonger at my disposal, and to bid your Highness good morning. '

And Mr Sampson Levi left the audience chamber with an awkward, aggrievedbow. It was a scene characteristic of the end of the nineteenthcentury--an overfed, commonplace, pursy little man who had been born ina Brixton semi-detached villa, and whose highest idea of pleasure wasa Sunday up the river in an expensive electric launch, confronting andutterly routing, in a hôtel belonging to an American millionaire, therepresentative of a race of men who had fingered every page of Europeanhistory for centuries, and who still, in their native castles, weresurrounded with every outward circumstance of pomp and power. 

'Aribert, ' said Prince Eugen, a little later, 'you were right. It is allover. 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 likean 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 aboutthe entrance hail and adjacent corridors of the Grand Babylon. He hadreturned from Ostend only a day or two previously, and had endeavouredwith all his might to forget the affair which had carried him there--toregard 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 whichwere best left alone: if his experience as a manipulator of markets, acontriver of gigantic schemes in New York, had taught him anythingat all, it should surely have taught him that. Yet he could not feelreconciled to such a position. The mere presence of the princes in hishôtel roused the fighting instincts of this man, who had never in hiswhole career been beaten. He had, as it were, taken up arms on theirside, and if the princes of Posen would not continue their own battle, nevertheless he, Theodore Racksole, wanted to continue it for them. To acertain extent, of course, the battle had been won, for Prince Eugen hadbeen rescued from an extremely difficult and dangerous position, and theenemy--consisting of Jules, Rocco, Miss Spencer, and perhaps others--hadbeen put to flight. But that, he conceived, was not enough; it was veryfar from being enough. That the criminals, for criminals they decidedlywere, should still be at large, he regarded as an absurd anomaly. Andthere was another point: he had said nothing to the police of all thathad occurred. He disdained the police, but he could scarcely fail toperceive that if the police should by accident gain a clue to the realstate of the case he might be placed rather awkwardly, for the simplereason that in the eyes of the law it amounted to a misdemeanourto conceal as much as he had concealed. He asked himself, for thethousandth time, why he had adopted a policy of concealment from thepolice, 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 itfurther? To the first two questions he replied, rather lamely, that hehad 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 carryingthings through, and was now actuated by a mere childish, obstinatedesire to carry this one through. Moreover, he was splendidly consciousof his perfect ability to carry it through. One additional impulse hehad, though he did not admit it to himself, being by nature adverse tobig words, and that was an abstract love of justice, the Anglo-Saxon'sdeep-found instinct for helping the right side to conquer, even whengrave risks must thereby be run, with no corresponding advantage. 

He was turning these things over in his mind as he walked about the vasthôtel on that evening of the last day in July. The Society papers hadbeen stating for a week past that London was empty, but, in spite of theSociety 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 monthearlier, but it was doing a very passable business. At the close ofthe season the gay butterflies of the social community have a habit ofhovering for a day or two in the big hôtels before they flutter away tocastle and country-house, meadow and moor, lake and stream. The greatbasket-chairs in the portico were well filled by old and middle-agedgentlemen engaged in enjoying the varied delights of liqueurs, cigars, and the full moon which floated so serenely above the Thames. Here andthere a pretty woman on the arm of a cavalier in immaculate attire swepther train as she turned to and fro in the promenade of the terrace. Waiters and uniformed commissionaires and gold-braided doorkeepers movednoiselessly about; at short intervals the chief of the doorkeepers blewhis shrill whistle and hansoms drove up with tinkling bell to takeaway a pair of butterflies to some place of amusement or boredom;occasionally a private carriage drawn by expensive and self-conscioushorses put the hansoms to shame by its mere outward glory. It was a hotnight, a night for the summer woods, and save for the vehicles there wasno 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 solemnprocesses of digestion and small-talk. Even the long row of theEmbankment gas-lamps, stretching right and left, scarcely trembled inthe still, warm, caressing air. The stars overhead looked down withmany blinkings upon the enormous pile of the Grand Babylon, and the moonregarded it with bland and changeless face; what they thought of itand its inhabitants cannot, unfortunately, be recorded. What TheodoreRacksole thought of the moon can be recorded: he thought it was anuisance. It somehow fascinated his gaze with its silly stare, andso interfered with his complex meditations. He glanced round at thewell-dressed and satisfied people--his guests, his customers. Theyappeared to ignore him absolutely. 

Probably only a very small percentage of them had the least ideathat this tall spare man, with the iron-grey hair and the thin, firm, resolute face, who wore his American-cut evening clothes with suchcareless ease, was the sole proprietor of the Grand Babylon, andpossibly the richest man in Europe. As has already been stated, Racksolewas not a celebrity in England. 

The guests of the Grand Babylon saw merely a restless male person, whoserestlessness 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 couldthink of no course to pursue. 

At last he walked straight through the hôtel and out at the otherentrance, and so up the little unassuming side street into the roaringtorrent of the narrow and crowded Strand. He jumped on a Putney bus, andpaid his fair to Putney, fivepence, and then, finding that the humbleoccupants of the vehicle stared at the spectacle of a man in eveningdress but without a dustcoat, he jumped off again, oblivious of thefact that the conductor jerked a thumb towards him and winked at thepassengers as who should say, 'There goes a lunatic. ' He went into atobacconist's shop and asked for a cigar. The shopman mildly inquiredwhat 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 hewalked out of the shop smoking the penny cigar. It was a new sensationfor him. 

He was inhaling the aromatic odours of Eugène Rimmel's establishmentfor the sale of scents when a gentleman, walking slowly in the oppositedirection, accosted him with a quiet, 'Good evening, Mr Racksole. ' Themillionaire did not at first recognize his interlocutor, who wore atravelling overcoat, and was carrying a handbag. Then a slight, pleasedsmile passed over his features, and he held out his hand. 

'Well, Mr Babylon, ' he greeted the other, 'of all persons in the wideworld 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 thanit'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 ofLondon, and so I came over, just as you see, ' and he raised the handbagfor 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 laughedback. 

'It is a good hôtel, and I know the proprietor personally. '

'Rather expensive, is it not?' said Babylon. 

'To you, sir, ' answered Racksole, 'the inclusive terms will be exactlyhalf 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 hôtel, 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 theprofessional hôtel proprietor as he could. 'I think I may say in thestorekeeper'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 soconfoundedly hot--and the consumption of ice is simply enormous--nearlyas 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 asyours, my good friend, ought never to be smoked within the precincts ofthe Grand Babylon, not even by the proprietor of the Grand Babylon, andespecially when all the guests are assembled in the portico. The fumesof it would ruin any hôtel. '

Theodore Racksole laughingly lighted the Rothschild Havana which Babylongave him, and they entered the hôtel arm in arm. But no sooner had theymounted the steps than little Felix became the object of numberlessgreetings. It appeared that he had been highly popular among his quondamguests. At last they reached the managerial room, where Babylon wasregaled on a chicken, and Racksole assisted him in the consumption of abottle of Heidsieck Monopole, Carte d'Or. 

'This chicken is almost perfectly grilled, ' said Babylon at length. 'Itis a credit to the house. But why, my dear Racksole, why in the name ofHeaven did you quarrel with Rocco?'

'Then you have heard?'

'Heard! My dear friend, it was in every newspaper on the Continent. Somejournals prophesied that the Grand Babylon would have to close its doorswithin half a year now that Rocco had deserted it. But of course I knewbetter. I knew that you must have a good reason for allowing Roccoto depart, and that you must have made arrangements in advance for asubstitute. '

'As a matter of fact, I had not made arrangements in advance, ' saidTheodore Racksole, a little ruefully; 'but happily we have found inour 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 fortunein such a serious matter?'

'I didn't trust to mere good fortune. I didn't trust to anything exceptRocco, 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 Statebedroom one night--'

'You what?' Babylon almost screamed. 

'I found him embalming a corpse in the State bedroom, ' repeated Racksolein his quietest tones. 

The two men gazed at each other, and then Racksole replenished Babylon'sglass. 

'Tell me, ' said Babylon, settling himself deep in an easy chair andlighting 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 andcomplicated recital, and occupied about an hour. During that time littleFelix never spoke a word, scarcely moved a muscle; only his small eyesgazed through the bluish haze of smoke. The clock on the mantelpiecetinkled midnight. 

'Time for whisky and soda, ' said Racksole, and got up as if to ring thebell; but Babylon waved him back. 

'You have told me that this Sampson Levi had an audience of Prince Eugento-day, but you have not told me the result of that audience, ' saidBabylon. 

'Because I do not yet know it. But I shall doubtless know to-morrow. Inthe meantime, I feel fairly sure that Levi declined to produce PrinceEugen's required million. I have reason to believe that the money waslent elsewhere. '

'H'm!' mused Babylon; and then, carelessly, 'I am not at all surprisedat that arrangement for spying through the bathroom of the Stateapartments. '

'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 feltthat they lay outside my sphere. My business was to provide board andlodging of the most sumptuous kind to those who didn't mind paying forit; and I did my business. If anything else went on in the hôtel, underthe rose, I long determined to ignore it unless it should happen to bebrought before my notice; and it never was brought before my notice. However, I admit that there is a certain pleasurable excitement in thiskind of affair and doubtless you have experienced that. '

'I have, ' said Racksole simply, 'though I believe you are laughing atme. '

'By no means, ' Babylon replied. 'Now what, if I may ask the question, isgoing 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 seeJules 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 atmeeting me. He respectfully inquired where I was going, and I said thatI was going to Switzerland. At that moment I thought I was going toSwitzerland. It had occurred to me that after all I should be happierthere, 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 hôtel. ThenI asked Jules whither he was bound, and he told me that he was off toConstantinople, being interested in a new French hôtel there. I wishedhim good luck, and we parted. '

'Constantinople, eh!' said Racksole. 'A highly suitable place for him, Ishould say. '

'But, ' Babylon resumed, 'I caught sight of him again. '

'Where?'

'At Charing Cross, a few minutes before I had the pleasure of meetingyou. 

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 toConstantinople it is not usual to travel via London. '

'The cheek of the fellow!' exclaimed Theodore Racksole. 'The gorgeousand 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 TheodoreRacksole, helping himself to whisky. 

'Nothing whatever, ' said Babylon. 'Until you told me, I don't think Iwas aware that his true name was Thomas Jackson, though of course I knewthat it was not Jules. I certainly was not aware that Miss Spencer washis wife, but I had long suspected that their relations were somewhatmore intimate than the nature of their respective duties in the hôtelabsolutely demanded. All that I do know of Jules--he will always becalled Jules--is that he gradually, by some mysterious personal force, acquired a prominent position in the hôtel. Decidedly he was thecleverest and most intellectual waiter I have ever known, and he wasspecially skilled in the difficult task of retaining his own dignitywhile not interfering with that of other people. 

