T. Racksole & Daughter; Or, The Result of an American Millionaire Ordering Steak and a Bottle of Bass at the Grand Babylon Hotel, LondonArnold Bennett


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i


T. RACKSO LE
& DAUGHTER
0R, THE RESUL T OF AN AMERICAN
M I L L I O N A IR E O R D E R IN G S T E A K
AND A B O TTL E OF BAS S A T THE
©rant, 36abplom 390ttſ
ILO in D 011
4 WERACIOUS HISTORT DULT." NARRATED B1"
A R N O L D B E N N E TT
AUTHOR OF • THE GATES of WRATH,” ETC.
G R O S S E T & D U N L A P
PU B L I s H E R S, N E W Y O R K


3.352 , 4.7%./42
V
Copyright 1902 by
New Amsterdam Book Company


ºh APTER
XVI.
XVII.
XVIII.
XIX.
XXI.
XXII.
XXIII.
XXIV.
CONTENTS
---
PAGE
. THE MILLIONAIRE AND THE WAITER, - - 1
How MR. RAcksol E OBTAINED HIs DINNER, 16
. AT THREE A.M., . - - - - - 29
. ENTRANCE OF THE PRINCE, - . 46
... WHAT OCCURRED TO REGINALD DIMMOCK, . 55
. IN THE GOLD ROOM, . - - - - 67
. NELLA AND THE PRINCE, - - - - 78
. ARRIVAL AND DEPARTURE OF THE BARONESS, 80
. Two WOMEN AND THE REVOLVER, . - ... 100
. AT SEA, . - - - - - - - 112
. THE CourT PAWNBROKER, - - - . 124
. ROCCO AND ROOM No. 111, . - - - 137
. IN THE STATE BEDROOM, . - - - . 147
. Rocco ANswers SoME QUESTIONs, - - 154
. END OF THE YACHT ADVENTURE, . - . 168
THE WOMAN WITH THE RED HAT, - - 180
THE RELEASE OF PRINCE EUGEN, . - . 196
IN THE NIGHT-TIME, . . . . . 208
ROYALTY AT THE GRAND BABYLON, . - . 219
. MB. SAMPSON LEVI BIDS PRINCE EUGEN GOOD-
MoRNING, - - - - - - 230
THE RETURN OF FáLIX BABYLON, . - . 242
IN THW WINE CELLARS OF THE GRAND BABYLON, 255
FURTHER EVENTS IN THE CELLAR, - - 267
THE BOTTLE OF WINE, - - - - . 277


iv. CONTENTS
CHAPTER
XXV. THE STEAM LAUNCH, . - e -
XXVI. THE NIGHT CHASE AND THE MUD-LARK, .
XXVII. THE CONFESSION OF MR. ToM JACKSON,
XXVIII. THE STATE BEDROOM ONCE MORE, .
XXIX. THEODORE IS CALLED TO THE RESCUE,
XXX. CoNCLUSION, - º º - -
PAGE
287
. 300
309
. 323
333
. 345


T, RACKSOLE AND DAUGHTER
CHAPTER I
THE MILLIONAIRE AND THE WAITER
“YES, sir?”
Jules, the celebrated head waiter of the Grand
Babylon, was bending formally towards the
alert, middle-aged man who had just entered the
smoking-room and dropped into a basket-chair in
the corner by the conservatory. It was 7:45 on
a particularly sultry June night, and dinner was
about to be served at the Grand Babylon. Men
of all sizes, ages, and nationalities, but every
one alike arrayed in faultless evening dress,
were dotted about the large, dim apartment. A
faint odour of flowers came from the conserva-
tory, and the tinkle of a fountain. The waiters,
commanded by Jules, moved softly across the
thick Oriental rugs, balancing their trays with
the dexterity of jugglers, and receiving and
executing orders with that air of profound
importance of which only really first-class wait-


2 T. RACKSOLE AND DAUGHTER
ers have the secret. The atmosphere was an
atmosphere of serenity and repose, characteristic
of the Grand Babylon. It seemed impossible
that anything could occur to mar the peaceful,
aristocratic monotony of existence in that per-
fectly-managed establishment. Yet on that
night was to happen the mightiest upheaval that
the Grand Babylon had ever known.
“Yes, sir?” repeated Jules, and this time
there was a shade of august disapproval in his
voice: it was not usual for him to have to ad-
dress a customer twice.
“Oh!” said the alert, middle-aged man, look-
ing up at length. Beautifully ignorant of the
-identity of the great Jules, he allowed his grey
eyes to twinkle as he caught sight of the
expression on the waiter’s face. “Bring me an
Angel Kiss.”
“Pardon, sir?”
“Bring me an Angel Kiss, and be good enough
to lose no time.”
“If it’s an American drink, I fear we don’t
keep it, sir.” The voice of Jules fell icily dis-
tinct, and Several men glanced round uneasily, as
if to deprecate the slightest disturbance of their
calm. The appearance of the person to whom
Jules was speaking, however, reassured them
somewhat, for he had all the look of that


MILLIONAIRE AND wAITER 3
expert, the travelled Englishman, who can dif-
ferentiate between one hotel and another by in-
stinct, and who knows at once where he may
make a fuss with propriety, and where it is advi-
Sable to behave exactly as at the club. The
Grand Babylon was a hotel in whose smoking-
room one behaved as though one was at one’s
club. -
“I didn't suppose you did keep it, but you can
mix it, I guess, even in this hotel.”
“This isn’t an American hotel, sir.” The
calculated insolence of the words was cleverly
masked beneath an accent of humble submission.
The alert, middle-aged man sat up straight,
and gazed placidly at Jules, who was pulling his
famous red side-whiskers.
“Get a liqueur glass,” he said, half curtly
and half with good-humoured tolerance, “pour
into it equal quantities of maraschino cream and
crème de menthe. Don’t stir it; don’t shake it.
Bring it to me. And, I say, tell the bar-
tender——”
“Bar-tender, sir?”
“Tell the bar-tender to make a note of the
recipe, as I shall probably want an Angel Kiss
every evening before dinner so long as this
Weather lasts.”
“I will send the drink to you, sir,” said Jules


4. T. RACKSOLE AND DAUGHTER
distantly. That was his parting shot, by which
he indicated that he was not as other waiters
are, and that any person who treated him with
disrespect did so at his own peril.
A few minutes later, while the alert, middle-
aged man was tasting the Angel Kiss, Jules sat
in conclave with Miss Spencer, who had charge
of the bureau of the Grand Babylon. This
bureau was a fairly large chamber, with two
sliding glass partitions which overlooked the
entrance-hall and the Smoking-room. Only a
small portion of the clerical work of the great
hotel was performed there. The place served
chiefly as the lair of Miss Spencer, who was
as well known and as important as Jules him-
self. Most modern hotels have a male clerk to
superintend the bureau. But the Grand Baby-
lon went its own way. Miss Spencer had been
bureau clerk almost since the Grand Babylon
had first raised its massive chimneys to heaven,
and she remained in her place despite the vaga-
ries of other hotels. Always admirably dressed
in plain black silk, with a small diamond brooch,
immaculate wristbands, and frizzed yellow hair,
she looked now just as she had looked an indefi-
nite number of years ago. Her age—none knew
it, save herself and perhaps one other, and none
cared. The gracious and alluring contours of


MILLIONAIRE AND WAITER 5
her figure were irreproachable; and in the even-
ings she was a useful ornament of which any
hotel might be innocently proud. Her knowl-
edge of Bradshaw, of steamship services, and the
programmes of theatres and music-halls was
unrivalled; yet she never travelled, she never
went to a theatre or a music-hall. She seemed
to spend the whole of her life in that official lair
of hers, imparting information to guests, tele-
phoning to the various departments, or engaged
in intimate conversations with her special friends
on the staff, as at present.
“Who’s Number 107?” Jules asked this black-
robed lady.
Miss Spencer examined her ledgers.
“Mr. Theodore Racksole, New York.”
“I thought he must be a New Yorker,” said
Jules, after a brief, significant pause, “but he
talks as good English as you or me. Says he
wants an “Angel Kiss'—maraschino and cream,
if you please—every night. I’ll see he doesn’t
stop here too long.”
Miss Spencer smiled grimly in response. The
notion of referring to Theodore Racksole as “a
New Yorker” appealed to her sense of humour,
a sense in which she was not entirely deficient.
She knew, of course, and she knew that Jules
knew, that this Theodore Racksole must be the


6 T. RACKSOLE AND DAUGHTER
unique and only Theodore Racksole, the third
richest man in the United States, and therefore
probably in the world. Nevertheless she ranged
herself at Once on the side of Jules. Just as
there was only one Racksole, so there was only
one Jules, and Miss Spencer instinctively shared
the latter’s indignation at the spectacle of any
person whatsoever, millionaire or Emperor, pre-
suming to demand an “Angel Kiss,” that unre-
spectable concoction of maraschino and cream,
within the precincts of the Grand Babylon. In
the world of hotels it was currently stated that,
next to the proprietor, there were three gods at
the Grand Babylon—Jules, the head waiter,
Miss Spencer, and, most powerful of all, Rocco,
the renowned chef, who earned two thousand a
year, and had a chalet on the Lake of Lucerne.
All the great hotels in Northumberland Avenue
and on the Thames Embankment had tried to
get Rocco away from the Grand Babylon, but
without success. Rocco was well aware that
even he could rise no higher than the maitre
d’hotel of the Grand Babylon, which, though it
never advertised itself, and didn’t belong to a
limited company, stood an easy first among the
hotels of Europe—first in expensiveness, first in
exclusiveness, first in that mysterious quality
known as “style.”


MILLIONAIRE AND WAITER 7
Situated on the Embankment, the Grand
Babylon, despite its noble proportions, was some-
what dwarfed by several colossal neighbours.
It had but three hundred and fifty rooms,
whereas there are two hotels within a quarter
of a mile with six hundred and four hundred
rooms respectively. On the other hand, the
Grand Babylon was the only hotel in London
with a genuine separate entrance for Royal visi-
tors constantly in use. The Grand Babylon
Counted that day wasted on which it did not
entertain, at the lowest, a German prince or the
Maharajah of some Indian State. When Félix
Babylon—after whom, and not with any refer-
ence to London's nickname, the hotel was chris-
tened—when Félix Babylon founded the hotel in
1869 he had set himself to cater for Royalty, and
that was the secret of his triumphant eminence.
The son of a rich Swiss hotel proprietor and
financier, he had contrived to establish a con-
nection with the officials of several European
Courts, and he had not spared money in that
respect. Sundry kings and not a few princesses
called him. Félix, and spoke familiarly of the
hotel as “Félix’s”; and Félix had found that
this was very good for trade. The Grand Baby-
lon was managed accordingly. The “note”
of its policy was discretion, always discretion,


8 T. RACKSOLE AND DAUGHTER
and quietude, simplicity, remoteness. The place
was like a palace incognito. There was no gold
sign over the roof, not even an explanatory
word at the entrance. You walked down a
small side street off the Strand, you saw a plain
brown building in front of you, with two mahog-
any swing doors, and an official behind each,
the doors opened noiselessly; you entered; you
were in Félix’s. If you meant to be a guest,
you, or your courier, gave your card to Miss
Spencer. Upon no consideration did you ask for
the tariff. It was not good form to mention
prices at the Grand Babylon; the prices were
enormous, but you never mentioned them. At
the conclusion of your stay a bill was presented,
brief and void of dry details, and you paid it
without a word. You met with a stately civil-
ity, that was all. No one had originally asked
you to come; no one expressed the hope that you
would come again. The Grand Babylon was far
above such manoeuvres; it defied competition by
ignoring it; and consequently was nearly always
full during the season.
If there was one thing more than another that
amazed the Grand Babylon—put its back up,
so to speak—it was to be compared with, or to
be mistaken for, an American hotel. The Grand
Babylon was resolutely opposed to American


MILLIONAIRE AND WAITER 9
methods of eating, drinking, and lodging—but
especially American methods of drinking. The
resentment of Jules, on being requested to
supply Mr. Theodore RackSole with an Angel
Kiss, will therefore be appreciated.
“Anybody with Mr. Theodore Racksole?”
asked Jules, continuing his conversation with
Miss Spencer. He put a scornful stress on every
syllable of the guest’s name.
“Miss Racksole—she’s in No. 111.”
Jules paused, and stroked his left whisker as
it lay on his gleaming white collar.
“She's where?” he queried, with a peculiar
emphasis.
“No. 111. I couldn’t help it. There was no
other room with a bath-room and dressing-room
on that floor.” Miss Spencer’s voice had an
appealing tone of excuse.
“Why didn’t you tell Mr. Theodore Racksole
and Miss Racksole that we were unable to ac-
commodate them?”
“Because Babs was within hearing.”
Only three people in the wide world ever
dreamt of applying to Mr. Félix Babylon the
playful but mean abbreviation—Babs: those
three were Jules, Miss Spencer, and Rocco.
Jules had invented it. No one but he would
have had either the wit or the audacity to do so.
-


10 T. RACKSOLE AND DAUGHTER
“You’d better see that Miss Racksole changes
her room to-night,” Jules said after another
pause. “Leave it to me: I’ll fix it. Au revoir!
It’s three minutes to eight. I shall take charge
of the dining-room myself to-night.” And Jules
departed, rubbing his fine white hands slowly
and meditatively. It was a trick of his to rub
his hands with a strange, roundabout motion,
and the action denoted that some unusual ex-
citement was in the air.
At eight o’clock precisely dinner was served in
the immense Salle-à-manger, that chaste yet
splendid apartment of white and gold. At a
small table near one of the windows a young
lady sat alone. Her frock said Paris, but her
face unmistakably said New York. It was a
self-possessed and bewitching face, the face of a
woman thoroughly accustomed to doing exactly
what she liked, when she liked, how she liked:
the face of a woman who had taught hundreds
of gilded young men the true art of fetching and
carrying, and who, by twenty years or so of
parental spoiling, had come to regard herself as
the feminine equivalent of the Tsar of all the
Russias. Such women are only made in Amer-
ica, and they only come to their full bloom in
Europe, which they imagine to be a continent
created by Providence for their diversion.


MILLIONAIRE AND WAITER 11
The young lady by the window glanced disap-
provingly at the menu card. Then she looked
round the dining-room, and, while admiring the
diners, decided that the room itself was rather
small and plain. Then she gazed through the
open window, and told herself that though the
Thames by twilight was passable enough, it was
by no means level with the Hudson, on whose
shores her father had a hundred thousand dollar
country cottage. Then she returned to the
menu, and with a pursing of lovely lips said that
there appeared to be nothing to eat.
“Sorry to keep you waiting, Nella.” It was
Mr. Racksole, the intrepid millionaire who had
dared to order an Angel Kiss in the smoke-room
of the Grand Babylon. Nella—her proper name
was Helen—smiled at her parent cautiously,
reserving to herself the right to scold if she
should feel so inclined.
“You always are late, father,” she said.
“Only on a holiday,” he added. “What is
there to eat?”
“Nothing.”
“Then let’s have it. I’m hungry. I’m never
so hungry as when I’m being seriously idle.”
“Consommé Britannia,” she began to read
out from the menu, “Saumon d’Ecosse, Sauce
Génoise, Aspics de Homard. Oh, heavens !


12 T. RACKSOLE AND DAUGHTER
Who wants these horrid messes on a night like
this?”
“But, Nella, this is the best cooking in
Europe,” he protested.
“Say, father,” she said with seeming irrele-
vance, “had you forgotten it’s my birthday to-
morrow?”
“Have I ever forgotten your birthday, O most
costly daughter?”
“On the whole you’ve been a most satisfac-
tory dad,” she answered sweetly, “and to reward
you I’ll be content this year with the cheapest
birthday treat you ever gave me. Only I’ll
have it to-night.”
“Well,” he said, with the long-suffering
patience, the readiness for any surprise, of a
parent whom Nella had thoroughly trained,
“What is it?”
“It’s this. Let's have filleted steak and a
bottle of Bass for dinner to-night. It will be
simply exquisite. I shall love it.”
“But, my dear Nella,” he exclaimed, “steak
and beer at Félix’s! It's impossible! Moreover,
young women still under twenty-three cannot
be permitted to drink Bass.”
“I said steak and Bass, and as for being
twenty-three, I shall be going in twenty-four to-
morrow.”


MILLIONAIRE AND WAITER 13
Miss Racksole set her small white teeth.
There was a gentle cough. Jules stood over
them. It must have been out of a pure spirit
of adventure that he had selected this table for
his own services. Usually Jules did not person-
ally wait at dinner. He merely hovered obser-
vant, like a captain on the bridge during the
mate's watch. Regular frequenters of the hotel
felt themselves honoured when Jules attached
himself to their tables.
Theodore Racksole hesitated one second, and
then issued the order with a fine air of careless-
IlêSS:
“Filleted steak for two, and a bottle of Bass.”
It was the bravest act of Theodore Racksole’s
life, and yet at more than one previous crisis a
high courage had not been lacking to him.
“It’s not in the menu, sir,” said Jules the
imperturbable.
“Never mind. Get it. We want it.”
“Very good, sir.”
Jules walked to the service-door, and, merely
affecting to look behind, came immediately back
again.
“Mr. Rocco's compliments, sir, and he regrets
to be unable to serve steak and Bass to-night,
sir.”
“Mr. Rocco?” questioned Racksole lightly.


14 T. RACKSOLE AND DAUGHTER
“Mr. Rocco,” repeated Jules with firmness.
“And who is Mr. Rocco” ”
“Mr. Rocco is our chef, sir.” Jules had the
expression of a man who is asked to explain who
Shakspere was.
The two men looked at each other. It seemed
incredible that Theodore Racksole, the ineffable
Racksole, who owned a thousand miles of rail-
way, several towns, and sixty votes in Congress,
should be defied by a waiter, or even by a whole
hotel. Yet so it was. When Europe’s effete
back is against the wall not a regiment of mil-
lionaires can turn its flank. Jules had the calm
expression of a strong man sure of victory. His
face said: “You beat me once, but not this time,
my New York friend!”
As for Nella, knowing her father, she foresaw
interesting events, and waited confidently for
the steak. She did not feel hungry, and she
could afford to wait.
“Excuse me a moment, Nella,” said Theodore
Racksole quietly, “I shall be back in about two
seconds,” and he strode out of the salle-à-
manger. No one in the room recognised the
millionaire, for he was unknown to London, this
being his first visit to Europe for over twenty
years. Had anyone done so, and caught the
expression on his face, that man might have


MILLIONAIRE AND WAITER 15
trembled for an explosion which should have
blown the entire Grand Babylon into the
Thames. Jules retired strategically to a corner.
He had fired; it was the antagonist's turn. A
long and varied experience had taught Jules
that a guest who embarks on the subjugation of
a waiter is almost always lost; the waiter has
So many advantages in such a contest.


CHAPTER II
HOW ME. RACKSOLE OBTAINED HIS DINNER
NEVERTHELESS, there are men with a confirmed
habit of getting their own way, even as guests
in an exclusive hotel: and Theodore Racksole
had long since fallen into that useful practice—
except when his only daughter Helen, motherless
but high-spirited girl, chose to think that his
way crossed hers, in which case Theodore capitu-
lated and fell back. But when Theodore and his
daughter happened to be going one and the same
road, which was pretty often, then Heaven alone
might help any obstacle that was so ill-advised
as to stand in their path. Jules, great and
observant man though he was, had not noticed
the terrible projecting chins of both father and
daughter, otherwise it is possible he would have
reconsidered the question of the steak and Bass.
Theodore Racksole went direct to the entrance-
hall of the hotel, and entered Miss Spencer's
sanctum. -
“I want to see Mr. Babylon,” he said, “with-
out the delay of an instant.”


MR. RACKSOLE'S DINNER 17
Miss Spencer leisurely raised her flaxen head.
“I am afraid ” she began the usual for-
mula. It was part of her daily duty to discour-
age guests who desired to see Mr. Babylon.
“No, no,” said Racksole quickly, “I don’t want
any ‘I'm afraids.” This is business. If you had
been the ordinary hotel clerk I should have
slipped a couple of sovereigns into your hand,
and the thing would have been done. As you
are not—as you are obviously above bribes—I
merely say to you, I must see Mr. Babylon at
once on an affair of the utmost urgency. My
name is Racksole—Theodore Racksole.”
“Of New York?” questioned a voice at the
door, with a slight foreign accent.
The millionaire turned sharply, and saw a
rather short, French-looking man, with a bald
head, a grey beard, a long and perfectly-built
frock coat, eye-glasses attached to a minute
silver chain, and blue eyes that seemed to have
the transparent innocence of a maid’s. “
“There is only one,” said Theodore Racksole
Succinctly.
“You wish to see me?” the newcomer sug-
gested.
“You are Mr. Félix Babylon?”
The man bowed.
“At this moment I wish to see you more than
2


18 T. RACKSOLE AND DAUGHTER
anyone else in the world,” said Racksole. “I
am consumed and burnt up with a desire to see
you, Mr. Babylon. I only want a few minutes'
quiet chat. I fancy I can settle my business in
that time.”
With a gesture Mr. Babylon invited the mil-
lionaire down a side corridor, at the end of
which was Mr. Babylon’s private room, a mira-
cle of Louis XV. furniture and tapestry: like
most unmarried men with large incomes, Mr.
Babylon had “tastes” of a highly expensive sort.
The landlord and his guest sat down opposite
each other. Theodore Racksole had met with
the usual millionaire's luck in this adventure,
for Mr. Babylon made a practice of not allowing
himself to be interviewed by his guests, however
distinguished, however wealthy, however perti-
nacious. If he had not chanced to enter Miss
Spencer's office at that precise moment, and if
he had not been impressed in a somewhat pecu-
liar way by the physiognomy of the millionaire,
not all Mr. RackSole’s American energy and
ingenuity would have availed for a confabula-
tion with the owner of the Grand Babylon Hotel
that night. Theodore Racksole, however, was
ignorant that a mere accident had served him.
He took all the credit to himself.
“I read in the New York papers some months


20 T. RACKSOLE AND DAUGHTER
contentedly: “and we will, if you please,
exchange contract-letters on the spot.”
“You come quickly to a resolution, Mr. Rack-
sole. But perhaps you have been considering
this question for a long time?”
“On the contrary,” Racksole looked at his
watch, “I have been considering it for just six
minutes.”
Félix Babylon bowed, as one thoroughly
accustomed to every eccentricity of wealth.
“The beauty of being well known,” Racksole
continued, “is that you needn’t trouble about
preliminary explanations. You, Mr. Babylon,
probably know all about me. I know a good
deal about you. We can take each other for
granted without reference. Really, it is as
simple to buy a hotel or a railroad as it is to buy
a watch, provided one is equal to the transac-
tion.”
“Precisely,” agreed Mr. Babylon, smiling.
“Shall we draw up the little informal contract?
There are details to be thought of. But it
occurs to me that you cannot have dined yet,
and might prefer to deal with minor questions
after dinner.”
“I have not dined,” said the millionaire, with
emphasis, “and in that connection will you do
me a favour? Will you send for Mr. Rocco?”


MR. RACKSOLE'S DINNER 21
“You wish to see him, naturally.”
“I do,” said the millionaire, and added, “about
my dinner.”
“Rocco is a great man,” murmured Mr. Baby-
lon as he touched the bell, ignoring the last
words. “My compliments to Mr. Rocco,” he
said to the page who answered his summons,
“and if it is quite convenient I should be glad to
see him here for a moment.”
“What do you give Rocco?” Racksole in-
quired.
“Two thousand a year and the treatment of
an Ambassador.”
“I shall give him the treatment of an Ambas-
sador and three thousand.”
“You will be wise,” said Félix Babylon.
At that moment Rocco came into the room,
very softly—a man of forty, thin, with long,
thin hands, and an inordinately long brown
silky moustache.
“Rocco,” said Felix Babylon, “let me intro-
duce Mr. Theodore Racksole, of New York.”
“Sharmed,” said Rocco, bowing. “Ze —ze,
vat you call it, millionaire?”
“Exactly,” Racksole put in, and continued
quickly: “Mr. Rocco, I wish to acquaint you
before any other person with the fact that I
have purchased the Grand Babylon Hotel. If


22 T. RACKSOLE AND DAUGHTER
you think well to afford me the privilege of
retaining your services I shall be happy to
offer you a remuneration of three thousand a
year.”
“Tree, you said?”
“Three.”
“Sharmed.”
“And now, Mr. Rocco, will you oblige me
very much by ordering a plain beef-steak and a
bottle of Bass to be served by Jules—I particu-
larly desire Jules—at table No. 17 in the dining-
room, in ten minutes from now? And will you
do me the honour of lunching with me to-
morrow?”
Mr. Rocco gasped, bowed, muttered something
in French, and departed.
Five minutes later the buyer and seller of the
Grand Babylon Hotel had each signed a curt
document, scribbled out on the hotel notepaper.
Félix Babylon asked no questions, and it was
this heroic absence of curiosity, of surprise on
his part, that more than anything else impressed
Theodore Racksole. How many hotel proprietors
in the world, Racksole asked himself, would
have let that beef-steak and Bass go by without
a word of comment?
“From what date do you wish the purchase to
take effect?” asked Babylon.


MR. RACKSOLE'S DINNER 23
“Oh,” said Racksole lightly, “it doesn’t
matter. Shall we say from to-night?”
“As you will. I have long wished to retire.
And now that the moment has come—and so
dramatically—I am ready. I shall return to
Switzerland. One cannot spend much money
there, but it is my native land. I shall be the
richest man in Switzerland.” He smiled with a
kind of sad amusement.
“I suppose you are fairly well off?” said
RackSole, in that easy familiar style of his, as
though the idea had just occurred to him.
“Besides what I shall receive from you, I
have half a million invested.”
“Then you will be nearly a millionaire?”
Félix Babylon nodded.
“I congratulate you, my dear sir,” said Rack-
sole, in the tone of a judge addressing a newly-
admitted barrister. “Nine hundred thousand
pounds, expressed in francs, will sound very nice
—in Switzerland.”
“Of course to you, Mr. Racksole, such a sum
would be poverty. Now if one might guess at
your own wealth?” Félix Babylon was imitat-
ing the other's freedom.
“I do not know, to five millions or so, what
I am worth,” said Racksole, with sincerity,
his tone indicating that he would have been


24 T. RACKSOLE AND DAUGHTER
glad to give the information if it were in his
power.
“You have had anxieties, Mr. Racksole?”
“Still have them. I am now holiday-making
in London with my daughter in order to get rid
of them for a time.”
“Is the purchase of hotels your notion of
relaxation, then?”
Racksole shrugged his shoulders. “It is a
change from railroads,” he laughed.
“Ah, my friend, you little know what you
have bought.”
“Oh! yes I do,” returned Racksole; “I have
bought just the first hotel in the world.”
“That is true, that is true,” Babylon admitted,
gazing meditatively at the antique Persian
carpet. “There is nothing, anywhere, like my
hotel. But you will regret the purchase, Mr.
Racksole. It is no business of mine, of course,
but I cannot help repeating that you will regret
the purchase.”
“I never regret.”
“Then you will begin very soon—perhaps to-
night.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Because the Grand Babylon is the Grand
Babylon. You think because you control a
railroad, or an ironworks, or a line of steamers,


MR. RACKSOLE'S DINNER 25
therefore you can control anything. But no.
Not the Grand Babylon. There is something
about the Grand Babylon ” He threw up
his hands.
“Servants rob you, of course.”
“Of course. I suppose I lose a hundred
pounds a week in that way. But it is not that I
mean. It is the guests. The guests are too—
too distinguished. The great Ambassadors, the
great financiers, the great nobles, all the men
that move the world, put up under my roof.
London is the centre of everything, and my
hotel—your hotel—is the centre of London.
Once I had a King and a Dowager Empress
staying here at the same time. Imagine
that l”
“A great honour, Mr. Babylon. But wherein
lies the difficulty?”
“Mr. Racksole,” was the grim reply, “what
has become of your shrewdness—that shrewdness
which has made your fortune so immense that
even you cannot calculate it? Do you not per-
ceive that the roof which habitually shelters all
the force, all the authority of the world, must
necessarily also shelter nameless and numberless
plotters, schemers, evil-doers, and workers of
mischief? The thing is as clear as day—and as
dark as night. Mr. Racksole, I never know by


26 T. RACKSOLE AND DAUGHTER
whom I am surrounded. I never know what is
going forward. Only sometimes I get hints,
glimpses of strange acts and stral.ge secrets.
You mentioned my servants. They are almost
all good servants, skilled, competent. But what
are they besides? For anything I know may
fourth sub-chef may be an agent of some Euro-
pean Government. For anything I know my
invaluable Miss Spencer may be in the pay of a
court dressmaker or a Frankfort banker. Even
Rocco may be someone else in addition te:
Rocco.”
“That makes it all the more interesting,”
remarked Theodore Racksole.
“What a long time you have been, father,”
said Nella, when he returned to table No. 17 in
the Salle-à-manger.
“Only twenty minutes, my dove.”
“But you said two seconds. There is a
difference.”
“Well, you see, I had to wait for the steak
to cook.”
“Did you have much trouble in getting my
birthday treat?”
“No trouble. But it didn’t come quite as
cheap as you said.”
“What do you mean, father?”


MR. RACKSOLE'S DINNER 27
“Only that I’ve bought the entire hotel. But
don’t split.”
“Father, you always were a delicious parent.
Shall you give me the hotel for a birthday pres-
ent?”
“No. I shall run it—as an amusement. By
the way, who is that chair for?” He noticed
that a third cover had been laid at the table.
“That is for a friend of mine who came in
about five minutes ago. Of course I told him
he must share our steak. He'll be here in a
moment.”
“May I respectfully inquire his name?”
“Dimmock — Christian name Reginald; pro-
fession, English companion to Prince Aribert of
Posen. I met him when I was in St. Peters-
burg with cousin Hetty last fall. Oh; here he
is. Mr. Dimmock, this is my dear father. He
has succeeded with the steak.” -
Theodore Racksole found himself confronted
by a very young man, with deep black eyes, and
a fresh, boyish expression. They began to talk.
Jules approached with the steak. Racksole
tried to catch the waiter’s eye, but could not.
The dinner proceeded.
“Oh, father!” cried Nella, “what a lot of mus-
tard you have taken l’”
“Have I?” he said, and then he happened to


28 T. RACKSOLE AND DAUGHTER
glance into a mirror on his left hand between
two windows. He saw the reflection of Jules,
who stood behind his chair, and he saw Jules
give a slow, significant, ominous wink to Mr.
Dimmock—Christian name, Reginald.
He examined his mustard in silence. He
thought that perhaps he had helped himself
rather plenteously to mustard.


CHAPTER III
AT THREE A.M.
MR. REGINALD DIMMOCK proved himself, despite
his extreme youth, to be a man of the world and
of experiences, and a practised talker. Conver-
sation between him and Nella Racksole seemed
never to flag. They chattered about St. Peters-
burg, and the ice on the Neva, and the tenor at
the opera who had been exiled to Siberia, and
the quality of Russian tea, and the Sweetness of
Russian champagne, and various other aspects of
Muscovite existence. Russia exhausted, Nella
lightly outlined her own doings since she had
met the young man in the Tsar’s capital, and
this recital brought the topic round to London,
where it stayed till the final piece of steak was
eaten. Theodore Racksole noticed that Mr.
Dimmock gave very meagre information about
his own movements, either past or future. He
regarded the youth as a typical hanger-on of
Courts, and wondered how he had obtained his
post of companion to Prince Aribert of Posen,
and who Prince Aribert of Posen might be. The


30 T. RACKSOLE AND DAUGHTER
millionaire thought he had once heard of Posen,
but he wasn’t sure; he rather fancied it was one
of those small nondescript German States of
which five-sixths of the subjects are Palace offi-
cials, and the rest charcoal burners or innkeep-
ers. Until the meal was nearly over, Racksole
said little—perhaps his thoughts were too busy
with Jules’ wink to Mr. Dimmock; but when
ices had been followed by coffee, he decided that
it might be as well, in the interests of the hotel,
to discover Something about his daughter's
friend. He never for an instant questioned her
right to possess her own friends; he had always
left her in the most amazing liberty, relying on
her inherited good sense to keep her out of mis-
chief; but, quite apart from the wink, he was
struck by Nella's attitude towards Mr. Dim-
mock, an attitude in which an amiable scorn
was blended with an evident desire to propitiate
and please.
“Nella tells me, Mr. Dimmock, that you hold
a confidential position with Prince Aribert of
Posen,” said Racksole. “You will pardon an
American’s ignorance, but is Prince Aribert a
reigning Prince—what, I believe, you call in
Europe, a Prince Regnant?”
“His Highness is not a reigning Prince, nor
ever likely to be,” answered Dimmock. “The


AT THREE A.M. 31
*
Grand Ducal Throne of Posen is occupied by his
Highness’s nephew, the Grand Duke Eugen.”
“Nephew?” cried Nella with astonishment.
“Why not, dear lady?”
“But Prince Aribert is surely very young?”
“The Prince, by one of those vagaries of
chance which occur sometimes in the history of
families, is precisely the same age as the Grand
Duke. The late Grand Duke's father was twice
married. Hence this youthfulness on the part
of an uncle.”
“How delicious to be the uncle of some one as
old as yourself. But I suppose it is no fun for
Prince Aribert. I suppose he has to be fright-
fully respectful and obedient, and all that, to his
nephew.”
“The Grand Duke and my Serene master are
like brothers. At present, of course, Prince
Aribert is nominally heir to the throne, but, as
no doubt you are aware, the Grand Duke will
shortly marry a near relative of the Emperor’s,
and should there be a family—” Mr. Dim-
mock stopped and shrugged his straight shoul-
ders. “The Grand Duke,” he went on, without
finishing the last sentence, “would much prefers
Prince Aribert to be his successor. He really
doesn’t want to marry. Between ourselves,
strictly between ourselves, he regards marriage


32 T. RACKSOLE AND DAUGHTER
as rather a bore. But, of course, being a Ger-
man Grand Duke, he is bound to marry. He
owes it to his country, to Posen.”
“How large is Posen?” asked Racksole bluntly.
“Father,” Nella interposed, laughing, “you
shouldn’t ask such inconvenient questions. You
ought to have guessed that it isn’t etiquette to
inquire about the size of a German Dukedom.”
“I am sure,” said Dimmock, with a polite
smile, “that the Grand Duke is as much amused
as anyone at the size of his territory. I forget
the exact acreage, but I remember that once
Prince Aribert and myself walked across it and
back again in a single day.”
“Then the Grand Duke cannot travel very far
within his own dominions? You may say that
the sun does set on his empire?”
“It does,” said Dimmock.
“ Unless the weather is cloudy,” Nella put in.
“Is the Grand Duke content always to stay at
home?”
“On the contrary, he is a great traveller,
much more so than Prince Aribert. I may tell
you, what no one knows at present, outside this
hotel, that his Royal Highness the Grand Duke,
with a small suite, will be here to-morrow.”
“In London?” asked Nella.
& Yes.”