I'm afraid this information is a little too vague to be of any practicalassistance 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 theman's presence in London. '

'That is easily accounted for, ' said Racksole. 

'How? Do you suppose he is anxious to give himself up to justice, orthat the chains of habit bind him to the hôtel?'

'Neither, ' said Racksole. 'Jules is going to have another try--that'sall. '

'Another try at what?'

'At Prince Eugen. Either at his life or his liberty. Most probably theformer this time; almost certainly the former. He has guessed thatwe are somewhat handicapped by our anxiety to keep Prince Eugen'spredicament quite quiet, and he is taking advantage, of that fact. As healready is fairly rich, on his own admission, the reward which has beenoffered to him must be enormous, and he is absolutely determined to getit. He has several times recently proved himself to be a daring fellow;unless I am mistaken he will shortly prove himself to be still moredaring. '

'But what can he do? Surely you don't suggest that he will attempt thelife of Prince Eugen in this hôtel?'

'Why not? If Reginald Dimmock fell on mere suspicion that he would turnout unfaithful to the conspiracy, why not Prince Eugen?'

'But it would be an unspeakable crime, and do infinite harm to thehôtel!'

'True!' Racksole admitted, smiling. Little Felix Babylon seemed to bracehimself 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 isconceivable that Rocco could have managed it--barely conceivable. Butwithout Rocco I cannot think it possible. I cannot even think thatJules would attempt it. You see, in a place like the Grand Babylon, asprobably I needn't point out to you, food has to pass through so manyhands that to poison one person without killing perhaps fifty would bea most delicate operation. Moreover, Prince Eugen, unless he haschanged his habits, is always served by his own attendant, old Hans, andtherefore any attempt to tamper with a cooked dish immediately beforeserving would be hazardous in the extreme. '

'Granted, ' said Racksole. 'The wine, however, might be more easily gotat. 

Had you thought of that?'

'I had not, ' Babylon admitted. 'You are an ingenious theorist, but Ihappen to know that Prince Eugen always has his wine opened in his ownpresence. No doubt it would be opened by Hans. Therefore the wine theoryis 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 winemight be tampered with while it was still in the cellar, especially ifthere was an accomplice in the hôtel. '

'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 leavingany trace of the operation?' Babylon was a trifle sarcastic. 

'I don't see the necessity of opening the bottle in order to poison thewine, ' said Racksole. 'I have never tried to poison anybody by meansof a bottle of wine, and I don't lay claim to any natural talent as apoisoner, 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 thewonders of London. I hope you are aware, Mr Racksole, that when youbought the Grand Babylon you bought what is probably the finest stock ofwines in England, if not in Europe. In the valuation I reckoned them atsixty thousand pounds. And I may say that I always took care that thecellars were properly guarded. Even Jules would experience a seriousdifficulty in breaking into the cellars without the connivance of thewine-clerk, and the wine-clerk is, or was, incorruptible. '

'I am ashamed to say that I have not yet inspected my wines, ' smiledRacksole; 'I have never given them a thought. Once or twice I have takenthe trouble to make a tour of the hôtel, but I omitted the cellars in myexcursions. '

'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 accompanyyou. '

'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, witha certain emphasis. 'A sedate man of forty. He has the keys of thecellars. He knows every bottle of every bin, its date, its qualities, its value. And he's a teetotaler. Hubbard is a curiosity. No wine canleave the cellars without his knowledge, and no person can enter thecellars 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 thesame by night as by day. Therefore, why not now?'

Babylon shrugged his shoulders. 'As you wish, ' he agreed, with hisindestructible politeness. 

'And now to find this Mr Hubbard, with his key of the cupboard, ' saidRacksole, as they walked out of the room together. Although the hourwas so late, the hôtel was not, of course, closed for the night. A fewguests still remained about in the public rooms, and a few fatiguedwaiters were still in attendance. One of these latter was despatched insearch of the singular Mr Hubbard, and it fortunately turned out thatthis gentleman had not actually retired, though he was on the point ofdoing so. He brought the keys to Mr Racksole in person, and after hehad had a little chat with his former master, the proprietor and theex-proprietor of the Grand Babylon Hôtel proceeded on their way to thecellars. 

These cellars extend over, or rather under, quite half the superficialareas of the whole hôtel--the longitudinal half which lies next to theStrand. 

Owing to the fact that the ground slopes sharply from the Strand to theriver, the Grand Babylon is, so to speak, deeper near the Strand thanit is near the Thames. Towards the Thames there is, below the entrancelevel, a basement and a sub-basement. Towards the Strand there isbasement, sub-basement, and the huge wine cellars beneath all. Afterdescending the four flights of the service stairs, and traversing along passage running parallel with the kitchen, the two found themselvesopposite a door, which, on being unlocked, gave access to another flightof stairs. At the foot of this was the main entrance to the cellars. Outside the entrance was the wine-lift, for the ascension of deliciousfluids 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 firstof a suite of five. Racksole was struck not only by the icy coolnessof the place, but also by its vastness. Babylon had seized a portableelectric handlight, attached to a long wire, which lay handy, and, waving it about, disclosed the dimensions of the place. By that flashingillumination the subterranean chamber looked unutterably weird andmysterious, with its rows of numbered bins, stretching away into thedistance till the radiance was reduced to the occasional far gleam ofthe light on the shoulder of a bottle. Then Babylon switched onthe fixed electric lights, and Theodore Racksole entered upon apersonally-conducted tour of what was quite the most interesting part ofhis own property. 

To see the innocent enthusiasm of Felix Babylon for these stores ofexhilarating liquid was what is called in the North 'a sight for saireen'. 

He displayed to Racksole's bewildered gaze, in their due order, all thewines of three continents--nay, of four, for the superb and lusciousConstantia wine of Cape Colony was not wanting in that most catholiccollection of vintages. Beginning with the unsurpassed productsof Burgundy, he continued with the clarets of Médoc, Bordeaux, andSauterne; then to the champagnes of Ay, Hautvilliers, and Pierry;then to the hocks and moselles of Germany, and the brilliant imitationchampagnes of Main, Neckar, and Naumburg; then to the famous andadorable Tokay of Hungary, and all the Austrian varieties of Frenchwines, including Carlowitz and Somlauer; then to the dry sherries ofSpain, including purest Manzanilla, and Amontillado, and Vino de Pasto;then to the wines of Malaga, both sweet and dry, and all the 'Spanishreds' from Catalonia, including the dark 'Tent' so often usedsacramentally; then to the renowned port of Oporto. Then he proceededto the Italian cellar, and descanted upon the excellence of Barolo fromPiedmont, of Chianti from Tuscany, of Orvieto from the Roman States, ofthe '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 berendered here. 

At the end of the suite of cellars there was a glazed door, which, ascould be seen, gave access to a supplemental and smaller cellar, anapartment about fifteen or sixteen feet square. 

'Anything special in there?' asked Racksole curiously, as they stoodbefore the door, and looked within at the seined ends of bottles. 

'Ah!' exclaimed Babylon, almost smacking his lips, 'therein lies thecream of all. '

'The best champagne, I suppose?' said Racksole. 

'Yes, ' said Babylon, 'the best champagne is there--a very specialSillery, as exquisite as you will find anywhere. But I see, my friend, that you fall into the common error of putting champagne first amongwines. That distinction belongs to Burgundy. You have old Burgundy inthat cellar, Mr Racksole, which cost me--how much do you think?--eightypounds a bottle. 

Probably it will never be drunk, ' he added with a sigh. 'It is tooexpensive even for princes and plutocrats. '

'Yes, it will, ' said Racksole quickly. 'You and I will have a bottle upto-morrow. '

'Then, ' continued Babylon, still riding his hobby-horse, 'there is asample of the Rhine wine dated 1706 which caused such a sensation at theVienna Exhibition of 1873. There is also a singularly glorious Persianwine from Shiraz, the like of which I have never seen elsewhere. Alsothere is an unrivalled vintage of Romanée-Conti, greatest of all modernBurgundies. If I remember right Prince Eugen invariably has a bottlewhen he comes to stay here. It is not on the hôtel wine list, of course, and only a few customers know of it. We do not precisely hawk it aboutthe dining-room. '

'Indeed!' said Racksole. 'Let us go inside. '

They entered the stone apartment, rendered almost sacred by thepreciousness of its contents, and Racksole looked round with a strangelyintent and curious air. At the far side was a grating, through whichcame a feeble light. 

'What is that?' asked the millionaire sharply. 

'That is merely a ventilation grating. Good ventilation is absolutelyessential. '

'Looks broken, doesn't it?' Racksole suggested and then, putting afinger 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 theray of the single electric light in the ceiling. Half the cellar wasinvolved in gloom. At length Racksole walked firmly down the centralpassage-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, anddragged up a cowering figure. 

He had expected to find a man, but it was his own daughter, NellaRacksole, upon whom he had laid angry hands. 

Chapter Twenty-Three FURTHER EVENTS IN THE CELLAR

'WELL, Father, ' Nella greeted her astounded parent. 'You should makesure that you have got hold of the right person before you use allthat terrible muscular force of yours. I do believe you have broken myshoulder bone. ' She rubbed her shoulder with a comical expression ofpain, and then stood up before the two men. The skirt of her dark greydress was torn and dirty, and the usually trim Nella looked as thoughshe had been shot down a canvas fire-escape. Mechanically she smoothedher 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 neverdeserted 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 annoyedat having mistaken his daughter for a criminal; moreover, he hated tobe surprised, and upon this occasion he had been surprised beyond anyordinary surprise; lastly, he was not at all pleased that Nella shouldbe observed in that strange predicament by a stranger. 

'I will tell you, ' said Nella. 'I had been reading rather late in myroom--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 mywindow for a little fresh air before going to bed. I leaned over thebalcony very quietly--you will remember that I am on the third floornow--and looked down below into the little sunk yard which separates thewall of the hôtel from Salisbury Lane. I was rather astonished to see afigure creeping across the yard. I knew there was no entrance into thehôtel from that yard, and besides, it is fifteen or twenty feet belowthe level of the street. So I watched. The figure went close up againstthe wall, and disappeared from my view. I leaned over the balcony as faras 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 quitea long time--nearly a quarter of an hour, I should think--a rasping sortof noise. '

'Why on earth didn't you come and warn me or someone else in the hôtel?'asked Racksole. 

'Oh, I don't know, Dad, ' she replied sweetly. 'I had got interested init, and I thought I would see it out myself. Well, as I was saying, Mr. Babylon, ' she continued, addressing her remarks to Felix, with adazzling smile, 'that noise went on for quite a long time. At last itstopped, and the figure reappeared from under the wall, crossed theyard, climbed up the opposite wall by some means or other, and so overthe railings into Salisbury Lane. I felt rather relieved then, because Iknew he hadn't actually broken into the hôtel. He walked down SalisburyLane very slowly. A policeman was just coming up. "Goodnight, officer, "I heard him say to the policeman, and he asked him for a match. Thepoliceman supplied the match, and the other man lighted a cigarette, andproceeded 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 sawthe man cross the Embankment, and lean over the river wall, where heseemed to be talking to some one. He then walked along the Embankment toWestminster and that was the last I saw of him. I waited a minute or twofor him to come back, but he didn't come back, and so I thought it wasabout time I began to make inquiries into the affair. I went downstairsinstantly, and out of the hôtel, through the quadrangle, into SalisburyLane, and I looked over those railings. There was a ladder on the otherside, by which it was perfectly easy--once you had got over therailings--to climb down into the yard. I was horribly afraid lestsomeone might walk up Salisbury Lane and catch me in the act ofnegotiating those railings, but no one did, and I surmounted them, withno worse damage than a torn skirt. I crossed the yard on tiptoe, and Ifound that in the wall, close to the ground and almost exactly under mywindow, there was an iron grating, about one foot by fourteen inches. Isuspected, as there was no other ironwork near, that the mysteriousvisitor must have been sawing at this grating for private purposes ofhis own. I gave it a good shake, and I was not at all surprised that agood part of it came off in my hand, leaving just enough room for aperson to creep through. I decided that I would creep through, and nowwish I hadn't. I don't know, Mr Babylon, whether you have ever tried tocreep through a small hole with a skirt on. Have you?'

'I have not had that pleasure, ' said little Felix, bowing again, andabsently taking up a bottle which lay to his hand. 

'Well, you are fortunate, ' the imperturbable Nella resumed. 'For quitethree minutes I thought I should perish in that grating, Dad, with myshoulder inside and the rest of me outside. However, at last, by themost amazing and agonizing efforts, I pulled myself through and fellinto this extraordinary cellar more dead than alive. Then I wonderedwhat I should do next. Should I wait for the mysterious visitor toreturn, and stab him with my pocket scissors if he tried to enter, orshould 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 wildernessof bottles. The match went out, and I hadn't another one. So I satdown in the corner to think. I had just decided to wait and see if thevisitor returned, when I heard footsteps, and then voices; and then youcame in. I must say I was rather taken aback, especially as I recognizedthe 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 wouldhave had a serious shock. I wanted to think of a way of breaking mypresence gently to you. But you saved me the trouble, Dad. Was I reallybreathing so loudly that you could hear me?'

The girl ended her strange recital, and there was a moment's silencein the cellar. Racksole merely nodded an affirmative to her concludingquestion. 

'Well, Nell, my girl, ' said the millionaire at length, 'we are muchobliged for your gymnastic efforts--very much obliged. But now, I thinkyou had better go off to bed. There is going to be some serious troublehere, 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 worsethan a burglary. '

'What?' she cried. 'Murder? Arson? Dynamite plot? How perfectlysplendid!'

'Mr Babylon informs me that Jules is in London, ' said Racksole quietly. 

'Jules!' she exclaimed under her breath, and her tone changed instantlyto the utmost seriousness. 'Switch off the light, quick!' Springing tothe 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, ' saidNella. 'That wouldn't do at all. '

'It wouldn't, Miss Racksole, ' said Babylon, and there was in his voicea note of admiration for the girl's sagacity which Racksole heard withhigh paternal pride. 

'Listen, Nella, ' said the latter, drawing his daughter to him in theprofound gloom of the cellar. 'We fancy that Jules may be trying totamper with a certain bottle of wine--a bottle which might possibly bedrunk by Prince Eugen. Now do you think that the man you saw might havebeen Jules?'

'I hadn't previously thought of him as being Jules, but immediately youmentioned the name I somehow knew that he was. Yes, I am sure it wasJules. '

'Well, just hear what I have to say. There is no time to lose. If heis coming at all he will be here very soon--and you can help. ' Racksoleexplained what he thought Jules' tactics might be. He proposed that ifthe man returned he should not be interfered with, but merely watchedfrom 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 withcriminals. 'Surely, ' he added, 'it would be simpler and easier to informthe police of your suspicion, and to leave everything to them. '

'My dear fellow, ' said Racksole, 'we have already gone much too farwithout the police to make it advisable for us to call them in at thissomewhat advanced stage of the proceedings. Besides, if you must knowit, I have a particular desire to capture the scoundrel myself. I willleave you and Nella here, since Nella insists on seeing everything, andI will arrange things so that once he has entered the cellar Jules willnot get out of it again--at any rate through the grating. You had betterplace 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 atonce. All you have to do is to take note of what the fellow does. If hehas any accomplices within the hôtel we shall probably be able by thatmeans to discover who the accomplice is. '

Lighting a match and shading it with his hands, Racksole showed themboth out of the little cellar. 'Now if you lock this glass door on theoutside he can't escape this way: the panes of glass are too small, andthe woodwork too stout. So, if he comes into the trap, you two will havethe pleasure of actually seeing him frantically writhe therein, withoutany personal danger; but perhaps you'd better not show yourselves. '

In another moment Felix Babylon and Nella were left to themselves in thedarkness of the cellar, listening to the receding footfalls of TheodoreRacksole. But the sound of these footfalls had not died away beforeanother sound greeted their ears--the grating of the small cellar wasbeing removed. 

'I hope your father will be in time, ' whispered Felix

'Hush!' the girl warned him, and they stooped side by side in tensesilence. 

A man cautiously but very neatly wormed his body through the apertureof the grating. The watchers could only see his form indistinctly in thedarkness. 

Then, being fairly within the cellar, he walked without the leasthesitation to the electric switch and turned on the light. It wasunmistakably Jules, and he knew the geography of the cellar very well. Babylon could with difficulty repress a start as he saw this boldand unscrupulous ex-waiter moving with such an air of assurance anddetermination about the precious cellar. Jules went directly to a smallbin which was numbered 17, and took there from the topmost bottle. 

'The Romanee-Conti--Prince Eugen's wine!' Babylon exclaimed under hisbreath. 

Jules neatly and quickly removed the seal with an instrument which hehad clearly brought for the purpose. He then took a little flat box fromhis pocket, which seemed to contain a sort of black salve. Rubbing hisfinger 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 haddeftly replaced the seal and restored the bottle to its position. He then turned off the light, and made for the aperture. When he washalf-way through Nella exclaimed, 'He will escape, after all. Dad hasnot had time--we must stop him. '

But Babylon, that embodiment of caution, forcibly, but neverthelesspolitely, restrained this Yankee girl, whom he deemed so rash andimprudent, and before she could free herself the lithe form of Jules haddisappeared. 

Chapter Twenty-Four THE BOTTLE OF WINE

AS regards Theodore Racksole, who was to have caught his man from theoutside of the cellar, he made his way as rapidly as possible fromthe wine-cellars, up to the ground floor, out of the hôtel by thequadrangle, through the quadrangle, and out into the top of SalisburyLane. Now, owing to the vastness of the structure of the Grand Babylon, the mere distance thus to be traversed amounted to a little short ofa quarter of a mile, and, as it included a number of stairs, about twodozen turnings, and several passages which at that time of night were indarkness more or less complete, Racksole could not have been expected toaccomplish 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 addressedto him by a muddled and whisky-laden guest who had got lost in thecorridors. As everybody knows, there is a sharp short bend in SalisburyLane near the top. Racksole ran round this at good racing speed, but hewas unfortunate enough to run straight up against the very policemanwho had not long before so courteously supplied Jules with a match. Thepoliceman seemed to be scarcely in so pliant a mood just then. 

'Hullo!' he said, his naturally suspicious nature being doubtlessaroused by the spectacle of a bareheaded man in evening dress runningviolently down the lane. 'What's this? Where are you for in such ahurry?' and he forcibly detained Theodore Racksole for a moment andscrutinized his face. 

'Now, officer, ' said Racksole quietly, 'none of your larks, if youplease. 

I've no time to lose. '

'Beg your pardon, sir, ' the policeman remarked, though hesitatingly andnot quite with good temper, and Racksole was allowed to proceed on hisway. The millionaire's scheme for trapping Jules was to get down intothe little sunk yard by means of the ladder, and then to secrete himselfbehind some convenient abutment of brickwork until Mr Tom Jacksonshould have got into the cellar. He therefore nimbly surmounted therailings--the railings of his own hôtel--and was gingerly descending theladder, when lo! a rough hand seized him by the coat-collar and with aferocious jerk urged him backwards. The fact was, Theodore Racksole hadcounted without the policeman. That guardian of the peace, mistrustingRacksole's manner, quietly followed him down the lane. The sight of themillionaire climbing the railings had put him on his mettle, andthe result was the ignominious capture of Racksole. In vain Theodoreexpostulated, explained, anathematized. Only one thing would satisfy thestolid policeman--namely, that Racksole should return with him to thehôtel and there establish his identity. If Racksole then proved tobe Racksole, owner of the Grand Babylon, well and good--the policemanpromised to apologize. So Theodore had no alternative but to accept thesuggestion. To prove his identity was, of course, the work of only a fewminutes, after which Racksole, annoyed, but cool as ever, returned tohis 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 thealtercation going on outside, and of the special risk which he ran, wasof course actually in the cellar, which he had reached before Racksolegot to the railings for the first time. It was, indeed, a happy chancefor Jules that his exit from the cellar coincided with the period duringwhich Racksole was absent from the railings. As Racksole came down thelane for the second time, he saw a figure walking about fifty yards infront of him towards the Embankment. Instantly he divined that it wasJules, and that the policeman had thrown him just too late. He ran, andJules, 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 theintense astonishment of Racksole, jumped clean over the wall, as itseemed, 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 asteam launch told him that Jules was not quite driven to suicide. Asthe millionaire crossed the Embankment roadway he saw the funnel of thelaunch move out from under the river-wall. It swerved into midstream andheaded 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 withinthe precincts of the Grand Babylon, once by Rocco and once by Jules, he could not fairly blame himself for the present miscarriage of hisplans--a miscarriage due to the meddlesomeness of an extraneous person, combined with pure ill-fortune. He did not, therefore, permit theaccident to interfere with his sleep that night. 

On the following day he sought out Prince Aribert, between whom andhimself there now existed a feeling of unmistakable, frank friendship, and disclosed to him the happenings of the previous night, andparticularly 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, anadmirable 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 wishesto return to Posen early to-morrow. '

'Has it struck you, Prince, ' said Racksole, 'that if Jules had succeededin poisoning your nephew, he would probably have succeeded also inpoisoning you?'