AT THREE A.M. 33
**In this hotel?”
& 4 YeS.”
“Oh! How lovely!”
“That is why your humble servant is here to-
night—a sort of advance guard.”
“But I understood,” Racksole said, “that
you were—er—attached to Prince Aribert, the
uncle.”
“I am. Prince Aribert will also be here.
The Grand Duke and the Prince have business
about important investments connected with the
Grand Duke's marriage settlement. . . . In the
highest quarters, you understand.”
“For so discreet a person,” thought Racksole,
“you are fairly communicative.” Then he said
aloud: “Shall we go out on the terrace?”
As they crossed the dining-room Jules stopped
Mr. Dimmock and handed him a letter. “Just
come, sir, by messenger,” said Jules.
Nella dropped behind for a second with her
father.
“Leave me alone with this boy a little—
there’s a dear parent,” she whispered in his ear.
“I am a mere cypher, an obedient nobody,”
Racksole replied, pinching her arm surreptitious-
ly. “Treat me as such. Use me as you like.
I will go and look after my hotel.” And soon
afterway. he disappeared.


34 T. RACKSOLE AND DAUGHTER
Nella and Mr. Dimmock sat together on the
terrace, sipping iced drinks. They made a
handsome couple, bowered amid plants which
blossomed at the command of a Chelsea whole-
sale florist. People who passed by remarked
privately that from the look of things there was
the beginning of a romance in that conversation.
Perhaps there was, but a more intimate acquain-
tance with the character of Nella Racksole
would have been necessary in order to predict
what precise form that romance would take.
Jules himself served the liquids, and at ten
o'clock he brought another note. Entreating a
thousand pardons, Reginald Dimmock, after he
had glanced at the note, excused himself on the
plea of urgent business for his Serene master,
uncle of the Grand Duke of Posen. He asked if
he might fetch Mr. RackSole, or escort Miss
Racksole to her father. But Miss Racksole said
gaily that she felt no need of an escort, and
should go to bed. She added that her father
and herself always endeavoured to be indepen-
dent of each other.
Just then Theodore Racksole had found his
way once more into Mr. Babylon’s private room.
Before arriving there, however, he had discov-
ered that in some mysterious manner the news
of the change of proprietorship had worked its


AT THREE A.M. 35
way down to the lowest strata of the hotel's
cosmos. The corridors hummed with it, and
even under-servants were to be seen discuss-
ing the thing, just as though it mattered to
them.
“Have a cigar, Mr. Racksole,” said the urbane
Mr. Babylon, “and a mouthful of the oldest
cognac in all Europe.”
In a few minutes these two were talking
eagerly, rapidly. Felix Babylon was astonished
at RackSole’s capacity for absorbing the details
of hotel management. And as for RackSole he
Soon realised that Felix Babylon must be a prince
of hotel managers. It had never occurred to
RackSole before that to manage a hotel, even
a large hotel, could be a specially interesting
affair, or that it could make any excessive de-
mands upon the brains of the manager; but he
came to see that he had under-rated the possibil-
ities of a hotel. The business of the Grand
Babylon was enormous. It took Racksole, with
all his genius for organisation, exactly half an
hour to master the details of the hotel laundry-
Work. And the laundry-work was but one
branch of activity amid scores, and not a very
large one at that. The machinery of checking
Supplies, and of establishing a mean ratio be-
tween the raw stuff received in the kitchen and
il


36 T. RACKSOLE AND DAUGHTER
the number of meals served in the salle-à.
manger and the private rooms, was very com-
plicated and delicate. When Racksole had
grasped it, he at once suggested some improve-
ments, and this led to a long theoretical discus-
sion, and the discussion led to digressions, and
then Félix Babylon, in a moment of absent-
mindedness, yawned.
Racksole looked at the gilt clock on the high
mantelpiece.
“Great Scott!” he said. “It’s three o’clock.
Mr. Babylon, accept my apologies for having
kept you up to such an absurd hour.”
“I have not spent so pleasant an evening for
many years. You have let me ride my hobby to
my heart’s content. It is I who should apolo-
gise.”
Racksole rose.
“I should like to ask you one question,” said
Babylon. “Have you ever had anything to do
with hotels before?”
“Never,” said Racksole.
“Then you have missed your vocation. You
could have been the greatest of all hotel-mana-
gers. You would have been greater than me,
and I am unequalled, though I keep only one
hotel, and some men have half a dozen. Mr.
RackSole, why have you never run a hotel?”


AT THREE A. M. 37
“Heaven knows,” he laughed, “but you
flatter me, Mr. Babylon.”
“I? Flatter? You do not know me. I flat-
ter no one, except, perhaps, now and then an
exceptionally distinguished guest. In which
case I give suitable instructions as to the bill.”
“Speaking of distinguished guests, I am told
that a couple of German princes are coming here
to-morrow.”
“That is so.”
“Does one do anything? Does one receive
them formally—stand bowing in the entrance-
hall, or anything of that sort?”
“Not necessarily. Not unless one wishes.
The modern hotel proprietor is not like an inn-
keeper of the Middle Ages, and even princes do
not expect to see him unless something should
happen to go wrong. As a matter of fact,
though the Grand Duke of Posen and Prince
Aribert have both honoured me by staying here
before, I have never even set eyes on them.
You will find all arrangements have been made.”
They talked a little longer, and then Racksole
Said good-night.
“Let me see you to your room. The lifts will
be closed and the place will be deserted. As for
myself, I sleep here,” and Mr. Babylon pointed
to an inner door.


38 T. RACKSOLE AND DAUGHTER
“No, thanks,” said Racksole; “let me explore
my own hotel unaccompanied. I believe I can
discover my room.”
When he got fairly into the passages, Rack-
sole was not so sure that he could discover his
own room. The number was 107, but he had
forgotten whether it was on the first or second
floor. Travelling in a lift, one is unconscious of
floors. He passed several lift-doorways, but he
could see no glint of a staircase; in all self-
respecting hotels staircases have gone out of
fashion, and though hotel architects still con-
tinue, for old Sake's sake, to build staircases,
they are tucked away in remote corners where
their presence is not likely to offend the eye of
a spoiled and cosmopolitan public.
The hotel seemed vast, uncanny, deserted.
An electric light glowed here and there at long
intervals. On the thick carpets, Racksole’s
thinly-shod feet made no sound, and he wan-
dered at ease to and fro, rather amused, rather
struck by the peculiar sense of night and mys-
tery which had suddenly come over him. He
fancied he could hear a thousand snores peace-
fully descending from the upper realms. At
length he found a staircase, a very dark and
narrow one, and presently he was on the first
floor. He soon discovered that the numbers of


AT THREE A.M. 39
the rooms on this floor did not get beyond sev-
enty. He encountered another staircase and
ascended to the second floor. By the decoration
of the walls he recognised this floor as his proper
home, and as he strolled through the long corri-
dor he whistled a low, meditative whistle of sat-
isfaction. He thought he heard a step in the
transverse corridor, and instinctively he oblite-
rated himself in a recess which held a service-
cabinet and a chair. He did hear a step. Peep-
ing cautiously out, he perceived, what he had
not perceived previously, that a piece of white
ribbon had been tied round the handle of the
door of one of the bedrooms. Then a man came
round the corner of the transverse corridor, and
Racksole drew back. It was Jules—Jules with
his hands in his pockets and a slouch hat over
his eyes, but in other respects attired as usual.
RackSole, at that instant, remembered with a
special vividness what Félix Babylon had said to
him at their first interview. He wished he had
brought his revolver. He didn’t know why he
should feel the desirability of a revolver in a
London hotel of the most unimpeachable fair
fame, but he did feel the desirability of such an
instrument of attack and defence. He privately
decided that if Jules went past his recess he
would take him by the throat and in that atti-


40 T. RACKSOLE AND DAUGHTER
tude put a few plain questions to this highly
dubious waiter. But Jules had stopped. The
millionaire made another cautious observation.
Jules, with infinite gentleness, was turning the
handle of the door to which the white ribbon
was attached. The door slowly yielded and
Jules disappeared within the room. After a
brief interval, the night-prowling Jules reap-
peared, closed the door as softly as he had
opened it, removed the ribbon, returned upon his
steps, and vanished down the transverse corridor.
“This is quaint,” said Racksole; “quaint to a
degree!”
It occurred to him to look at the number of
the room, and he stole towards it.
“Well, I’m damned l’” he murmured wonder-
ingly.
The number was 111, his daughter’s room!
He tried to open it, but the door was locked.
Rushing to his own room, No. 107, he seized one
of a pair of revolvers (the kind that are made
for millionaires) and followed after Jules down
the transverse corridor. At the end of this cor-
ridor was a window; the window was open; and
Jules was innocently gazing out of the window.
Ten silent strides, and Theodore Racksole was
upon him.
“One word, my friend,” the millionaire began,


AT THREE A.M. 41
carelessly waving the revolver in the air. Jules
was indubitably startled, but by an admirable
exercise of self-control he recovered possession of
his faculties in a second.
“Sir?” said Jules.
“I just wanted to be informed what the deuce
you were doing in No. 111 a moment ago.”
“I had been requested to go there,” was the
calm response.
“You are a liar, and not a very clever one.
That is my daughter’s room. Now—out with
it, before I decide whether to shoot you or throw
you into the street.”
“Excuse me, sir, No. 111 is occupied by a
gentleman.”
“I advise you that it is a serious error of
judgment to contradict me, my friend. Don’t
do it again. We will go to the room together,
and you shall prove that the occupant is a gen-
tleman, and not my daughter.”
“Impossible, sir,” said Jules.
“Scarcely that,” said Racksole, and he took
Jules by the sleeve. The millionaire knew for a
certainty that Nella occupied No. 111, for he had
examined the room with her, and himself seen
that her trunks and her maid and herself had
arrived there in safety. “Now open the door,”
whispered RackSole, when they reached No. 111.


42 T. RACKSOLE AND DAUGHTER
“I must knock.”
“That is just what you mustn't do. Open it.
No doubt you have your pass-key.”
Confronted by the revolver, Jules readily
obeyed, yet with a deprecatory gesture, as
though he would not be responsible for this out-
rage against the decorum of hotel life. Rack-
sole entered. The room was brilliantly lighted.
“A visitor, who insists on seeing you, sir,”
said Jules, and fled.
Mr. Reginald Dimmock, still in evening-dress,
and Smoking a cigarette, rose hurriedly from a
table.
“Hello, my dear Mr. Racksole, this is an
unexpected—ah—pleasure.”
“Where is my daughter? This is her room.”
“Did I catch what you said, Mr. Rack-
Sole?”
“I ventured to remark that this is Miss Rack-
sole’s room.”
“My good sir,” answered Dimmock, “you
must be mad to dream of such a thing. Only
my respect for your daughter prevents me from
expelling you forcibly, for such an extraordinary
suggestion.”
A small spot halfway down the bridge of the
millionaire's nose turned suddenly white.
“With your permission,” he said in a low calm


AT THREE A.M. 43
voice, “I will examine the dressing-room and
the bath-room.”
“Just listen to me a moment,” Dimmock
urged, in a milder tone. -
“I’ll listen to you afterwards, my young
friend,” said Racksole, and he proceeded to
search the bath-room and the dressing-room,
without any result whatever. “Lest my atti-
tude might be open to misconstruction, Mr.
Dimmock, I may as well tell you that I have the
most perfect confidence in my daughter, who is
as well able to take care of herself as any woman
I ever met, but since you entered it there have
been one or two rather mysterious occurrences in
this hotel. That is all.” Feeling a draught of
air on his shoulder, Racksole turned to the win-
dow. “For instance,” he added, “I perceive
that this window is broken, badly broken, and
from the outside. Now, how could that have
OCCurred?”
“If you will kindly hear reason, Mr. Rack-
Sole,” said Dimmock in his best diplomatic
manner, “I will endeavour to explain things to
you. I regarded your first question to me when
you entered my room as being offensively put,
but I now see that you had some justification.”
He Smiled politely. “I was passing along this
Corridor about eleven o’clock, when I found Miss


44 T. RACKSOLE AND DAUGHTER
Racksole in a difficulty with the hotel servants,
Miss Racksole was retiring to rest in this room
when a large stone, which must have been
thrown from the Embankment, broke the
window, as you see. Apart from the discomfort
of the broken window, she did not care to remain
in the room. She argued that where one stone
had come another might follow. She therefore
insisted on her room being changed. The ser-
vants said that there was no other room availa-
ble with a dressing-room and bath-room attached,
and your daughter made a point of these mat-
ters. I at once offered to exchange apartments
with her. She did me the honour to accept my
offer. Our respective belongings were moved—
and that is all. Miss RackSole is at this mo-
ment, I trust, asleep in No. 124.”
Theodore Racksole looked at the young man
for a few seconds in silence.
There was a faint knock at the door.
“Come in,” said Racksole loudly.
Someone pushed open the door, but remained
standing on the mat. It was Nella’s maid, in a
dressing-gown.
“Miss RackSole's compliments, and a thou-
sand excuses, but a book of her’s was left on the
mantel-shelf in this room. She cannot sleep,
and wishes to read.”


CHAPTER IV
ENTRANCE OF THE PRINCE
NEVERTHELESS, sundry small things weighed on
RackSole’s mind. First there was Jules’ wink.
Then there was the ribbon on the door-handle
and Jules’ visit to No. 111, and the broken win-
dow—broken from the outside. Racksole did
not forget that the time was 3 A.M. He slept
but little that night, but he was glad that he
had bought the Grand Babylon Hotel. It was
an acquisition which seemed to promise fun and
diversion.
The next morning he came across Mr. Baby-
lon early.
“I have emptied my private room of all per-
sonal papers,” said Babylon, “and it is now at
your disposal. I purpose, if agreeable to your-
self, to stay on in the hotel as a guest for the
present. We have much to settle with regard
to the completion of the purchase, and also there
are things which you might want to ask me.
Also, to tell the truth, I am not anxious to leave


ENTRANCE OF THE PRINCE 47
the old place with too much suddenness. It will
be a wrench to me.”
“I shall be delighted if you will stay,” said
the millionaire, “but it must be as my guest,
not as the guest of the hotel.”
“You are very kind.”
“As for wishing to consult you, no doubt I
shall have need to do so, but I must say that the
show seems to run itself.” -
“Ah!” said Babylon thoughtfully. “I have
heard of hotels that run themselves. If they do,
you may be sure that they obey the laws of
gravity and run downwards. You will have
your hands full. For example, have you yet
heard about Miss Spencer?”
“No,” said Racksole. “What of her?”
“She has mysteriously vanished during the
night, and nobody appears to be able to throw
any light on the affair. Her room is empty, her
boxes gone. You will want someone to take her
place, and that someone will not be very easy to
get.”
“H’m l’” Racksole said, after a pause. “Hers
is not the only post that falls vacant to-day.”
A little later, the millionaire installed himself
in the late owner's private room and rang the
bell.
“I want Jules,” he said to the page.


48 T. RACKSOLE AND DAUGHTER
While waiting for Jules, Racksole considered
the question of Miss Spencer’s disappearance.
“Good - morning, Jules,” was his cheerful
greeting, when the imperturbable waiter arrived.
“Good-morning, sir.”
“Take a chair.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“We have met before this morning, Jules.”
“Yes, sir, at three A.M.”
“Rather strange about Miss Spencer’s depar.
ture, is it not?” suggested Racksole.
“It is remarkable, sir.”
“You are aware, of course, that Mr. Babylon
has transferred all his interests in this hotel to
me?”
“I have been informed to that effect, sir.”
“I suppose you know everything that goes on
in the hotel, Jules?”
“As the head waiter, sir, it is my business to
keep a general eye on things.”
“You speak very good English for a foreigner,
Jules.”
“For a foreigner, sir! I am an Englishman,
a Hertfordshire man born and bred. Perhaps
my name has misled you, sir. I am only called
Jules because the head waiter of any really high-
class hotel must have either a French or an Ital-
ian name.”


ENTRANCE OF THE PRINCE 49
“I see,” said Racksole. “I think you must be
rather a clever person, Jules.”
“That is not for me to say, sir.”
“How long has the hotel enjoyed the advan-
tage of your services?”
“A little over twenty years.”
“That is a long time to be in one place. Don’t
you think it's time you got out of the rut? You
are still young, and might make a reputation for
yourself in another and wider sphere.” Racksole
looked at the man steadily, and his glance was
as steadily returned.
“You aren’t satisfied with me, sir?”
“To be frank, Jules, I think—I think you—er
—wink too much. And I think that it is regret-
table when a head waiter falls into a habit of
taking white ribbons from the handles of bed-
room doors at three in the morning.”
Jules started slightly.
“I see how it is, sir. You wish me to go, and
one pretext, if I may use the term, is as good as
another. Very well, I can’t say that I’m sur-
prised. It sometimes happens that there is
incompatibility of temper between a hotel pro-
prietor and his head waiter, and then, unless
one of them goes, the hotel is likely to suffer. I
will go, Mr. Racksole. In fact, I had already
thought ;: giving notice.”
__


50 T. RACKSOLE AND DAUGHTER
The millionaire smiled appreciatively.
“What wages do you require in lieu of notice?
It is my intention that you leave the hotel
within an hour.”
“I require no wages in lieu of notice, sir. I
would scorn to accept anything. And I will
leave the hotel in fifteen minutes.”
“Good-day, then. You have my good wishes
and my admiration, So long as you keep out of
my hotel.”
RackSole got up.
“Good-day, sir. And thank you.”
“By the way, Jules, it will be useless for you to
apply to any other first-rate European hotel for
a post, because I shall take measures which will
ensure the rejection of any such application.”
“Without discussing the question whether or
not there aren’t at least half-a-dozen hotels in
London alone that would jump for joy at the
chance of getting me,” answered Jules, “I may
tell you, sir, that I shall retire from my profes-
sion.”
“Really! You will turn your brains to a dif-
ferent channel.”
“No, sir. I shall take rooms in Albemarle
Street or Jermyn Street, and just be content
to be a man-about-town. I have saved some
twenty thousand pounds—a mere trifle, but


ENTRANCE OF THE PRINCE 51
sufficient for my needs, and I shall now proceed
to enjoy it. Pardon me for troubling you with
my personal affairs. And good-day again.”
That afternoon Racksole went with Félix
Babylon first to a firm of solicitors in the City,
and then to a stockbroker, in order to carry out
the practical details of the purchase of the hotel.
“I mean to settle in England,” said Racksole,
as they were coming back.
“But surely you are a true American?” ques-
tioned Babylon.
“I am a true American,” said Racksole. “My
father began by being a bednaker at an Oxford
College, went to America, and ultimately made
ten million dollars out of iron in Pittsburg. But
I shall transfer my securities to London. I shall
build a house in Park Lane, and I shall buy some
immemorial country seat with a history as long
as the S. A. and T. Railroad, and I shall calmly
and gradually settle down. D'ye know—I am
rather a good-natured man for a millionaire, and
of a social disposition, and yet I haven’t six real
friends in the whole of New York City. Think
of that l”
“And I,” said Babylon, “have no friends
except the friends of my boyhood in Lausanne.
I have spent thirty years in England, and gained
nothing but a perfect knowledge of the English


52 T. RACKSOLE AND DAUGHTER
language and as much gold coin as would fill
a rather large box.”
These two plutocrats breathed a simultaneous
sigh.
“Talking of gold coin,” said Racksole, “how
much money should you think Jules has con-
trived to amass while he has been with you?”
“Oh! ” Babylon Smiled. “I should not like to
guess. He has had unique opportunities—
unique opportunities.”
“Should you consider twenty thousand an
extraordinary sum under the circumstances?”
“Not at all. Has he been confiding in you?”
“Somewhat. I have dismissed him.”
“You have dismissed him?”
“Why not?”
“There is no reason why not. But I have felt
inclined to dismiss him for the past ten years,
and never found courage to do it.”
“It was a perfectly simple proceeding, I assure
you. Before I had done with him, I rather liked
the fellow.”
“Miss Spencer and Jules—both gone in one
day!” mused Félix Babylon.
“And no one to take their places,” said Rack-
sole. “And yet the hotel continues its way!”
But when RackSole reached the Grand Baby-
lon he found that Miss Spencer's chair in the


ENTRANCE OF THE PRINCE 53
bureau was occupied by a stately and imperious
girl, dressed becomingly in black.
“Heavens! Nella!” he cried, going to the
bureau. “What are you doing here?”
“I am taking Miss Spencer’s place. I want to
help you with your hotel, dad. I fancy I shall
make an excellent hotel clerk. I have arranged
with a Miss Selina Smith, one of the typewriters
in the office, to put me up to all the tips and
tricks, and I shall do very well.”
“But, look here, Helen Racksole. We shall
have the whole of London talking about this thing
—the greatest of all American heiresses a hotel
clerk! And I came here for quiet and rest !”
“I suppose it was for the sake of quiet and
rest that you bought the hotel, papa?”
“You would insist on the steak,” he retorted.
“Get out of this, on the instant.”
“Here I am, here I stay,” said Nella, and
deliberately laughed at her parent.
Just then the face of a fair-haired man of
about thirty years appeared at the bureau
window. He was very well-dressed, very aris-
tocratic in his pose, and he seemed rather
angry.
He looked fixedly at Nella, and started back.
“Ach!” he exclaimed. “You!”
“Yes, your Highness, it is indeed I. Father,


54 T. RACKSOLE AND DAUGHTER
this is his Serene Highness Prince Aribert of
Posen—one of our most esteemed customers.”
“You know my name, Fraulein?” the new-
comer murmured in German.
“Certainly, Prince,” Nella replied sweetly.
“You were plain Count Steenbock last spring in
Paris—doubtless travelling incognito——”
“Silence,” he entreated, with a wave of the
hand, and his forehead went as white as paper.


CHAPTER V
WHAT OCCURRED TO REGINALD DIMMOCK
IN another moment they were all three talking
quite easily, and with at any rate an appearance
of being natural. Prince Aribert became suave,
even deferential to Nella, and more friendly
towards Nella’s father than their respective posi-
tions demanded. The latter amused himself by
studying this sprig of royalty, the first with
whom he had ever come into contact. He de-
cided that the young fellow was personable
enough, “had no frills on him,” and would make
an exceptionally good commercial traveller for a
first-class firm. Such was Theodore Racksole's
preliminary estimate of the man who might one
day be the reigning Grand Duke of Posen.
It occurred to Nella, and she smiled at the
idea, that the bureau of the hotel was scarcely
the correct place in which to receive this august
young man. There he stood, with his head
half-way through the bureau window, negli-
gently leaning against the woodwork, just as


56 T. RACKSOLE AND DAUGHTER
though he were a stockbroker or the manager of
a New York burlesque company.
“Is your Highness travelling quite alone?”
she asked.
“By a series of accidents I am,” he said.
“My equerry was to have met me at Charing
Cross, but he failed to do so—I cannot imagine
why.”
“Mr. Dimmock?” questioned Racksole.
“Yes, Dimmock. I do not remember that he
ever missed an appointment before. You know
him? He has been here?”
“He dined with us last night,” said Racksole
—“on Nella’s invitation,” he added maliciously;
“but to-day we have seen nothing of him. I
know, however, that he has engaged the State
apartments, and also a suite adjoining the State
apartments — No. 55. That is so, isn’t it,
Nella? "
“Yes, papa,” she said, having first demurely
examined a ledger. “Your Highness would
doubtless like to be conducted to your room—
apartments, I mean.” Then Nella laughed de-
liberately at the Prince, and said: “I don’t know
who is the proper person to conduct you, and
that’s a fact. The truth is that papa and I are
rather raw yet in the hotel line. You see, we
only bought the place last night.”


WHAT OCCURRED TO DIMMOCK 57
“You have bought the hotel!'” exclaimed the
Prince.
“That’s so,” said Racksole.
“And Félix 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 holi-
days, but you cannot resist making a few thou-
sands by way of relaxation. I have heard of
such things.”
“We shan’t sell again, Prince, until we are
tired of our bargain. Sometimes we tire very
quickly, and sometimes we don’t. It depends—
eh? what?” Racksole broke off suddenly to
attend to a servant in livery who had quietly
entered the bureau and was making urgent mys-
terious signs to him.
“If you please, sir,” the man by frantic ges-
tures implored Mr. Theodore Racksole to come
out.
“Pray don’t let me detain you, Mr. Racksole,”
said the Prince, and therefore the proprietor of
the Grand Babylon departed after the servant,
with a queer, curt little bow to Prince Aribert.
“Mayn’t I come inside l’” said the Prince to
Nella immediately the millionaire had gone.
“Impossible, Prince,” Nella laughed. “The


58 T. RACKSOLE AND DAUGHTER
rule against visitors entering this bureau is
frightfully strict.”
“How do you know the rule is so strict if you
only came into possession last night.”
“I know because I made the rule myself this
morning, your Highness.”
“But seriously, Miss RackSole, I want to talk
to you.”
“Do you want to talk to me as Prince Aribert
or as the friend—the acquaintance—whom I
knew in Paris last year?”
“As the friend, dear lady, if I may use the
term.”
“And you are sure that you would not like
first to be conducted to your apartments?”
“Not yet. I will wait till Dimmock comes;
he cannot fail to be here soon.”
“Then we will have tea served in father's
private room—the proprietor's private room, you
know.”
“Good,” he said.
Nella talked through a telephone, and rang
several bells, and behaved generally in a manner
calculated to prove to Princes and to whomever
it might concern that she was a young woman
of business instincts and training, and then she
stepped down from her chair of office, emerged
from the bureau, and, preceded by two menials,


WHAT OCCURRED TO DIMMOCK 59
led Prince Aribert to the Louis XV. chamber in
which her father and Félix Babylon had had
their long confabulation on the previous evening.
“What do you want to talk to me about?”
she asked her companion, as she poured out for
him a second cup of tea. The Prince looked at
her for a moment as he took the proffered cup,
and being a young man of sane, healthy in-
stincts, he could think of nothing for the
moment except her loveliness. Nella was in-
deed beautiful that afternoon. The beauty of
even the most beautiful woman ebbs and flows
from hour to hour. Nella’s this afternoon was
at the flood. Vivacious, alert, imperious, and
yet ineffably sweet, she seemed to radiate the
very joy and exuberance of life.
“I have forgotten,” he said.
“You have forgotten! That is surely very
wrong of you? You gave me to understand
that it was something terribly important. But
of course I knew it couldn’t be, because no man,
and especially no Prince, ever discussed any-
thing really important with a woman.”
“Recollect, Miss Racksole, that this afternoon,
here, I am not the Prince.”
“You are Count Steenbock, is that it?”
He started. “For you only,” he said, uncon-
sciously lowering his voice. “Miss Racksole, I


60 T. RACKSOLE AND DAUGHTER
particularly wish that no one here should know
that I was in Paris last spring.”
“An affair of State?” she smiled.
“An affair of State,” he replied soberly.
“Even Dimmock doesn’t know. It was strange
that we should be fellow guests at that quiet
out-of-the-way hotel—strange but delightful.
I shall never forget that rainy afternoon that we
spent together in the Museum of the Trocadéro.
Let us talk about that.”
“About the rain, or the museum?”
“I shall never forget that afternoon,” he re-
peated, ignoring the lightness of her question.
“Nor I,” she murmured, corresponding to his
mood.
“You, too, enjoyed it?” he said eagerly.
“The sculptures were magnificent,” she re-
plied, hastily glancing at the ceiling.
“Ah! So they were ! Tell me, Miss Racksole,
how did you discover my identity?”
“I must not say,” she answered. “That is
my secret. Do not seek to penetrate it. Who
knows what horrors you might discover if you
probed too far!” She laughed, but she laughed
alone. The Prince remained pensive—as it
were, brooding.
“I never hoped to see you again,” he said.
“Why not?”


WHAT OCCURRED TO DIMMOCK 61
“One never sees again those whom one wishes
to see.”
“As for me, I was perfectly convinced that we
should meet again.”
(4 Why? 32
“Because I always get what I want.”
“Then you wanted to see me again?”
“Certainly. You interested me extremely. I
have never met another man who could talk so
well about sculpture as the Count Steenbock.”
“Do you really always get what you want,
Miss Racksole?”
“Of course.”
“That is because your father is so rich, I sup-
pose.”
“Oh, no, it isn’t l” she said. “It’s simply
because I always do get what I want. It’s got
nothing to do with father at all.”
“But Mr. Racksole is extremely wealthy?”
“Wealthy isn’t the word, Count. There is no
word. It’s positively awful the amount of
dollars poor papa makes. And the worst of it is
he can’t help it. He told me once that when a
man had made ten millions no power on earth
could stop those ten millions from growing into
twenty. And so it continues. I spend what I
can, but I can’t come near coping with it; and
of course papa is no use whatever at spending.”


62 T. RACKSOLE AND DAUGHTER
“And you have no mother?”
“Who told you I had no mother?” she asked
quickly.
“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 re-
sponsibilities.”
“I have no responsibilities,” she remarked.
“Pardon me,” he said; “you have, and the
time is coming when you will feel them.”
“I’m only a girl,” she murmured with sud-
den simplicity. “As for you, Count, surely
you have sufficient responsibilities of your
Own?”
“I?” he said sadly. “I have no responsibili-
ties. I am a nobody—a Serene Highness who
has to pretend to be very important, always
taking immense care never to do anything that
a Serene Highness ought not to do. Bah!”
“But if your nephew, Prince Eugen, were to


WHAT OCCURRED TO DIMMOCK 63
die, would you not come to the throne and would
you not then have these responsibilities which
you so much desire?”
“Eugen die?” said Prince Aribert, in a cu-
rious tone. “Impossible. He is the perfection
of health. In three months he will be married.
No, I shall never be anything but a Serene
Highness, the most despicable of God’s crea-
tures.”
“But what about the State secret which you
mentioned? Is not that a responsibility?”
“Ah!” he said. “That is over. That be-
longs to the past. It was an accident in my
dull career. I shall never be Count Steenbock
again.”
“Who knows?” she said. “By the way, is
not Prince Eugen coming here to-day? Mr.
Dimmock told us so.”
“Seel” answered the Prince, standing up and
bending over her. “I am going to confide in
you. I don’t know why, but I am.”
“Don’t betray State secrets,” she warned him,
smiling into his face.
But just then the door of the room was un-
ceremoniously opened.
“Go right in,” said a voice, sharply. It was
Theodore Racksole’s.
Two men entered, bearing a prone form on a


64 T. RACKSOLE AND DAUGHTER
stretcher, and Racksole followed them. Nella
sprang up. Racksole stared to see his daughter.
“I didn’t know you were in here, Nell.
Here,” to the two men, “out again.”
“Why?'' exclaimed Nella, gazing fearfully at
the form on the stretcher, “it’s Mr. Dimmock.”
“It is,” her father acquiesced. “He’s dead,”
he added, laconically. “I’d have broken it to
you more gently had I known. Your pardon,
Prince.” There was a pause.
“Dimmock dead!” Prince Aribert whispered,
under his breath, and he kneeled down by the
side of the stretcher. “What does this mean?”
“The poor fellow was just walking across the
quadrangle towards the portico when he fell
down. A commissionaire who saw him says he
was walking very quickly. At first I thought
it was sunstroke, but it couldn’t have been,
though the weather certainly is rather warm.
It must be heart disease. But anyhow, he's
dead. We did what we could. I’ve sent for a
doctor, and for the police. I suppose there'll
have to be an inquest.”
Theodore RackSole stopped, and in an awk-
ward solemn silence they all gazed at the dead
youth. His features were slightly drawn, and
his eyes closed; that was all. He might have
been asleep.


WHAT OCCURRED TO DIMMOCK 65
“My poor Dimmock!” exclaimed the Prince,
his voice broken. “And I was angry because
the lad did not meet me at Charing Cross!”
“Are you sure he is dead, father?” Nella said.
“You’d better go away, Nella,” was Rack-
sole’s only reply; but the girl stood still, and
began to sob quietly. On the previous night she
had secretly made fun of Reginald Dimmock.
She had deliberately set herself to get informa-
tion from him on a topic in which she happened
to be specially interested and she had got it,
laughing the while at his youthful crudities—
his vanity, his transparent cunning, his absurd
airs. She had not liked him; she had even dis-
trusted him, and decided that he was not “nice.”
But now, as he lay on the stretcher, these things
were forgotten. She went so far as to reproach
herself for them. Such is the strange com-
manding power of death.
“Oblige me by taking the poor fellow to my
apartments,” said the Prince, with a gesture to
the attendants. “Surely it is time the doctor
came.” Racksole felt suddenly at that moment
he was nothing but a mere hotel proprietor with
an awkward affair on his hands. For a fraction
of a second he wished he had never bought the
Grand Babylon.
A quarter of an hour later Prince Aribert,
5


66 T. RACKSOLE AND DAUGHTER
Theodore RackSole, a doctor, and an inspector
of police were in the Prince's reception-room.
They had just come from an ante-chamber, in
which lay the mortal remains of Reginald Dim-
mock.
“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?”
& 4 No. »y
“Then what is it?” asked the Prince.
“I may be able to answer that question after
the post-mortem,” said the doctor. “I certainly
can't answer it now. The symptoms are un-
usual to a degree.”
The inspector of police began to write in a
notebook.