'I had not thought of it, ' laughed Aribert, 'but it would seem so. Itappears that so long as he brings down his particular quarry, Julesis careless of anything else that may be accidentally involved in thedestruction. However, we need have no fear on that score now. You knowthe bottle, and you can destroy it at once. '

'But I do not propose to destroy it, ' said Racksole calmly. 'If PrinceEugen 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 accompliceswithin the hôtel. I have already inquired as to the wine-clerk, Hubbard. Now does it not occur to you as extraordinary that on this particularday Mr Hubbard should be ill in bed? Hubbard, I am informed, issuffering from an attack of stomach poisoning, which has supervenedduring 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, amere youth, but to all appearances a fairly smart youth. I need not saythat we shall keep an eye on that youth. '

'One moment, ' Prince Aribert interrupted. 'I do not quite understand howyou think the poisoning was to have been effected. '

'The bottle is now under examination by an expert, who has instructionsto remove as little as possible of the stuff which Jules put on the rimof the mouth of it. It will be secretly replaced in its bin during theday. My idea is that by the mere action of pouring out the wine takesup some of the poison, which I deem to be very strong, and thus becomesfatal as it enters the glass. '

'But surely the servant in attendance would wipe the mouth of thebottle?'

'Very carelessly, perhaps. And moreover he would be extremely unlikelyto wipe off all the stuff; some of it has been ingeniously placed juston the inside edge of the rim. Besides, suppose he forgot to wipe thebottle?'

'Prince Eugen is always served at dinner by Hans. It is an honour whichthe faithful old fellow reserves for himself. '

'But suppose Hans--' Racksole stopped. 

'Hans an accomplice! My dear Racksole, the suggestion is wildlyimpossible. '

That night Prince Aribert dined with his august nephew in the superbdining-room of the Royal apartments. Hans served, the dishes beingbrought to the door by other servants. Aribert found his nephewdespondent and taciturn. On the previous day, when, after the futileinterview with Sampson Levi, Prince Eugen had despairingly threatened tocommit 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 hissoothing 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 suitsme better than champagne. '

The famous and unsurpassable Burgundy was served with the roast. OldHans brought it tenderly in its wicker cradle, inserted the corkscrewwith mathematical precision, and drew the cork, which he offered for hismaster's inspection. Eugen nodded, and told him to put it down. Aribertwatched with intense interest. He could not for an instant believethat Hans was not the very soul of fidelity, and yet, despite himself, Racksole's words had caused him a certain uneasiness. At that momentPrince Eugen murmured across the table:

'Aribert, I withdraw my promise. Observe that, I withdraw it. ' Aribertshook his head emphatically, without removing his gaze from Hans. Thewhite-haired servant perfunctorily dusted his napkin round the neck ofthe bottle of Romanée-Conti, and poured out a glass. Aribert trembledfrom 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 amazementand concern, and he seized the glass. 'Impossible, sire. I myself openedthe 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 thiswine is poison is to say that I am a murderer. I will prove to you thatit is not poisoned. I will drink it. ' And he raised the glass to histrembling lips. In that moment Aribert saw that old Hans, at any rate, was not an accomplice of Jules. Springing up from his seat, he knockedthe glass from the aged servitor's hands, and the fragments of it fellwith 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 andterrible silence. 

There was a slight noise, and Aribert looked aside. He saw that Eugen'sbody had slipped forward limply over the left arm of his chair; thePrince's arms hung straight and lifeless; his eyes were closed; he wasunconscious. 

'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 hôtel bymeans of a steam launch was an excellent one, so far as it went, butTheodore Racksole, for his part, did not consider that it went quite farenough. 

Theodore Racksole opined, with peculiar glee, that he now had a tangibleand definite clue for the catching of the Grand Babylon's ex-waiter. Heknew nothing of the Port of London, but he happened to know a good dealof the far more complicated, though somewhat smaller, Port of New York, and he was sure there ought to be no extraordinary difficulty in gettinghold of Jules' steam launch. To those who are not thoroughly familiarwith it the River Thames and its docks, from London Bridge to Gravesend, seems a vast and uncharted wilderness of craft--a wilderness in which itwould be perfectly easy to hide even a three-master successfully. Tosuch people the idea of looking for a steam launch on the river would beabout 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 Wharfand Blackwall who literally know the Thames as the suburban householderknows his back-garden--who can recognize thousands of ships and put aname to them at a distance of half a mile, who are informed as to everymovement of vessels on the great stream, who know all the captains, allthe engineers, all the lightermen, all the pilots, all the licensedwatermen, and all the unlicensed scoundrels from the Tower to Gravesend, and a lot further. By these experts of the Thames the slightest unusualevent on the water is noticed and discussed--a wherry cannot changehands but they will guess shrewdly upon the price paid and theintentions of the new owner with regard to it. They have a habit ofwatching the river for the mere interest of the sight, and they talkabout everything like housewives gathered of an evening round thecottage door. If the first mate of a Castle Liner gets the sack theywill be able to tell you what he said to the captain, what the old mansaid to him, and what both said to the Board, and having finished offthat affair they will cheerfully turn to discussing whether Bill Stevenssank his barge outside the West Indian No. 2 by accident or on purpose. 

Theodore Racksole had no satisfactory means of identifying the steamlaunch which carried away Mr Tom Jackson. The sky had clouded over soonafter midnight, and there was also a slight mist, and he had onlybeen 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 thenight on vessels going upstream, and during the next morning he hada man to take his place who warned him whenever a steam launch wenttowards Westminster. At noon, after his conversation with PrinceAribert, he went down the river in a hired row-boat as far as the CustomHouse, and poked about everywhere, in search of any vessel which couldby any possibility be the one he was in search of. 

But he found nothing. He was, therefore, tolerably sure that themysterious launch lay somewhere below the Custom House. At the CustomHouse stairs, he landed, and asked for a very high official--an officialinferior only to a Commissioner--whom he had entertained once in NewYork, and who had met him in London on business at Lloyd's. In the largebut dingy office of this great man a long conversation took place--aconversation in which Racksole had to exercise a certain amount ofpersuasive power, and which ultimately ended in the high officialringing his bell. 

'Desire Mr Hazell--room No. 332--to speak to me, ' said the official tothe boy who answered the summons, and then, turning to Racksole: 'I needhardly 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 blueserge, with a pale, keen face, a brown moustache and a rather handsomebrown beard. 

'Mr Hazell, ' said the high official, 'let me introduce you to MrTheodore Racksole--you will doubtless be familiar with his name. MrHazell, ' he went on to Racksole, 'is one of our outdoor staff--what wecall an examining officer. Just now he is doing night duty. He hasa boat on the river and a couple of men, and the right to board andexamine any craft whatever. What Mr Hazell and his crew don't know aboutthe 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 hisease. 

'Now, Hazell, ' the high official continued, 'Mr Racksole wants you tohelp in a little private expedition on the river to-night. I will giveyou a night's leave. I sent for you partly because I thought you wouldenjoy the affair and partly because I think I can rely on you to regardit as entirely unofficial and not to talk about it. You understand? Idare 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 isunofficial, 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 oflunching with me? If you agree, I should like to lunch at the place youusually frequent. '

So it came to pass that Theodore Racksole and George Hazell, outdoorclerk in the Customs, lunched together at 'Thomas's Chop-House', inthe city of London, upon mutton-chops and coffee. The millionaire soondiscovered that he had got hold of a keen-witted man and a person ofmuch insight. 

'Tell me, ' said Hazell, when they had reached the cigarette stage, 'arethe magazine writers anything like correct?'

'What do you mean?' asked Racksole, mystified. 

'Well, you're a millionaire--"one of the best", I believe. One oftensees articles on and interviews with millionaires, which describe theirprivate railroad cars, their steam yachts on the Hudson, their marblestables, 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 thousandton schooner-yacht--though it isn't on the Hudson. It happens just nowto be on East River. And I am bound to admit that the stables of myuptown place are fitted with marble. ' Racksole laughed. 

'Ah!' said Hazell. 'Now I can believe that I am lunching with amillionaire. 

It's strange how facts like those--unimportant in themselves--appeal tothe imagination. You seem to me a real millionaire now. You've given mesome personal information; I'll give you some in return. I earn threehundred a year, and perhaps sixty pounds a year extra for overtime. Ilive by myself in two rooms in Muscovy Court. I've as much money as Ineed, and I always do exactly what I like outside office. As regards theoffice, I do as little work as I can, on principle--it's a fight betweenus 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 fairin war, you know, and there ain't no ten commandments in a Governmentoffice. '

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 theGrand Babylon. Then we can talk over my little affair at length. And maywe 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 anenormous appetite for beer; but they know the river, and they know theirbusiness, and they will do anything within the fair game if they arepaid for it, and aren't asked to hurry. '

That night, just after dark, Theodore Racksole embarked with his newfriend George Hazell in one of the black-painted Customs wherries, manned by a crew of two men--both the later freemen of the river, adistinction which carries with it certain privileges unfamiliar tothe mere landsman. It was a cloudy and oppressive evening, not a starshowing to illumine the slow tide, now just past its flood. Thevast forms of steamers at anchor--chiefly those of the General SteamNavigation and the Aberdeen Line--heaved themselves high out of thewater, straining sluggishly at their mooring buoys. On either side thenaked walls of warehouses rose like grey precipices from the stream, holding forth quaint arms of steam-cranes. To the west the Tower Bridgespanned the river with its formidable arch, and above that its suspendedfootpath--a hundred and fifty feet from earth. 

Down towards the east and the Pool of London a forest of funnels andmasts was dimly outlined against the sinister sky. Huge barges, eachsteered by a single man at the end of a pair of giant oars, lumberedand swirled down-stream at all angles. Occasionally a tug snorted busilypast, flashing its red and green signals and dragging an unwieldy tailof barges in its wake. Then a Margate passenger steamer, its electriclights gleaming from every porthole, swerved round to anchor, with itsload of two thousand fatigued excursionists. Over everything brooded anair of mystery--a spirit and feeling of strangeness, remoteness, andthe inexplicable. As the broad flat little boat bobbed its way underthe shadow of enormous hulks, beneath stretched hawsers, and past buoyscovered with green slime, Racksole could scarcely believe that he was inthe very heart of London--the most prosaic city in the world. He had aqueer idea that almost anything might happen in this seeming waste ofwaters at this weird hour of ten o'clock. It appeared incredible to himthat only a mile or two away people were sitting in theatres applaudingfarces, and that at Cannon Street Station, a few yards off, other peoplewere calmly taking the train to various highly respectable suburbs whosenames he was gradually learning. He had the uplifting sensation of beingin another world which comes to us sometimes amid surroundings violentlydifferent from our usual surroundings. The most ordinary noises--ofmen calling, of a chain running through a slot, of a distantsiren--translated themselves to his ears into terrible and hauntingsounds, full of portentous significance. He looked over the side of theboat into the brown water, and asked himself what frightful secretslay hidden in its depth. Then he put his hand into his hip-pocketand touched the stock of his Colt revolver--that familiar substancecomforted him. 

The oarsmen had instructions to drop slowly down to the Pool, asthe wide reach below the Tower is called. These two men had not beenpreviously informed of the precise object of the expedition, but nowthat they were safely afloat Hazell judged it expedient to give themsome notion of it. 'We expect to come across a rather suspicious steamlaunch, ' 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-facedman who seemed absolutely incapable of any serious exertion. 

'I don't know, ' Racksole replied; 'but as near as I can judge, she'sabout sixty feet in length, and painted black. I fancy I shall recognizeher when I see her. '

'Not much to go by, that, ' exclaimed the other man curtly. But he saidno more. He, as well as his mate, had received from Theodore Racksoleone English sovereign as a kind of preliminary fee, and an Englishsovereign will do a lot towards silencing the natural sarcastictendencies and free speech of a Thames waterman. 

'There's one thing I noticed, ' said Racksole suddenly, 'and I forgotto tell you of it, Mr Hazell. Her screw seemed to move with a ratherirregular, lame sort of beat. '

Both watermen burst into a laugh. 

'Oh, ' said the fat rower, 'I know what you're after, sir--it's JackEverett's launch, commonly called "Squirm". She's got a four-bladedpropeller, and one blade is broken off short. '

'Ay, that's it, sure enough, ' agreed the man in the bows. 'And if it'sher you want, I seed her lying up against Cherry Gardens Pier this verymorning. '

'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 creepdown by the right bank, feeling its way past wharves, many of which, even at that hour, were still busy with their cranes, that descendedempty into the bellies of ships and came up full. As the two watermengingerly manoeuvred the boat on the ebbing tide, Hazell explained to themillionaire that the 'Squirm' was one of the most notorious craft on theriver. It appeared that when anyone had a nefarious or underhandscheme afoot which necessitated river work Everett's launch was alwaysavailable for a suitable monetary consideration. The 'Squirm' had gotitself into a thousand scrapes, and out of those scrapes again withsafety, if not precisely with honour. The river police kept a watchfuleye on it, and the chief marvel about the whole thing was that oldEverett, the owner, had never yet been seriously compromised in anyillegal escapade. Not once had the officer of the law been able to proveanything definite against the proprietor of the 'Squirm', thoughseveral of its quondam hirers were at that very moment in various of HerMajesty's prisons throughout the country. Latterly, however, the launch, with its damaged propeller, which Everett consistently refused to haverepaired, had acquired an evil reputation, even among evil-doers, and this fraternity had gradually come to abandon it for less easilyrecognizable craft. 

'Your friend, Mr Tom Jackson, ' said Hazell to Racksole, 'committedan error of discretion when he hired the "Squirm". A scoundrel of hisexperience 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, butunfortunately a thin night-fog had swept over the river, and objectscould not be discerned with any clearness beyond a distance of thirtyyards. As the Customs boat scraped down past the pier all its occupantsstrained eyes for a glimpse of the mysterious launch, but nothing couldbe seen of it. The boat continued to float idly down-stream, the menresting on their oars. 

Then they narrowly escaped bumping a large Norwegian sailing vessel atanchor with her stem pointing down-stream. This ship they passed on theport side. Just as they got clear of her bowsprit the fat man cried outexcitedly, 'There's her nose!' and he put the boat about and beganto pull back against the tide. And surely the missing 'Squirm' wascomfortably anchored on the starboard quarter of the Norwegian ship, hidden neatly between the ship and the shore. The men pulled veryquietly 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, andthat will give me a chance to have a good look at her. '

Dressed in his official overcoat and peaked cap, he stepped, ratherjauntily as Racksole thought, on to the low deck of the launch. 'Anyoneaboard?'

Racksole heard him cry out, and a woman's voice answered. 'I'm a Customsexamining officer, and I want to search the launch, ' Hazell shouted, and then disappeared down into the little saloon amidships, and Racksoleheard no more. It seemed to the millionaire that Hazell had been gonehours, but at length he returned. 

'Can't find anything, ' he said, as he jumped into the boat, and thenprivately to Racksole: 'There's a woman on board. Looks as if she mightcoincide with your description of Miss Spencer. Steam's up, but there'sno engineer. I asked where the engineer was, and she inquired whatbusiness that was of mine, and requested me to get through with my ownbusiness and clear off. Seems rather a smart sort. I poked my nose intoeverything, but I saw no sign of any one else. Perhaps we'd better pullaway 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. Seethis, ' and he handed to Racksole a sort of steel skewer, about two feetlong, 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 Racksolesaw with more or less distinctness a dinghy slip away from the forefootof the Norwegian vessel and disappear downstream into the mist. 

'It's Jules, I'll swear, ' cried Racksole. 'After him, men. Ten poundsapiece if we overtake him!'

'Lay down to it now, boys!' said Hazell, and the heavy Customs boat shotout 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 alark tearing down midstream like this in a fog. You never know whenyou mayn't be in kingdom come with all these barges knocking around. Iexpect that chap hid in the dinghy when he first caught sight of us, andthen slipped his painter as soon as I'd gone. '

The boat was moving at a rapid pace with the tide. Steering was a matterof 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 toavoid a barge or an anchored vessel. It seemed to Racksole that vesselswere anchored all over the stream. He looked about him anxiously, butfor 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 cansee 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--wasunmistakably Jules--Jules in a light tweed suit and a bowler hat. 

'You were right, ' Hazell said; 'this is a lark. I believe I'm gettingquite excited. It's more exciting than playing the trombone in anorchestra. I'll run him down, eh?--and then we can drag the chap in fromthe 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, whichnarrowly escaped instant destruction. When they got clear, and the usualinterchange of calm, nonchalant swearing was over, the dinghy was barelyto be discerned in the mist, and the fat man was breathing in sucha 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. Graduallythey began again to overtake the dinghy, whose one-man crew wasevidently tiring. As they came up, hand over fist, the dinghy's noseswerved aside, and the tiny craft passed down a water-lane between twoanchored mineral barges, which lay black and deserted about fifty yardsfrom the Surrey shore. 'To starboard, ' said Racksole. 'No, man!'

Hazell replied; 'we can't get through there. He's bound to come Outbelow; 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 glistenedeven in the thick gloom. It was an empty dinghy which emerged frombetween the two barges and went drifting and revolving down towardsGreenwich. 

The fat man gasped a word to his comrade, and the Customs boat stoppeddead. 

''E's all right, ' said the man in the bows. 'If it's 'im you want, 'e'son 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, andit 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 Iwas you, Mr Hazell, or you, sir, I shouldn't step on to that barge soquick as all that. '

They backed the boat under the stem of the nearest barge and gazedupwards. 

'It's all right, ' said Racksole to Hazell; 'I've got a revolver. How canI clamber up there?'

'Yes, I dare say you've got a revolver all right, ' Hazell repliedsharply. 

'But you mustn't use it. There mustn't be any noise. We should have theriver 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 Commissionerswouldn't take any official notice of the fact that my superior officerhad put me on to this job, and I should be requested to leave theservice. '

'Have no fear on that score, ' said Racksole. 'I shall, of course, takeall 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 anend. '

'But there are other careers, ' said Racksole, who was really anxious tolame his ex-waiter by means of a judiciously-aimed bullet. 'There areother 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 youlike'--and he gave Racksole his searching instrument. 'And you can dowhat you please, provided you do it neatly and don't make a row overit. '

For a few moments the four men were passive in the boat, surrounded byswirling mist, with black water beneath them, and towering above thema half-loaded barge with a desperate and resourceful man on board. Suddenly the mist parted and shrivelled away in patches, as thoughbefore the breath of some monster. The sky was visible; it was a clearsky, and the moon was shining. The transformation was just one of thosemeteorological quick-changes which happen most frequently on a greatriver. 

'That's a sight better, ' said the fat man. At the same moment a headappeared over the edge of the barge. It was Jules' face--dark, sinisterand 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 mefor 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 seethat he held firmly clasped in his right hand a short dagger. 'Now, MrRacksole, you've been after me for a long time, ' he continued; 'hereI 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 fairtreatment will be accorded to all. ' And Jules laughed a low, penetratinglaugh. 

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'ssmall shrill voice that sounded in the night. A ragged boy's small formhad appeared silently behind Jules, and two small arms with a viciousshove precipitated him into the water. He fell with a fine gurglingsplash. It was at once obvious that swimming was not among Jules'accomplishments. He floundered wildly and sank. When he reappeared hewas dragged into the Customs boat. Rope was produced, and in a minute ortwo the man lay ignominiously bound in the bottom of the boat. With theaid of a mudlark--a mere barge boy, who probably had no more right onthe barge than Jules himself--Racksole had won his game. For the firsttime for several weeks the millionaire experienced a sensation ofequanimity 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. Heshall be well lodged at my hôtel, I promise him. '

Jules spoke no word. 

Before Racksole parted company with the Customs man that night Juleshad been safely transported into the Grand Babylon Hôtel and the twowatermen had received their £10 apiece. 

'You will sleep here?' said the millionaire to Mr George Hazell. 'It islate. '

'With pleasure, ' said Hazell. The next morning he found a sumptuousbreakfast awaiting him, and in his table-napkin was a Bank of Englandnote for a hundred pounds. But, though he did not hear of them till muchlater, many things had happened before Hazell consumed that sumptuousbreakfast. 

Chapter Twenty-Seven THE CONFESSION OF MR TOM JACKSON

IT happened that the small bedroom occupied by Jules during the years hewas head-waiter at the Grand Babylon had remained empty since his suddendismissal by Theodore Racksole. No other head-waiter had been formallyappointed in his place; and, indeed, the absence of one man--even theunique Jules--could scarcely have been noticed in the enormous staffof a place like the Grand Babylon. The functions of a head-waiter aregenerally more ornamental, spectacular, and morally impressive thanuseful, and it was so at the great hôtel on the Embankment. Racksoleaccordingly had the excellent idea of transporting his prisoner, with asmuch secrecy as possible, to this empty bedroom. There proved to be nodifficulty in doing so; Jules showed himself perfectly amenable to ashow of superior force. 

Racksole took upstairs with him an old commissionaire who had beenattached to the outdoor service of the hôtel for many years--agrey-haired man, wiry as a terrier and strong as a mastiff. Entering thebedroom with Jules, whose hands were bound, he told the commissionaireto remain outside the door. 