CHAPTER VI
IN THE GOLD ROOM
AT the Grand Babylon a great ball was given
that night in the Gold Room, a huge saloon at-
tached to the hotel, though scarcely part of it,
and certainly less exclusive than the hotel itself.
Theodore Racksole knew nothing of the affair,
except that it was an entertainment offered by
a Mr. and Mrs. Sampson Levi to their friends.
Who Mr. and Mrs. Sampson Levi were he did
not know, nor could any one tell him anything
about them except that Mr. Sampson Levi was a
prominent member of that part of the Stock
Exchange familiarly called the Kaffir Circus,
and that his wife was a stout lady with an aqui-
line nose and many diamonds, and that they
were very rich and very hospitable. Theodore
Racksole did not want a ball in his hotel that
evening, and just before dinner he had almost a
mind to issue a decree that the Gold Room was
to be closed and the ball forbidden, and Mr. and
Mrs. Sampson Levi might name the amount of
damages suffered by them. His reasons for


68 T. RACKSOLE AND DAUGHTER
such a course were threefold—first, he felt
depressed and uneasy; second, he didn’t like the
name Sampson Levi; and, third, he had a desire
to show these so-called plutocrats that their
wealth was nothing to him, that they could not
do what they chose with Theodore Racksole, and
that for two pins Theodore Racksole would buy
them up, and the whole Kaffir Circus to boot.
But something warned him that though such a
high-handed proceeding might be tolerated in
America, that land of freedom, it would never
be tolerated in England. He felt instinctively
that in England there are things you can’t do,
and that this particular thing was one of them.
So the ball went forward, and neither Mr. nor
Mrs. Sampson Levi had ever the least suspicion
what a narrow escape they had had of looking
very foolish in the eyes of the thousand or So
guests invited by them to the Gold Room of the
Grand Babylon that evening.
The Gold Room of the Grand Babylon was
built for a ball-room. A balcony, supported by
arches faced with gilt and lapis-lazuli, ran round
it, and from this vantage men and maidens and
chaperons who could not or would not dance
might survey the scene. Everyone knew this,
and most people took advantage of it. What
every one did not know—what no one knew—


IN THE GOLD ROOM 69
was that higher up than the balcony there was
a little barred window in the end wall from
which the hotel authorities might keep a watch-
ful eye, not only on the dancers, but on the
occupants of the balcony itself.
It may seem incredible to the uninitiated that
the guests at any social gathering held in so
gorgeous and renowned an apartment as the
Gold Room of the Grand Babylon should need
the observation of a watchful eye. Yet so it
was. Strange matters and unexpected faces
had been descried from that little window, and
more than one European detective had kept vigil
there with the most eminently satisfactory re-
sults.
At eleven o’clock Theodore Racksole, afflicted
by vexation of spirit, found himself gazing idly
through the little barred window. Nella was
with him. Together they had been wandering
about the corridors of the hotel, still strange to
them both, and it was quite by accident that
they had lighted upon the small room which had
a surreptitious view of Mr. and Mrs. Sampson
Levi’s ball. Except for the light of the chandelier
of the ball-room the little cubicle was in darkness.
Nella was looking through the window; her
father stood behind.
“I wonder which is Mrs. Sampson Levi,”


70 T. RACKSOLE AND DAUGHTER
Nella said, “and whether she matches her name.
Wouldn’t you love to have a name like that,
father—something that people could take hold
of—instead of RackSole?”
The Sound of violins and a confused murmur
of voices rose gently up to them.
“Umph!” said Theodore. “Curse those
evening papers!” he added, inconsequently but
with sincerity.
“Father, you’re very horrid to-night. What
have the evening papers been doing?”
“Well, my young madame, they’ve got me in
for one, and you for another; and they’re manu-
facturing mysteries like fun. It’s young Dim-
mock’s death that has started 'em.”
“Well, father, you surely didn’t expect to
keep yourself out of the papers. Besides, as
regards newspapers, you ought to be glad you
aren’t in New York. Just fancy what the dear
old ‘Herald' would have made out of a little
transaction like yours of last night.”
“That’s true,” assented Racksole. “But it’ll
be all over New York to-morrow morning, all
the same. The worst of it is that Babylon has
gone off to Switzerland.”
& 4 Why 2 22
“Don’t know. Sudden fancy, I guess, for his
native heath.”


IN THE GOLD ROOM 71
“What difference does it make to you?”
“None. Only I feel sort of lonesome. I feel
I want some one to lean up against in running
this hotel.”
“Father, if you have that feeling you must be
getting ill.”
“Yes,” he sighed, “I admit it's unusual with
me. But perhaps you haven’t grasped the fact,
Nella, that we’re in the middle of a rather
queer business.”
“You mean about poor Mr. Dimmock?”
“Partly Dimmock and partly other things.
First of all, that Miss Spencer, or whatever
her wretched name is, mysteriously disappears.
Then there was the stone thrown into your bed-
room. Then I caught that rascal Jules conspir-
ing with Dimmock at three o’clock in the morn-
ing. Then your precious Prince Aribert arrives
without any suite—which I believe is a most
peculiar and wicked thing for a Prince to do—
and moreover I find my daughter on very inti-
mate terms with the said Prince. Then young
Dimmock goes and dies, and there is to be an
inquest; then Prince Eugen and his suite, who
were expected here for dinner, fail to turn up
at all—”
“Prince Eugen has not come?”
“He has not; and Uncle Aribert is in a deuce


72 T. RACKSOLE AND DAUGHTER
of a stew about him, and telegraphing all over
Europe. Altogether, things are working up
pretty lively.”
“Do you really think, dad, there was any-
thing between Jules and poor Mr. Dimmock?”
“Think! I know! I tell you I saw that
scamp give Dimmock a wink last night at din-
ner 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 sud-
denly, and pointed to the balcony immediately
below them. “Who’s that?” She indicated a
man with a bald patch on the back of his head,
who was propping himself up against the railing
of the balcony and gazing immovable into the
ball-room.
“Well, who is it?”
“Isn’t it, Jules?”
“Geminil By the beard of the prophet, it
is!”
“Perhaps Mr. Jules is a guest of Mrs. Samp-
son Levi.”
“Guest or no guest, he goes out of this hotel,
even if I have to throw him out myself.”


IN THE GOLD ROOM 73
Theodore Racksole disappeared without an-
other word, and Nella followed him. But when
the millionaire arrived on the balcony floor he
could see nothing of Jules, neither there nor
in the ball-room itself. Saying no word aloud,
but quietly whispering wicked expletives, he
searched everywhere in vain, and then, at last,
by tortuous stairways and corridors returned to
his original post of observation, that he might
survey the place anew from that vantage
ground. To his surprise he found a man in the
dark little room, watching the scene of the ball
as intently as he himself had been doing a few
minutes before. Hearing footsteps, the man
turned with a start.
It was Jules.
The two exchanged glances in the half light
for a second.
“Good - evening, Mr. Racksole,” said Jules
calmly. “I must apologise for being here.”
“Force of habit, I suppose,” said Theodore
Racksole drily.
“Just so, sir.”
“I fancied I had forbidden you to re-enter this
hotel?”
“I thought your order applied only to my pro-
fessional capacity. I am here to-night as the
guest of Mr. and Mrs. Sampson Levi.”


74 T. RACKSOLE AND DAUGHTER
“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 apologised.”
“Then, having apologised, you had better de-
part; that is my disinterested advice to you.”
“Good-night, sir.”
“And, I say, Mr. Jules, if Mr. and Mrs.
Sampson Levi, or any other Hebrews or Chris-
tians, should again invite you to my hotel you
will oblige me by declining the invitation.
You’ll find that will be the safest course for
you.”
“Good-night, sir.”
Before midnight struck Theodore Racksole
had ascertained that the invitation-list of Mr.
and Mrs. Sampson Levi, though a somewhat
lengthy one, contained no reference to any such
person as Jules.
He sat up very late. To be precise, he sat up
all night. He was a man who, by dint of train-
ing, could comfortably dispense with sleep when
he felt so inclined, or when circumstances made
such a course advisable. He walked to and fro
in his room, and cogitated as few people beside
Theodore Racksole could cogitate. At 6 A.M. he
took a stroll round the business part of his


IN THE GOLD ROOM 75
premises, and watched the supplies come in from
Covent Garden, from Smithfield, from Billings-
gate, and from other strange places. He found
the proceedings of the kitchen department quite
interesting, and made mental notes of things
that he would have altered, of men whose wages
he would increase and men whose wages he
would reduce. At 7 A.M. he happened to be
standing near the luggage lift, and witnessed
the descent of vast quantities of luggage, and its
disappearance into a Carter Paterson van.
“Whose luggage is that?” he inquired per-
emptorily.
The luggage clerk, with an aggrieved expres-
sion, explained to him that it was the luggage
of nobody in particular, that it belonged to
various guests, and was bound for various desti-
nations; that it was, in fact, “expressed ” lug-
gage despatched in advance, and that a similar
quantity of it left the hotel every morning about
that hour.
Theodore Racksole walked away, and break-
fasted upon one cup of tea and half a slice of
toast.
At ten o’clock he was informed that the in-
spector of police desired to see him. The inspec-
tor had come, he said, to superintend the re-
moval of the body of Reginald Dimmock to the


76 T. RACKSOLE AND DAUGHTER
mortuary adjoining the place of inquest, and a
suitable vehicle waited at the back entrance of
the hotel.
The inspector had also brought subpoenas for
himself and Prince Aribert of Posen and the
commissionaire to attend the inquest.
“I thought Mr. Dimmock’s remains were re-
moved last night,” said Racksole wearily.
“No, sir. The fact is, the van was engaged on
another job.”
The inspector gave the least hint of a profes-
sional smile, and RackSole, disgusted, told him
curtly to go and perform his duties.
In a few minutes a message came from the
inspector requesting Mr. Racksole to be good
enough to come to him on the first floor. Rack-
sole went. In the ante-room, where the body of
Reginald Dimmock had originally been placed,
were the inspector and Prince Aribert and two
policemen.
“Well?” said RackSole, after he and the
Prince had exchanged bows. Then he saw a
coffin laid across two chairs. “I see a coffin has
been obtained,” he remarked. “Quite right.”
He approached it. “It’s empty,” he observed
unthinkingly.
“Just so,” said the inspector. “The body of
the deceased has disappeared. And his Serene


IN THE GOLD ROOM 77
Highness Prince Aribert informs me that
though he has occupied a room immediately
Opposite, on the other side of the corridor, he can
throw no light on the affair.”
“Indeed, I cannot l” said the Prince, and
though he spoke with sufficient calmness and
dignity, you could see that he was deeply
pained, even distressed.
“Well, I'm—" murmured RackSole, and
stopped.


CHAPTER VII
NELLA AND THE PRINCE
TT appeared impossible to Theodore Racksole
that so cumbrous an article as a corpse could be
removed out of his hotel, with no trace, no hint,
no clue as to the time or the manner of the per-
formance of the deed. After the first feeling
of surprise, RackSole grew coldly and severely
angry. He had a mind to dismiss the entire
staff of the hotel. He personally examined the
night-watchmen, the chambermaids, and all
other persons who by chance might or ought
to know something of the affair; but without
avail. The corpse of Reginald Dimmock had
vanished utterly—disappeared like a fleshless
spirit. Of course there were the police. But
Theodore Racksole held the police in sorry
esteem. He acquainted them with the facts,
answered their queries with a patient weariness,
and expected nothing whatever from that quar-
ter. He also had several interviews with Prince
Aribert of Posen, but though the Prince was
suavity itself, and beyond doubt genuinely con-


NELLA AND THE PRINCE 79
cerned about the fate of his dead attendant, yet
it seemed to Racksole that he was keeping some-
thing back, that he hesitated to say all he knew.
RackSole, with characteristic insight, decided
that the death of Reginald Dimmock was only a
minor event, which had occurred, as it were, on
the fringe of some far more profound mystery.
And, therefore, he decided to wait, with his
eyes very wide open, until something else hap-
pened that would throw light on the business.
At the moment he took only one measure—he
arranged that the theft of Dimmock’s body
should not appear in the newspapers. It is
astonishing how well a secret can be kept, when
the possessors of the secret are handled with
the proper mixture of firmness and persuasion.
RackSole managed this very neatly. It was a
Complicated job, and his success in it rather
pleased him. -
At the same time he was conscious of being
temporarily worsted by an unknown group of
schemers, in which he felt convinced that Jules
was an important item. He could scarcely look
Nella in the eyes. The girl had evidently ex-
pected him to unmask this conspiracy at once,
with a single stroke of the millionaire's magic
Wand. She was thoroughly accustomed, in the
land of her birth, to seeing him achieve impossi-


80 T. RACKSOLE AND DAUGHTER
ble feats. Over there he was a “boss”; men
trembled before his name; when he wished a
thing to happen—well, it happened; if he de-
sired to know a thing, he just knew it. But
here, in London, Theodore Racksole was not
quite the same Theodore Racksole. He domi-
nated New York; but London, for the most
part, seemed not to take much interest in him;
and there were certainly various persons in
London who were capable of snapping their
fingers at him—at Theodore Racksole. Neither
he nor his daughter could get used to that fact.
As for Nella, she concerned herself for a little
with the ordinary business of the bureau, and
watched the incomings and outgoings of Prince
Aribert with a kindly interest. She perceived,
what her father had failed to perceive, that His
Highness had assumed an attitude of reserve
merely to hide the secret distraction and dismay
which consumed him. She saw that the poor
fellow had no settled plan in his head, and that
he was troubled by something which, so far, he
had confided to nobody. It came to her knowl-
edge that each morning he walked to and fro
on the Victoria Embankment, alone, and appar-
ently with no object. On the third morning she
decided that driving exercise on the Embank-
ment would be good for her health, and there-


NELLA AND THE PRINCE 81
upon ordered a carriage and issued forth,
arrayed in a miraculous putty-coloured gown.
Near Blackfriars Bridge she met the Prince, and
the carriage was drawn up by the pavement.
“Good-morning, Prince,” she greeted him.
“Are you mistaking this for Hyde Park?”
He bowed and smiled.
“I usually walk here in the mornings,” he
said.
“You surprise me,” she returned. “I
thought I was the only person in London who
preferred the Embankment, with this view of
the river, to the dustiness of Hyde Park. I
can’t imagine how it is that London will never
take exercise anywhere except in that ridiculous
Park. Now, if they had Central Park 22
“I think the Embankment is the finest spot in
all London,” he said.
She leaned a little out of the landau, bringing
her face nearer to his.
“I do believe we are kindred spirits, you and
I,” she murmured; and then, “Au revoir,
Wrince.”
“One moment, Miss Racksole.” His quick
tones had a note of entreaty.
“I am in a hurry,” she fibbed; “I am not
merely taking exercise this morning. You have
no idea ºw busy we are.”


NELLA AND THE PRINCE 83
Almost before he knew it he was talking to
her, rapidly, eagerly.
“Why should I weary you with my confi-
dences?” he said. “I don’t know, I cannot tell;
but I feel that I must. I feel that you will
understand me better than anyone else in the
world. And yet why should you understand
me? Again, I don’t know. Miss Racksole, I
will disclose to you the whole trouble in a word.
Prince Eugen, the hereditary Grand Duke of
Posen, has disappeared. Four days ago I was to
have met him at Ostend. He had affairs in
London. He wished me to come with him. I
sent Dimmock on in front, and waited for
Eugen. He did not arrive. I telegraphed back
to Cologne, his last stopping-place, and I learned
that he had left there in accordance with his
programme; I learned also that he had passed
through Brussels. It must have been between
Brussels and the railway station at Ostend
Quay that he disappeared. He was travelling
with a single equerry, and the equerry, too, has
vanished. I need not explain to you, Miss .
Racksole, that when a person of the importance
of my nephew contrives to get lost one must
proceed cautiously. One cannot advertise for
him in the London ‘Times.” Such a disappear-
ance must be kept secret. The people at Posen


84 T. RACKSOLE AND DAUGHTER
and at Berlin believe that Eugen is in London,
here, at this hotel; or, rather, they did so
believe. But this morning I received a cypher
telegram from—from his Majesty the Emperor, a
very peculiar telegram, asking when Eugen might
be expected to return to Posen, and requesting
that he should go first to Berlin. That telegram
was addressed to myself. Now, if the Emperor
thought that Eugen was here, why should he
have caused the telegram to be addressed to me?
I have hesitated for three days, but I can hesi-
tate no longer. I must myself go to the Em-
peror and acquaint him with the facts.”
“I suppose you’ve just got to keep straight
with him?” Nella was on the point of saying,
but she checked herself and substituted, “The
Emperor is your chief, is he not? “First among
equals,” you call him.”
“His Majesty is our over-lord,” said Aribert
quietly.
“Why do you not take immediate steps to
inquire as to the whereabouts of your Royal
nephew P” she asked simply. The affair seemed
to her just then so plain and straightforward.
“Because one of two things may have hap-
pened. Either Eugen may have been, in plain
language, abducted, or he may have had his own
reasons for changing his programme and keep-


NELLA AND THE PRINCE 85
ing in the background—out of reach of tele-
graph and post and railways.”
“What Sort of reasons?”
“Do not ask me. In the history of every
family there are passages ” He stopped.
“And what was Prince Eugen’s object in
coming to London?”
Aribert hesitated.
“Money,” he said at length. “As a family
we are very poor—poorer than anyone in Berlin
suspects.”
“Prince Aribert,” Nella said, “shall I tell you
what I think?” -
She leaned back in her chair, and looked at
him out of half-closed eyes. His pale, thie,
distinguished face held her gaze as if by some
fascination. There could be no mistaking this
man for anything else but a Prince.
“If you will,” he said.
“Prince Eugen is the victim of a plot.”
“You think So?”
“I am perfectly convinced of it.”
“But why? What can be the object of a plot
against him?”
“That is a point of which you should know
more than me,” she remarked drily.
“Ah! Perhaps, perhaps,” he said. “But,
dear Miss Racksole, why are you so sure?”


86 T. RACKSOLE AND DAUGHTER
“There are several reasons, and they are con-
nected with Mr. Dimmock. Did you ever sus-
pect, your Highness, that that poor young man
was not entirely loyal to you?”
“He was absolutely loyal,” said the Prince,
with all the earnestness of conviction.
“A thousand pardons, but he was not.”
“Miss Racksole, if any other than yourself
made that assertion, I would—I would 53
“Consign them to the deepest dungeon in
Posen?” she laughed lightly. “Listen.” And
she told him of the incidents which had occurred
in the night preceding his arrival in the hotel.
“Do you mean, Miss Racksole, that there was
an understanding between poor Dimmock and
this fellow Jules?”
“There was an understanding.”
“Impossible!”
“Your Highness, the man who wishes to
probe a mystery to its root never uses the word
“impossible.” But I will say this for young Mr.
Dimmock. I think he repented, and I think
that it was because he repented that he—er—
died so suddenly, and that his body was spirited
away.”
“Why has no one told me these things be-
fore?” Aribert exclaimed.
“Princes seldom hear the truth,” she said.


NELLA AND THE PRINCE 87
He was astonished at her coolness, her firm-
ness of assertion, her air of complete acquain-
tance with the world.
“Miss Racksole,” he said, “if you will permit
me to say it, I have never in my life met a
woman like you. May I rely on your sympathy
—your support?”
“My support, Prince? But how?”
“I do not know,” he replied. “But you could
help me if you would. A woman, when she has
brain, always has more brain than a man.”
“Ah!” she said ruefully, “I have no brains,
but I do believe I could help you.”
What prompted her to make that assertion
she could not have explained, even to herself.
But she made it, and she had a suspicion—a
preScience—that it would be justified, though
by what means, through what good fortune,
was still a mystery to her.
“Go to Berlin,” she said. “I see that you
must do that; you have no alternative. As for
the rest, we shall see. Something will occur.
I shall be here. My father will be here. You
must count us as your friends.”
He kissed her hand when he left, and after-
Wards, when she was alone, she kissed the spot
his lips had touched again and again. Now,
thinking the matter out in the calmness of soli,


88 T. RACKSOLE AND DAUGHTER
tude, all seemed strange, unreal, uncertain to
her. Were conspiracies actually possible nowa-
days? Did queer things actually happen in
Europe? And did they actually happen in Lon-
don hotels? She dined with her father that
night.
“I hear Prince Aribert has left,” said Theo-
dore Racksole.
“Yes,” she assented. She said not a word
about their interview.


CHAPTER VIII
ARRIVAL AND DEPARTURE OF THE BARONESS
ON the following morning, just before lunch, a
lady, accompanied by a maid and a considerable
quantity of luggage, came to the Grand Hotel
Babylon. She was a plump, little old lady, with
white hair and an old-fashioned bonnet, and she
had a quaint, simple smile of surprise at every-
thing in general. Nevertheless, she gave the
impression of belonging to some aristocracy,
though not the English aristocracy. Her tone to
her maid, whom she addressed in broken Eng-
lish—the girl being apparently English—was
distinctly insolent, with the calm, unconscious
insolence peculiar to a certain type of Continen-
tal nobility. The name on the lady's card ran
thus: “Raroness Zerlinski.” She desired rooms
on the hird floor. It happened that Nella was
in the bureau.
“On the third floor, madam?” questioned
Nella, in her best clerkly manner.
“I did say on de tird floor,” said the plump
little old lady.


90 T. RACKSOLE AND DAUGHTER
“We have accommodation on the second
floor.”
“I wish to be high up, out of de dust and in
de light,” explained the Baroness.
“We have no suites on the third floor, ma-
dam.”
“Never mind, no mattaire! Have you not
two rooms that communicate?”
Nella consulted her books, rather awkwardly.
“Numbers 122 and 123 communicate.”
“Or is it 121 and 122?” the little old lady
remarked quickly, and then bit her lip.
“I beg your pardon. I should have said 121
and 122.”
At the moment Nella regarded the Baroness’s
correction of her figures as a curious chance,
but afterwards, when the Baroness had ascended
in the lift, the thing struck her as somewhat
strange. Perhaps the Baroness Zerlinski had
stayed at the hotel before. For the sake of con-
venience an index of visitors to the hotel was
kept, and the index extended back for thirty
years. Nella examined it, but it did not contain
the name of Zerlinski. Then it was that Nella
began to imagine, what had swiftly crossed her
mind when first the Baroness presented herself
at the bureau, that the features of the Baroness
were remotely familiar to her. She thought,


ARRIVAL OF THE BARONESS 91
not that she had seen the old lady's face before,
but that she had seen somewhere, some time, a
face of a similar cast. It occurred to Nella to
look at the “Almanach de Gotha"—that record
of all the mazes of Continental blue blood; but
the “Almanach de Gotha " made no reference to
any barony of Zerlinski. Nella inquired where
the Baroness meant to take lunch, and was
informed that a table had been reserved for her
in the dining-room, and she at once decided to
lunch in the dining-room herself. Seated in a
corner, half-hidden by a pillar, she could survey
all the guests, and watch each group as it en-
tered or left. Presently the Baroness appeared,
dressed in black, with a tiny lace shawl, despite
the June warmth; very stately, very quaint,
and gently smiling. Nella observed her intently.
The lady ate heartily, working without haste
and without delay through the elaborate menu
of the luncheon. Nella noticed that she had
beautiful white teeth. Then a remarkable thing
happened. A cream puff was served to the
Baroness by way of sweets, and Nella was aston-
ished to see the little lady remove the top, and
with a spoon quietly take something from the
interior which looked like a piece of folded paper.
No one who had not been watching with the eye
of a lynx would have noticed anything extraor-


92 T. RACKSOLE AND DAUGHTER
dinary in the action; indeed, the chances were
nine hundred and ninety-nine to one that it
would pass unheeded. But, unfortunately for
the Baroness, it was the thousandth chance that
happened. Nella jumped up, and walking over
to the Baroness, said to her:
“I’m afraid that the tart is not quite nice,
your ladyship.”
“Thanks, it is delightful,” said the Baroness
coldly; her smile had vanished. “Who are you?
I thought you were de bureau clerk.”
“My father is the owner of this hotel, I
thought there was something in the tart which
ought not to have been there.”
Nella looked the Baroness full in the face.
The piece of folded paper, to which a little cream
had attached itself, lay under the edge of a
plate.
“No, thanks.” The Baroness smiled her sim-
ple smile.
Nella departed. She had noticed one trifling
thing besides the paper—namely, that the Bar-
oness could pronounce the English “th” sound
if she chose.
That afternoon, in her own room, Nella sat
meditating a the window for a long time, and
then she suddenly sprang up, her eyes brighten-
Ing.


DEPARTURE OF THE BARONESS 93
“I know,” she exclaimed, clapping her hands.
“It’s Miss Spencer, disguised ' Why didn't I
think of that before?” Her thoughts ran in-
stantly to Prince Aribert. “Perhaps 1 can help
him,” she said to herself, and gave a little
sigh. She went down to the office and inquired
whether the Baroness had given any instructions
about dinner. She felt that some plan must be
formulated. She wanted to get hold of Rocco,
and put him in the rack. She knew now that
Rocco, the unequalled, was also concerned in this
mysterious affair.
“The Baroness Zerlinski has left, about a
quarter of an hour ago,” said the attendant.
“But she only arrived this morning.”
“The Baroness’s maid said that her mistress
had received a telegram, and must leave at once.
The Baroness paid the bill, and went away in a
four-wheeler.”
“Where to?”
“The trunks were labelled for Ostend.”
Perhaps it was instinct, perhaps it was the
mere spirit of adventure; but that evening Nella
was to be seen of all men on th 3 steamer for
Ostend which leaves Dover at 11 P.M. She had
told no one of her intentions—I t even her
father, who was not in the hotel when she left.
She had scribbled a brief note to him to expect


94 T. RACKSOLE AND DAUGHTER
her back in a day or two, and had posted this at
Dover. The steamer was the Marie Henriette,
a large and luxurious boat, whose state-rooms
on deck vie with the glories of the Cunard and
White Star liners. One of these state-rooms,
the best, was evidently occupied, for every
curtain of its windows was carefully drawn.
Nella did not hope that the Baroness was on
board; it was quite possible for the Baroness to
have caught the eight o’clock steamer, and it
was also possible for the Baroness not to have
gone to Ostend at all, but to some other place in
an entirely different direction. Nevertheless,
Nella had a faint hope that the lady who called
herself Zerlinski might be in that curtained
state-room, and throughout the smooth moonlit
voyage she never once relaxed her observation of
its doors and its windows.
The Marie Henriette arrived in Ostend har-
bour punctually at 2 A.M. in the morning.
There was the usual heterogeneous, gesticulat-
ing crowd on the quay. Nella kept her post
near the door of the state-room, and at length
she was rewarded by seeing it open. Four mid-
dle-aged Englishmen issued from it. From a
glimpse of the interior Nella saw that they had
spent the voyage in card-playing.
It would not be too much to say that she was


DEPARTURE OF THE BARONESS 95
distinctly annoyed. She pretended to be an-
noyed with circumstances, but really she was
annoyed with Nella Racksole. At two in the
morning, without luggage, without any com-
panionship, and without a plan of campaign, she
found herself in a strange foreign port—a port
of evil repute, possessing some of the worst-
managed hotels in Europe. She strolled on the
quay for a few minutes, and then she saw the
Smoke of another steamer in the offing. She
inquired from an official what that steamer
might be, and was told that it was the eight
o'clock from Dover, which had broken down,
put into Calais for some slight necessary repairs,
and was arriving at its destination nearly four
hours late. Her mercurial spirits rose again.
A minute ago she was regarding herself as no
better than a ninny engaged in a wild-goose
chase. Now she felt that after all she had been
very sagacious and cunning. She was morally
Sure that she would find the Zerlinski woman on
this second steamer, and she took all the credit
to herself in advance. Such is human nature.
The steamer seemed interminably slow in
coming into harbour. Nella walked on the
Digue for a few minutes to watch it the better.
The town was silent and almost deserted. It
had a false and sinister aspect. She remem-


96 T. RACKSOLE AND DAUGHTER
bered tales which she had heard of this glitter-
ing resort, which in the season holds more scoun-
drels than any place in Europe, save only Monte
Carlo. She remembered that the gilded adven-
turers of every nation under the sun foregath-
ered there either for business or pleasure, and
that some of the most wonderful crimes of the
latter half of the century had been schemed
and matured in that haunt of cosmopolitan
iniquity.
When the second steamer arrived Nella stood
at the end of the gangway, close to the ticket-
collector. The first person to step on shore was
—not the Baroness Zerlinski, but Miss Spencer
herself! Nella turned aside instantly, hiding
her face, and Miss Spencer, carrying a small
bag, hurried with assured footsteps to the Cus-
tom House. It seemed as if she knew the port
of Ostend fairly well. The moon shone like day,
and Nella had full opportunity to observe her
quarry. She could see now quite plainly that
the Baroness Zerlinski had been only Miss Spen-
cer in disguise. There was the same gait, the
same movement of the head and of the hips; the
white hair was easily to be accounted for by a
wig, and the wrinkles by a paint brush and some
grease paints. Miss Spencer, whose hair was
now its old accustomed yellow, got through the


DEPARTURE OF THE BARONESS 97
Custom House without difficulty, and Nella saw
her call a closed carriage and say something
to the driver. The vehicle drove off. Nella
jumped into the next carriage—an open one—
that came up.
“Follow that carriage,” she said succinctly to
the driver in French.
“Bien, madame!” The driver whipped up his
horse, and the animal shot forward with a ter-
rific clatter over the cobbles. It appeared that
this driver was quite accustomed to following
other carriages.
“Now I am fairly in for it!” said Nella to
herself. She laughed unsteadily, but her heart
was beating with an extraordinary thump.
For some time the pursued vehicle kept well
in front. It crossed the town nearly from end
to end, and plunged into a maze of small streets
far on the south side of the Kursaal. Then
gradually Nella's equipage began to overtake it.
The first carriage stopped with a jerk before a
tall dark house, and Miss Spencer emerged.
Nella called to her driver to stop, but he, deter-
mined to be in at the death, was engaged in
Whipping his horse, and he completely ignored
her commands. He drew up triumphantly at
the tall dark house just at the moment when
Miss sº disappeared into it. The other


98 T. RACKSOLE AND DAUGHTER
carriage drove away. Nella, uncertain what
to do, stepped down from her carriage and gave
the driver some money. At the same moment a
man reopened the door of the house, which had
closed on Miss Spencer.
“I want to see Miss Spencer,” said Nella
impulsively. She couldn’t think of anything
else to say.
“Yes; she’s just arrived.”
“It’s O.K., I suppose,” said the man.
“I guess so,” said Nella, and she walked past
him into the house. She was astonished at her
own audacity. She seemed to be carried for-
ward by some strange force outside herself.
Miss Spencer was just going into a room off
the narrow hall. Nella followed her into the
apartment, which was shabbily furnished in the
Belgian lodging-house style.
“Well, Miss Spencer,” she greeted the former
Baroness Zerlinski, “I guess you didn’t expect to
see me. You left our hotel very suddenly this
afternoon, and you left it very suddenly a few
days ago; and so I’ve just called to make a few
inquiries.”
To do that lady justice, Miss Spencer bore the
surprising ordeal very well. She did not flinch;
she betrayed no emotion. The sole sign of per-
turbation was in her hurried breathing.


DEPARTURE OF THE BARONESS 99
“You have ceased to be the Baroness Zerlin-
ski,” Nella continued. “May I sit down?”
“Certainly, sit down,” said Miss Spencer,
copying the girl's tone. “You are a fairly
Smart young woman, that I will say. What do
you want? Weren't my books all straight?”
“Your books were all straight. I haven’t
come about your books. I have come about the
murder of Reginald Dimmock, the disappearance
of his corpse, and the disappearance of Prince
Eugen of Posen. I thought you might be able
to help me in some investigations which I am
making.”
Miss Spencer’s eyes gleamed, and she stood up
and moved swiftly to the mantelpiece.
“You may be a Yankee, but you’re a fool,”
she said.
She took hold of the bell-rope.
“Don’t ring that bell if you value your life,”
Said Nella.
“If what?” Miss Spencer remarked.
“If you value your life,” said Nella calmly,
and with the words she pulled from her pocket a
very neat and dainty little revolver.


CHAPTER IX
TWO WOMEN AND THE REVOLVER
“You—you’re only doing that to frighten me,"
stammered Miss Spencer, in a low, quavering
voice.
“Am I?” Nella replied, as firmly as she could,
though her hand shook violently with excite-
ment, could Miss Spencer but have observed it.
“Am I? You said just now that I might be a
Yankee girl, but I was a fool. Well, I am a
Yankee girl, as you call it; and in my country,
if they don't teach revolver-shooting in board.
ing-schools, there are at least a lot of girls who
can handle a revolver. I happen to be one of
them.". I tell you that if you ring that bell you
will Suffer.”
Most of this was simple bluff on Nella's part,
and she trembled lest Miss Spencer should per-
ceive that it was simple bluff. Happily for her,
Miss Spencer belonged to that order of women
who have every sort of courage except physical
courage. Miss Spencer could have withstood
successfully any moral trial, but persuade her


TWO WOMEN AND THE REVOLVER 101
that her skin was in danger, and she would suc-
cumb. Nella at once divined this useful fact,
and proceeded accordingly, hiding the strange-
ness of her own sensations as well as she could.
“You had better sit down now,” said Nella,
“and I will ask you a few questions.”
And Miss Spencer obediently sat down, rather
white, and trying to screw her lips into a formal
Smile. -
“Why did you leave the Grand Babylon that
night?” Nella began her examination, putting
On a stern, barrister-like expression.
“I had orders to, Miss Racksole.”
“Whose orders?”
“Well, I'm—I’m—the fact is, I’m a married
woman, and it was my husband's orders.”
“Who is your husband?”
“Tom Jackson—Jules, you know, head waiter
at the Grand Babylon.”
“So Jules’ real name is Tom Jackson? Why
did he want you to leave without giving notice?”
“I’m sure I don’t know, Miss Racksole. I
Swear I don’t know. He's my husband, and, of
course, I do what he tells me, as you will some
day do what your husband tells you. Please
heaven you’ll get a better husband than mine!”
Miss Spencer showed a sign of tears.
Nella fingered the revolver, and put it at full


102 T. RACKSOLE AND DAUGHTER
cock. “Well,” she repeated, “why did he want
you to leave?” She was tremendously surprised
at her own coolness, and somewhat pleased with
it, too.
“I can’t tell you, I can’t tell you.”
“You’ve just got to,” Nella said, in a terrible,
remorseless tone.
“He —he wished me to come over here to
Ostend. Something had gone wrong. Oh!
he’s a fearful man, is Tom. If I told you,
he’d—”
“Had something gone wrong in the hotel, or
Over here?”
“Both.”
“Was it about Prince Eugen of Posen?”
“I don’t know—that is, yes, I think so.”
“What has your husband to do with Prince
Eugen?”
“I believe he has some—some sort of business
with him, some money business.”
“And was Mr. Dimmock in this business?”
“I fancy so, Miss Racksole. I’m telling you
all I know, that I swear.”
“Did your husband and Mr. Dimmock have a
quarrel that night in Room 111?”
“They had some difficulty.”
“And the result of that was that you came to
Ostend instantly?”