Jules' bedroom was quite an ordinary apartment, though perhaps slightlysuperior to the usual accommodation provided for servants in thecaravanserais of the West End. It was about fourteen by twelve. Itwas furnished with a bedstead, a small wardrobe, a--mall washstand anddressing-table, and two chairs. There were two hooks behind the door, a strip of carpet by the bed, and some cheap ornaments on the ironmantelpiece. There was also one electric light. The window was alittle square one, high up from the floor, and it looked on the innerquadrangle. 

The room was on the top storey--the eighth--and from it you had a viewsheer to the ground. Twenty feet below ran a narrow cornice about a footwide; three feet or so above the window another and wider cornice juttedout, and above that was the high steep roof of the hôtel, though youcould not see it from the window. As Racksole examined the window andthe outlook, he said to himself that Jules could not escape by thatexit, at any rate. He gave a glance up the chimney, and saw that theflue was far too small to admit a man's body. 

Then he called in the commissionaire, and together they bound Julesfirmly to the bedstead, allowing him, however, to lie down. All thewhile the captive never opened his mouth--merely smiled a smile ofdisdain. Finally Racksole removed the ornaments, the carpet, the chairsand the hooks, and wrenched away the switch of the electric light. Thenhe and the commissionaire left the room, and Racksole locked the door onthe outside and put the key in his pocket. 

'You will keep watch here, ' he said to the commissionaire, 'through thenight. You can sit on this chair. Don't go to sleep. If you hear theslightest noise in the room blow your cab-whistle; I will arrange toanswer the signal. If there is no noise do nothing whatever. I don'twant this talked about, you understand. I shall trust you; you can trustme. '

'But the servants will see me here when they get up to-morrow, ' said thecommissionaire, with a faint smile, 'and they will be pretty certain toask 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 ofpardonable pride, the grey-haired fellow pointed to the medals on hisbreast. 

'Well, supposing you were on sentry duty and some meddlesome person incamp asked you what you were doing--what should you say?'

'I should tell him to clear off or take the consequences, and prettyquick too. '

'Do that to-morrow morning, then, if necessary, ' said Racksole, anddeparted. 

It was then about one o'clock a. M. The millionaire retired to bed--nothis own bed, but a bed on the seventh storey. He did not, however, sleepvery long. Shortly after dawn he was wide awake, and thinking busilyabout Jules. 

He was, indeed, very curious to know Jules' story, and he determined, ifthe thing could be done at all, by persuasion or otherwise, to extractit from him. With a man of Theodore Racksole's temperament there is notime like the present, and at six o'clock, as the bright morning sunbrought gaiety into the window, he dressed and went upstairs againto the eighth storey. The commissionaire sat stolid, but alert on hischair, 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 wasplaying at, and so I told her I was looking after a bull bitch and alitter of pups that you was very particular about, sir. '

'Good, ' said Racksole, as he unlocked the door and entered the room. Allwas exactly as he had left it, except that Jules who had been lyingon his back, had somehow turned over and was now lying on his face. Hegazed silently, scowling at the millionaire. Racksole greeted him andostentatiously took a revolver from his hip-pocket and laid it on thedressing-table. Then he seated himself on the dressing-table by the sideof 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'tinterfere, 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 questionswhile 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 beenuncomfortable, because I know you haven't. I calculate you've beentreated very handsomely, my son. There you are!' and he loosened thelower extremities of his prisoner from their bonds. 'Now I repeat youmay as well be reasonable. You may as well admit that you've been fairlybeaten in the game and act accordingly. I was determined to beat you, bymyself, 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 lefteverything 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 himfor you". If you do they'll ask you to explain several things, and thenyou'll look foolish. One crime doesn't excuse another, and you'll findthat out. '

With unerring insight, Jules had perceived exactly the difficulty ofRacksole's position, and it was certainly a difficulty which Racksoledid not attempt to minimize to himself. He knew well that it would haveto 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 ismurder. You are due to be hung. You know that. There is no reason whyI should call in the police at all. It will be perfectly easy for meto finish you off, as you deserve, myself. I shall only be carrying outjustice, and robbing the hangman of his fee. Precisely as I brought youinto the hôtel, I can take you out again. A few days ago you borrowed orstole 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 narrowescape of being murdered on your steam yacht. Now I have a steam yachtof my own. Suppose I use it as you used yours! Suppose I smuggle you onto it, steam out to sea, and then ask you to step off it into the oceanone night. Such things have been done. 

Such things will be done again. If I acted so, I should at least, havethe satisfaction of knowing that I had relieved society from the incubusof a scoundrel. '

'But you won't, ' Jules murmured. 

'No, ' said Racksole steadily, 'I won't--if you behave yourself thismorning. But I swear to you that if you don't I will never rest till youare dead, police or no police. You don't know Theodore Racksole. '

'I believe you mean it, ' Jules exclaimed, with an air of surprisedinterest, as though he had discovered something of importance. 

'I believe I do, ' Racksole resumed. 'Now listen. At the best, you willbe 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 twentyyears' penal servitude, because, though it is absolutely certain thatyou murdered Reginald Dimmock, it would be a little difficult to provethe case against you. But with me you would have no chance whatever. Ihave a few questions to put to you, and it will depend on how you answerthem whether I give you up to the police or take the law into my ownhands. And let me tell you that the latter course would be much simplerfor me. And I would take it, too, did I not feel that you were a veryclever and exceptional man; did I not have a sort of sneaking admirationfor 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 againstme. 

You owe your victory, not to skill, but to luck. '

'That is what the vanquished always say. Waterloo was a bit of pure luckfor the English, no doubt, but it was Waterloo all the same. '

Jules yawned elaborately. 'What do you want to know?' he inquired, withpoliteness. 

'First and foremost, I want to know the names of your accomplices insidethis hôtel. '

'I have no more, ' said Jules. 'Rocco was the last. '

'Don't begin by lying to me. If you had no accomplice, how did youcontrive that one particular bottle of Romanée-Conti should be served tohis Highness Prince Eugen?'

'Then you discovered that in time, did you?' said Jules. 'I was afraidso. 

Let me explain that that needed no accomplice. The bottle was topmost inthe bin, and naturally it would be taken. Moreover, I left it stickingout a little further than the rest. '

'You did not arrange, then, that Hubbard should be taken ill the nightbefore last?'

'I had no idea, ' said Jules, 'that the excellent Hubbard was notenjoying his accustomed health. '

'Tell me, ' said Racksole, 'who or what is the origin of your vendettaagainst the life of Prince Eugen?'

'I had no vendetta against the life of Prince Eugen, ' said Jules, 'atleast, not to begin with. I merely undertook, for a consideration, to see that Prince Eugen did not have an interview with a certain MrSampson Levi in London before a certain date, that was all. It seemedsimple enough. I had been engaged in far more complicated transactionsbefore. I was convinced that I could manage it, with the help of Roccoand Em--and Miss Spencer. '

'Is that woman your wife?'

'She would like to be, ' he sneered. 'Please don't interrupt. I hadcompleted my arrangements, when you so inconsiderately bought the hôtel. I don't mind admitting now that from the very moment when you cameacross me that night in the corridor I was secretly afraid of you, though I scarcely admitted the fact even to myself then. I thought itsafer to shift the scene of our operations to Ostend. I had meant todeal with Prince Eugen in this hôtel, but I decided, then, tointercept him on the Continent, and I despatched Miss Spencer with someinstructions. Troubles never come singly, and it happened that justthen that fool Dimmock, who had been in the swim with us, chose to proverefractory. The slightest hitch would have upset everything, and I wasobliged to--to clear him off the scene. He wanted to back out--he had abad attack of conscience, and violent measures were essential. I regrethis untimely decease, but he brought it on himself. Well, everythingwas going serenely when you and your brilliant daughter, apparentlydetermined to meddle, turned up again among us at Ostend. Onlytwenty-four hours, however, had to elapse before the date which hadbeen mentioned to me by my employers. I kept poor little Eugen for theallotted time, and then you managed to get hold of him. I do not denythat you scored there, though, according to my original instructions, you scored too late. The time had passed, and so, so far as I knew, itdidn't matter a pin whether Prince Eugen saw Mr Sampson Levi or not. Butmy employers were still uneasy. They were uneasy even after little Eugenhad lain ill in Ostend for several weeks. It appears that they fearedthat even at that date an interview between Prince Eugen and Mr SampsonLevi might work harm to them. So they applied to me again. This timethey wanted Prince Eugen to be--em--finished off entirely. They offeredhigh terms. '

'What terms?'

'I had received fifty thousand pounds for the first job, of whichRocco had half. Rocco was also to be made a member of a certain famousEuropean order, if things went right. That was what he coveted far morethan the money--the vain fellow! For the second job I was offered ahundred thousand. A tolerably large sum. I regret that I have not beenable to earn it. '

'Do you mean to tell me, ' asked Racksole, horror-struck by this calmconfession, in spite of his previous knowledge, 'that you were offered ahundred thousand pounds to poison Prince Eugen?'

'You put it rather crudely, ' said Jules in reply. 'I prefer to saythat I was offered a hundred thousand pounds if Prince Eugen should diewithin 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, andwho promised you the hundred thousand. '

'Well, ' said Jules, 'I know vaguely. I know that he came via Viennafrom--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 itwere, and doubtless his Ministers thought that they had better arrangehis marriage for him. They tried last year, and failed because thePrincess whom they had in mind had cast her sparkling eyes on anotherPrince. That Prince happened to be Prince Eugen of Posen. The Ministersof the King of Bosnia knew exactly the circumstances of Prince Eugen. They knew that he could not marry without liquidating his debts, andthey knew that he could only liquidate his debts through this Jew, Sampson Levi. Unfortunately for me, they ultimately wanted to make toosure of Prince Eugen. They were afraid he might after all arrange hismarriage without the aid of Mr Sampson Levi, and so--well, you know therest. .. . It is a pity that the poor little innocent King of Bosnia can'thave the Princess of his Ministers' choice. '

'Then you think that the King himself had no part in this abominablecrime?'

'I think decidedly not. '

'I am glad of that, ' said Racksole simply. 'And now, the name of yourimmediate employer. '

'He was merely an agent. He called himself Sleszak--S-l-e-s-z-a-k. ButI imagine that that wasn't his real name. I don't know his real name. Anold 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 lastnight--just before our little tussle. '

There was a silence. 

'It is well, ' said Racksole at length. 'Prince Eugen lives, despite allplots. After all, justice is done. '

'Mr Racksole is here, but he can see no one, Miss. ' The words camefrom behind the door, and the voice was the commissionaire's. Racksolestarted up, and went towards the door. 

'Nonsense, ' was the curt reply, in feminine tones. 'Move asideinstantly. '

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 hôtel. 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 getthat hundred thousand. '

Chapter Twenty-Eight THE STATE BEDROOM ONCE MORE

WHEN, immediately after the episode of the bottle of Romanée-Conti inthe State dining-room, Prince Aribert and old Hans found that PrinceEugen had sunk in an unconscious heap over his chair, both the formerthought, at the first instant, that Eugen must have already tastedthe poisoned wine. But a moment's reflection showed that this was notpossible. If the Hereditary Prince of Posen was dying or dead, hiscondition was due to some other agency than the Romanée-Conti. Aribertbent over him, and a powerful odour from the man's lips at oncedisclosed the cause of the disaster: it was the odour of laudanum. Indeed, the smell of that sinister drug seemed now to float heavilyover the whole table. Across Aribert's mind there flashed then the trueexplanation. Prince Eugen, taking advantage of Aribert's attention beingmomentarily diverted; and yielding to a sudden impulse of despair, haddecided to poison himself, and had carried out his intention on thespot. 

The laudanum must have been already in his pocket, and this fact wentto prove that the unfortunate Prince had previously contemplated such aproceeding, even after his definite promise. Aribert remembered now withpainful vividness his nephew's words: 'I withdraw my promise. Observethat--I withdraw it. ' It must have been instantly after the utterance ofthat 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 isimpossible!'

'I fear it is only too possible, ' said the other. 'It's laudanum. Whatare we to do? Quick, man!'

'His Highness must be roused, Prince. He must have an emetic. We hadbetter carry him to the bedroom. '

They did, and laid him on the great bed; and then Aribert mixed anemetic of mustard and water, and administered it, but without anyeffect. The sufferer lay motionless, with every muscle relaxed. His skinwas ice-cold to the touch, and the eyelids, half-drawn, showed that thepupils were painfully contracted. 

'Go out, and send for a doctor, Hans. Say that Prince Eugen has beensuddenly taken ill, but that it isn't serious. The truth must never beknown. '

'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, flickedhim cruelly, shouted at him, dragged him about, but to no avail. Atlength he desisted, from mere physical fatigue, and laid the Prince backagain on the bed. Every minute that elapsed seemed an hour. Alone withthe unconscious organism in the silence of the great stately chamber, under the cold yellow glare of the electric lights, Aribert became aprey to the most despairing thoughts. The tragedy of his nephew'scareer forced itself upon him, and it occurred to him that an earlyand shameful death had all along been inevitable for this good-natured, weak-purposed, unhappy child of a historic throne. A little goodfortune, and his character, so evenly balanced between right and wrong, might have followed the proper path, and Eugen might have figured at anyrate with dignity on the European stage. But now it appeared that allwas over, the last stroke played. And in this disaster Aribert saw theruin of his own hopes. For Aribert would have to occupy his nephew'sthrone, and he felt instinctively that nature had not cut him out for athrone. By a natural impulse he inwardly rebelled against the prospectof monarchy. Monarchy meant so much for which he knew himself to beentirely unfitted. It meant a political marriage, which means a forcedmarriage, a union against inclination. And then what of Nella--Nella!

Hans returned. 'I have sent for the nearest doctor, and also for aspecialist, ' he said. 

'Good, ' said Aribert. 'I hope they will hurry. ' Then he sat down andwrote a card. 'Take this yourself to Miss Racksole. If she is out of thehôtel, ascertain where she is and follow her. Understand, it is of thefirst importance. '

Hans bowed, and departed for the second time, and Aribert was aloneagain. 

He gazed at Eugen, and made another frantic attempt to rouse him fromthe deadly stupor, but it was useless. He walked away to the window:through the opened casement he could hear the tinkle of passing hansomson the Embankment below, whistles of door-keepers, and the hoot of steamtugs on the river. The world went on as usual, it appeared. It was anabsurd world. 

He desired nothing better than to abandon his princely title, and liveas 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 fewcurt questions, and he had grasped the essentials of the case. 'Obligeme by ringing the bell, Prince. I shall want some hot water, and anable-bodied man and a nurse. '

'Who wants a nurse?' said a voice, and Nella came quietly in. 'I am anurse, ' she added to the doctor, 'and at your orders. '

The next two hours were a struggle between life and death. The firstdoctor, a specialist who followed him, Nella, Prince Aribert, and oldHans formed, as it were, a league to save the dying man. None else inthe hôtel knew the real seriousness of the case. When a Prince fallsill, and especially by his own act, the precise truth is not issuedbroadcast to the universe. 

According to official intelligence, a Prince is never seriously illuntil 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 onlytoo apparent. The league was reduced to helplessness. At last the greatspecialist from Manchester Square gave it out that there was no chancefor Prince Eugen unless the natural vigour of his constitutionshould prove capable of throwing off the poison unaided by scientificassistance, as a drunkard can sleep off his potion. Everything had beentried, even to artificial respiration and the injection of hot coffee. Having emitted this pronouncement, the great specialist from ManchesterSquare left. It was one o'clock in the morning. By one of those strangeand futile coincidences which sometimes startle us by their subtlesignificance, the specialist met Theodore Racksole and his captive asthey were entering the hôtel. Neither had the least suspicion of theother's business. 

In the State bedroom the small group of watchers surrounded the bed. Theslow minutes filed away in dreary procession. Another hour passed. Thenthe figure on the bed, hitherto so motionless, twitched and moved; thelips parted. 

'There is hope, ' said the doctor, and administered a stimulant which washanded to him by Nella. 

In a quarter of an hour the patient had regained consciousness. For theten thousandth time in the history of medicine a sound constitution hadaccomplished a miracle impossible to the accumulated medical skill ofcenturies. 

In due course the doctor left, saying that Prince Eugen was 'on thehigh 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 ofsunlight. 

Old Hans, overcome by fatigue, dozed in a chair in a far corner of theroom. 

The reaction had been too much for him. Nella and Prince Aribert lookedat each other. They had not exchanged a word about themselves, yet eachknew what the other had been thinking. They clasped hands with a perfectunderstanding. Their brief love-making had been of the silent kind, andit was silent now. No word was uttered. A shadow had passed from overthem, but only their eyes expressed relief and joy. 

'Aribert!' The faint call came from the bed. Aribert went to thebedside, 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 allthis, Aribert. I must have caused you an intolerable trouble. I did itso 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 veryawkward. 

But, thank goodness, it has not been ineffectual. '

'What do you mean, Eugen? You are better. In a day or so you will beperfectly recovered. '

'I am dying, ' said Eugen quietly. 'Do not be deceived. I die because Iwish to die. It is bound to be so. I know by the feel of my heart. In afew 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 knowover there that I poisoned myself. Swear Hans to secrecy; swear thedoctors 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 itis not cowardice; perhaps it is courage, after all--courage to cutthe knot. I could not have survived the disgrace of any revelations, Aribert, and revelations would have been sure to come. I have made afool of myself, but I am ready to pay for it. We of Posen--we alwayspay--everything except our debts. Ah! those debts! Had it not beenfor those I could have faced her who was to have been my wife, to haveshared my throne. I could have hidden my past, and begun again. Withher help I really could have begun again. But Fate has been againstme--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 hischair to the floor. He picked himself up, dazed, and crept shamefacedlyout of the room. 

Aribert took his nephew's hand. 

'Nonsense, Eugen! You are dreaming. You will be all right soon. Pullyourself together. '

'All because of a million, ' the sick man moaned. 'One miserable millionEnglish pounds. The national debt of Posen is fifty millions, and I, thePrince of Posen, couldn't borrow one. If I could have got it, I mighthave 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 thepatient's heart. Scarcely could she feel its pulsation, and to Ariberther 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 hôtel, ' hewhispered, 'and that he has captured that man Jules, who they say issuch a villain. '

Several times during the night Nella inquired for her father, but couldgain no knowledge of his whereabouts. Now, at half-past six in themorning, a rumour had mysteriously spread among the servants of thehôtel about the happenings of the night before. How it had originated noone 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 interviewbetween Jules and Theodore Racksole has already been described. Asshe came downstairs with her father she said again, 'Prince Eugen isdying--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--thelifts had not yet begun to work--she drew him into her own room, andclosed the door. 

'What's this all about?' he asked, somewhat mystified, and even alarmedby 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 thatexpression on her face before. He wanted to make a facetious reply, butchecked 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 referenceto this gigantic sum. 'What on earth are you driving at?'

'A million pounds, I said. That is to say, five million dollars. Howsoon 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 Streetand other places. But it would want some arrangement. '

'Useless!' she exclaimed. 'Couldn't you do it quicker, if you really hadto?'

'If I really had to, I could fix it in a week, but it would make thingslively, and I should lose on the job. '

'Couldn't you, ' she persisted, 'couldn't you go down this morning andraise 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 upyour 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. Butit would cost pretty dear. It might cost me fifty thousand pounds, andthere would be the dickens of an upset in New York--a sort of granduniversal 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 Englandand 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 togo out and fix it. See? It's for me. I've never asked you for anythingreally 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. 'Youdeserve it for colossal and immense coolness. Now you can tell me thetrue inward meaning of all this rigmarole. What is it?'

'I want it for Prince Eugen, ' she began, at first hesitatingly, withpauses. 

'He's ruined unless he can get a million to pay off his debts. He'sdreadfully in love with a Princess, and he can't marry her because ofthis. 

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 itaffects you or me. '

'The point is this, Dad, ' Nella continued. 'He's tried to commitsuicide--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'sin a very weak state, and he means to die. And I truly believe he willdie. Now, if you could let him have that million, Dad, you would savehis life. '

Nella's item of news was a considerable and disconcerting surprise toRacksole, but he hid his feelings fairly well. 

'I haven't the least desire to save his life, Nell. I don't overmuchrespect your Prince Eugen. I've done what I could for him--but only forthe sake of seeing fair play, and because I object to conspiracies andsecret murders. 

It's a different thing if he wants to kill himself. What I say is: Lethim. 

Who is responsible for his being in debt to the tune of a millionpounds? He's only got himself and his bad habits to thank for that. Isuppose if he does happen to peg out, the throne of Posen will go toPrince Aribert. And a good thing, too! Aribert is worth twenty of hisnephew. '

'That's just it, Dad, ' she said, eagerly following up her chance. 'I want you to save Prince Eugen just because Aribert--PrinceAribert--doesn't wish to occupy the throne. He'd much prefer not to haveit. '

'Much prefer not to have it! Don't talk nonsense. If he's honest withhimself, he'll admit that he'll be jolly glad to have it. Thrones are inhis blood, so to speak. '

'You are wrong, Father. And the reason is this: If Prince Aribertascended 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, andlive 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 lovesme. ' 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 worrymyself like this if I didn't?' She smiled through her tears. She knewfrom her father's tone that she had accomplished a victory. 