TWO WOMEN AND THE REVOLVER 103
“Yes; I suppose so.”
“And what were you to do in Ostend? What
were your instructions from this husband of
yours?”
Miss Spencer’s head dropped on her arms on
the table which separated her from Nella, and
she appeared to sob violently.
“Have pity on me,” she murmured, “I can’t
tell you any more.”
(4 Why? 22
“He’d kill me if he knew.”
“You’re wandering from the subject,” ob-
served Nella coldly. “This is the last time I
shall warn you. Let me tell you plainly I’ve
got the best reasons for being desperate, and if
anything happens to you I shall say I did it in
self-defence. Now, what were you to do in
Ostend?”
“I shall die for this anyhow,” whined Miss
Spencer, and then, with a sort of fierce despair,
“I had to keep watch on Prince Eugen.”
“Where? In this house?”
Miss Spencer nodded, and, looking up, Nella
Could see the traces of tears in her face.
“Then Prince Eugen was a prisoner? Some-
One had captured him at the instigation of
Jules?”
“Yes, if you must have it.”


104 T. RACKSOLE AND DAUGHTER
“Why was it necessary for you specially to
COme to Ostend?”
“Oh! Tom trusts me. You see, I know
Ostend. Before I took that place at the Grand
Babylon I had travelled over Europe, and Tom
knew that I knew a thing or two.”
“Why did you take the place at the Grand
Babylon?”
“Because Tom told me to. He said I should
be useful to him there.”
“Is your husband an Anarchist, or something
of that kind, Miss Spencer?” -
“I don’t know. I'd tell you in a minute if I
knew. But he's one of those that keep them.
selves to themselves.”
“Do you know if he has ever committed a
murder? 22
“Never!” said Miss Spencer, with righteous
repudiation of the mere idea.
“But Mr. Dimmock was murdered. He was
Poisoned. If he had not been poisoned why was
his body stolen? It must have been stolen to
Prevent inquiry, to hide traces. Tell me about
that.”
“I take my dying oath,” said Miss Spencer,
standing up, a little way from the table, “I take
my dying oath I didn’t know Mr. Dimmock was
dead till I saw it in the newspaper.”


TWO WOMEN AND THE REVOLVER 105
“You swear you had no suspicion of it?”
“I swear I hadn’t.”
Nella was inclined to believe the statement.
The woman and the girl looked at each other in
the tawdry, frowsy, lamp-lit room. Miss Spen-
cer nervously patted her yellow hair into shape,
as if gradually recovering her composure and
equanimity. The whole affair seemed like a
dream to Nella, a disturbing, sinister nightmare.
She was a little uncertain what to say. She felt
that she had not yet got hold of any very definite
information. “Where is Prince Eugen now?”
she asked at length. - --
“I don’t know, miss.” 2– ~.
e e - - b t
“He isn’t in this house?” \º /
“No, miss.”
“Ah! We will see presently.”
“They took him away, Miss Racksole.”
“Who took him away? Some of your hus-
band’s friends?”
“Some of his—acquaintances.”
“Then there is a gang of you?”
“A gang of us—a gang! I don’t know what
you mean,” Miss Spencer quavered.
“Oh, but you must know,” Smiled Nella
calmly. “You can’t possibly be so innocent as
all that, Mrs. Tom Jackson. You can’t play
games with me. You’ve just got to remember


106 T. RACKSOLE AND DAUGHTER
that I’m what you call a Yankee girl. There's
one thing that I mean to find out, within the
next five minutes, and that is — how your
charming husband kidnapped Prince Eugen,
and why he kidnapped him. Let us begin
with the second question. You have evaded it
Once.”
Miss Spencer looked into Nella’s face, and
then her eyes dropped, and her fingers worked
nervously with the table-cloth.
“How can I tell you,” she said, “when I
don’t know? You’ve got the whip-hand of
me, and you’re tormenting me for your own
pleasure.” She wore an expression of persecu-
ted innocence.
“Did Mr. Tom Jackson want to get some
money out of Prince Eugen?”
“Money! Not hel Tom's never short of
money.”
“But I mean a lot of money—tens of thou-
sands, hundreds of thousands?”
“Tom never wanted money from anyone,”
said Miss Spencer doggedly.
“Then had he some reason for wishing to
prevent Prince Eugen from coming to Lon-
don?”
“Perhaps he had. I don’t know. If you kill
me, I don’t know.”


TWO WOMEN AND THE REVOLVER 107
Nella stopped to reflect. Then she raised the
revolver. It was a mechanical, unintentional
sort of action, and certainly she had no intention
of using the weapon, but, strange to say, Miss
Spencer again cowered before it. Even at that
moment Nella wondered that a woman like Miss
Spencer could be so simple as to think the re-
volver would actually be used. Having abso-
lutely no physical cowardice herself, Nella had
the greatest difficulty in imagining that other
people could be at the mercy of a bodily fear.
Still, she saw her advantage, and used it relent-
lessly, and with as much theatrical gesture as
she could command. She raised the revolver till
it was level with Miss Spencer’s face, and sud-
denly a new, queer feeling took hold of her.
She knew that she would indeed use that re-
volver now, if the miserable woman before her
drove her too far. She felt afraid—afraid of
herself; she was in the grasp of a savage,
primeval instinct. In a flash she saw Miss
Spencer dead at her feet—the police—a court of
justice—the scaffold. It was horrible.
“Speak,” she said hoarsely, and Miss Spen-
Cer's face went whiter.
“Tom did say,” the woman whispered rapidly,
awesomely, “that if Prince Eugen got to Lon-
do: it would upset his scheme.”
i
|


108 T. RACKSOLE AND DAUGHTER
“What scheme? What scheme? Answer
me.”
“Heaven help me, I don’t know.” Miss
Spencer sank into a chair. “He said Mr. Dim-
mock had turned tail, and he should have to
settle him, and then Rocco—”
“Rocco' What about Rocco?” Nella could
scarcely hear herself. Her grip of the revolver
tightened.
Miss Spencer’s eyes opened wider; she gazed
at Nella with a glassy stare.
“Don’t ask me. It’s death!” Her eyes were
fixed as if in horror.
“It is,” said Nella, and the sound of her voice
seemed to her to issue from the lips of some third
person.
“It’s death,” repeated Miss Spencer, and grad-
ually her head and shoulders sank back, and
hung loosely over the chair. Nella was con-
scious of a sudden revulsion. The woman had
surely fainted. Dropping the revolver she ran
round the table. She was herself again—femi-
nine, sympathetic, the old Nella. She felt im-
mensely relieved that this had happened. But
at the same instant Miss Spencer sprang up from
the chair like a cat, seized the revolver, and
with a wild movement of the arm flung it
against the window. It crashed through the


TWO WOMEN AND THE REVOLVER 109
glass, exploding as it went, and there was a
tense silence.
“I told you that you were a fool,” remarked
Miss Spencer slowly, “coming here like a sort of
female Jack Sheppard, and trying to get the
best of me. We are on equal terms now. You
frightened me, but I knew I was a cleverer
woman than you, and that in the end, if I kept
on long enough, I should win. Now it will be
my turn.”
Dumbfounded, and overcome with a miserable
sense of the truth of Miss Spencer’s words, Nella
stood still. The idea of her colossal foolishness
swept through her like a flood. She felt almost
ashamed. But even at this juncture she had no
fear. She faced the woman bravely, her mind
leaping about in search of some plan. She could
think of nothing but a bribe—an enormous
bribe.
“I admit you’ve won,” she said, “but I’ve not
finished yet. Just listen.”
Miss Spencer folded her arms, and glanced at
the door, smiling bitterly.
“You know my father is a millionaire; per-
haps you know that he is one of the richest men
in the world. If I give you my word of honour
not to reveal anything that you’ve told me,
what will you take to let me go free?”


TWO WOMEN AND THE REVOLVER 111
again in her chair. A draught of air from the
broken window blew on her cheek. Steps
Sounded in the passage; the door opened, but
Nella did not turn round. She could not move
her eyes from Miss Spencer's. There was a
noise of rushing water in her ears. She lost
consciousness, and slipped limply to the ground.


CHAPTER X
AT SEA
IT seemed to Nella that she was being rocked
gently in a vast cradle, which swayed to and fro
with a motion at once slow and incredibly gentle.
This sensation continued for some time, and
there was added to it the sound of a quick, quiet,
muffled beat. Soft, exhilarating breezes wafted
her forward in spite of herself, and yet she
remained in a delicious calm. She wondered if
her mother was kneeling by her side, whispering
some lullaby in her childish ears. Then strange
colours swam before her eyes, her eyelids wa-
vered, and at last she awoke. For a few mo-
ments her gaze travelled to and fro in a vain
search for some clue to her surroundings. She
was aware of nothing except a sense of repose
and a feeling of relief that some mighty and
fatal struggle was over; she cared not whether
she had conquered or suffered defeat in that
struggle of her soul with some other soul; it
was finished, done with, and the consciousness
of its conclusion satisfied and contented her.


AT SEA 113
Gradually her brain, recovering from its obses-
sion, began to grasp the phenomena of her
surroundings, and she saw that she was on a
yacht, and that the yacht was moving. The
motion of the cradle was the smooth rolling of
the vessel; the beat was the beat of its screw;
the strange colours were the cloud tints thrown
by the sun as it rose over a distant and receding
shore in the wake of the yacht; her mother’s
lullaby was the crooned song of the man at the
wheel. Nella all through her life had had many
experiences of yachting. From the waters of
the River Hudson to those bluer tides of the
Mediterranean Sea, she had yachted in all sea-
Sons and all weathers. She loved the water,
and now it seemed deliciously right and proper
that she should be on the water again. She
raised her head to look round, and then let it
sink back: she was fatigued, enervated; she
desired only solitude and calm; she had no care,
no anxiety, no responsibility: a hundred years
might have passed since her meeting with Miss
Spencer, and the memory of that meeting
appeared to have faded into the remotest back-
ground of her mind.
It was a small yacht, and her practised eye at
once told that it belonged to the highest aristoc-
racy of pleasure craft. As she reclined in the


114 T. RACKSOLE AND DAUGHTER
deck-chair (it did not occur to her at that mo-
ment to speculate as to the identity of the person
who had led her therein) she examined all visible
details of the vessel. The deck was as white
and smooth as her own hand, and the seams ran
- along its length like blue veins. All the brass-
work, from the band round the slender funnel
to the concave surface of the binnacle, shone like
gold. The tapered masts stretched upwards at a
rakish angle, and the rigging seemed like spun
silk. No sails were set; the yacht was under
steam, and doing about seven or eight knots.
She judged that it was a boat of a hundred tons
or so, probably Clyde-built, and not more than
two or three years old. No one was to be seen
on deck except the man at the wheel: this man
wore a blue jersey; but there was neither name
nor initial on the jersey, nor was there a name
on the white lifebuoys lashed to the main rig-
ging, nor on the polished dinghy which hung
high on the starboard davits. She called to the
man, and called again, in a feeble voice, but the
steerer took no notice of her, and continued his
quiet song as though nothing else existed in the
universe save the yacht, the Sea, the sun, and
himself.
Then her eyes swept the outline of the land
from which they were hastening, and she could


AT SEA 115
just distinguish a lighthouse and a great white
irregular dome, which she recognised as the
Kursaal at Ostend, that gorgeous rival of the
gaming palace at Monte Carlo. So she was
leaving Ostend. The rays of the sun fell on her
caressingly, like a restorative. All around the
Water was changing from wonderful greys and
dark blues to still more wonderful pinks and
translucent unearthly greens; the magic kalei-
doscope of dawn was going forward in its ac-
customed way, regardless of the vicissitudes of
mortals. Here and there in the distance she
descried a sail—the brown sail of some Ostend
fishing-boat returning home after a night's
trawling. Then the beat of paddles caught her
ear, and a steamer blundered past, wallowing
clumsily among the waves like a tortoise. It
Was the Swallow from London. She could see
Some of its passengers leaning curiously over
the aft-rail. A girl in a mackintosh signalled to
her, and mechanically she answered the salute
with her arm. The officer on the bridge of the
Swallow hailed the yacht, but the man offered
no reply. In another minute the Swallow was
nothing but a blot in the distance.
Nella tried to sit straight in the deck-chair,
but she found herself unable to do so. Throw-
ing off the rug which covered her, she discovered


116 T. RACKSOLE AND DAUGHTER
that she had been tied to the chair by means of a
piece of broad webbing. Instantly she was
alert, awake, angry; she knew that her perils
were not over; she felt that possibly they had
scarcely yet begun. Her lazy contentment, her
dreamy sense of peace and repose, vanished
utterly, and she steeled herself to meet the dan-
gers of a grave and difficult situation.
Just at that moment a man came up from
below. He was a man of forty or so, clad in
irreproachable blue, with a peak yachting cap.
He raised the cap politely.
“Good-morning,” he said. “Beautiful sun-
rise, isn’t it?” The clever and calculated inso-
lence of his tone cut her like a lash as she lay
bound in the chair. Like all people who have
lived easy and joyous lives in those fair regions
where gold smoothes every crease and law keeps
a tight hand on disorder, she found it hard to
realise that there were other regions where gold
was useless and law without power. Twenty-
four hours ago she would have declared it impos-
sible that such an experience as she had suffered
could happen to anyone; she would have talked
airily about civilisation and the nineteenth cen-
tury, and progress and the police. But her
experience was teaching her that human nature
remains always the same, and that beneath the


AT SEA 117
thin crust of security on which we good citizens
exist the dark and secret forces of crime con-
tinue to move, just as they did in the days when
you couldn’t go from Cheapside to Chelsea with-
out being set upon by thieves. Her experience
was in a fair way to teach her this lesson better
than she could have learnt it even in the bureaus
of the detective-police of Paris, London, and St.
Petersburg.
“Good-morning,” the man repeated, and she
glanced at him with a sullen, angry gaze.
“You!” she exclaimed. “You, Mr. Thomas
Jackson, if that is your name! Loose me from
this chair, and I will talk to you.” Her eyes
flashed as she spoke, and the contempt in them
added mightily to her beauty. Mr. Thomas
Jackson, otherwise Jules, erstwhile head waiter
at the Grand Babylon, considered himself a
Connoisseur in feminine loveliness, and the
vision of Nella Racksole smote him like an
exquisite blow.
“With pleasure,” he replied. “I had forgot-
ten that to prevent you from falling I had se-
cured you to the chair”; and with a quick
movement he unfastened the band. Nella stood
up, quivering with fiery annoyance and scorn.
“Now,” she said, fronting him, “what is the
meaning of this?”


11S T. RACKSOLE AND DAUGHTER
“You fainted,” he replied imperturbably,
“Perhaps you don’t remember.”
The man offered her a deck chair with a
characteristic gesture. Nella was obliged to
acknowledge, in spite of herself, that the fellow
had distinction, an air of breeding. No One
would have guessed that for twenty years he
had been an hotel waiter. His long, lithe figure
and easy, careless carriage seemed to be the
figure and carriage of an aristocrat, and his
voice was quiet, restrained, and authoritative.
“That has nothing to do with my being car-
ried off in this yacht of yours.”
“It is not my yacht,” he said, “but that is a
minor detail. As to the more important matter,
forgive me that I remind you that only a few
hours ago you were threatening a lady in my
house with a revolver.”
“Then it was your house.”
“Why not? May I not possess a house?”
He smiled.
“I must request you to put the yacht about
at once, instantly, and take me back.” She
tried to speak firmly.
“Ah!” he said, “I’m afraid that’s impossible.
I didn’t put out to sea with the intention of
returning at once, instantly.” In the last words
he gave a faint imitation of her tone,


AT SEA 119
“When I do get back,” she said, “when
my father gets to know of this affair, it will
be an exceedingly bad day for you, Mr. Jack-
Son.”
“But supposing your father doesn’t hear of
it——”
“What?”
“Supposing you never get back?”
“Do you mean, then, to have my murder on
your conscience?”
“Talking of murder,” he said, “you came
very near to murdering my friend, Miss Spen-
cer. At least, so she tells me.”
“Is Miss Spencer on board?” Nella asked,
Seeing perhaps a faint ray of hope in the possible
presence of a woman.
“Miss Spencer is not on board. There is no
One on board except you and myself and a small
crew—a very discreet crew, I may add.”
“I will have nothing more to say to you.
You must take your own course.”
“Thanks for the permission,” he said. “I will
send you up some breakfast.”
He went to the saloon stairs and whistled, and
a negro boy appeared with a tray of chocolate.
Nella took it, and, without the slightest hesita-
tion, threw it overboard. Mr. Jackson walked
away a few steps and then returned.


120 T. RACKSOLE AND DAUGHTER
“You have spirit,” he said, “and I admire
spirit. It is a rare quality.”
She made no reply.
“Why did you mix yourself up in my affairs
at all?” he went on.
Again she made no reply, but the question Set
her thinking: why had she mixed herself up in
this mysterious business? It was quite at vari-
ance with the usual methods of her gay and
butterfly existence to meddle at all with serious
things. Had she acted merely from a desire to
see justice done and wickedness punished? Or
was it the desire of adventure? Or was it, per-
haps, the desire to be of service to His Serene
Highness Prince Aribert?
“It is no fault of mine that you are in this
fix,” Jules continued. “I didn't bring you into
it. You brought yourself into it. You and your
father—you have been moving along at a pace
which is rather too rapid.”
“That remains to be seen,” she put in coldly.
“It does,” he admitted. “And I repeat that I
can’t help admiring you—that is, when you
aren’t interfering with my private affairs. That
is a proceeding which I have never tolerated
from anyone—not even from a millionaire, not
even from a beautiful woman.” He bowed. “I
will tell you what I propose to do. I propose to


AT SEA 121
escort you to a place of safety, and to keep you
there till my operations are concluded, and
the possibility of interference entirely removed.
You spoke just now of murder. What a crude
notion that was of yours! It is only the ama.
teur who practises murder—”
“What about Reginald Dimmock?” she inter-
jected quickly.
He paused gravely.
“Reginald Dimmock,” he repeated. “I had
imagined his was a case of heart disease. Let
me send you up some more chocolate. I’m sure
you’re hungry.”
“I will starve before I touch your food,” she
said.
“Gallant creature!” he murmured, and his
eyes roved over her face. Her superb, super-
cilious beauty overcame him. “Ah!” he said,
“what a wife you would make!” He ap-
proached nearer to her. “You and I, Miss
RackSole, your beauty and wealth and my brains
—we could conquer the world. Few men are
worthy of you, but I am one of the few. Listen!
You might do worse. Marry me. I am a great
man; I shall be greater. I adore you. Marry
me, and I will save your life. All shall be well.
I will begin again. The past shall be as though
there had been no past.”


122 T. RACKSOLE AND DAUGHTER
“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 argu-
ment. “Then what will occur to your present
Wife?”
“My present wife?”
“Yes, Miss Spencer, as she is called.”
“She told you I was her husband?”
“Incidentally, she did.”
“She isn’t.”
“Perhaps she isn’t. But, nevertheless, I
think I won’t marry you.” Nella stood like a
statue of scorn before him.
He went still nearer to her. “Give me a kiss,
then; one kiss—I won’t ask for more; one kiss
from those lips, and you shall go free. Men
have ruined themselves for a kiss. I will.”
“Coward l’” she ejaculated.
“Coward l’’ he repeated. “Coward, am I?
Then I’ll be a coward, and you shall kiss me
whether you will or not.”
He put a hand on her shoulder. As she
shrank back from his lustrous eyes, with an
involuntary scream, a figure sprang out of the
dinghy a few feet away. With a single blow,
neatly directed to Mr. Jackson’s ear, Mr. Jack-


AT SEA 123
son was stretched senseless on the deck. Prince
Aribert of Posen stood over him with a revolver.
It was probably the greatest surprise of Mr.
Jackson's whole life.
“Don’t be alarmed,” said the Prince to Nella,
“my being here is the simplest thing in the
world, and I will explain it as soon as I have
finished with this fellow.”
Nella could think of nothing to say, but she
noticed the revolver in the Prince’s hand.
“Why,” she remarked, “that's my revolver.”
“It is,” he said, “and I will explain that, too.”
The man at the wheel gave no heed whatever
to the scene.


CHAPTER XI
THE COURT PAWNBROKER
“MR. SAMPSON LEVI wishes to see you, sir.”
These words, spoken by a servant to Theodore
Racksole, aroused the millionaire from a reverie
which had been the reverse of pleasant. The
fact was, and it is necessary to insist on it, that
Mr. Racksole, owner of the Grand Babylon
Hotel, was by no means in a state of self-satis-
faction. A mystery had attached itself to his
hotel, and with all his acumen and knowledge of
things in general he was unable to solve that
mystery. He laughed at the fruitless efforts of
the police, but he could not honestly say that his
own efforts had been less barren. The public
was talking, for, after all, the disappearance of
poor Dimmock's body had got noised abroad in
an indirect sort of way, and Theodore Rack-
sole did not like the idea of his impeccable
hotel being the subject of sinister rumours. He
wondered, grimly, what the public and the
Sunday newspapers would say if they were


THE COURT PAWNBROKER 125
aware of all the other phenomena, not yet com-
mon property: of Miss Spencer's disappearance,
of Jules’ strange visits, and of the non-arrival
of Prince Eugen of Posen. Theodore Racksole
had worried his brains without result. He had
conducted an elaborate private investigation
without result, and he had spent a certain
amount of money without result. The police
said that they had a clue; but Racksole re-
marked that it was always the business of the
police to have a clue, that they seldom had more
than a clue, and that a clue without some sequel
to it was a pretty stupid business. The only
Sure thing in the whole affair was that a cloud
rested over his hotel, his beautiful new toy, the
finest of its kind. The cloud was not interfering
with business, but, nevertheless, it was a cloud,
and he fiercely resented its presence; perhaps it
would be more correct to say that he fiercely
resented his inability to dissipate it.
“Mr. Sampson Levi wishes to see you, sir,”
the servant repeated, having received no sign
that his master had heard him.
“So I hear,” said Racksole. “Does he want
to see me, personally?”
“He asked for you, sir.”
“Perhaps it is Rocco he wants to see, about a
menu or something of that kind?”


THE COURT PAWNBROKER 127
“Good-day,” said Racksole briefly. “To what
do I owe the pleasure 32
“I expect your time is limited,” answered
Sampson Levi. “Anyhow, mine is, and so I’ll
come straight to the point, Mr. Racksole. I’m a
plain man. I don’t pretend to be a gentleman
Or any nonsense of that kind. I’m a stock-
broker, that's what I am, and I don’t care who
knows it. The other night I had a ball in this
hotel. It cost me a couple of thousand and odd
pounds, and, by the way, I wrote out a cheque
for your bill this morning. I don’t like balls,
but they’re useful to me, and my little wife likes
'em, and so we give 'em. Now, I’ve nothing to
Say against the hotel management as regards
that ball: it was very decently done, very
decently, but what I want to know is this—Why
did you have a private detective among my
guests?”
“A private detective?” exclaimed Racksole,
Somewhat surprised at this charge.
“Yes,” Mr. Sampson Levi said firmly, fanning
himself in his chair, and gazing at Theodore
RackSole with the direct earnest expression of
a man having a grievance. “Yes; a private
detective. It's a small matter, I know, and I
dare say you think you’ve got a right, as proprie-
tor of the show, to do what you like in that line;


128 T. RACKSOLE AND DAUGHTER
but I’ve just called to tell you that I object,
I’ve called as a matter of principle. I’m not
angry; it’s the principle of the thing.”
“My dear Mr. Levi,” said Racksole, “I assure
you that, having let the Gold Room to a private
individual for a private entertainment, I should
never dream of doing what you suggest.”
“Straight?” asked Mr. Sampson Levi, using
his own picturesque language.
“Straight,” said Racksole, smiling.
“There was a gent present at my ball that I
didn’t ask. I’ve got a wonderful memory for
faces, and I know. Several fellows asked me
afterwards what he was doing there. I was told
by someone that he was one of your waiters, but
I didn’t believe that. I know nothing of the
Grand Babylon; it’s not quite my style of tav-
ern, but I don’t think you’d send one of your
own waiters to watch my guests—unless, of
course, you sent him as a waiter; and this chap
didn’t do any waiting, though he did his share
of drinking.”
“Perhaps I can throw some light on this
mystery,” said RackSole. “I may tell you that
I was already aware that a man had attended
your ball uninvited.”
“How did you get to know?”
“By pure chance, Mr. Levi, and not by in.


130 T. RACKSOLE AND DAUGHTER
only asking because I thought you might be able
to give me a hint why he turned up uninvited at
my ball. Sorry if I’m too inquisitive.”
“Not at all, Mr. Levi; but I really don't
know. I only sort of felt that he was a suspi-
cious character. I dismissed him on instinct, as
it were. See?”
Without answering this question Mr. Levi
asked another. “If this Jules is such a well-
known person,” he said, “how could the feller
hope to come to my ball without being recog-
nised?”
“Give it up,” said Racksole promptly.
“Well, I’ll be moving on,” was Mr. Sampson
Levi’s next remark: “Good-day, and thank ye.
I suppose you aren’t doing anything in Kaffirs?”
Mr. RackSole Smiled a negative.
“I thought not,” said Levi. “Well, I never
touch American rails myself, and so I reckon
we sha’n’t come across each other. Good-
day.” -
“Good-day,” said Racksole politely, following
Mr. Sampson Levi to the door. With his hand
on the handle of the door, Mr. Levi stopped, and,
gazing at Theodore Racksole with a shrewd,
quizzical expression, remarked:
“Strange things been going on here lately,
eh?”


THE COURT PAWNBROKER 131
3.
The two men looked very hard at each other
for several seconds.
“Yes,” Racksole assented. “Know anything
about them?”
“Well—no, not exactly,” said Mr. Levi.
“But I had a fancy you and I might be useful
to each other; I had a kind of fancy to that
effect.”
“Come back and sit down again, Mr. Levi,”
RackSole said, attracted by the evident straight-
forwardness of the man’s tone. “Now, how
can we be of service to each other? I flatter
myself I'm something of a judge of character,
especially financial character, and I tell you—if
you’ll put your cards on the table, I’ll do ditto
with mine.”
“Agreed,” said Mr. Sampson Levi. “I’ll
begin by explaining my interest in your hotel.
I have been expecting to receive a summons
from a certain Prince Eugen of Posen to attend
him here, and that summons hasn’t arrived. It
appears that Prince Eugen hasn’t come to Lon-
don at all. Now, I could have taken my dying
davy that he would have been here yesterday at
the latest.”
“Why were you so sure?”
“Question for question,” said Levi. “Let’s
clear the ground first, Mr. RackSole. Why did


132 T. RACKSOLE AND DAUGHTER
you buy this hotel? That’s a conundrum that's
been puzzling a lot of our fellows in the City for
some days past. Why did you buy the Grand
Babylon? And what is the next move to be?”
“There is no next move,” answered RackSole
candidly, “and I will tell you why I bought the
hotel; there need be no secret about it. I
bought it because of a whim.” And then TheO-
dore Racksole gave this little Jew, whom he had
begun to respect, a faithful account of the trans-
action with Mr. Félix Babylon. I suppose,” he
added, “you find a difficulty in appreciating my
state of mind when I did the deal?”
“Not a bit,” said Mr. Levi. “I once bought
an elaborate launch on the Thames in a very
similar way, and it turned out to be one of the
most satisfactory purchases I ever made. Then
it’s a simple accident that you own this hotel at
the present moment?”
“A simple accident—all because of a beefsteak
and a bottle of Bass.”
“Um l’ grunted Mr. Sampson Levi, stroking
his triple chin.
“To return to Prince Eugen,” RackSole re-
sumed. “I was expecting his Highness here.
The State apartments had been prepared for
him. He was due on the very afternoon that
young Dimmock died. But he never came, and


THE COURT PAWNBROKER 133
*
I have not heard why he has failed to arrive;
nor have I seen his name in the papers. What
his business was in London, I don’t know.”
“I will tell you,” said Mr. Sampson Levi, “he
was coming to arrange a loan.”
“A State loan?”
“No-a private loan.”
“Whom from?”
“From me, Sampson Levi. You look sur-
prised. If you’d lived in London a little longer,
you'd know that I was just the person the
Prince would come to. Perhaps you aren’t
aware that down Throgmorton Street way I’m
called ‘the Court Pawnbroker,” because I arrange
loans for the minor, second-class Princes of Eu-
rope. I’m a stockbroker, but my real business
is financing some of the little Courts of Europe.
Now I may tell you that the Hereditary Prince
of Posen particularly wanted a million, and he
wanted it by a certain date, and he knew that if
the affair wasn’t fixed up by a certain time
here he wouldn’t be able to get it by that cer-
tain 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.”


134 T. RACKSOLE AND DAUGHTER
“But he isn’t thirty years of age?”
“What of that? He isn’t the only European
Prince who has run up a million of debts in a
dozen years. To a Prince the thing is as easy as
eating a sandwich.”
“And why has he taken this sudden resolution
to liquidate them?”
“Because the Emperor and the lady’s parents
won’t let him marry till he has done so! And
quite right, too! He's got to show a clean
sheet, or the Princess Anna of Eckstein-
Schwartzburg will never be Princess of Posen.
Even now the Emperor has no idea how much
Prince Eugen’s debts amount to. If he had 55
“But would not the Emperor know of this
proposed loan?”
“Not necessarily at once. It could be
so managed. Twig’” Mr. Sampson Levi
laughed. “I’ve carried these little affairs
through before. After marriage it might be
allowed to leak out. And you know the Prin-
cess Anna’s fortune is pretty big? Now, Mr.
RackSole,” he added, abruptly changing his
tone, “where do you suppose Prince Eugen has
disappeared to? Because if he doesn't turn up
to-day he can’t have that million. To-day is the
last day. To-morrow the money will be appro-
priated elsewhere. Of course, I’m not alone in


THE COURT PAWNBROKER 185
this business, and my friends have something te
say.”
“You ask me where I think Prince Eugen has
disappeared to?”
“I do.”
“Then you think it’s a disappearance?”
Sampson Levi nodded. “Putting two and
two together,” he said, “I do. The Dimmock
business is very peculiar—very peculiar, indeed,
Dimmock was a left-handed relation of the
Posen family. Twig? Scarcely anyone knows
that. He was made secretary and companion to
Prince Aribert, just to keep him in the domestic
circle. His mother was an Irishwoman, whose
misfortune was that she was too beautiful.
Twig?” (Mr. Sampson Levi always used this
extraordinary word when he was in a communi-
cative mood.) “My belief is that Dimmock’s
death has something to do with the disappear-
ance of Prince Eugen. The only thing that
passes me is this: Why should anyone want to
make Prince Eugen disappear? The poor little
Prince hasn’t an enemy in the world. If he's
been ‘ copped,” as they say, why has he been
‘copped 'P It won’t do anyone any good.”
“Won’t it?” repeated RackSole, with a sudden
flash.
“What do you mean?” asked Mr. Levi.


136 T. RACKSOLE AND DAUGHTER
“I mean this: Suppose some other European
pauper Prince was anxious to marry Princess
Anna and her fortune, wouldn’t that Prince
have an interest in stopping this loan of yours
to Prince Eugen? Wouldn’t he have an interest
in causing Prince Eugen to disappear—at any
rate, for a time?”
Sampson Levi thought hard * , few mo-
ments.
“Mr. Theodore Racksole,” he said at length,
“I do believe you have hit on something.”


CHAPTER XII
ROCCO AND ROOM NO. 111
ON the afternoon of the same day—the interview
just described had occurred in the morning—
Racksole was visited by another idea, and he
said to himself that he ought to have thought of
it before. The conversation with Mr. Sampson
Levi had continued for a considerable time, and
the two men had exchanged various notions, and
agreed to meet again, but the theory that Regi-
nald Dimmock had probably been a traitor to his
family—a traitor whose repentance had caused
his death—had not been thoroughly discussed;
the talk had tended rather to Continental poli-
tics, with a view to discovering what princely
family might have an interest in the temporary
disappearance of Prince Eugen. Now, as Rack-
sole considered in detail the particular affair of
Reginald Dimmock, deceased, he was struck by
one point especially, to wit: Why had Dimmock
and Jules manoeuvred to turn Nella RackSole
out of Room No. 111 on that first night? That
they had so manoeuvred, that the broken


138 T. RACKSOLE AND DAUGHTER
window-pane was not a mere accident, Racksole
felt perfectly sure. He had felt perfectly sure
all along; but the significance of the facts had
not struck him. It was plain to him now that
there must be something of extraordinary and
peculiar importance about Room No. 111. After
lunch he wandered quietly upstairs and looked at
Room No. 111; that is to say, he looked at the
outside of it; it happened to be occupied, but the
guest was leaving that evening. The thought
crossed his mind that there could be no object in
gazing blankly at the outside of a room; yet he
gazed; then he wandered quickly down again to
the next floor, and in passing along the corridor
of that floor he stopped, and with an involuntary
gesture stamped his foot.
“Great Scott!” he said, “I’ve got hold of
something—No. 111 is exactly over the State
apartments.”
He went to the bureau, and issued instructions
that No. 111 was not to be re-let to anyone until
further orders. At the bureau they gave him
Nella’s note, which ran thus:
“DEAREST PAPA:—I am going away for a day
or two on the trail of a clue. If I’m not back in
three days, begin to inquire for me at Ostend.
Till then leave me alone.—Your Sagacious
daughter, NELL.”


ROCCO AND ROOM NO. 111 139
These few words, in Nella's large scrawling
hand, filled one side of the paper. At the
bottom was a P.T.O. He turned over, and read
the sentence, underlined, “P.S.—Keep an eye on
Rocco.”
“I wonder what the little creature is up to?”
he murmured, as he tore the letter into small
fragments, and threw them into the waste-paper
basket. Then, without any delay, he took the
lift down to the basement, with the object of
making a preliminary inspection of Rocco in his
lair. He could scarcely bring himself to believe
that this suave and stately gentleman, this
enthusiast of gastronomy, was concerned in the
machinations of Jules and other rascals un-
known. Nevertheless, from habit, he obeyed
his daughter, giving her credit for a certain
amount of perspicuity and cleverness.
The kitchens of the Grand Babylon Hotel are
one of the wonders of Europe. Only three years
before the events now under narration Félix
Babylon had had them newly installed with
every device and patent that the ingenuity of
two continents could supply. They covered
nearly an acre of superficial space. They were
walled and floored from end to end with tiles
and marble, which enabled them to be washed
down every morning like the deck of a man-of-


140 T. RACKSOLE AND DAUGHTER
war. Visitors were sometimes taken to see the
potato-paring machine, the patent plate-dryer,
the Babylon spit (a contrivance of Félix Baby.
lon’s own), the silver-grill, the system of con-
nected stock-pots, and other amazing phenomena
of the department. Sometimes, if they were
fortunate, they might also see the artist who
sculptured ice into forms of men and beasts for
table ornaments, or the first napkin-folder in
London, or the man who daily invented fresh
designs for pastry and blancmanges. Twelve
chefs pursued their labours in those kitchens,
helped by ninety assistant chefs, and a further
army of unconsidered menials. Over all these
was Rocco, supreme and unapproachable. Half-
way along the Suite of kitchens, Rocco had an
apartment of his own, wherein he thought out
those magnificant combinations, those marvel-
lous feats of succulence and originality, which
had given him his fame. Visitors never caught
a glimpse of Rocco in the kitchens, though
sometimes, on a special night, he would stroll
nonchalantly through the dining-room, like the
great man he was, to receive the compliments of
the hotel habitués—people of insight who recog-
nised his uniqueness.
Theodore Racksole's sudden and unusual
appearance in the kitchen caused a little stir.
*
s


ROCCO AND ROOM NO. 111 141
He nodded to some of the chefs, but said nothing
to anyone, merely wandering about amid the
maze of copper utensils and white-capped
workers. At length he saw Rocco surrounded
by several admiring chefs. Rocco was bending
over a freshly-roasted partridge which lay on a
blue dish. He plunged a long fork into the back
of the bird, and raised it in the air with his left
hand. In his right he held a long glittering
carving-knife. He was giving one of his world-
famous exhibitions of carving. In four swift,
unerring, delicate, perfect strokes he cleanly
Severed the limbs of the partridge. It was a
wonderful achievement—how wondrous none but
the really skilful carver can properly appreciate.
The chefs emitted a hum of applause, and Rocco,
long, lean, and graceful, retired to his own
apartment. RackSole followed him. Rocco sat
in a chair, one hand over his eyes; he had not
noticed Theodore Racksole.
“What are you doing, M. Rocco?” the mil-
lionaire asked, smiling.
“Ah!” exclaimed Rocco, starting up with an
apology. “Pardon' I was inventing a new
mayonnaise, which I shall need for a certain
menu next week.”
“Do you invent these things without mate-
rials, then?” questioned Racksole.


142 T. RACKSOLE AND DAUGHTER
“Certainly. I do dem in my mind. I tink
dem. Why should I want materials? I know
all flavours. I tink, and tink, and tink, and it
is done. I write down. I give the recipe to my
best chef-dere you are. I need not even taste,
I know how it will taste. It is like composing
music. De great composers do not compose at
de piano.”
“I see,” said Racksole.
“It is because I work like dat dat you pay me
tree tousand 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 ven-
ture. “They say that he and several others
are implicated in a murder case—the murder of
Reginald Dimmock.”
“Truly?” drawled Rocco, scarcely hiding a
yawn. His indifference was so superb, so gor.
geous, that Racksole instantly divined that it
was assumed for the occasion.
“It seems that, after all, the police are good
for something. But this is the first time I ever
knew them to be worth their salt. There is to
be a thorough and systematic Search of the hotel
to-morrow,” Racksole went on. “I have men-
tioned it to you to warn you that so far as you


ROCCO AND ROOM NO. 111 143
are concerned the search is of course merely a
matter of form. You will not object to the
detectives looking through your rooms?”
“Certainly not,” and Rocco shrugged his
shoulders.
“I shall ask you to say nothing about this to
anyone,” said Racksole. “The news of Jules'
arrest is quite private to myself. The papers
know nothing of it. You comprehend?”
Rocco smiled in his grand manner, and
Rocco's master thereupon went away. Racksole
was very well satisfied with the little conversa-
tion. It was perhaps dangerous to tell a series
of mere lies to a clever fellow like Rocco, and
Racksole wondered how he should ultimately
explain them to this great master-chef if his
and Nella’s suspicions should be unfounded, and
nothing came of them. Nevertheless, Rocco's
manner, a strange elusive something in the
man’s eyes, had nearly convinced RackSole that
he was somehow implicated in Jules’ schemes—
and probably in the death of Reginald Dimmock
and the disappearance of Prince Eugen of Posen.
That night, or rather about half-past one the
next morning, when the last noises of the
hotel’s life had died down, Racksole made his
way to Room 111 on the second floor. He
looked on the inside, and proceeded to examine


144 T. RACKSOLE AND DAUGHTER
the place carefully, square foot by square foot.
Every now and then some creak or other sound
startled him, and he listened intently for a few
seconds. The bedroom was furnished in the
ordinary splendid style of bedrooms at the
Grand Babylon Hotel, and in that respect called
for no remark. What most interested Racksole
was the flooring. He pulled up the thick Orien-
tal carpet, and peered along every plank, but
could discover nothing unusual. Then he went
to the dressing-room, and finally to the bath-
room, both of which opened out of the main
room. But in neither of these smaller chambers
was he any more successful than in the bedroom
itself. Finally he came to the bath, which was
enclosed in a panelled casing of polished wood,
after the manner of baths. Some baths have a
cupboard beneath the taps, with a door at the
side, but this one appeared to have none. He
tapped the panels, but not a single one of them
gave forth that “curious hollow sound” which
usually betokens a secret place. Idly he turned
the cold-tap of the bath, and the water began to
rush in. He turned off the cold-tap and turned
on the waste-tap, and as he did so his knee,
which was pressing against the panelling,
slipped forward. The panelling had given way,
and he saw that one large panel was hinged


ROCCO AND ROOM NO. 111 145
from the inside, and caught with a hasp, also on
the inside. A large space within the casing at
the end of the bath was thus revealed. Before
doing anything else, RackSole tried to repeat the
trick with the waste-tap, but he failed; it would
not work again, nor could he in any way per-
ceive that there was any connection between the
rod of the waste-tap and the hasp of the panel.
Racksole could not see into the cavity within the
casing, and the electric light was fixed, and
could not be moved about like a candle. He felt
in his pockets, and fortunately discovered a box
of matches. Aided by these, he looked into the
cavity, and saw nothing; nothing except a
rather large hole at the far end—some three feet
from the casing. With some difficulty he
Squeezed himself through the open panel, and
took a half-kneeling, half-sitting posture within.
There he struck a match, and it was a most
unfortunate thing that in striking, the box
being half open, he set fire to all the matches,
and was half smothered in the atrocious stink of
phosphorus which resulted. One match burned
clear on the floor of the cavity, and, rubbing
his eyes, RackSole picked it up, and looked down
the hole which he had previously descried. It
was a hole apparently bottomless, and about
eighteen, inches Square. The curious part about


146 T. RACKSOLE AND DAUGHTER
the hole was that a rope-ladder hung down it.
When he saw that rope-ladder Racksole smiled
the smile of a happy man.
The match went out.
Should he make a long journey, perhaps to
some distant corner of the hotel, for a fresh box
of matches, or should he attempt to descend that
rope-ladder in the dark? He decided on the
latter course, and he was the more strongly
moved thereto as he could now distinguish a
faint, a very faint tinge of light at the bottom
of the hole.
With infinite care he composed himself into
the well-like hole, and descended the ladder. At
length he arrived on firm ground, perspiring,
but quite safe and quite excited. He saw now
that the tinge of light came through a small
hole in the wood. He put his eye to the wood,
and found that he had a fine view of the State
bathroom, and through the door of the State
bathroom into the State bedroom. At the
massive marble-topped washstand in the State
bedroom a man was visible, bending over some
object which lay thereon.
The man was Rocco.


CHAPTER XIII
IN THE STATE BEDROOM
IT was of course plain to Racksole that the
peculiar passage-way which he had, at great
personal inconvenience, discovered between the
bathroom of No. 111 and the State bathroom on
the floor below must have been specially designed.
by some person or persons for the purpose of
keeping a nefarious watch upon the occupants of
the State suite of apartments. It was a means
of communication at once simple and ingenious.
At that moment he could not be sure of the
precise method employed for it, but he surmised
that the casing of the waterpipes had been used
as a “well,” while space for the pipes them-
selves had been found in the thickness of the
ample brick walls of the Grand Babylon. The
eye-hole, through which he now had a view of
the bedroom, was a very minute one, and proba-
bly would scarcely be noticed from the exterior.
One thing he observed concerning it, namely,
that it had been made for a man somewhat
taller than himself; he was obliged to stand on


148 T. RACKSOLE AND DAUGHTER
tiptoe in order to get his eye in the correct posi-
tion. He remembered that both Jules and
Rocco were distinctly above the average height;
also that they were both thin men, and could
have descended the well with comparative ease.
Theodore RackSole, though not stout, was a
well-set man with large bones.
These things flashed through his mind as he
gazed, spellbound, at the mysterious movements
of Rocco. The door between the bathroom and
the bedroom was wide open, and his own situa-
tion was such that his view embraced a consid-
erable portion of the bedroom, including the
whole of the immense and gorgeously-uphol-
stered bedstead, but not including the whole of
the marble washstand. He could see only half
of the washstand, and at intervals Rocco passed
out of sight as his lithe hands moved over the
object which lay on the marble. At first Theo-
dore Racksole could not decide what this object
was, but after a time, as his eyes grew accus-
tomed to the position and the light, he made it
out.
It was the body of a man. Or, rather, to be
more exact, Racksole could discern the legs of a
man on that half of the table which was visible
to him. Involuntarily he shuddered, as the con-
viction forced itself upon him that Rocco had


IN THE STATE BEDROOM 149
Some unconscious human being helpless on that
cold marble surface. The legs never moved.
Therefore, the hapless creature was either asleep
Or under the influence of an anaesthetic—or
(horrible thought') dead.
Racksole wanted to call out, to stop by some
means or other the dreadful midnight activity
which was proceeding before his astonished
eyes; but fortunately he restrained himself.
On the washstand he could see certain
strangely-shaped utensils and instruments which
Rocco used from time to time. The work
Seemed to Racksole to continue for interminable
hours, and then at last Rocco ceased, gave a
sigh of satisfaction, whistled several bars from
“Cavalleria Rusticana,” and came into the
bathroom, where he took off his coat, and very
quietly washed his hands. As he stood calmly
and leisurely wiping those long fingers of his,
he was less than four feet from Racksole, and
the cooped-up millionaire trembled, holding his
breath, lest Rocco should detect his presence
behind the woodwork. But nothing happened,
and Rocco returned unsuspectingly to the bed-
room. Racksole saw him place some sort of
white flannel garment over the prone form on
the table, and then lift it bodily on to the great
bed, where it lay awfully still. The hidden


150 T. RACKSOLE AND DAUGHTER
watcher was sure now that it was a corpse upon
which Rocco had been exercising his mysterious
and sinister functions. But whose corpse?
And what functions?
Could this be a West End hotel, Racksole's
own hotel, in the very heart of London, the best-
policed city in the world? It seemed incredible,
impossible; yet so it was. Once more he re-
membered what Félix Babylon h, said to him,
and realised the truth of the saying anew. The
proprietor of a vast and complicated establish-
ment like the Grand Babylon could never know
a tithe of the extraordinary and queer occur-
rences which happened daily under his very
nose; the atmosphere of such a caravanserai
must necessarily be an atmosphere of mystery
and problems apparently inexplicable. Never-
theless, Racksole thought that Fate was carry-
ing things with rather a high hand when she
permitted his chef to spend the night hours over
a man’s corpse in this State bedroom, this sacred
apartment which was supposed to be occupied
only by individuals of Royal Blood. Racksole
would not have objected to a certain amount of
mystery, but he decidedly thought that there
was a little too much mystery here for his taste.
He thought that even Félix Babylon would have
been surprised at this.


IN THE STATE BEDROOM 151
.
!
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 fea-
tures of the man on the bed to enable Racksole
to see his features clearly. In vain the million-
aire strained his eyes; he could only make out
that the corpse was probably that of a young
man. Just as he was wondering what would be
the best course of action to pursue, he saw Rocco
with a square-shaped black box in his hand.
Then the chef switched off the two electric
lights, and the State bedroom was in darkness.
In that swift darkness RackSole heard Rocco
spring on to the bed. Another half-dozen mo-
ments of suspense, and there was a blinding
flash of white, which endured for several
Seconds, and showed Rocco standing like an
evil spirit over the corpse, the black box in
One hand and a burning piece of aluminium
wire in the other. The aluminium wire burnt
out, and darkness followed blacker than be-
fore.
Rocco had photographed the corpse by flash-
light.
But the dazzling flare which had disclosed the
features of the dead man to the insensible lens
of the camera had disclosed them also to Theo.


152 T. RACKSOLE AND DAUGHTER
dore Racksole. The dead man was Reginald
Dimmock.
Stung into action by this discovery, Racksole
tried to find the exit from his place of conceal-
ment. He felt sure that there existed some way
out into the State bathroom, but he sought for
it fruitlessly, groping with both hands and feet.
Then he decided that he must ascend the rope
ladder, make haste for the first-floor corridor,
and intercept Rocco when he left the State apart-
ments. It was a painful and difficult business
to ascend that thin and yielding ladder in such
a confined space, but RackSole was managing it
very nicely, and had nearly reached the top,
when, by some untoward freak of chance, the
ladder broke above his weight, and he slipped
ignominiously down to the bottom of the wooden
tube. Smothering an excusable curse, Racksole
couched, baffled. Then he saw that the force of
his fall had somehow opened a trap-door at his
feet. He squeezed through, pushed open an-
other tiny door, and in another second stood in
the State bathroom. He was dishevelled, per-
spiring, rather bewildered; but he was there.
In the next second he had resumed absolute
command of all his faculties.
Strange to say, he had moved so quietly that
Rocco had apparently not heard him. He


IN THE STATE BEDROOM 153
stepped noiselessly to the door between the bath-
room and the bedroom, and stood there in
silence. Rocco had switched on again the lights
over the washstand, and was busy with his
utensils.
RackSole deliberately coughed.


CHAPTER XIV
ROCCO ANSWERS SOME QUESTIONS
ROCCO turned round with the swiftness of a star-
tled tiger, and gave Theodore RackSole one long
piercing glance.
“Damn !” said Rocco, with as pure an Anglo-
Saxon accent and intonation as Racksole himself
could have accomplished.
The most extraordinary thing about the situa-
tion was that at this juncture Theodore Racksole
did not know what to say. He was so dumb-
founded by the affair, and especially by Rocco's
absolute and sublime calm, that both speech and
thought failed him.
“I give in,” said Rocco. “From the moment
you entered this cursed hotel I was afraid of
you. I told Jules I was afraid of you. I knew
there would be trouble with a man of your
kidney, and I was right; confound it ! I tell
you I give in. I know when I’m beaten. I’ve
got no revolver and no weapon of any kind. I
surrender. Do what you like.”
And with that Rocco sat down on a chair. It


ROCCO ANSWERS SOME QUESTIONS 155
was magnificently done. Only a truly great
man could have done it. Rocco actually kept
his dignity.
For answer, Racksole walked slowly into the
vast apartment, seized a chair, and, dragging it
up to Rocco's chair, sat down opposite to him.
Thus they faced each other, their knees almost
touching, both in evening dress. On Rocco's
right hand was the bed, with the corpse of
Reginald Dimmock. On Racksole's right hand,
and a little behind him, was the marble wash-
stand, still littered with Rocco's implements
The electric light shone on Rocco's left cheek,
leaving the other side of his face in shadow.
Racksole tapped him on the knee twice.
“So you’re another Englishman masquerading
as a foreigner in my hotel,” Racksole remarked,
by way of commencing the interrogation.
“I’m not,” answered Rocco quietly. “I’m a
citizen of the United States.”
“The deuce you are!” Racksole exclaimed.
“Yes, I was born at West Orange, New
Jersey, New York State. I call myself an Ital-
ian because it was in Italy that I first made a
name as a chef-at Rome. It is better for a
great chef like me to be a foreigner. Imagine a
great chef named Elihu P. Rucker. You can’t
imagine it, Mr. Racksole. I defy you to imag-


156 T. RACKSOLE AND DAUGHTER
ine it. I changed my nationality for the same
reason that my friend and colleague, Jules,
otherwise Mr. Jackson, changed his.”
“So Jules is your friend and colleague, is he?”
“He was, but from this moment he is no
longer. I began to disapprove of his methods no
less than a week ago, and my disapproval will
now take an active form.”
“Will it?” said Racksole. “I calculate it just
won’t, Mr. Elihu P. Rucker, citizen of the
United States. Before you are very much older
you’ll be in the kind hands of the police, and
your activities, in no matter what direction, will
come to an abrupt conclusion.”
“It is possible,” sighed Rocco.
“In the meantime, I’ll ask you one or two
questions for my own private satisfaction.
You’ve acknowledged that the game is up, and
so you may as well answer them with as much
candour as you feel yourself capable of. See?”
“I see,” replied Rocco calmly, “but I guess I
can’t answer all questions. I’ll do what I can.”
“Well,” said Racksole, clearing his throat,
“what’s the scheme all about? Tell me in a
word.”
“Not in a thousand words. It isn’t my
secret, you know.”
“Why was poor little Dimmock poisoned?”


ROCCO ANSWERS SOME QUESTIONS 157
The millionaire's voice softened as he looked for
an instant at the corpse of the unfortunate
young man.
“I don’t know,” said Rocco. “I don’t mind
informing you that I objected to that part of the
business. I wasn’t made aware of it till after it
was done, and then I tell you it got my dander
up considerable.”
“You mean to say you don’t know why Dim-
mock was done to death?’”
“I mean to say I couldn’t see the sense of it.
Of course he—er—died, because he sort of cried
off the scheme, having previously taken a share
in it. I don’t mind saying that much, because
you probably guessed it for yourself. But I
solemnly state that I have a conscientious ob-
jection to murder.”
“Then it was murder?”
“It was a kind of murder,” Rocco admitted.
“Who did it?”
“Unfair question,” said Rocco.
“Who else is in this precious scheme besides
Jules and yourself?”
“Don’t know, on my honour.”
“Well, then, tell me this. What have you
been doing to Dimmock’s body?”
“How long were you in that bathroom?”
Rocco parried, with sublime impudence.


158 T. RACKSOLE AND DAUGHTER
“Don’t question me, Mr. Rucker,” said Theo.
dore Racksole. “I feel very much inclined to
break your back across my knee. Therefore I
advise you not to irritate me. What have you
been doing to Dimmock’s body?”
“I’ve been embalming it.”
“Em—balming it?”
“Certainly; Richardson’s system of arterial
fluid injection, as improved by myself. You
weren’t aware that I included the art of em-
balming among my accomplishments. Never-
theless, it is so.”
“But why?” asked Racksole, more mystified
than ever. “Why should you trouble to em-
balm the poor chap's corpse?”
“Can't you see? Doesn’t it strike you?
That corpse has to be taken care of. It con-
tains, or, rather, it did contain, very serious
evidence against some person or persons un-
known to the police. It may be necessary to
move it about from place to place. A corpse
can’t be hidden for long; a corpse betrays itself.
One couldn’t throw it into the Thames, for it
would have been found inside twelve hours.
One couldn’t bury it—it wasn’t safe. The only
thing was to keep it handy and movable, ready
for emergencies. I needn’t inform you that,
without embalming, you can’t keep a corpse


ROCCO ANSWERS SOME QUESTIONS 159
handy and movable for more than four or five
days. It’s the kind of thing that won’t keep.
And so it was suggested that I should embalm
it, and I did. Mind you, I still objected to the
murder, but I couldn’t go back on a colleague,
you understand. You do understand that,
don’t you? Well, here you are, and here it is,
and that’s all.”
Rocco leaned back in his chair as though he
had said everything that ought to be said. He
closed his eyes to indicate that so far as he was
concerned the conversation was also closed.
Theodore Racksole stood up.
“I hope,” said Rocco, suddenly opening his
eyes, “I hope you’ll call in the police without
any delay. It’s getting late, and I don’t like
going without my night’s rest.”
“Where do you suppose you’ll get your
night’s rest?” Racksole asked.
“In the cells, of course. Haverſ’t I told you I
know when I’m beaten. I’m not so blind as not
to be able to see that there’s at any rate a primé
facie case against me. I expect I shall get off
with a year or two’s imprisonment as accessory
after the fact—I think that’s what they call it.
Anyhow, I shall be in a position to prove that
I am not implicated in the murder of this un-
fortunate nincompoop.” He pointed, with a


160 T. RACKSOLE AND DAUGHTER
strange, scornful gesture of his elbow, to the
bed. “And now, shall we go? Everyone is
asleep, but there will be a policeman within call
of the watchman in the portico. I am at your
service. Let us go down together, Mr. Rack-
sole. I give you my word to go quietly.”
“Stay a moment,” said Theodore RackSole
curtly; “there is no hurry. It won’t do you
any harm to forego another hour's sleep, espe-
cially as you will have no work to do to-morrow.
I have one or two more questions to put to
you.”
“Well?” Rocco murmured, with an air of
tired resignation, as if to say, “What must be
must be.”
“Where has Dimmock’s corpse been during
the last three or four days, since he—died?”
“Oh!” answered Rocco, apparently surprised
at the simplicity of the question. “It’s been in
my room, and one night it was on the roof; once
it went out of the hotel as luggage, but it came
back the next day as a case of Demerara Sugar.
I forget where else it has been, but it's been
kept perfectly safe and treated with every con-
sideration.”
“And who contrived all these manoeuvres?”
asked RackSole, as calmly as he could.
“I did. That is to say, I invented them and I


ROCCO ANSWERS SOME QUESTIONS 161
saw that they were carried out. You see, the
suspicions of your police obliged me to be partic-
ularly spry.”
“And who carried them out?”
“Ah! that would be telling tales. But I don’t
mind assuring you that my accomplices were
innocent accomplices. It is absurdly easy for a
man like me to impose on underlings—absurdly
easy.”
“What did you intend to do with the corpse
ultimately?” Racksole pursued his inquiry with
immovable countenance.
“Who knows?” said Rocco, twisting his beau-
tiful moustache. “That would have depended
on several things—on your police, for instance.
But probably in the end we should have restored
this mortal clay”—again he jerked his elbow—
“to the man’s sorrowing relatives.”
“Do you know who the relatives are?”
“Certainly. Don’t you? If you don’t I need
only hint that Dimmock had a Prince for his
father.”
“It seems to me,” said Racksole, with cold
sarcasm, “that you behaved rather clumsily in
choosing this bedroom as the scene of your
operations.”
“Not at all,” said Rocco. “There was no
other apartment so suitable in the whole hotel.
11


162 T. RACKSOLE AND DAUGHTER
Who would have guessed that anything was
going on here? It was the very place for me.”
“I guessed,” said Racksole succinctly.
“Yes, you guessed, Mr. Racksole. But I had
not counted on you. You are the only smart
man in the business. You are an American
citizen, and I hadn’t reckoned to have to deal
with that class of person.”
“Apparently I frightened you this after-
noon?”
“Not in the least.”
“You were not afraid of a search?”
“I knew that no search was intended. I
knew that you were trying to frighten me. You
must really credit me with a little sagacity and
insight, Mr. Racksole. Immediately you began
to talk to me in the kitchen this afternoon I felt
you were on the track. But I was not fright-
ened. I merely decided that there was no time
to be lost—that I must act quickly. I did act
quickly, but, it seems, not quickly enough. I
grant that your rapidity exceeded mine. Let us
go downstairs, I beg.”
Rocco rose and moved towards the door.
With an instinctive action Racksole rushed for-
ward and seized him by the shoulder.
“No tricks!” said Racksole. “You’re in my
custody, and don’t forget it.”


ROCCO ANSWERS SOME QUESTIONS 163
Rocco turned on his employer a look of gentle,
dignified scorn.
“Have I not informed you,” he said, “that I
have the intention of going quietly?”
Racksole felt almost ashamed for the moment.
It flashed across him that a man can be great,
even in crime.
“What an ineffable fool you were,” said
Racksole, stopping him at the threshold, “with
your talents, your unique talents, to get yourself
mixed up in an affair of this kind. You are
ruined. And, by Jove! you were a great man
in your own line.”
“Mr. Racksole,” said Rocco very quickly,
“that is the truest word you have spoken this
night. I was a great man in my own line.
And I am an ineffable fool. Alas!” He
brought his long arms to his sides with a thud.
“Why did you do it?”
“I was fascinated—fascinated by Jules. He,
too, is a great man. We had great opportuni-
ties, here in the Grand Babylon. It was a great
game. It was worth the candle. The prizes
were enormous. You would admit these things
yourself if you knew the facts. Perhaps some
day you will know them, for you are a fairly
clever person at getting to the root of a matter.
Yes, I was blinded, hypnotised.”


164 T. RACKSOLE AND DAUGHTER
“And now you are ruined.”
“Not ruined, not ruined. Afterwards, in a
few years, I shall come up again. A man of
genius like me is never ruined till he is dead.
Genius is always forgiven. I shall be forgiven.
Suppose I am sent to prison. When I emerge I
shall be no gaol-bird. I shall be Rocco—the
great Rocco. And half the hotels in Europe will
invite me to join them.”
“Let me tell you, as man to man, that you
have achieved your own degradation. There is
no excuse.”
“I know it,” said Rocco. “Let us go.”
Racksole was distinctly and notably impressed
by this man—by this master spirit to whom he
was to have paid a salary at the rate of three
thousand pounds a year. He even felt very
sorry for him. And so, side by side, the captor
and the captured, they passed into the vast
deserted corridor of the hotel. Rocco stopped at
the grating of the first lift.
“It will be locked,” said Racksole. “We
must use the stairs to-night.”
“But I have a key. I always carry one,”
said Rocco, and he pulled one out of his pocket,
and, unfastening the iron screen, pushed it
open. Racksole smiled at his readiness and
aplomb.


166 T. RACKSOLE AND DAUGHTER
dling sound of Rocco's footsteps on the thick
carpet.
It was the greatest blow of Racksole’s life.
The next morning the high-born guests of the
Grand Babylon were aroused by a rumour that
by some accident the millionaire proprietor of
the hotel had remained all night locked up in the
lift. It was also stated that Rocco had quar-
relled with his new master and incontinently left
the place. A duchess said that Rocco's depar-
ture would mean the ruin of the hotel, where-
upon her husband advised her not to talk non-
SenSe.
As for RackSole, he sent a message for the
detective in charge of the Dimmock affair, and
bravely told him the happenings of the previous
night. The narration was a decided ordeal to a
man of RackSole's temperament.
“A strange story!” commented Detective
Marshall, and he could not avoid a smile. “The
climax was unfortunate, but you have certainly
got some valuable facts.”
RackSole said nothing.
“I myself have a clue,” added the detective.
“When your message arrived I was just coming
up to see you. I want you to accompany me to
a certain spot not far from here. Will you
come, now, at once?”


ROCCO ANSWERS SOME QUESTIONS 167
“With pleasure,” said Racksole.
At that moment a page entered with a tele-
gram. Racksole opened it and read: “Please
come instantly. Nella. Hôtel Wellington,
Ostend.” -
He looked at his watch.
“I can’t come,” he said to the detective.
“I’m going to Ostend.”
“To Ostend?”
“Yes, now.”
“But, really, Mr. Racksole,” protested the
detective. “My business is urgent.”
“So’s mine,” said Racksole.
In ten minutes he was on his way to Victoria
Station.


CHAPTER XV
END OF THE YACHT ADVENTURE
WE must now return to Nella RackSole and
Prince Aribert of Posen on board the yacht
without a name. The Prince’s first business
was to make Jules, otherwise Mr. Tom Jackson,
perfectly secure by means of several pieces of
rope. Although Mr. Jackson had been stunnel
into a complete unconsciousness, and there was a
contused wound under his ear, no one could say
how soon he might not come to himself and gº
very violent. So the Prince, having tied his
arms and legs, made him fast to a stanchion.
“I hope he won’t die,” said Nella. “He looks
very white.”
“The Mr. Jacksons of this world,” said Prince
Aribert sententiously, “never die till they are
hung. By the way, I wonder how it is that no
one has interfered with us. Perhaps they are
discreetly afraid of my revolver—of your ré.
volver, I mean.”
Both he and Nella glanced up at the imper.
turbable steersman, who kept the yacht's head


END OF THE YACHT ADVENTURE 169
straight out to sea. By this time they were
about a couple of miles from the Belgian shore.
Addressing him in French, the Prince ordered
the sailor to put the yacht about, and make
again for Ostend Harbour, but the fellow took no
notice whatever of the summons. The Prince
raised the revolver, with the idea of frightening
the steersman, and then the man began to talk
rapidly in a mixture of French and Flemish. He
said that he had received Jules’ strict orders not
to interfere in any way, no matter what might
happen on the deck of the yacht. He was the
captain of the yacht, and he had to make for a
certain English port, the name of which he could
not divulge: he was to keep the vessel at full
steam ahead under any and all circumstances.
He seemed to be a very big, a very strong, and a
very determined man, and the Prince was at a
loss what course of action to pursue. He asked
several more questions, but the only effect of
them was to render the man taciturn and ill-
humoured. In vain Prince Aribert explained
that Miss Nellie Racksole, daughter of millionaire
Racksole, had been abducted by Mr. Tom Jack-
son; in vain he flourished the revolver threaten-
ingly; the surly, but courageous, captain said
merely that that had nothing to do with him; he
had instructions, and he should carry them out.