'It's a mighty queer arrangement, ' Theodore remarked. 'But of courseif you think it'll be of any use, you had better go down and tell yourPrince Eugen that that million can be fixed up, if he really needs it. Iexpect there'll be decent security, or Sampson Levi wouldn't have mixedhimself 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 thetalent, so necessary to millionaires, of attending to several mattersat once, the large with the small, went off to give orders about thebreakfast 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 relatedto Babylon the history of Jules' capture, and had a long discussion withhim upon several points of hôtel management, and especially as to theguarding of wine-cellars, Racksole put on his hat, sallied forth intothe Strand, hailed a hansom, and was driven to the City. The order andnature of his operations there were, too complex and technical to bedescribed here. 

When Nella returned to the State bedroom both the doctor and the greatspecialist were again in attendance. The two physicians moved away fromthe bedside as she entered, and began to talk quietly together in theembrasure of the window. 

'A curious case!' said the specialist. 

'Yes. Of course, as you say, it's a neurotic temperament that's at thebottom of the trouble. When you've got that and a vigorous constitutionworking one against the other, the results are apt to be distinctlycurious. 

Do you consider there is any hope, Sir Charles?'

'If I had seen him when he recovered consciousness I should have saidthere 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, andable to talk. According to all the rules of the game, he ought to getover the shock to the system with perfect ease and certainty. But Idon't think he will. I don't think he wants to. And moreover, I thinkhe is still under the influence of suicidal mania. If he had a razorhe would cut his throat. You must keep his strength up. Inject, ifnecessary. I will come in this afternoon. I am due now at St James'sPalace. ' And the specialist hurried away, with an elaborate bow and afew hasty words of polite reassurances to Prince Aribert. 

When he had gone Prince Aribert took the other doctor aside. 'Forgeteverything, doctor, ' he said, 'except that I am one man and you areanother, 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 ourhands, Prince. '

'But you are hopeful? Yes or no. '

The doctor looked at Prince Aribert. 'No!' he said shortly. 'I am not. Iam 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 haveobserved 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'sfinger. 

With a gesture she beckoned him towards the ante-room. 

'If you choose, ' she said, when they were alone, 'Prince Eugen can besaved. 

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 hishappiness will be forthcoming. Tell him that it will be forthcomingtoday, 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 inhers. 

'Just what I say. If a million pounds will save Prince Eugen's life, itis 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. Donot let us waste time. Go and tell Eugen it is arranged, that all willbe well. 

Go!'

'But we cannot accept this--this enormous, this incredible favour. It isimpossible. '

'Aribert, ' she said quickly, 'remember you are not in Posen holding aCourt reception. You are in England and you are talking to an Americangirl 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. Thedoctor was at a table writing out a prescription. Aribert approached thebedside, his heart beating furiously. Eugen greeted him with a faint, fatigued smile. 

'Eugen, ' he whispered, 'listen carefully to me. I have news. With theassistance 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. Doyou 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. Youmust 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 gettingbetter. '

The change in the patient's face was extraordinary. His mind seemed tohave put on an entirely different aspect. The doctor was startledto 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 feltthat he had never appreciated the value and the marvellous power of meremoney, of the lucre which philosophers pretend to despise and men selltheir souls for. His heart almost burst in its admiration for thatextraordinary Nella, who by mere personal force had raised two men outof the deepest slough of despair to the blissful heights of hope andhappiness. 'These Anglo-Saxons, ' he said to himself, 'what a race!'

By the afternoon Eugen was noticeably and distinctly better. Thephysicians, puzzled for the third time by the progress of the case, announced now that all danger was past. The tone of the announcementseemed to Aribert to imply that the fortunate issue was due wholly tounrivalled medical skill, but perhaps Aribert was mistaken. Anyhow, hewas in a most charitable mood, and prepared to forgive anything. 

'Nella, ' he said a little later, when they were by themselves again inthe ante-chamber, 'what am I to say to you? How can I thank you? How canI thank your father?'

'You had better not thank my father, ' she said. 'Dad will affect toregard 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 tome, 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 answeredtogether, 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 theywere 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 hôtel ishumming with excitement. '

'With pleasure, ' said Aribert. 

'Glad his Highness Prince Eugen is recovering, ' Racksole said, urged byconsiderations of politeness. 

'Ah! As to that--' Aribert began. 'If you don't mind, we'll discuss thatlater, Prince, ' Racksole interrupted him. 

They were in the proprietor's private room. 

'I want to tell you all about last night, ' Racksole resumed, 'aboutmy capture of Jules, and my examination of him this morning. ' Andhe launched into a full account of the whole thing, down to the leastdetails. 'You see, ' he concluded, 'that our suspicions as to Bosnia weretolerably correct. But as regards Bosnia, the more I think about it, thesurer I feel that nothing can be done to bring their criminalpoliticians to justice. '

'And as to Jules, what do you propose to do?'

'Come this way, ' said Racksole, and led Aribert to another room. Asofa in this room was covered with a linen cloth. Racksole lifted thecloth--he could never deny himself a dramatic moment--and disclosed thebody 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 officialfrom Scotland Yard, ' said Racksole. 

'How did this happen?' Aribert asked, amazed and startled. 'I understoodyou to say that he was safely immured in the bedroom. '

'So he was, ' Racksole replied. 'I went up there this afternoon, chieflyto take him some food. The commissionaire was on guard at the door. Hehad heard no noise, nothing unusual. Yet when I entered the room Juleswas gone. 

He had by some means or other loosened his fastenings; he had thenmanaged to take the door off the wardrobe. He had moved the bed in frontof the window, and by pushing the wardrobe door three parts out of thewindow and lodging the inside end of it under the rail at the headof the bed, he had provided himself with a sort of insecure platformoutside the window. All this he did without making the least sound. Hemust 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 thewide cornice under the roof of the hôtel. By main strength of arms hehad 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 ironfire-escape, which runs right down from the ridge of the roof into alittle sunk yard level with the cellars. Jules must have thought thathis escape was accomplished. But it unfortunately happened that one rungin the iron escape-ladder had rusted rotten through being badly painted. It gave way, and Jules, not expecting anything of the kind, fell to theground. That was the end of all his cleverness and ingenuity. '

As Racksole ceased, speaking he replaced the linen cloth with a gesturefrom which reverence was not wholly absent. 

When the grave had closed over the dark and tempestuous career of TomJackson, once the pride of the Grand Babylon, there was little troublefor the people whose adventures we have described. Miss Spencer, thatyellow-haired, faithful slave and attendant of a brilliant scoundrel, was never heard of again. Possibly to this day she survives, amystery to her fellow-creatures, in the pension of some cheap foreignboarding-house. As for Rocco, he certainly was heard of again. Severalyears after the events set down, it came to the knowledge of FelixBabylon that the unrivalled Rocco had reached Buenos Aires, and by hisculinary skill was there making the fortune of a new and splendid hôtel. Babylon transmitted the information to Theodore Racksole, and Racksolemight, had he chosen, have put the forces of the law in motion againsthim. But Racksole, seeing that everything pointed to the fact that Roccowas now pursuing his vocation honestly, decided to leave him alone. Theone difficulty which Racksole experienced after the demise of Jules--andit was a difficulty which he had, of course, anticipated--was connectedwith the police. The police, very properly, wanted to know things. They desired to be informed what Racksole had been doing in the Dimmockaffair, between his first visit to Ostend and his sending for them totake charge of Jules' dead body. And Racksole was by no means inclinedto tell them everything. Beyond question he had transgressed the laws ofEngland, and possibly also the laws of Belgium; and the moral excellenceof 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 pacifythe inspector whose clue, which by the way was a false one, he had socurtly declined to follow up. That done, the rest needed only tact andpatience. He proved to the satisfaction of the authorities that he hadacted in a perfectly honest spirit, though with a high hand, and thatsubstantial justice had been done. Also, he subtly indicated that, if itcame to the point, he should defy them to do their worst. Lastly, hewas able, through the medium of the United States Ambassador, to bringcertain soothing influences to bear upon the situation. 

One afternoon, a fortnight after the recovery of the Hereditary Princeof Posen, Aribert, who was still staying at the Grand Babylon, expresseda wish to hold converse with the millionaire. Prince Eugen, accompaniedby Hans and some Court officials whom he had sent for, had departed withimmense éclat, armed with the comfortable million, to arrange formallyfor 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 theywere seated together in the former's room. 

'I wish to tell you, ' replied Aribert, 'that it is my intention torenounce all my rights and titles as a Royal Prince of Posen, and to beknown in future as Count Hartz--a rank to which I am entitled through mymother. 

Also that I have a private income of ten thousand pounds a year, and achâteau and a town house in Posen. I tell you this because I am hereto ask the hand of your daughter in marriage. I love her, and I am vainenough to believe that she loves me. I have already asked her to be mywife, and she has consented. We await your approval. '

'You honour us, Prince, ' said Racksole with a slight smile, 'and inmore ways than one, May I ask your reason for renouncing your princelytitles?'

'Simply because the idea of a morganatic marriage would be as repugnantto me as it would be to yourself and to Nella. '

'That is good. ' The Prince laughed. 'I suppose it has occurred to youthat ten thousand pounds per annum, for a man in your position, is asomewhat small income. Nella is frightfully extravagant. I have knownher to spend sixty thousand dollars in a single year, and have nothingto 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! Iconsent. '

'In her name and my own, I thank you, ' said Aribert gravely. 

'And, ' the millionaire continued, 'so that she may not have to reformtoo fiercely, I shall settle on her absolutely, with reversion to yourchildren, if you have any, a lump sum of fifty million dollars, that isto say, ten million pounds, in sound, selected railway stock. I reckonthat 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 ithappened that Nella entered the room. 

That night, after dinner, Racksole and his friend Felix Babylon werewalking 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 theGrand Babylon?'

'Why do you ask?'

'Because I am getting tired of doing without it. A thousand times sinceI sold it to you I have wished I could undo the bargain. I can't bearidleness. 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 hôtel with Jules, with Rocco, withMiss Spencer. You go and lose all those three inestimable servants, and then offer me the hôtel without them at the same price! Itis monstrous. ' The little man laughed heartily at his own wit. 'Nevertheless, ' he added, 'we will not quarrel about the price. I acceptyour terms. '

And so was brought to a close the complex chain of events which hadbegun when Theodore Racksole ordered a steak and a bottle of Bass at thetable d'hôte of the Grand Babylon Hôtel.