170 T. RACKSOLE AND DAUGHTER
He sarcastically begged to remind his interlocutor
that he was the captain of the yacht.
“It won’t do to shoot him, I suppose,” said the
Prince to Nella. “I might bore a hole into his
leg, or something of that kind.”
“It’s rather risky, and rather hard on the poor
captain, with his extraordinary sense of duty,”
said Nella. “And, besides, the whole crew might
turn on us. No, we must think of Something
else.”
“I wonder where the crew is,” said the Prince.
Just then Mr. Jackson, prone and bound on the
deck, showed signs of recovering from his swoon.
His eyes opened, and he gazed vacantly around.
At length he caught sight of the Prince, who
approached him with the revolver well in view.
“It’s you, is it?” he murmured, faintly.
“What are you doing on board? Who's tied me
up like this?”
“See here!” replied the Prince, “I don’t want
to have any arguments, but this yacht must re-
turn to Ostend at once, where you will be given
up to the authorities.”
“Really l’” snarled Mr. Tom Jackson. “Shall
I!” Then he called out in French to the man at
the wheel, “Hi, André, let these two be put off
in the dinghy.”
It was a peculiar situation. Certain of nothing


END OF THE YACHT ADVENTURE 171
#.
ji.
*
but the possession of Nella’s revolver, the Prince
scarcely knew whether to carry the argument
further, and with stronger measures, or to ac-
cept the situation with as much dignity as the
circumstances would permit.
“Let us take the dinghy,” said Nella; “we can
row ashore in an hour.”
He felt that she was right. To leave the yacht
in such a manner seemed somewhat ignominious,
and it certainly involved the escape of that pro-
found villain, Mr. Thomas Jackson. But what
else could be done? The Prince and Nella con-
stituted one party, on the vessel; they knew their
own strength, but they did not know the strength
of their opponents. They held the hostile ring-
leader bound and captive, but this man had
proved himself capable of giving orders, and even
to gag him would not help them if the captain of
the yacht persisted in his obstinate course. More-
over, there was a distinct objection to promiscuous
shooting; the Prince felt that; there was no
knowing how promiscuous shooting might end.
“We will take the dinghy,” said the Prince
quickly, to the captain.
A bell rang below, and a sailor and the negro
boy appeared on deck. The pulsations of the
screw grew less rapid. The yacht stopped. The
dinghy was lowered. As the Prince and Nella


172 T. RACKSOLE AND DAUGHTER
prepared to descend into the little cockboat Mr.
Tom Jackson addressed Nella, all bound as he lay.
“Good-bye,” he said, “I shall see you again,
never fear.”
In another moment they were in the dinghy,
and the dinghy was adrift. The yacht's screw
churned the water, and the beautiful vessel
slipped away from them. As it receded a figure
appeared at the stern. It was Mr. Thomas Jack-
son. He had been released by his minions. He
held a white handkerchief to his ear, and offered
a calm, enigmatic smile to the two forlorn but
victorious occupants of the dinghy. Jules had
been defeated for once in his life; or perhaps it
would be more just to say that he had been out-
manoeuvred. Men like Jules are incapable of
being defeated. It was characteristic of his luck
that now, in the very hour when he had been
caught red-handed in a serious crime against so-
ciety, he should be effecting a leisurely escape—
an escape which left no clue behind.
The sea was utterly calm and blue in the morn-
ing sun. The dinghy rocked itself lazily in the
swell of the yacht’s departure. As the mist
cleared away the outline of the shore became
more distinct, and it appeared as if Ostend was
distant scarcely a cable's length. The white
dome of the great Kursaal glittered in the pale


END OF THE YACHT ADVENTURE 173
turquoise sky, and the smoke of steamers in the
harbour could be plainly distinguished. In the
offing was a crowd of brown-sailed fishing lug-
gers returning with the night’s catch. The
many-hued bathing-vans could be counted on the
distant beach. Everything seemed perfectly nor-
mal. It was difficult for either Nella or her com-
panion to realise that anything extraordinary had
happened within the last hour. Yet there was
the yacht, not a mile off, to prove to them that
Something very extraordinary had, in fact, hap-
pened. The yacht was no vision, nor was that
sinister watching figure at its stern a vision,
either.
“I suppose Jules was too surprised and too
feeble to inquire how I came to be on board his
yacht,” said the Prince taking the oars.
“Oh! How did you?” asked Nella, her face
lighting up. “Really, I had almost forgotten
that part of the affair.”
“I must begin at the beginning, and it will
take some time,” answered the Prince. “Had
We not better postpone the recital till we get
ashore?”
“I will row and you shall talk,” said Nella.
“I want to know now.”
He smiled happily at her, but gently declined
to yield up the oars. -


174 T. RACKSOLE AND DAUGHTER
“Is it not sufficient that I am here,” he said.
“It is sufficient, yes,” she replied, “but I want
to know.”
With a long, easy stroke he was pulling the
dinghy shorewards. She sat in the stern-sheets.
“There is no rudder,” he remarked, “so you
must direct me. Keep the boat’s head on the
lighthouse. The tide seems to be running in
strongly; that will help us. The people on shore
will think that we have only been for a little
early morning excursion.”
“Will you kindly tell me how it came about
that you were able to save my life, Prince?” she
said.
“Save your life, Miss Racksole? I didn’t save
your life; I merely knocked a man down.”
“You saved my life,” she repeated. “That
villain would have stopped at nothing. I saw it
in his eye.”
“Then you were a brave woman, for you
showed no fear of death.” His admiring gaze
rested full on her. For a moment the oars
ceased to move. -
She gave a gesture of impatience.
“It happened that I saw you last night in your
carriage,” he said. “The fact is, I had not had
the audacity to go to Berlin with my story. I
stopped in Ostend to see whether I could do a lit-


END OF THE YACHT ADVENTURE 175
tle detective work on my own account. It was
a piece of good luck that I saw you. I followed
the carriage as quickly as I could, and I just
caught a glimpse of you as you entered that aw-
ful house. I knew that Jules had something to
do with that house. I guessed what you were
doing. I was afraid for you. Fortunately I
had surveyed the house pretty thoroughly.
There is an entrance to it at the back, from a
narrow lane. I made my way there. I got into
the yard at the back, and I stood under the
window of the room where you had the interview
with Miss Spencer. I heard everything that was
said. It was a courageous enterprise on your
part to follow Miss Spencer from the Grand Baby-
lon to Ostend. Well, I dared not force an en-
trance, lest I might precipitate matters too sud-
denly, and involve both of us in a difficulty. I
merely kept watch. Ah, Miss Racksole, you
were magnificent with Miss Spencer; as I say, I
could hear every word, for the window was
slightly open. I felt that you needed no assist-
ance from me. And then she cheated you with
a trick, and the revolver came flying through the
window. I picked it up; I thought it would
probably be useful. There was a silence. I did
not guess at first that you had fainted. I
thought that you had escaped. When I found


176 T. RACKSOLE AND DAUGHTER
out the truth it was too late for me to intervene,
There were two men, both desperate, besides
Miss Spencer——”
“Who was the other man?” asked Nella.
“I do not know. It was dark. They drove
away with you to the harbour. Again I fol-
lowed. I saw them carry you on board. Before
the yacht weighed anchor I managed to climb
unobserved into the dinghy. I lay down full
length in it, and no one suspected that I was
there. I think you know the rest.”
“Was the yacht all ready for sea?”
“The yacht was all ready for sea. The cap.
tain fellow was on the bridge, and steam was
up.”
“Then they expected me! How could that be?”
“They expected someone. I do not think they
expected you.”
“Did the second man go on board?”
“He helped to carry you along the gangway,
but he came back again to the carriage. He was
the driver.”
“And no one else saw the business?”
“The quay was deserted. You see, the last
steamer had arrived for the night.”
There was a brief silence, and then Nella ejac.
ulated, under her breath, “Truly, it is a wonder.
ful world!”


END OF THE YACHT ADVENTURE 177
And it was a wonderful world for them, though
scarcely, perhaps, in the sense which Nella Rack-
sole had intended. They had but just emerged
from a highly disconcerting experience. Among
other minor inconveniences, they had had no
breakfast. They were out in the sea in a tiny
boat. Neither of them knew what the day might
bring forth. The man, at least, had the most
Serious anxieties for the safety of his Royal
nephew. And yet—and yet—neither of them
wished that that voyage of the little boat on the
Summer tide should come to an end. Each, per-
haps unconsciously, had a vague desire that it
might last for ever, he lazily pulling, she direct-
ing his course at intervals by a movement of her
distractingly pretty head. How was this condi-
tion of affairs to be explained? Well, they were
both young; they both had superb health, and
all the ardour of youth; and—they were to-
gether. The boat was very small indeed; her
face was scarcely a yard from his. She, in his
eyes, surrounded by the glamour of beauty and
Vast wealth; he, in her eyes, surrounded by the
glamour of masculine intrepidity and the bril-
liance of a throne.
But all voyages come to an end, either at the
shore or at the bottom of the sea, and at length
the digy passed between the stone jetties of
2 -


178 T. RACKSOLE AND DAUGHTER
º
the harbour. The Prince rowed to the nearest
steps, tied up the boat, and they landed. It was
six o'clock in the morning, and a day of gorgeous
sunlight had opened. Few people were about at
that early hour.
“And now, what next?” said the Prince. “I
must take you to a hotel.”
“I am in your hands,” she acquiesced, with a
smile which sent the blood racing through his
veins. He perceived now that she was tired and
overcome, suffering from a sudden and natural
reaction.
At the Hôtel Wellington the Prince told the
sleepy door-keeper that they had come by the
early train from Bruges, and wanted breakfast
at once. It was absurdly early, but a common
English sovereign will work wonders in any Bel-
gian hotel, and in a very brief time Nella and the
Prince were breakfasting on the verandah of the
hotel upon chocolate that had been specially and
hastily brewed for them.
“I never tasted such excellent chocolate,” ex-
claimed the Prince.
The statement was wildly untrue, for the Hôtel
Wellington is not celebrated for its chocolate.
Nevertheless Nella replied enthusiastically, “Nor
I.” Then there was a silence, and Nella, feeling
possibly that she had been too ecstatic, remarked
!
º:


END OF THE YACHT ADVENTURE 179
in a very matter-of-fact tone: “I must telegraph
to papa instantly.”
Thus it was that Theodore Racksole received
the telegram which drew him away from Detec-
tive Marshall.


CHAPTER XVI
THE WOMAN WITH THE RED HAT
“THERE is one thing, Prince, that we have just
got to settle straight off,” said Theodore Rack-
sole.
They were all three seated—Racksole, his
daughter, and Prince Aribert—round a dinner
table in a private room at the Hôtel Wellington.
RackSole had duly arrived by the afternoon boat,
and had been met on the quay by the other two.
They had dined early, and Racksole had heard
the full story of the adventures by sea and land
of Nella and the Prince. As to his own adven-
ture of the previous night he said very little,
merely explaining, with as little detail as possible,
that Dimmock’s body had come to light.
“What is that?” asked the Prince, in answer
to Racksole’s remark.
“We have got to settle whether we shall tell
the police at once all that has occurred, or
whether we shall proceed on our own responsibil-
ity. There can be no doubt as to which course
we ought to pursue. Every consideration of pru-


THE WOMAN WITH THE RED HAT 181
dence points to the advisability of taking the
police into our confidence, and leaving the matter
entirely in their hands.”
“Oh, papa!” Nella burst out in her pouting,
impulsive way. “You surely can’t think of such
a thing. Why, the fun has only just begun.”
“Do you call last night fun?” questioned
Racksole, gazing at her solemnly.
“Yes, I do,” she said promptly. “Now.”
“Well, I don’t,” was the millionaire's laconic
response; but perhaps he was thinking of his
own situation in the lift.
“Do you not think we might investigate a
little further,” said the Prince judiciously, as
he cracked a walnut, “just a little further—and
then, if we fail to accomplish anything, there
would still be ample opportunity to consult the
police?”
“How do you suggest we should begin?”
asked Racksole.
“Well, there is the house which Miss Racksole
so intrepidly entered last evening,” he gave her
the homage of an admiring glance; “you and
I, Mr. Racksole, might examine that abode in
detail.”
“To-night?”
“Certainly. We might do something.”
“We might do too much.”


182 T. RACKSOLE AND DAUGHTER
“For example?”
“We might shoot someone, or get ourselves
mistaken for burglars. If we out-stepped the
law, it would be no excuse for us that we had
been acting in a good cause.”
“True,” said the Prince. “Nevertheless—”
He stopped.
“Nevertheless you have a distaste for bringing
the police into the business. You want the
hunt all to yourself. You are on fire with the
ardour of the chase. Is not that it? Accept the
advice of an older man, Prince, and sleep on this
affair. I have little fancy for nocturnal esca-
pades two nights together. As for you, Nella,
off with you to bed. The Prince and I will have
a yarn over such fluids as can be obtained in this
hole.”
“Papa, she said, “you are perfectly horrid
to-night.”
“Perhaps I am,” he said. “Decidedly I am
very cross with you for coming over here all
alone. It was monstrous. If I didn’t happen
to be the most foolish of parents—There! Good-
night. It's nine o'clock. The Prince, I am sure,
will excuse you.”
If Nella had not really been very tired Prince
Aribert might have been the witness of a good-
natured but stubborn conflict between the mil-
I
º
T]
º
i.


THE WOMAN WITH THE RED HAT 183
lionaire and his spirited offspring. As it was,
Nella departed with surprising docility, and the
two men were left alone.
“Now,” said Racksole, suddenly, changing his
tone, “I fancy that after all I'm your man for a
little amateur investigation to-night. And, if I
must speak the exact truth, I think that to sleep
on this affair would be about the very worst thing
we could do. But I was anxious to keep Nella
out of harm’s way at any rate till to-morrow.
She is a very difficult creature to manage, Prince,
and I may warn you,” he laughed grimly, “that
if we do succeed in doing anything to-night we
shall catch it from her ladyship in the morning.
Are you ready to take that risk?”
“I am,” the Prince smiled. “But Miss Rack-
sole is a young lady of quite remarkable
nerve.”
“She is,” said Racksole, drily. “I wish some-
times she had less.”
“I have the highest admiration for Miss Rack-
sole,” said the Prince, and he looked Miss Rack-
sole’s father full in the face.
“You honour us, Prince,” Racksole observed.
“Let us come to business. Am I right in assum-
ing that you have a reason for keeping the
police out of this business, if it can possibly be
done?”


184 T. RACKSOLE AND DAUGHTER
“Yes,” said the Prince, and his brow clouded.
“I am very much afraid that my poor nephew
has involved himself in some scrape that he would
wish not to be divulged.”
“Then you do not believe that he is the victim
of foul play?”
“I do not.”
“And the reason, if I may ask it?”
“Mr. Racksole, we speak in confidence—is it
not so? Some years ago my foolish nephew had
an affair—an affair with a feminine star of the
Berlin stage. For anything I know, the lady
may have been the very pattern of her sex, but
where a reigning Prince is concerned scandal
cannot be avoided in such a matter. I had
thought that the affair was quite at an end, since
my nephew’s betrothal to Princess Anna of Eck
stein-Schwartzburg is shortly to be announced
But yesterday I saw the lady to whom I have re.
ferred driving on the Digue. The coincidence of
her presence here with my nephew’s disappear.
ance is too extraordinary to be disregarded.”
“But how does this theory square with the
murder of Reginald Dimmock?”
“It does not square with it. My idea is that
the murder of poor Dimmock and the disappear.
ance of my nephew are entirely unconnected-
unless, indeed, this Berlin actress is playing into


THE WOMAN WITH THE RED HAT 185
the hands of the murderers. I had not thought
of that.”
“Then what do you propose to do to-night?”
“I propose to enter the house which Miss
RackSole entered last night and to find out some-
thing definite.”
“I concur,” said Racksole. “I shall heartily
enjoy it. But let me tell you, Prince, and par-
don me for speaking bluntly, your surmise is
incorrect. I would wager a hundred thousand
dollars that Prince Eugen has been kidnapped.”
“What grounds have you for being so sure?”
“Ah!” said Racksole, “that is a long story.
Let me begin by asking you this. Are you aware
that your nephew, Prince Eugen, owes a million
of money?”
“A million of money!” cried Prince Aribert,
astonished. “It is impossible!”
“Nevertheless, he does,” said Racksole calmly.
Then he told him all he had learnt from Mr.
Sampson Levi.
“What have you to say to that?” Racksole
ended. Prince Aribert made no reply.
“What have you to say to that?” Racksole
insisted.
“Merely that Eugen is ruined, even if he is
alive.”
“Not at all,” Racksole returned with cheerful-


1S6 T. RACKSOLE AND DAUGHTER
ness. “Not at all. We shall see about that.
The special thing that I want to know just now
from you is this: Has any previous application
ever been made for the hand of the Princess
Anna?”
“Yes. Last year. The King of Bosnia sued
for it, but his proposal was declined.”
(4 Why? 2x
“Because my nephew was considered to be a
more suitable match for her.”
“Not because the personal character of his
Majesty of Bosnia is scarcely of the brightest?”
“No. Unfortunately, it is usually impossible
to consider questions of personal character when
a royal match is concerned.”
“Then, if for any reason the marriage of
Princess Anna with your nephew was frustrated,
the King of Bosnia would have a fair chance in
that quarter.”
“He would. The political aspect of things
would be perfectly satisfactory.”
“Thanks!” said Racksole. “I will wager an-
other hundred thousand dollars that someone in
Bosnia—I don’t accuse the King himself—is at
the bottom of this business. The methods of
Balkan politicians have always been half-Orien.
tal. Let us go.”
“Where?”


THE WOMAN WITH THE RED HAT 187
“To this precious house of Nella's adventure.”
“But surely it is too early?”
“So it is,” said Racksole, “and we shall want
a few things, too. For instance, a dark lantern.
I think I will go out and forage for a lantern.”
“And a revolver?” suggested Prince Aribert.
“Does it mean revolvers?”
The millionaire laughed.
“It may come to that.”
“Here you are, then, my friend,” said Rack-
sole, and he pulled one out of his hip pocket.
“And yours?”
“I,” said the prince, “I have your daughter’s.”
“The deuce you have!” murmured Racksole
to himself.
It was then half-past nine. They decided that
it would be impolitic to begin their operations
till after midnight. There were three hours to
spare.
“Let us go and see the gambling,” Racksole
suggested. “We might encounter the Berlin
lady.” The suggestion, in the first instance, was
not made seriously, but it appeared to both men
that they might do worse than spend the inter-
vening time in the gorgeous saloon of the Kur-
saal, where, in the season, as much money is won
and lost as at Monte Carlo.
It was striking ten o’clock as they entered the


188 T. RACKSOLE AND DAUGHTER
rooms. There was a large company present—a
company which included some of the most notori-
ous persons in Europe.
In that multifarious assemblage all were equal.
The electric light shone coldly and impartially on
the just and on the unjust, on the fool and the
knave, on the European and the Asiatic.
As usual, women monopolized the best places
at the tables. The scene was familiar enough to
Price Aribert, who had witnessed it frequently at
Monaco, but Theodore Racksole had never before
entered any European gaming palace. He had
only the haziest idea of the rules of play, and he
was at once interested.
For some time they watched the play at the
table which happened to be nearest to them.
Racksole never moved his lips.
With eyes glued on the table, and ears open
for every remark of the players and the croupier,
he took his first lesson in roulette.
He saw a mere youth win fifteen thousand
francs in as many minutes. He saw four thou-
sand of those francs stolen in the most barefaced
manner by a rouged girl scarcely older than
the youth. He saw two old gamesters stake
their coins and lose and walk quietly out of the
place. He saw the bank win fifty thousand
francs at a single turn. -


THE WOMAN WITH THE RED HAT 189
“This is rather good fun,” he said at length,
“but the stakes are too small to make it really
exciting. I’ll try my luck. I’m bound to win.”
“Why?” asked the Prince.
“Because I always do in games of chance,”
Racksole answered with gay confidence. “It is
my fate. Then to-night, you must remember, I
shall be a beginner, and you know the tyro's
luck.”
In ten minutes the croupier of that table was
obliged to suspend operations pending the arrival
of a further supply of coin.
“What did I tell you?” asked Racksole, lead-
ing the way to another table, further up the
TOOIn.
A hundred curious glances went after him.
One old woman, whose gay attire suggested a
false youthfulness, begged him in French to
stake a five-franc piece for her.
She offered him the coin. He took it and gave
her a hundred-franc note in exchange.
She clutched the crisp, rustling paper, and with
hysterical haste scuttled back to her own table.
At the second table there was a considerable
air of excitement.
In the forefront of the players was a woman in
a low-cut evening dress of black silk, and a large
red picture-hat.


THE WOMAN WITH THE RED HAT 191
on number nineteen, and a thousand on the odd
numbers.
Nineteen won. RackSole received four thou-
sand four hundred francs.
Nine times in succession Racksole backed num-
ber nineteen and the odd numbers; nine times
the lady backed double zero. Nine times Rack-
sole won and the lady lost.
The other players, perceiving that the affair
had resolved itself into a duel, stood back for the
most part, and watched these two. Prince Ari-
bert never stirred from his position behind the
great red hat.
The game continued. RackSole lost trifles from
time to time, but ninety-nine hundredths of the
luck was with him. As a spectator at the table
remarked, “He couldn’t do wrong.”
When midnight struck, the lady in the red hat
was reduced to a thousand francs. Then she fell
into a winning vein for half an hour, but at one
o'clock her resources were exhausted.
Of the hundred and sixty thousand francs
which she was reputed to have had early in the
evening, Racksole held about ninety thousand
and the bank had the rest. -
It was a calamity for the Juno of the red hat.
She jumped up, stamped her foot, and hurried
from the room.


192 T. RACKSOLE AND DAUGHTER
At a discreet distance, Racksole and the Prince
pursued her.
“It might be well to ascertain her move.
ments,” said RackSole, “if it doesn’t take us too
far.”
Outside in the glare of the great arc-lights,
and within sound of the surf which beats always
at the very foot of the Kursaal, the Juno of the
red hat summoned a cab and drove rapidly away.
Racksole and the Prince took an open carriage
and started in pursuit. They had not, however,
travelled more than half a mile when Prince Ari.
bert stopped the carriage, and bidding RackSole
get out, paid the driver and dismissed him.
“I feel sure I know where she is going,” he
explained, “and it will be better for us to follow
on foot.” -
“You mean she’s making for the scene of last
night's affair?” said Racksole.
“Exactly. We shall—what you call, kill two
birds with one stone.”
Prince Aribert's guess was correct. The lady's
carriage stopped in front of the house where Nella
Racksole and Miss Spencer had had their in-
terview on the previous evening, and the lady
vanished into the building just as the two men
appeared at the end of the street.
Instead of proceeding along that thoroughfare,


194 T. RACKSOLE AND DAUGHTER
Again no answer.
“Then I'll tell the whole story,” the lady went
on, in an angry rush of words. “I did what I
promised to do. I enticed him here, and you've
got him safe in your vile cellar, poor little man,
and you won’t give me a paltry thousand francs.”
“You have already had your price.”
The words were Miss Spencer's. They fell cold
and calm on the night air.
“I want another thousand.”
“I haven’t it.”
“Then We’ll see.”
Prince Aribert heard a rustle of flying skirts,
Then another movement. A door banged, and
the beam of light through the aperture of the
window suddenly disappeared.
He pushed the window wide open. The room
was in darkness, and apparently empty.
“Now for that lantern of yours,” he said ea.
gerly to Theodore Racksole, after he had trans.
lated to him the conversation of the two women,
RackSole produced the dark lantern from the
capacious pocket of his dust-coat, and lighted it.
The ray flashed about the ground.
“What is that?” exclaimed Prince Aribert
with a swift cry, pointing to the ground. The
lantern tº rew its light on a perpendicular grating
at their feet, through which could be discerned


THE WOMAN WITH THE RED HAT 195
a cellar. They both knelt down, and peered
through the bars into the subterranean chamber
On a broken chair a young man sat listlessly
with closed eyes, his head leaning heavily for-
Ward on his chest. In the feeble light of the lan-
tern he had the livid and ghastly appearance of
a corpse.
“Who can it be P” said Racksole.
“It is Eugen,” was the Prince's low answer.


CHAPTER XVII
THE RELEASE OF PRINCE EUGEN
“EUGEN l’” Prince Aribert called softly.
At the sound of his own name the young man
in the cellar feebly raised his head, and stared up
at the grating which separated him from his two
rescuers. But his features showed no recogni-
tion.
He gazed in an aimless, vague, silly manner
for a few seconds, his eyes blinking under the
glare of the lantern, and then his head slowly
drooped again to his chest.
He was dressed in a dark tweed travelling suit,
and Racksole observed that one sleeve, the left,
was torn across the upper part of the cuff, and
that there were stains of dirt on the left shoul-
der. A soiled linen collar, which had lost all its
starch and was half unbuttoned, partially encir-
cled the captive’s neck; his brown boots were
unlaced; a cap, a handkerchief, a portion of a
watch-chain, and a few gold coins lay on the floor.
Racksole flashed the lantern into the corners of
the cellar, but he could discover no other furni-


198 T. RACKSOLE AND DAUGHTER
“Come,” Prince Aribert repeated, and there
was an imperious command in his utterance,
“What are you afraid of?”
“I don’t know,” said Racksole, feeling stupid
and queer—“I don’t know.”
Then he marched heavily after Prince Aribert
into the room.
On the mantelpiece were a couple of candles
which had been blown out, and in a mechanical,
unthinking way Racksole lighted them, and the
two men glanced around the room. It presented
no peculiar features; it was just an ordinary
room, rather small, rather mean, rather shabby,
with an ugly wall paper and ugly pictures in
ugly frames.
Thrown over a chair was a man's evening
dress jacket. The door was closed. Prince
Aribert turned the knob, but he could noi
open it.
“It’s locked,” he said. “Evidently they know
we’re here.”
“Nonsense,” said Racksole, brusquely, “How
can they know?” And, taking hold of the knob,
he violently shook the door and it opened.
“I told you it wasn’t locked,” he added, and
this small success of opening the door seemed to
steady the man.
It was a curious psychological effect, this ter.


RELEASE OF PRINCE EUGEN 199
rorizing (for it amounted to that) of two coura-
geous, full-grown men by the mere apparition of
a helpless creature in a cellar. Gradually they
both recovered from it.
The next moment they were out in the passage
which led to the front door of the house. This
door stood open.
They looked into the street, up and down, but
there was not a soul in sight. The street, lighted
by three gas-lamps only, seemed strangely sinis-
ter and mysterious.
“She has gone—that's clear,” said Racksole,
meaning the woman with the red hat.
“And Miss Spencer after her, do you think?”
questioned Aribert.
“No. She would stay. She would never dare
to leave. Let us find the cellar steps.”
The cellar steps were happily not difficult to
discover, for, in moving a pace backwards, Prince
Aribert had a narrow escape from precipitating
himself to the bottom of them.
The lantern showed that they were in a curve.
Silently Racksole resumed possession of the lan-
tern, and went first, the Prince close behind him.
At the foot was a short passage, and in this pas-
Sage crouched the figure of a woman. Her eyes
threw back the rays of the lantern, shining like
a cat's at midnight. Then, as the men went


200 T. RACKSOLE AND DAUGHTER
nearer they saw that it was Miss Spencer who
barred their way.
She seemed half to kneel on the stone floor, and
in one hand she held what at first glance ap-
peared to be a dagger, but which proved to be
nothing more romantic than a rather long bread-
knife.
“I heard you, I heard you!” she exclaimed.
“Get back. You mustn't come here.”
There was a desperate and dangerous look on
her face, and her form shook with scarcely con-
trolled, passionate energy.
“Now, see here, Miss Spencer,” Racksole said
calmly, “I guess we’ve had enough of this fan-
dango. You’d better get up and clear out, or
we'll just have to drag you off.”
He went calmly up to her, the lantern in his
hand. Without another word she struck the
knife into his arm, and the lantern fell, extin-
guished.
Racksole gave a cry, rather of angry surprise
than of pain, and retreated a few steps. In the
darkness they could still perceive the glint of her
eyes.
“I told you you mustn't come here,” the
woman said. “Now get back.”
Racksole positively laughed; it was a queer
laugh; but he laughed, and he could not help it.


RELEASE OF PRINCE EUGEN 201
The idea of this woman, this bureau clerk,
stopping his progress and that of Prince Aribert
by means of a bread-knife, aroused his sense of
humour.
He struck a match, relighted the candle, and
faced Miss Spencer once more.
“I’ll do it again,” she said, with a note of hard
resolve. -
“Oh, no, you won’t, my girl,” said RackSole,
and he pulled out his revolver, cocked it, and
raised his hand.
“Put down that plaything of yours,” he said
firmly.
“No,” she answered.
“I shall shoot.”
She pressed her lips together.
“I shall shoot,” he repeated. “One—two—
three.”
Bang! Bang! He had fired twice, purposely
missing her.
Miss Spencer never blanched. Racksole was
tremendously surprised, and he would have been
a thousandfold more surprised could he have
contrasted her behaviour now with her abject
terror on the previous evening when Nella had
threatened her.
“You’ve got a bit of pluck,” he said, “but it
won’t help you. Why won’t you let us pass?”


202 T. RACKSOLE AND DAUGHTER
As a matter of fact, pluck was just what she
had not, really. She had merely subordinated
one terror to another.
She was desperately afraid of Racksole's re-
volver, but she was much more afraid of some-
thing 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 run-
ning down her poor, wrinkled face.
Theodore Racksole began to take off his light
Overcoat.
“I see I must take my coat off to you,” he
said, and he almost smiled.
Then, with a quick movement, he threw the
coat over Miss Spencer's head, and flew at her,
seizing both her arms, while Prince Aribert as-
sisted. Her struggles ceased; she was beaten.
“That’s all right,” said Racksole. “I could
never have used that revolver—to mean business
with it, of course.”
They carried her, unresisting, up-stairs and on
to the upper floor, where they locked her in a
bedroom. She lay on the bed as if exhausted.
“Now for my poor Eugen,” said Prince Aribert.
“Don’t you think we’d better search the house
first P” Racksole suggested. “It will be safer


RELEASE OF PRINCE EUGEN 203
to know just how we stand. We can’t afford
any ambushes or things of that kind, you know.”
The Prince agreed, and they searched the house
from top to bottom, but found no one. Then,
having locked the front door, and the French
window of the sitting-room, they proceeded again
to the cellar.
Here a new obstacle confronted them. The
cellar door was, of course, locked; there was no
sign of a key, and it appeared to be a heavy door.
They were compelled to return to the bedroom
where Miss Spencer was incarcerated in order to
demand the key of the cellar from her. She still
lay moveless 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?” Rack-
sole asked sharply.
“Through the grating,” she answered.
Both men shuddered. They felt she was speak-
ing the truth. For the third time they went to
the cellar door.
In vain RackSole thrust himself against it; he
could do no more than shake it.
“Let’s try both together,” said Prince Aribert.
& 4 Now ! 25
There was a crack.


206 T. RACKSOLE AND DAUGHTER
He rose, staggered towards Aribert, and fell
headlong on the floor. He had swooned. The
two men raised him, carried him up the stone
steps, and laid him with infinite care on a sofa.
He lay, breathing queerly through the nostrils,
his eyes closed, his fingers contracted; every now
and then a convulsion ran through his frame.
“One of us must fetch a doctor,” said Prince
Aribert.
“I will,” said Racksole. At that moment there
was a quick, curt rap on the French window,
and both Racksole and the Prince glanced round,
startled. A girl’s face was pressed against the
large window-pane. It was Nella’s. RackSole
unfastened the catch, and she entered.
“I have found you,” she said lightly; “you
might have told me. I couldn’t sleep. I in-
quired from the hotel-folks if you had retired,
and they said no; so I slipped out. I guessed
where you were.” Racksole interrupted her with
a question as to what she meant by this escapade,
but she stopped him with a careless gesture.
“What's this?” She pointed to the form on the
sofa.
“That is my nephew, Prince Eugen,” said
Aribert.
“Hurt?” she inquired coldly. “I hope not.”
“He is ill,” said RackSole, “his brain is turned.”


CHAPTER XVIII
IN THE NIGHT-TIME
“HE must on no account be moved,” said the
dark little Belgian doctor, whose eyes seemed to
peer so quizzically through his spectacles; and he
said it with much positiveness.
That pronouncement rather settled their plans
for them. It was certainly a professional tri-
umph for Nella, who, previous to the doctor's
arrival, had told them the very same thing.
Considerable argument had passed before the
doctor was sent for. Prince Aribert was for
keeping the whole affair a deep secret among
their three selves. Theodore Racksole agreed so
far, but he suggested further that at no matter
what risk they should transport the patient over
to England at once. RackSole had an idea that
he should feel safer in that hotel of his, and bet-
ter able to deal with any situation that might
arise. Nella scorned the idea. In her quality
of an amateur nurse, she assured them that
Prince Eugen was much more seriously ill than
either of them suspected, and she urged that


IN THE NIGHT-TIME 209
they should take absolute possession of the house,
and keep possession till Prince Eugen was con-
walescent.
“But what about the Spencer female?” Rack-
sole had said.
“Keep her where she is. Keep her a prisoner.
And hold the house against all comers. If Jules
should come back, simply defy him to enter—
that is all. There are two of you, So you must
keep an eye on the former occupiers, if they re-
turn, and on Miss Spencer, while I nurse the
patient. But first, you must send for a doctor.”
“Doctor!” Prince Aribert had said, alarmed.
“Will it not be necessary to make some awkward
explanation to the doctor?”
“Not at all!” she replied. “Why should it
be? In a place like Ostend doctors are far too
discreet to ask questions; they see too much to
retain their curiosity. Besides, do you want
your nephew to die?”
Both the men were somewhat taken aback by
the girl’s sagacious grasp of the situation, and
it came about that they began to obey her like
subordinates. She told her father to sally forth
in search of a doctor, and he went. She gave
Prince Aribert certain other orders, and he
promptly executed them. -
By tº evening of the following day, every-


IN THE NIGHT-TIME 211
the window, which looked on to the back-garden.
It was a queer, shabby little bedroom to shelter
the august body of a European personage like
Prince Eugen of Posen. Curiously enough, both
Nella and her father, ardent democrats though
they were, had been somehow impressed by the
royalty and importance of the fever-stricken
Prince—impressed as they had never been by
Aribert. They had both felt that here, under
their care, was a species of individuality quite
new to them, and different from anything they
had previously encountered. Even the gestures
and tones of his delirium had an air of abrupt yet
Condescending command—an imposing mixture
of suavity and haughtiness. As for Nella, she
had been first struck by the beautiful “E” over
a crown on the sleeves of his linen, and by the
signet ring on his pale, emaciated hand. After
all, these trifling outward signs are at least as
effective as others of deeper but less obtrusive
significance. The Racksoles, too, duly marked
the attitude of Prince Aribert to his nephew: it
was at once paternal and reverential; it disclosed
clearly that Prince Aribert continued, in spite of
everything, to regard his nephew as his sovereign
lord and master, as a being surrounded by a
natural and inevitable pomp and awe. This atti-
tude, at the beginning, seemed false and unreal


212 T. RACKSOLE AND DAUGHTER
to the Americans; it seemed to them to be as-
sumed; but gradually they came to perceive that
they were mistaken, and that though America
might have cast out “the monarchical supersti-
tion,” nevertheless that “superstition ” had vig-
orously survived in another part of the world.
“You and Mr. Racksole have been extraordi-
narily kind to me,” said Prince Aribert very
quietly, after the two had sat some time in
silence.
“Why? How?” she asked unaffectedly.
“We are interested in this affair ourselves, you
know. It began at our hotel—you mustn't for-
get that, Prince.”
“I don’t,” he said. “I forget nothing. But
I cannot help feeling that I have led you into a
strange entanglement. Why should you and
Mr. Racksole be here—you who are supposed to
be on a holiday!—hiding in a strange house in a
foreign country, subject to all sorts of annoy-
ances and all sorts of risks, simply because I am
anxious to avoid scandal, to avoid any sort of
talk, in connection with my misguided nephew?
It is nothing to you that the Hereditary Prince
of Posen should be liable to a public disgrace.
What will it matter to you if the throne of Posen
becomes the laughing-stock of Europe?”
“I really don’t know, Prince,” Nella smiled


214 T. RACKSOLE AND DAUGHTER
Large, dark circles of fatigue and sleeplessness
surrounded her eyes, and to the Prince her cheek
seemed hollow and thin; her hair lay thick over
the temples, half covering the ears. Aribert
gave no answer to her query—merely gazed at
her with melancholy intensity.
“I think I will go and rest,” she said at last.
“You will know all about the medicine.”
“Sleep well,” he said, as he softly opened the
door for her. And then he was alone with
Eugen.
It was his turn that night to watch, for they
still half-expected some strange, sudden visit, or
onslaught, or move of one kind or another, from
Jules. Racksole slept in the parlour on the
ground floor. Nella had the front bedroom on
the first floor; Miss Spencer was immured in the
attic; the last-named lady had been singularly
quiet and incurious, taking her food from Nella
and asking no questions; the old woman went at
nights to her own abode in the purlieus of the
harbour. Hour after hour Aribert sat silent by
his nephew’s bedside, attending mechanically to
his wants, and every now and then gazing hard
into the vacant, anguished face, as if trying to
extort from that mask the secrets which it held.
Aribert was tortured by the idea that if he could
have only half an hour's, only a quarter of an


IN THE NIGHT-TIME 215
hour’s, rational speech with Prince Eugen, all
might be cleared up and put right, and by the
fact that that rational talk was absolutely im-
possible on Eugen’s part until the fever had run
its course. As the minutes crept on to midnight
the watcher, made nervous by the intense, elec-
trical atmosphere which seems always to sur-
round a person who is dangerously ill, grew more
and more a prey to vague and terrible apprehen-
sions. His mind dwelt hysterically on the most
fatal possibilities. He wondered what would
occur if by any ill-chance Eugen should die in
that bed—how he would explain the affair to
Posen and to the Emperor, how he would justify
himself. He saw himself being tried for murder,
sentenced (him—a prince of the blood ), led to the
scaffold . . . a scene unparalleled in Europe for
over a century ! . . . Then he gazed anew at the
sick man, and thought he saw death in every
drawn feature of that agonised face. He could
have screamed aloud. His ears heard a peculiar
resonant boom. He started—it was nothing but
the city clock striking twelve. But there was
another sound—a mysterious shuffle at the door.
He listened; then jumped from his chair. Noth-
ing now ! Nothing! But still he felt drawn to
the door, and after what seemed an interminable
interval he went and opened it, his heart beating


216 T. RACKSOLE AND DAUGHTER
furiously. Nella lay in a heap on the door mat.
She was fully dressed, but had apparently lost
consciousness. He clutched at her slender body,
picked her up, carried her to the chair by the fire-
place, and laid her in it. He had forgotten all
about Eugen.
“What is it, my angel?” he whispered, and
then he kissed her—kissed her twice. He could
only look at her; he did not know what to do to
succour her.
At last she opened her eyes, and sighed.
“Where am I?” she asked vaguely, in a
tremulous tone. “Ah,” as she recognised him.
“Is it you? Did I do anything silly? Did I
faint?”
“What has happened? Were you ill?” he
questioned anxiously. He was kneeling at her
feet, holding her hand tight.
“I saw Jules by the side of my bed,” she mur-
mured; “I’m sure I saw him; he laughed at me.
I had not undressed. I sprang up, frightened,
but he had gone, and then I ran downstairs—to
you.”
“You were dreaming,” he soothed her.
“Was I?”
“You must have been. I have not heard a
sound. No one could have entered. But if you
like I will wake Mr. RackSole.”


IN THE NIGHT-TIME 217
“Perhaps I was dreaming,” she admitted.
** HOW foolish I ?”
“You were over-tired,” he still, still uncon-
sciously holding her hand. They gazed at each
other. She smiled at him.
“You kissed me,” she said suddenly, and he
blushed red and stood up before her. “Why did
you kiss me?”
“Ah! Miss Racksole,” he murmured, hurrying
the words out. “Forgive me. It is unforgiva-
ble, but forgive me. I was overpowered by
my feelings. I did not know what I was
doing.”
“Why did you kiss me?” she repeated.
“Because, Nella! I love you. I have no right
to say it?”
“Why have you no right to say it?”
“If Eugen dies, I shall owe a duty to Posen -
I shall be its ruler.”
“Well!” she said calmly, with an adorable
confidence. “Papa is worth forty millions.
Would you not abdicate?”
“Ah!” he gave a low cry. “Will you force
me to say these things? I could not shirk my
duty to Posen, and the reigning Prince of Posen
can only marry a Princess.”
“But Prince Eugen will live,” she said posi-
tively, “and if he lives 22


218 T. RACKSOLE AND DAUGHTER
“Then I shall be free. I would renounce all
my rights to make you mine, if—if--”
“If what, Prince?”
“If you would deign to accept my hand.”
“Am I, then, rich enough?”
“Nella!” He bent down to her.
Then there was a crash of breaking glass.
Aribert went to the window and opened it. In
the starlit gloom he could see that a ladder had
been raised against the back of the house. He
thought he heard footsteps at the end of the
garden.
“It was Jules,” he exclaimed to Nella, and
without another word rushed upstairs to the attic.
The attic was empty. Miss Spencer had mysteri.
ously vanished.


CHAPTER XIX
ROYALTY AT THE GRAND BABYLON
THE Royal apartments at the Grand Babylon
are famous in the world of hotels, and indeed
elsewhere, as being, in their own way, unsur-
passed. Some of the palaces of Germany, and
in particular those of the mad Ludwig of Bavaria,
may possess rooms and saloons which outshine
them in gorgeous luxury and the mere wild fairy-
like extravagance of wealth; but there is noth-
ing, anywhere, even on Eighth Avenue, New
York, which can fairly be called more complete,
more perfect, more enticing, or—not least im-
portant—more comfortable. The suite consists
of six chambers—the anteroom, the saloon or
audience chamber, the dining-room, the yellow
drawing-room (where Royalty receives its
friends), the library, and the State bedroom—
to the last of which we have already been intro-
duced. The most important and most impressive
of these five is, of course, the audience chamber,
an apartment fifty feet long by forty feet broad,
with a superb outlook over the Thames, the Shot


220 T. RACKSOLE AND DAUGHTER
Tower, and the higher signals of the South-West-
ern Railway. The decoration of this room is
mainly in the German taste, since four out of
every six of its Royal occupants are of Teutonic
blood; but its chief glory is its French ceiling, a
masterpiece by Fragonard, taken bodily from a
certain famous palace on the Loire. The walls
are of panelled oak, with an eight-foot dado of
Arras cloth imitated from unique Continental
examples. The carpet, woven in one piece, is an
antique specimen of the finest Turkish work, and
it was obtained, a bargain, by Félix Babylon,
from an impecunious Roumanian Prince. The
silver candelabra, now fitted with electric light,
came from the Rhine, and each has a separate
history. The Royal chair—it is not etiquette to
call it a throne, though it amounts to a throne—
was looted by Napoleon from an Austrian city,
and bought by Félix Babylon at the sale of a
French collector. At each corner of the room
stands a gigantic grotesque vase of German
faience of the sixteenth century. These were
presented to Félix Babylon by William the First
of Germany upon the conclusion of his first in-
cognito visit to London in connection with the
French trouble of 1875. There is only one
picture in the audience chamber. It is a por-
trait of the luckless but noble Dom Pedro,


ROYALTY AT THE GRAND BABYLON 221
Emperor of the Brazils. Given to Félix Babylon
by Dom Pedro himself, it hangs there solitary
and sublime as a reminder to Kings and Princes
that Empires may pass away and greatness fall.
A certain Prince who was occupying the suite
during the Jubilee of 1887—when the Grand
Babylon had seven persons of Royal blood under
its roof–sent a curt message to Félix that the
portrait must be removed. Félix respectfully
declined to remove it, and the Prince left for
another hotel, where he was robbed of two thou-
Sand pounds’ worth of jewellery. The Royal
audience chamber of the Grand Babylon, if peo-
ple only knew it, is one of the sights of London;
but it is never shown, and if you ask the hotel
Servants about its wonders they will tell you only
foolish facts concerning it, as that the Turkey
carpet costs fifty pounds to clean, and that one of
the great vases is cracked across the pedestal,
owing to the rough treatment accorded to it dur-
ing a riotous game of Blind Man’s Buff, played
One night by four young Princesses, a Balan
King, and his aides-de-camp.
In one of the window recesses of this magnifi-
cent apartment, on a certain afternoon in late
July, stood Prince Aribert of Posen. He was
faultlessly dressed in the conventional frock-coat
of English civilisation, with a gardenia in his


222 T. RACKSOLE AND DAUGHTER
button-hole, and the indispensable crease down
the front of the trousers. He seemed to be fairly
amused, and also to expect some one, for at fre-
quent intervals he looked rapidly over his shoulder
in the direction of the door behind the Royal
chair. At last a little wizened, stooping old man,
with a distinctly German cast of countenance,
appeared through the door, and laid some papers
on a small table by the side of the chair.
“Ah, Hans, my old friend!” said Aribert, ap-
proaching the old man. “I must have a little
talk with you about one or two matters. How
do you find his Royal Highness?”
The old man saluted, military fashion. “Not
very well, your Highness,” he answered. “I’ve
been valet to your Highness's nephew since his
majority, and I was valet to his Royal father
before him, but I never saw ” He stopped,
and threw up his wrinkled hands, deprecatingly.
“You never saw what?” Aribert Smiled
affectionately on the old fellow. You could per-
ceive that these two, so sharply differentiated in
rank, had been intimate in the past, and would
be intimate again.
“Do you know, my Prince,” said the old man,
“that we are to receive the financier, Sampson
Levi-is that his name?—in the audience cham-
ber? Surely, if I may humbly suggest, the


ROYALTY AT THE GRAND BABYLON 223
library would have been good enough for a
financier?”
“One would have thought so,” agreed Prince
Aribert, “but perhaps your master has a special
reason. Tell me,” he went on, changing the
subject quickly, “how came it that you left the
Prince, my nephew, at Ostend, and returned to
Posen?”
“His orders, Prince,” and old Hans, who had
had a wide experience of Royal whims and knew
half the secrets of the Courts of Europe, gave
Aribert a look which might have meant anything.
“He sent me back on an—an errand, your High-
ness.”
“And you were to rejoin him here?”
“Just so, Highness. And I did rejoin him
here, and though, to tell the truth, I had begun
to fear that I might never see my master again.”
“The Prince has been very ill in Ostend, Hans.”
“So I have gathered,” Hans responded drily,
slowly rubbing his hands together. “And his
Highness is not yet perfectly recovered.”
“Not yet. We despaired of his life, Hans, at
one time, but thanks to an excellent constitution,
he came safely through the ordeal.”
“We must take care of him, your Highness.”
“Yes, indeed,” said Aribert, solemnly, “his
life is very precious to Posen.”


224 T. RACKSOLE AND DAUGHTER
At that moment, Eugen, Hereditary Prince of
Posen, entered the audience chamber. He was
pale and languid, and his uniform seemed to be
a trouble to him. His hair had been slightly
ruffled, and there was a look of uneasiness, al
most of alarmed unrest, in his fine dark eyes.
He was like a man who is afraid to look behind
him lest he should see something there which
ought not to be there. But at the same time,
here beyond doubt was Royalty. Nothing could
have been more striking than the contrast be-
tween Eugen, a sick man in the shabby house at
Ostend, and this Prince Eugen in the Royal
apartments of the Grand Babylon Hotel, sur-
rounded by the luxury and pomp which modern
civilisation can offer to those born in high places.
All the desperate episode of Ostend was now hid-
den, passed over. It was supposed never to have
occurred. It existed only like a secret shame in
the hearts of those who had witnessed it. Prince
Eugen had recovered; at any rate, he was con-
valescent, and he had been removed to London,
where he took up again the dropped thread of
his princely life. The lady with the red hat, the
incorruptible and savage Miss Spencer, the un-
scrupulous and brilliant Jules, the dark, damp
cellar, the horrible little bedroom—these things
were over. Thanks to Prince Aribert and the


ROYALTY AT THE GRAND BABYLON 225
Racksoles, he had emerged from them in safety.
He was able to resume his public and official
career. The Emperor had been informed of his
Safe arrival in London, after an unavoidable de-
lay in Ostend; his name once more figured in
the Court chronicle of the newspapers. In short,
everything was smothered over. Only—only
Jules, Rocco, and Miss Spencer were still at
large; and the body of Reginald Dimmock lay
buried in the domestic mausoleum of the palace
at Posen; and Prince Eugen had still to inter-
view Mr. Sampson Levi.
That various matters lay heavy on the mind
of Prince Eugen was beyond question. He
Seemed to have withdrawn within himself. De-
spite the extraordinary experiences through which
he had recently passed, events which called aloud
for explanations and confidence between the
nephew and the uncle, he would say scarcely a
word to Prince Aribert. Any allusion, however
direct, to the days at Ostend, was ignored by him
with more or less ingenuity, and Prince Aribert
was really no nearer a full solution of the mystery
of Jules' plot than he had been on the night when
he and Racksole visited the gaming-tables at
Ostend. Eugen was well aware that he had
been kidnapped through the agency of the woman
in the red hat, but, doubtless ashamed at having
15


---
!--
ROYALTY AT THE GRAND BABYLON 227
they played together as boys, all might yet be
well. But at present there appeared to be no
sign that Eugen meant to give his confidence to
any one. The young Prince had come up out of
the valley of the shadow of death, but some of
the valley’s shadow had clung to him, and it
seemed he was unable to dissipate it.
“By the way,” said Eugen suddenly, “I must
reward these RackSoles, I suppose. I am indeed
grateful to them. If I gave the girl a bracelet,
and the father a thousand guineas—how would
that meet the case?”
“My dear Eugen!” exclaimed Aribert aghast.
“A thousand guineas' Do you know that Theo-
dore Racksole could buy up all Posen from end
to end without making himself a pauper. A
thousand guineas! You might as well offer him
sixpence.”
“Then what must I offer?”
“Nothing, except your thanks. Anything
else would be an insult. These are no ordinary
hotel people.”
“Can’t I give the little girl a bracelet?”
Prince Eugen gave a sinister laugh.
Aribert looked at him steadily. “No,” he said.
“Why did you kiss her—that night?” asked
Prince Eugen carelessly.
“Kiss whom?” said Aribert, blushing and


228 T. RACKSOLE AND DAUGHTER
angry, despite his most determined efforts to
keep calm and unconcerned.
“The Racksole girl.”
“When do you mean?”
“I mean,” said Prince Eugen, “that night in
Ostend when I was ill. You thought I was in a
delirium. Perhaps I was. But somehow I re-
member that with extraordinary distinction. I
remember raising my head for a fraction of an
instant, and just in that fraction of an instant
you kissed her. Oh, Uncle Aribert!”
“Listen, Eugen, for God’s sake. I love Nella
Racksole. I shall marry her.”
“You !” There was a long pause, and then
Eugen laughed. “Ah!” he said. “They all
talk like that to start with. I have talked like
that myself, dear uncle; it sounds nice, and it
means nothing.”
“In this case it means everything, Eugen,”
said Aribert quietly.
Some accent of determination in the latter’s
tone made Eugen rather more serious.
“You can’t marry her,” he said. “The
Emperor won’t permit a morganatic mar-
riage.”
“The Emperor has nothing to do with the affair.
I shall renounce my rights. I shall become a
plain citizen.”


CHAPTER XX
MR. A.AMPScº X,EVI BIDS PRINCE EUGEN GOOD-
MORNING
PRINCE EUGEN started. “I will see him,” he
said, with a gesture to Hans as if to indicate that
Mr. Sampson Levi might enter at once.
“I beg one moment first,” said Aribert, laying
a hand gently on his nephew’s arm, and giving
old Hans a glance which had the effect of pre-
cipitating that admirably trained servant through
the doorway.
“What is it?” asked Prince Eugen crossly.
“Why this sudden seriousness! Don’t forget
that I have an appointment with Mr. Sampson
Levi, and must not keep him waiting. Some
one said that punctuality is the politeness of
princes.”
“Eugen,” said Aribert, “I wish you to be as
serious as I am. Why cannot we have faith in
each other? I want to help you. I have helped
you. You are my titular Sovereign; but on the
other hand I have the honour to be your uncle:
I have the honour to be the same age as you,
l


LEVI SAYS GOOD-MORNING 231
and to have been your companion from youth up.
Give me your confidence. I thought you had
given it me years ago, but I have lately discov-
ered that you had your secrets, even then. And
now, since your illness, you are still more
secretive.”
“What do you mean, Aribert?” said Eugen,
in a tone which might have been either inimical
or friendly. “What do you want to say?”
“Well, in the first place, I want to say that
you will not succeed with the estimable Mr.
Sampson Levi.”
“Shall I not?” said Eugen lightly. “How do
you know what my business is with him?”
“Suffice it to say that I know. You will
never get that million pounds out of him.”
Prince Eugen gasped, and then swallowed his
excitement. “Who has been talking? What
million?” His eyes wandered uneasily round
the room. “Ah!” he said, pretending to laugh.
“I see how it is. I have been chattering in my
delirium. You mustn't take any notice of that,
Aribert. When one has a fever one’s ideas be-
come grotesque and fanciful.”
“You never talked in your delirium,” Aribert
replied; “at least not about yourself. I knew
about this projected loan before I saw you in
Ostend.”


232 T. RACKSOLE AND DAUGHTER
“Who told you?” demanded Eugen, fiercely.
“Then you admit that you are trying to raise
a loan?”
“I admit nothing. Who told you?”
“Theodore Racksole, the millionaire. These
rich men have no secrets from each other. They
form a coterie, closer than any coterie of ours,
Eugen, and far more powerful. They talk, and
in talking they rule the world, these millionaires.
They are the real monarchs.”
“Curse them l’” said Eugen.
“Yes, perhaps so. But let me return to your
case. Imagine my shame, my disgust, when
I found that Racksole could tell me more about
your affairs than I knew myself. Happily, he is
a good fellow; one can trust him; otherwise I
should have been tempted to do something desper-
ate when I discovered that all your private his-
tory was in his hands. Eugen, let us come to
the point; why do you want that million? Is it
actually true that you are so deeply in debt? I
have no desire to improve the occasion. I merely
ask.”
“And what if I do owe a million?” said Prince
Eugen with assumed valour.
“Oh, nothing, my dear Eugen, nothing. Only
it is rather a large sum to have scattered in ten
years, is it not? How did you manage it.”


LEWI SAYS GOOD-MORNING 233
“Don’t ask me, Aribert. I’ve been a fool.
But I swear to you that the woman whom you
call ‘the lady in the red hat' is the last of my
follies. I am about to take a wife, and become
a respectable prince.”
“Then the engagement with Princess Anna is
an accomplished fact?”
“Practically so. As soon as I have settled
with Levi, all will be smooth. Aribert, I
wouldn’t lose Anna for the Imperial throne.
She is a good and pure woman, and I love her as
a man might love an angel.”
“And yet you would deceive her as to your
debts, Eugen?”
“Not her, but her absurd parents, and perhaps
the Emperor. They have heard rumours, and I
must set those rumours at rest by presenting to
them a clean sheet.”
“I am glad you have been frank with me,
Eugen,” said Prince Aribert, “but I will be plain
with you. You will never marry the Princess
Anna.”
“And why?” said Eugen, supercilious again.
“Because her parents will not permit it. Be-
cause you will not be able to present a clean sheet
to them. Because this Sampson Levi will never
lend you a million.”
“Explain yourself.”


234 T. RACKSOLE AND DAUGHTER
“I propose to do so. You were kidnapped
—it is a horrid word, but we must use it—in
Ostend.”
“True.”
“Do you know why?”
“I suppose because that vile old red-hatted
woman and her accomplices wanted to get some
money out of me. Fortunately, thanks to you,
they didn't.”
“Not at all,” said Aribert. “They wanted no
money from you. They knew well enough that
you had no money. They knew you were the
naughty schoolboy among European Princes,
with no sense of responsibility or of duty towards
your kingdom. Shall I tell you why they kid-
napped you?”
“When you have done abusing me, my dear
uncle.”
“They kidnapped you merely to keep you out
of England for a few days, merely to compel you
to fail in your appointment with Sampson Levi.
And it appears to me that they succeeded. As-
suming that you don’t obtain the money from
Levi, is there another financier in all Europe
from whom you can get it—on such strange
security as you have to offer?”
“Possibly there is not,” said Prince Eugen
calmly. “But, you see, I shall get it from


LEWI SAYS GOOD-MORNING 235
Sampson Tevi. Levi promised it, and I know
from other sources that he is a man of his
word. He said that the money, subject to cer-
tain formalities, would be available till 33
{{ Till? 3)
“Till the end of June.”
“And it is now the end of July.”
“Well, what is a month? He is only too glad
to lend the money. He will get excellent inter-
est. How on earth have you got into your sage
old head this notion of a plot against me? The
idea is ridiculous. A plot against me? What
for? "
“Have you ever thought of Bosnia?” asked
Aribert coldly.
“What of Bosnia?”
“I need not tell you that the King of Bosnia is
naturally under obligations to Austria, to whom
he owes his crown. Austria is anxious for him
to make a good influential marriage.”
“Well, let him.”
“He is going to. He is going to marry the
Princess Anna.”
“Not while I live. He made overtures there
a year ago, and was rebuffed.”
“Yes; but he will make overtures again, and
this time he will not be rebuffed. Oh, Eugen,
can't you see that this plot against you is being


236 T. RACKSOLE AND DAUGHTER
engineered by some persons who know all about
your affairs, and whose desire is to prevent your
marriage with Princess Anna? Only one man in
Europe can have any motive for wishing to pre-
vent your marriage with Princess Anna, and
that is the man who means to marry her him.
self.” Eugen went very pale.
“Then, Aribert, do you mean to convey to me
that my detention in Ostend was contrived by the
agents of the King of Bosnia?”
& 4 I do. 52
“With a view to stopping my negotiations
with Sampson Levi, and so putting an end to the
possibility of my marriage with Anna?”
Aribert nodded.
“You are a good friend to me, Aribert. You
mean well. But you are mistaken. You have
been worrying about nothing.”
“Have you forgotten about Reginald Dim-
mock?” -
“I remember you said that he had died.”
“I said nothing of the sort. I said that he
had been assassinated. That was part of it, my
poor Eugen.”
“Pooh!” said Eugen. “I don’t believe he
was assassinated. And as for Sampson Levi, I
will bet you a thousand marks that he and I
come to terms this morning, and that the million


LEVI SAYS GOOD-MORNING 237
is in my hands before I leave London.” Aribert
shook his head.
“You seem to be pretty sure of Mr. Levi’s
character. Have you had much to do with him
before?”
“Well,” Eugen hesitated a second, “a little.
What young man in my position hasn’t had
something to do with Mr. Sampson Levi at one
time or another?”
“I haven’t,” said Aribert.
“You! You are a fossil.” He rang a sil-
ver bell. “Hans! I will receive Mr. Sampson
Levi.”
Whereupon Aribert discreetly departed, and
Prince Eugen sat down in the great velvet chair,
and began to look at the papers which Hans had
previously placed upon the table.
“Good-morning, your Royal Highness,” said
Sampson Levi, bowing as he entered. “I trust
your Royal Highness is well.”
“Moderately, thanks,” returned the Prince.
In spite of the fact that he had had as much
to do with people of Royal blood as any plain
man in Europe, Sampson Levi had never yet
learned how to be at ease with these exalted
individuals during the first few minutes of an
interview. Afterwards, he resumed command
of himself and his faculties, but at the beginning


23S T. RACKSOLE AND DAUGHTER
he was invariably flustered, scarlet of face, and
inclined to perspiration.
“We will proceed to business at once,” said
Prince Eugen. “Will you take a seat, Mr.
Levi P’”
“I thank your Royal Highness.”
“Now as to that loan which we had already
practically arranged—a million, I think it was,”
said the Prince airily.
“A million,” Levi acquiesced, toying with his
enormous watch-chain.
“Everything is now in order. Here are the
papers, and I should like to finish the matter up
at once.”
“Exactly, your Highness, but—”
“But what? You months ago expressed the
warmest satisfaction at the security, though I
am quite prepared to admit that the security is
of rather an unusual nature. You also agreed
to the rate of interest. It is not everyone, Mr.
Levi, who can lend out a million at 5% per cent.
And in ten years the whole amount will be paid
back. I–er—I believe I informed you that the
fortune of Princess Anna, who is about to accept
my hand, will ultimately amount to something
like fifty millions of marks, which is over two
million pounds in your English money.” Prince
Eugen stopped. He had no fancy for talking in


LEVI SAYS GOOD-MORNING: 239
this confidential manner to financiers, but he felt
that circumstances demanded it.
“You see, it’s like this, your Royal Highness,”
began Mr. Sampson Levi, in his homely English
idiom. “It’s like this. I said I could keep that
bit of money available till the end of June, and
you were to give me an interview here before
that date. Not having heard from your High-
ness, and not knowing your Highness's address,
though my German agents made every inquiry,
I concluded that you had made other arrange-
ments, money being so cheap this last few
months.”
“I was unfortunately detained at Ostend,”
said Prince Eugen, with as much haughtiness as
he could assume, “by—by important business. I
have made no other arrangements, and I shall
have need of the million. If you will be so good
as to pay it to my London bankers—”
“I’m very sorry,” said Mr. Sampson Levi,
with a tremendous and dazzling air of politeness,
which surprised even himself, “but my syndicate
has now lent the money elsewhere. It’s in
South America. I don’t mind telling your High-
ness that we’ve lent it to the Chilian Govern-
ment.”
“Hang the Chilian Government, Mr. Levil.”
exclaimed the Prince, and he went white. “I


240 T. RACKSOLE AND DAUGHTER
must have that million. It was an arrange
ment.”
“It was an arrangement, I admit,” said Mr.
Sampson Levi, “but your Highness broke the
arrangement.”
There was a long silence.
“Do you mean to say,” began the Prince with
tense calmness, “that you are not in a position
to let me have that million?”
“I could let your Highness have a million in a
couple of years' time.”
The Prince made a gesture of annoyance.
“Mr. Levi,” he said, “if you do not place the
money in my hands to-morrow you will ruin one
of the oldest of reigning families, and, incident-
ally, you will alter the map of Europe. You are
not keeping faith, and I had relied on you.”
“Pardon me, your Highness,” said little Levi,
rising in resentment, “it is not I who have not
kept faith. I beg to repeat that the money is no
longer at my disposal, and to bid your Highness
good-morning.”
And Mr. Sampson Levi left the audience-
chamber with an awkward, aggrieved bow.
It was a scene characteristic of the end of the
nineteenth century—an overfed, commonplace,
pursy little man who had been born in a Brixton
semi-detached villa, and whose highest idea of


LEVI SAYS GOOD MORNING 241
pleasure was a Sunday up the river in an expen-
sive electric launch, confronting and utterly
routing, in a hotel belonging to an American
millionaire, the representative of a race of men
who had fingered every page of European history
for centuries, and who still, in their native
castles, were surrounded with every outward
circumstance of pomp and power.
“Aribert,” said Prince Eugen, a little later,
“you were right. It is all over. I have only
one refuge—”
“You don’t mean ” Aribert stopped,
dumbfounded.
“Yes, I do,” he said quickly. “I can manage
it so * will look like an accident.”
*


CHAPTER XXI
THE RETURN OF FéLIX BABYLON
ON the evening of Prince Eugen’s fateful in-
terview with Mr. Sampson Levi, Theodore Rack-
sole was wandering somewhat aimlessly and
uneasily about the entrance hall and adjacent
corridors of the Grand Babylon. He had re-
turned from Ostend only a day or two previously,
and had endeavoured with all his might to forget
the affair which had carried him there—to regard
it, in fact, as done with. But he found himself
unable to do so. In vain he remarked, under
his breath, that there were some things which
were best left alone: if his experience as a
manipulator of markets, a contriver of gigantic
schemes in New York, had taught him anything
at all, it should surely have taught him that.
Yet he could not feel reconciled to such a posi-
tion. The mere presence of the Princes in his
hotel roused the fighting instincts of this man,
who had never in his whole career been beaten.
He had, as it were, taken up arms on their side,
and if the Princes of Posen would not continue


244 T. RACKSOLE AND DAUGHTER
he had always been in the habit of carrying
things through, and was now actuated by a mere
childish, obstinate desire to carry this one
through. Moreover, he was splendidly conscious
of his perfect ability to carry it through. One
additional impulse he had, though he did not
admit it to himself, being by nature adverse to
big words, and that was an abstract love of
justice, the Anglo-Saxon’s deep-founded instinct
for helping the right side to conquer, even when
grave risks must thereby be run, with no corre-
sponding advantage.
He was turning these things over in his mind .
as he walked about the vast hotel on that even-
ing of the last day in July. The Society papers
had been stating for a week past that London
was empty, but, in spite of the Society papers,
London persisted in seeming to be just as full as
ever. The Grand Babylon was certainly not as
crowded as it had been a month earlier, but it
was doing a very passable business. At the close
of the season the gay butterflies of the social
community have a habit of hovering for a day
or two in the big hotels before they flutter away
to castle and country-house, meadow and moor,
lake and stream. The great basket-chairs in the
portico were well filled by old and middle-aged
gentlemen engaged in enjoying the varied de-


THE RETURN OF FELIX BABYLON 245
lights of liqueurs, cigars, and the full moon
which floated so serenely above the Thames.
Here and there a pretty woman on the arm of a
cavalier in immaculate attire swept her train as
she turned to and fro in the promenade of the
terrace. Waiters and uniformed commission-
aires and gold-braided doorkeepers moved noise-
lessly about; at short intervals the chief of the
doorkeepers blew his shrill whistle and hansoms
drove up with tinkling bell to take away a pair
of butterflies to some place of amusement or
boredom; occasionally a private carriage drawn
by expensive and self-conscious horses put the
hansoms to shame by its mere outward glory.
It was a hot night, a night for the summer
Woods, and save for the vehicles there was no
rapid movement of any kind. It seemed as
though the world—the world, that is to say, of
the Grand Babylon—was fully engaged in the
Solemn processes of digestion and small-talk.
Even the long row of the Embankment gas lamps,
stretching right and left, scarcely trembled in
the still, warm, caressing air. The stars over-
head looked down with many blinkings upon the
enormous pile of the Grand Babylon, and the
moon regarded it with bland and changeless face;
what they thought of it and its inhabitants can-
not, unfortunately, be recorded. What Theo-


246 T. RACKSOLE AND DAUGHTER
dore Racksole thought of the moon can be
recorded: he thought it was a nuisance. It
somehow fascinated his gaze with its silly stare,
and so interfered with his complex meditations.
He glanced round at the well-dressed and Satisfied
people—his guests, his customers. They ap-
peared to ignore him absolutely. Probably only
a very small percentage of them had the least
idea that this tall, spare man, with the iron-grey
hair and the thin, firm, resolute face, who wore
his American-cut evening clothes with such care.
less ease, was the sole proprietor of the Grand
Babylon, and possibly the richest man in Europe.
As has already been stated, Racksole was not a
celebrity in England. The guests of the Grand
Babylon saw merely a restless male person,
whose restlessness was rather a disturber of
their quietude, but with whom, to judge by
his countenance, it would be inadvisable to re-
monstrate. Therefore Theodore Racksole con-
tinued his perambulations unchallenged, and
kept saying to himself, “I must do something.”
But what? He could think of no course to
pursue.
At last he walked straight through the hotel
and out at the other entrance, and so up the little
unassuming side street into the roaring torrent of
the narrow and crowded Strand. He jumped on


THE RETURN OF FELIX BABYLON 247
a Putney 'bus, and paid his fare to Putney, five-
pence, and then, finding that the humble oc-
cupants of the vehicle stared at the spectacle of a
man in evening dress but without a dustcoat, he
jumped off again, oblivious of the fact that the
conductor jerked a thumb towards him and
winked at the passengers, as who should say,
“There goes a lunatic.” He went into a tobac-
conist’s shop and asked for a cigar. The shop-
man mildly inquired what price.
“What are the best you’ve got?” asked Theo-
dore Racksole.
“Five shillings each, sir,” said the man
promptly.
“Give me a penny one,” was Theodore Rack-
sole’s laconic request, and walked out of the shop
smoking the penny cigar. It was a new sensa-
tion for him.
He was inhaling the aromatic odours of Eugene
Rimmel’s establishment for the sale of scents
when a gentleman, walking slowly in the op-
posite direction, accosted him with a quiet,
“Good-evening, Mr. Racksole.” The millionaire
did not at first recognise his interlocutor, who
wore a travelling overcoat, and was carrying a
handbag. Then a slight, pleased smile passed
over his features, and he held out his hand.
“Well, Mr. Babylon,” he greeted the other,


248 T. RACKSOLE AND DAUGHTER
“of all persons in the wide world you are the
man I would most have wished to meet.”
“You flatter me,” said the little Anglicised
Swiss.
“No, I don’t,” answered Racksole; “it isn't
my custom, any more than it’s yours. I wanted
to have a real good long yarn with you, and
lo! here you are Where have you sprung
from ???
“From Lausanne,” said Félix Babylon. “I
had finished my duties there, I had nothing else
to do, and I felt homesick. I felt the nostalgia
of London, and so I just came over, just as you
see,” and he raised the handbag for Racksole's
notice. “One toothbrush, one razor, two slip-
pers, eh?” He laughed. “I was wondering as
I walked along where I should stay—me, Félix
Babylon, homeless in London.”
“I should advise you to stay at the Grand
Babylon,” Racksole laughed back. “It is a good
hotel, and I know the proprietor personally.”
“Rather expensive, is it not?” said Babylon.
“To you, sir,” answered Racksole, “the inclu-
sive terms will be exactly half a crown a week.
Do you accept P”
“I accept,” said Babylon, and added, “You
are very good, Mr. Racksole.”
They strolled together back to the hotel, say-


THE RETURN OF FELIX BABYLON 249
ing nothing in particular, but feeling very con-
tent with each other’s company.
“Many customers?” asked Félix Babylon.
“Very tolerable,” said RackSole, assuming as
much of the air of the professional hotel pro-
prietor as he could. “I think I may say, in the
storekeeper’s phrase, that if there is any business
about I am doing it. To-night the people are all
on the terrace in the portico—it's so confoundedly
hot—and the consumption of ice is simply enor-
mous—nearly as large as it would be in New
York.”
“In that case,” said Babylon politely, “let me
offer you another cigar.”
“But I have not finished this one.”
“That is just why I wish to offer you another
one. A cigar such as yours, my good friend,
ought never to be smoked within the precincts of
the Grand Babylon, not even by the proprietor of
the Grand Babylon, and especially when all the
guests are assembled in the portico. The fumes
of it would ruin any hotel.”
Theodore Racksole laughingly lighted the
Rothschild Havana which Babylon gave him,
and they entered the hotel arm in arm. But no
sooner had they mounted the steps than little
Félix became the object of numberless greetings.
It appeared that he had been highly popular


250 T. RACKSOLE AND DAUGHTER
among his quondam guests. At last they
reached the managerial room, where Babylon
was regaled on a chicken, and Racksole assisted
him in the consumption of a bottle of Heidsieck
Monopole, Carte d’Or.
“This chicken is almost perfectly grilled,” said
Babylon at length. “It is a credit to the house.
But why, my dear RackSole, why in the name of
heaven did you quarrel with Rocco?”
“Then you have heard?”
“Heard ' My dear friend, it was in every
newspaper on the Continent. Some journals
prophesied that the Grand Babylon would have
to close its doors within half a year now that
Rocco had deserted it. But of course I knew
better. I knew that you must have had a good
reason for allowing Rocco to depart, and that
you must have made arrangements in advance
for a substitute.”
“As a matter of fact I had not made arrange-
ments in advance,” said Theodore RackSole, a
little ruefully; “but happily we have found in
our second sous-chef an artist inferior only to
Rocco himself. That, however, was mere good
fortune.”
“Surely,” said Babylon, “it was indiscreet to
trust to mere good fortune in such a serious
matter?” - -
-- 4' * * . .


THE RETURN OF FELIX BABYLON 251
“I didn’t trust to mere good fortune. I didn’t
trust to anything except Rocco, and he deceived
me.”
“But why did you quarrel with him?”
“I didn’t quarrel with him. I found him
embalming a corpse in the State bedroom one
might——”
“You what?” Babylon almost screamed.
“I found him embalming a corpse in the State
bedroom,” repeated Racksole in his quietest tones.
The two men gazed at each other, and then
Racksole replenished Babylon’s glass.
“Tell me,” said Babylon, settling himself deep
in an easy-chair and lighting a cigar.
And Racksole thereupon recounted to him the
whole of the Posen episode, with every circum-
stantial detail so far as he knew it. It was a
long and complicated recital, and Occupied about
an hour. During that time little Félix never
spoke a word, scarcely moved a muscle; only his
Small eyes gazed through the bluish haze of
Smoke. The clock on the mantelpiece tinkled
midnight.
“Time for whisky and soda,” said Racksole,
and got up as if to ring the bell; but Babylon
Waved him back.
“You have told me that this Sampson Levi
had an audience of Prince Eugen to-day, but


252 T. RACKSOLE AND DAUGHTER
you have not told me the result of that audi-
ence,” said Babylon.
“Because I do not yet know it. But I shall
doubtless know to-morrow. In the meantime, I
feel fairly sure that Levi declined to produce
Prince Eugen’s required million. I have reason
to believe that the money was lent elsewhere.”
“H’m l’ mused Babylon; and then, carelessly,
“I am not at all surprised at that arrangement
for spying through the bath-room of the State
apartments.”
“Why are you not surprised?”
“Oh!” said Babylon, “it is such an obvious
dodge—so easy to carry out. As for me, I took
special care never to involve myself in these
affairs. I knew they existed; I somehow felt
that they existed. But I also felt that they lay
outside my sphere. My business was to provide
board and lodging of the most Sumptuous kind
to those who didn’t mind paying for it; and I
did my business. If anything else went on in
the hotel, under the rose, I long ago determined
to ignore it unless it should happen to be brought
before my notice; and it never was brought
before my notice. However, I admit that there
is a certain pleasurable excitement in this kind
of affair, and doubtless you have experienced
that.”


THE RETURN OF FELIX BABYLON 253
“I have,” said RackSole, simply, “though I
believe you are laughing at me.”
“By no means,” Babylon replied. “Now what,
if I may ask the question, is going to be your
next step?”
“That is just what I desire to know myself,”
said Theodore Racksole.
“Well,” said Babylon, after a pause, “let us
begin. In the first place, it is possible you may
be interested to hear that I happened to see Jules
to-day.” -
“You did!” Racksole remarked with much
calmness. “Where?”
“Well, it was early this morning, in Paris,
just before I left there. The meeting was quite
accidental, and Jules seemed rather surprised at
meeting me. He respectfully inquired where I
was going, and I said that I was going to Switz-
erland. At that moment I thought I was going
to Switzerland. It had occurred to me that after
all I should be happier there, and that I had
better turn back and not see London any more.
However, I changed my mind once again, and
decided to come on to London, and accept the
risks of being miserable there without my
hotel. Then I asked Jules whither he was
bound, and he told me that he was off to Con-
stantinople, being interested in a new French


254 T. RACKSOLE AND DAUGHTER
hotel there. I wished him good luck, and we
parted.”
“Constantinople, eh?” said Racksole. “A
highly suitable place for him, I should say.”
“But,” Babylon resumed, “I caught sight of
him again.”
“Where?”
“At Charing Cross, a few minutes before I
had the pleasure of meeting you. Mr. Jules had
not gone to Constantinople after all. He did not
see me, or I should have suggested to him that
in going from Paris to Constantinople it is not
usual to travel via London.”
“The cheek of the fellow !” exclaimed Theo.
dore Racksole. “The gorgeous and colossal
cheek of the fellow !”


CHAPTER XXII
IN THE WINE CELLARS OF THE GRAND BABYLON
“Do you know anything of the antecedents of
this Jules,” asked Theodore Racksole, helping
himself to whisky.
“Nothing whatever,” said Babylon. “Until
you told me, I don’t think I was aware that his
true name was Thomas Jackson, though of course
I knew that it was not Jules. I certainly was
not aware that Miss Spencer was his wife, but I
had long suspected that their relations were
somewhat more intimate than the nature of their
respective duties in the hotel absolutely de-
manded. All that I do know of Jules—he will
always be called Jules—is that he gradually, by
some mysterious personal force, acquired a
prominent position in the hotel. . Decidedly he
was the cleverest and most intellectual waiter I
have ever known, and he was specially skilled in
the difficult task of retaining his own dignity
while not interfering with that of other people.
I'm afraid this information is a little too vague


256 T. RACKSOLE AND DAUGHTER
to be of any practical assistance in the present
difficulty.”
“What is the present difficulty?” Racksole
queried, with a simple air.
“I should imagine that the present difficulty is
to account for the man’s presence in London.”
“That is easily accounted for,” said Rack-
sole.
“How? Do you suppos., he is anxious to give
himself up to justice, or that the chains of habit
bind him to the hotel?”
“Neither,” said Racksole. “Jules is going to
have another try—that’s all.”
“Another try at what?”
“At Prince Eugen. Either at his life or his
liberty. Most probably the former this time;
almost certainly the former. He has guessed
that we are somewhat handicapped by our
anxiety to keep Prince Eugen’s predicament
quite quiet, and he is taking advantage of that
fact. As he is already fairly rich, on his own
admission, the reward which has been offered to
him must be enormous, and he is absolutely
determined to get it. He has several times
recently proved himself to be a daring fellow;
unless I am mistaken he will shortly prove him-
self to be still more daring.”
“But what can he do? Surely you don’t sug-


IN THE WINE CELLARS 257
º
gest that he will attempt the life of Prince
Eugen in this hotel?”
“Why not? If Reginald Dimmock fell on
mere suspicion that he would turn out unfaithful
to the conspiracy, why not Prince Eugen?”
“But it would be an unspeakable crime, and
do infinite harm to the hotel!”
“True!” Racksole admitted, smiling. Little
Félix Babylon seemed to brace himself for the
grasping of this monstrous idea.
“How could it possibly be done?” he asked
at length.
“Dimmock was poisoned.”
“Yes, but you had Rocco here then, and Rocco
was in the plot. It is conceivable that Rocco
could have managed it—barely conceivable. But
without Rocco I cannot think it possible. I can-
not even think that Jules would attempt it. You
See, in a place like the Grand Babylon, as prob-
ably I needn’t point out to you, food has to pass
through so many hands that to poison one person
without killing perhaps fifty would be a most
delicate operation. Moreover, Prince Eugen,
unless he has changed his habits, is always
Served by his own attendant, old Hans, and
therefore any attempt to tamper with a cooked
dish immediately before serving would be haz-
ardous in the extreme.”
17


258 T. RACKSOLE AND DAUGHTER
“Granted,” said Racksole. “The wine, how-
ever, might be more easily got at. Had you
thought of that?”
“I had not,” Babylon admitted. “You are an
ingenious theorist, but I happen to know that
Prince Eugen always has his wine opened in his
own presence. No doubt it would be opened by
Hans. Therefore the wine theory is not tenable,
my friend.”
“I do not see why,” said Racksole. “I know
nothing of wine as an expert, and I very seldom
drink it, but it seems to me that a bottle of wine
might be tampered with while it was still in the
cellar, especially if there was an accomplice in
the hotel.”
“You think, then, that you are not yet rid of
all your conspirators?”
“I think that Jules might still have an accom-
plice within the building.”
“And that a bottle of wine could be opened
and re-corked without leaving any trace of the
operation?” Babylon was a trifle sarcastic.
“I don’t see the necessity of opening the bottle
in order to poison the wine,” said Racksole. “I
have never tried to poison anybody by means of
a bottle of wine, and I don’t lay claim to any
natural talent as a poisoner, but I think I could
devise several ways of managing the trick. Of


IN THE WINE CELLARS 259
course, I admit that I may be entirely mistaken
as to Jules’ intentions.”
“Ah!” said Félix Babylon. “The wine-cellars
beneath us are one of the wonders of London. I
hope you are aware, Mr. RackSole, that when
you bought the Grand Babylon you bought what
is probably the finest stock of wines in England,
if not in Europe. In the valuation I reckoned
them at sixty thousand pounds. And I may say
that I always took care that the cellars were
properly guarded. Even Jules would experience
a serious difficulty in breaking into the cellars
without the connivance of the wine-clerk, and
the wine-clerk is, or was, incorruptible.”
“I am ashamed to say that I have not yet
inspected my wines,” Smiled Racksole; “I have
never given them a thought. Once or twice I
have taken the trouble to make a tour of the
hotel, but I omitted the cellars in my excursions.”
“Impossible, my dear fellow !” said Babylon,
amused at such a confession, to him—a great
Connoisseur and lover of fine wines—almost
incredible. “But really you must see them
to-morrow. If I may, I will accompany you.”
“Why not to-night?” Racksole suggested,
calmly.
“To-night! It is very late: Hubbard will
have gone to bed.”


260 T. RACKSOLE AND DAUGHTER
“And may I ask who is Hubbard? I re-
member the name but dimly.”
“Hubbard is the wine-clerk of the Grand
Babylon,” said Felix, with a certain emphasis.
“A sedate man of forty. He has the keys of the
cellars. He knows every bottle of every bin, its
date, its qualities, its value. And he is a teeto-
taler. Hubbard is a curiosity. No wine can
leave the cellars without his knowledge, and no
person can enter the cellars without his know-
ledge. 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 ac-
company me. A cellar is the same by night as
by day. Therefore, why not now?”
Babylon shrugged his shoulders. “As you
wish,” he agreed, with his indestructible polite-
neSS.
“And now to find this Mr. Hubbard, with his
key of the cupboard,” said Racksole, as they
walked out of the room together. Although the
hour was so late, the hotel was not, of course,
closed for the night. A few guests still remained
about in the public rooms, and a few fatigued
waiters were still in attendance. One of these


IN THE WINE CELLARS 261
|
latter was despatched in search of the singular
Mr. Hubbard, and it fortunately turned out that
this gentleman had not actually retired, though
he was on the point of doing so. He brought
the keys to Mr. Racksole in person, and after he
had had a little chat with his former master,
the proprietor and the ex-proprietor of the Grand
Babylon Hotel proceeded on their way to the
cellars.
These cellars extend over, or rather under,
quite half the superficial area of the whole hotel
—the longitudinal half which lies next to the
Strand. Owing to the fact that the ground
slopes sharply from the Strand to the river, the
Grand Babylon is, so to speak, deeper near the
Strand than it is near the Thames. Towards
the Thames there is, below the entrance level, a
basement and a sub-basement. Towards the
Strand there is basement, sub-basement, and the
huge wine cellars beneath all. After descending
the four flights of the service stairs, and travers-
ing a long passage running parallel with the
kitchen, the two found themselves opposite a
door, which, on being unlocked, gave access to
another flight of stairs. At the foot of this was
the main entrance to the cellars. Outside the
entrance was the wine-lift, for the ascension of
delicious fluids to the upper floors, and, opposite,


264 T. RACKSOLE AND DAUGHTER
“Anything special in there?” asked Racksole
curiously, as they stood before the door, and
looked within at the serried ends of bottles.
“Ah!” exclaimed Babylon, almost smacking
his lips, “therein lies the cream of all.”
“The best champagne, I suppose?” said Rack-
sole.
“Yes,” said Babylon, “the best champagne is
there—a very special Sillery, as exquisite as you
will find anywhere. But I see, my friend, that
you fall into the common error of putting cham-
pagne first among wines. That distinction
belongs to Burgundy. You have old Burgundy
in that cellar, Mr. Racksole, which cost me—
how much do you think?—eighty pounds a
bottle. Probably it will never be drunk,” he
added with a sigh. “It is too expensive even
for princes and plutocrats.”
“Yes, it will,” said Racksole quickly. “You
and I will have a bottle up to-morrow.”
“Then,” continued Babylon, still riding his
hobby-horse, “there is a sample of the Rhine
wine dated 1706 which caused such a sensation
at the Vienna Exhibition of 1873. There is also
a singularly glorious Persian wine from Shiraz,
the like of which I have never seen elsewhere.
Also there is an unrivalled vintage of Romanée-
Conti, greatest of all modern Burgundies. If I


IN THE WINE CELLARS 265
remember right Prince Eugen invariably has a
bottle when he comes to stay here. It is not on
the hotel wine list, of course, and only a few
customers know of it. We do not precisely
hawk it about the dining-room.”
“Indeed!” said Racksole. “Let us go in-
side.”
They entered the stone apartment, rendered
almost sacred by the preciousness of its contents,
and Racksole looked round with a strangely
intent and curious air. At the far side was a
grating, through which came a feeble light.
“What is that?” asked the millionaire sharply.
“That is merely a ventilation grating. Good
ventilation is absolutely essential.”
“Looks broken, doesn’t it?” Racksole sug-
gested, and then, putting a finger quickly on
Babylon’s shoulder, “there’s some one in the
cellar. Can’t you hear breathing, down there,
behind that bin?”
The two men stood tense and silent for a
while, listening, under the ray of the single
electric light in the ceiling. Half the cellar
was involved in gloom. At length RackSole
walked firmly down the central passage-way
between the bins and turned to the corner at
the right.
“Come out, you villain,” he said in a low,


266 T. RACKSOLE AND DAUGHTER
wellnigh vicious tone, and dragged up a cower-
ing figure.
He had expected to find a man, but it was his
own daughter, Nella Racksole, upon whom he
had laid angry hands.


CHAPTER XXIII
FURTHER EVENTS IN THE CELLAR
“WELL, father,” Nella greeted her astounded
parent. “You should make sure that you have
got hold of the right person before you use all
that terrible muscular force of yours. I do be-
lieve you have broken my shoulder bone.” She
rubbed her shoulder with a comical expression of
pain, and then stood up before the two men.
The skirt of her dark grey dress was torn and
dirty, and the usually trim Nella looked as
though she had been shot down a canvas fire-
escape. Mechanically she smoothed her frock,
and gave a straightening touch to her hair.
“Good-evening, Miss Racksole,” said Félix
Babylon, bowing formally. “This is an unex-
pected pleasure.” Félix’s drawing-room manners
never deserted him upon any occasion whatever.
“May I inquire what you are doing in my wine
cellar, Nella Racksole?” said the millionaire a
little stiffly. He was certainly somewhat annoyed
at having mistaken his daughter for a criminal;
moreover, he hated to be surprised, and upon this


FURTHER EVENTS IN THE CELLAR 269
“Why on earth didn’t you come and warn me
or some one else in the hotel?” asked Racksole.
“Oh, I don’t know, dad,” she replied sweetly.
“I had got interested in it, and I thought I would
see it out myself. Well, as I was saying, Mr.
Babylon,” she continued, addressing her remarks
to Félix, with a dazzling smile, “that noise went
on for quite a long time. At last it stopped, and
the figure reappeared from under the wall,
crossed the yard, climbed up the opposite wall
by some means or other, and so over the railings
into Salisbury Lane. I felt rather relieved then,
because I knew he hadn’t actually broken into
the hotel. He walked down Salisbury Lane very
slowly. A policeman was just coming up.
“Good-night, officer,” I heard him say to the
policeman, and he asked him for a match. The
policeman supplied the match, and the other man
lighted a cigarette, and proceeded further down
the lane. By cricking your neck from my win-
dow, Mr. Babylon, you can get a glimpse of the
Embankment and the river. I saw the man
Cross the Embankment, and lean over the river
wall, where he seemed to be talking to some one.
He then walked along the Embankment to West-
minster, and that was the last I saw of him. I
waited a minute or two for him to come back,
but he didn’t come back, and so I thought it was


270 T. RACKSOLE AND DAUGHTER
about time I began to make inquiries into the
affair. I went downstairs instantly, and out of
the hotel, through the quadrangle, into Salisbury
Lane, and I looked over those railings. There
was a ladder on the other side, by which it was
perfectly easy—once you had got over the railings
—to climb down into the yard. I was horribly
afraid lest some one might walk up Salisbury
Lane and catch me in the act of negotiating those
railings, but no one did, and I surmounted them,
with no worse damages than a torn skirt. I
crossed the yard on tiptoe, and I found that in
the wall, close to the ground, and almost exactly
under my window, there was an iron grating,
about one foot by fourteen inches. I suspected,
as there was no other ironwork near, that the
mysterious visitor must have been sawing at this
grating for private purposes of his own. I gave
it a good shake, and I was not at all surprised
that a good part of it came in my hand, leaving
just enough room for a person to creep through.
I decided that I would creep through, and now
wish I hadn’t. I don’t know, Mr. Babylon,
whether you have ever tried to creep through a
small hole with a skirt on. Have you?”
“I have not had that pleasure,” said little
Félix, bowing again, and absently taking up a
bottle which lay to his hand.


FURTHER EVENTS IN THE CELLAR 271
“Well, you are fortunate,” the imperturbable
Nella resumed. “For quite three minutes I
thought I should perish in that grating, dad,
with my shoulder inside and the rest of me out-
side. However, at last, by the most amazing
and agonising efforts, I pulled myself through,
and fell into this extraordinary cellar more dead
than alive. Then I wondered what I should do
next. Should I wait for the mysterious visitor
to return, and stab him with my pocket Scissors
if he tried to enter, or should I raise an alarm?
First of all I replaced the broken grating, then I
struck a match, and saw that I had got landed
in a wilderness of bottles. The match went out,
and I hadn’t another one. So I sat down in the
Corner to think. I had just decided to wait and
See if the visitor returned, when I heard foot-
steps, and then voices, and then you came in. I
must say I was rather taken aback, especially as
I recognised the voice of Mr. Babylon. You see,
I didn’t want to frighten you. If I bobbed up
from behind the bottles and said “Booh!’ you
would have had a serious shock. I wanted to
think of a way of breaking my presence gently
to you. But you saved me the trouble, dad.
Was I really breathing so loudly that you could
hear me?”
The girl ended her strange recital, and there


272 T. RACKSOLE AND DAUGHTER
was a moment's silence in the cellar. Racksole
merely nodded an affirmative to her concluding
question.
“Well, Nell, my girl,” said the millionaire at
length, “we are much obliged for your gymnas-
tic efforts—very much obliged. But now, I think
you had better go off to bed. There is going to
be some serious trouble here, I’ll lay my last
dollar on that?”
“But if there is to be a burglary I should so
like to see it, dad,” Nella pleaded. “I’ve never
seen a burglar caught red-handed.”
“This isn’t a burglary, my dear. I calculate
it’s something far worse than a burglary.”
“What?” she cried. “Murder? Arson? Dy-
namite plot? How perfectly splendid!”
“Mr. Babylon informs me that Jules is in
London,” said Racksole quietly.
“Jules!” she exclaimed under her breath, and
her tone changed instantly to the utmost serious-
ness. “Switch off the light, quick!” Springing
to the switch, she put the cellar in darkness.
“What’s that for ?” said her father.
“If he comes back he would see the light, and
be frightened away,” said Nella. “That wouldn't
do at all.”
“It wouldn’t, Miss Racksole,” said Babylon,
and there was in his voice a note of admiration


FURTHER EVENTS IN THE CELLAR 273
for the girl’s sagacity which Racksole heard with
high paternal pride.
“Listen, Nella,” said the latter, drawing his
daughter to him in the profound gloom of the
cellar. “We fancy that Jules may be trying to
tamper with a certain bottle of wine—a bottle
which might possibly be drunk by Prince Eugen.
Now do you think that the man you saw might
have been Jules?”
“I hadn’t previously thought of him as being
Jules, but immediately you mentioned the name
I somehow knew that he was. Yes, I am sure
it was Jules.”
“Well, just hear what I have to say. There
is no time to lose. If he is coming at all he will
be here very soon—and you can help.” Racksole
explained what he thought Jules’ tactics might
be. He proposed that if the man returned he
should not be interfered with, but merely watched
from the other side of the glass door.
“You want, as it were, to catch Mr. Jules
alive?” said Babylon, who seemed rather taken
aback at this novel method of dealing with crim-
inals. “Surely,” he added, “it would be simpler
and easier to inform the police of your suspicion,
and to leave everything to them.”
“My dear fellow,” said Racksole, “we have
already gone much too far without the police to
18


274 T. RACKSOLE AND DAUGHTER
make it advisable for us to call them in at this
somewhat advanced stage of the proceedings.
Besides, if you must know it, I have a particular
desire to capture the scoundrel myself. I will
leave you and Nella here, since Nella insists on
seeing everything, and I will arrange things so
that once he has entered the cellar Jules will not
get out of it again—at any rate through the
grating. You had better place yourselves on
the other side of the glass door, in the big cellar;
you will be in a position to observe from there.
I will skip off at once. All you have to do is to
take note of what the fellow does. If he has any
accomplices within the hotel we shall probably be
able by that means to discover who the accom-
plice is.”
Lighting a match and shading it with his
hands, Racksole showed them all three out of the
little cellar. “Now if you lock this glass door on
the outside he can’t escape this way: the panes
of glass are too small, and the woodwork too
stout. So, if he comes into the trap, you two
will have the pleasure of actually seeing him
frantically writhe therein, without any personal
danger; but perhaps you’d better not show your-
selves.”
In another moment Felix Babylon and Nella
were left to themselves in the darkness of the


276 T. RACKSOLE AND DAUGHTER
his pocket, which seemed to contain a sort of
black salve. Rubbing his finger in this, he
smeared the top of the neck of the bottle with it,
just where the cork came against the glass. In
another instant he had deftly replaced the seal
and restored the bottle to its position. He then
turned off the light, and made for the aperture.
When he was half-way through Nella exclaimed,
“He will escape, after all. Dad has not had
time—we must stop him.”
But Babylon, that embodiment of caution, for-
cibly, but nevertheless politely, restrained this
Yankee girl, whom he deemed so rash and im-
prudent, and before she could free herself the
lithe form of Jules had disappeared.


CHAPTER XXIV
THE BOTTLE OF WINE
AS regards Theodore RackSole, who was to
have caught his man from the outside of the cel-
lar, he made his way as rapidly as possible from
the wine-cellars, up to the ground floor, out of
the hotel by the quadrangle, through the quad-
rangle, and out into the top of Salisbury Lane.
Now, owing to the vastness of the structure of
the Grand Babylon, the mere distance thus to be
traversed amounted to a little short of a quarter
of a mile, and, as it included a number of stairs,
about two dozen turnings, and several passages
which at that time of night were in darkness
more or less complete, RackSole could not have
been expected to accomplish the journey in less
than five minutes. As a matter of fact, six min-
utes had elapsed before he reached the top of
Salisbury Lane, because he had been delayed
nearly a minute by some questions addressed to
him by a muddled and whisky-laden guest who
had got lost in the corridors. As everybody
knows, there is a sharp, short bend in Salisbury


THE BOTTLE OF WINE 279
collar and with a ferocious jerk urged him back-
wards. The fact was, Theodore Racksole had
counted without the policeman. That guardian
of the peace, mistrusting RackSole’s manner, had
quietly followed him down the lane. The sight
of the millionaire climbing the railings had put
him on his mettle, and the result was the igno-
minious capture of Racksole. In vain Theodore
expostulated, explained, anathematised. Only
one thing would satisfy the stolid policeman—
namely, that Racksole should return with him
to the hotel and there establish his identity. If
Racksole then proved to be Racksole, owner of
the Grand Babylon, well and good—the police-
man promised to apologise. So Theodore had
no alternative but to accept the suggestion. To
prove his identity was, of course, the work of
only a few minutes, after which Racksole, an-
noyed, but cool as ever, returned to his railings,
while the policeman went off to another part of
his beat, where he would be likely to meet a com-
rade and have a chat.
In the meantime, our friend Jules, sublimely
unconscious of the altercation going on outside,
and of the special risk which he ran, was of
course actually in the cellar, which he had reached
before RackSole got to the railings for the first
time. It was, indeed, a happy chance for Jules


2SO T. RACKSOLE AND DAUGHTER
that his exit from the cellar coincided with the
period during which Racksole was absent from
the railings. As Racksole came down the lane
for the second time, he saw a figure walking
about fifty yards in front of him towards the
Embankment. Instantly he divined that it was
Jules, and that the policeman had thrown him
just too late. He ran, and Jules, hearing the
noise of pursuit, ran also. The ex-waiter was
fleet; he made direct for a certain spot in the
Eembankment wall, and, to the intense astonish-
ment of Racksole, jumped clean over the wall,
as it seemed into the river. “Is he so desperate
as to commit suicide?” Racksole exclaimed as he
ran, but a second later the puff and snort of a
steam launch told him that Jules was not quite
driven to suicide. As the millionaire crossed the
Embankment roadway he saw the funnel of the
launch move out from under the river-wall. It
swerved into midstream and headed towards Lon-
don Bridge. There was a silent mist over the
river. Racksole was helpless. . . .
Although Racksole had now been twice worsted
in a contest of wits within the precincts of the
Grand Babylon, once by Rocco and once by Jules,
he could not fairly blame himself for the present
miscarriage of his plans—a miscarriage due to
the meddlesomeness of an extraneous person,


THE BOTTLE OF WINE 283
rim of the mouth of it. It will be secretly re-
placed in its bin during the day. My idea is that
by the mere action of pouring out the wine takes
up some of the poison, which I deem to be very
strong, and thus becomes fatal as it enters the
glass.”
“But surely the servant in attendance would
wipe the mouth of the bottle?”
“Very carelessly, perhaps. And, moreover, he
would be extremely unlikely to wipe off all the
stuff; some of it has been ingeniously placed just
on the inside edge of the rim. Besides, suppose
he forgot to wipe the bottle?”
“Prince Eugen is always served at dinner by
Hans. It is an honour which the faithful old
fellow reserves for himself.”
“But suppose Hans ” Racksole stopped.
“Hans an accomplice! My dear Racksole, the
suggestion is wildly impºssible.”
That night Prince Aribert dined with his au-
gust nephew in the superb dining-room of the
Royal apartments. Hans served, the dishes being
brought to the door by other servants. Aribert
found his nephew despondent and taciturn. On
the previous day, when, after the futile inter-
view with Sampson Levi, Prince Eugen had de-
spairingly threatened to commit suicide, in such
a manner as to make it “look like an accident,”


284 T. RACKSOLE AND DAUGHTER
Aribert had compelled him to give his word of
honour not to do so.
“What wine will your Royal Highness take?”
asked old Hans in his soothing tones, when the
soup was served.
“Sherry,” was Prince Eugen’s curt order.
“And Romanée-Conti afterwards?” said Hans.
Aribert looked up quickly.
“No, not to-night. I’ll try Sillery to-night,”
said Prince Eugen.
“I think I’ll have Romanée-Conti, Hans, after
all,” he said. “It suits me better than cham-
pagne.”
The famous and unsurpassable Burgundy was
served with the roast. Old Hans brought it ten-
derly in its wicker cradle, inserted the corkscrew
with mathematical precision, and drew the cork,
which he offered for his master’s inspection.
Eugen nodded, and told him to put it down.
Aribert watched with intense interest. He could
not for an instant believe that Hans was not the
very soul of fidelity, and yet, despite himself,
Racksole's words had caused him a certain uneasi-
ness. At that moment Prince Eugen murmured
across the table:
“Aribert, I withdraw my promise. Observe
that, I withdraw it.”
Aribert shook his head emphatically, without


THE BOTTLE OF WINE 285
removing his gaze from Hans. The white-haired
servant perfunctorily dusted his napkin round the
neck of the bottle of Romanée-Conti, and poured
out a glass. Aribert trembled from head to foot.
Eugen took up the glass and held it to the
light.
“Don’t drink it,” said Aribert very quietly.
“It is poisoned.”
“Poisoned l’’ exclaimed Prince Eugen.
“Poisoned, sire!” exclaimed old Hans, with
an air of profound amazement and concern, and
he seized the glass. “Impossible, sire. I myself
opened the bottle. No one else has touched it,
and the cork was perfect.”
“I tell you it is poisoned,” Aribert repeated.
“Your Highness will pardon an old man,” said
Hans, “but to say that this wine is poison is to
say that I am a murderer. I will prove to you
that it is not poisoned. I will drink it.”
And he raised the glass to his trembling lips.
In that moment Aribert saw that old Hans, at
any rate, was not an accomplice of Jules. Spring-
ing up from his seat, he knocked the glass from
the aged servitor’s hands, and the fragments of
it fell with a light tinkling crash partly on the
table and partly on the floor. The Prince and
the servant gazed at one another in a distressing
and terrible silence. There was a slight noise,


286 T. RACKSOLE AND DAUGHTER
and Aribert looked aside. He saw that Eugen's
body had slipped forward limply over the left arm
of his chair; the Prince’s arms hung straight
and lifeless; his eyes were closed; he was uncon-
scious.
“Hans!” murmured Aribert. “Hans! What
is this?”


CHAPTER XXV
T H E S T E A M L A U. N. C. H.
MR. ToM JACKSON's notion of making good
his escape from the hotel by means of a steam-
launch was an excellent one, so far as it went,
but Theodore Racksole, for his part, did not con-
sider that it went quite far enough. Theodore
Racksole opined, with peculiar glee, that he now
had a tangible and definite clue for the catching
of the Grand Babylon’s ex-waiter. He knew
nothing of the Port of London, but he happened
to know a good deal of the far more complicated,
though somewhat smaller, Port of New York,
and he felt sure there ought to be no extraordi-
nary difficulty in getting hold of Jules’ steam-
launch. To those who are not thoroughly famil-
iar with it the River Thames and its docks, from
London Bridge to Gravesend, seem a vast and
uncharted wilderness of craft—a wilderness in
which it would be perfectly easy to hide even a
three-master successfully. To such people the
idea of looking for a small steam-launch on the
river would be about equivalent to the idea of


THE STEAM LAUNCH 289
of identifying the steam-launch which carried
away Mr. Tom Jackson. They sky had clouded
over soon after midnight, and there was also a
slight mist, and he had only been able to make
out that it was a low craft, about sixty feet long,
probably painted black. He had personally kept
a watch all through the night on vessels going up
stream, and during the next morning he had a
man to take his place who warned him whenever
a steam-launch went towards Westminster. At
noon, after his conversation with Prince Aribert,
he went down the river in a hired row-boat as far
as the Customs House, and poked about every-
where in search of any vessel which could by any
possibility be the one he was in search of. But
he found nothing. He was, therefore, tolerably
sure that the mysterious launch lay somewhere
below the Customs House. At the Customs
House stairs he landed, and asked for a very high
official—an official inferior only to a Commis-
sioner—whom he had entertained once in New
York, and who had met him in London on busi-
ness at Lloyd’s. In the large but dingy office of
this great man a long conversation took place—
a conversation in which RackSole had to exercise
a certain amount of persuasive power, and which
ultimately ended in the high official ringing his
bell.
19


290 T. RACKSOLE AND DAUGHTER
“Desire Mr. Hazell—room No. 332—to speak
to me,” said the official to the boy who answered
the summons, and then turning to Racksole: “I
need hardly repeat, my dear Mr. Racksole, that
this is strictly unofficial.”
“Agreed, of course,” said Racksole.
Mr. Hazell entered. He was a young man of
about thirty, dressed in blue serge, with a pale,
keen face, a brown moustache, and a rather hand-
some brown beard.
“Mr. Hazell,” said the high official, “let me
introduce you to Mr. Theodore Racksole—you
will doubtless be familiar with his name. Mr.
Hazell,” he went on to Racksole, “is one of our
outdoor staff—what we call an examining officer.
Just now he is doing night duty. He has a boat
on the river and a couple of men, and the right
to board and examine any craft whatever. What
Mr. Hazell and his crew don’t know about the
Thames between here and Gravesend isn’t know-
ledge.”
“Glad to meet you, sir,” said RackSole, simply,
and they shook hands. Racksole observed with
satisfaction that Mr. Hazell was entirely at his
eaS6. -
“Now, Hazell,” the high official continued,
“Mr. Racksole wants you to help in a little pri.
vate expedition on the river to-night. I will give


THE STEAM LAUNCH 291
you a night’s leave. I sent for you partly be-
cause I thought you would enjoy the affair and
partly because I think I can rely on you to re-
gard it as entirely unofficial and not to talk
about it. You understand? I daresay you will
have no cause to regret having obliged Mr. Rack-
sole.”
“I think I grasp the situation,” said Hazell,
with a slight smile.
“And, by the way,” added the high official,
“although the business is unofficial, it might be
well if you wore your official overcoat. See?”
“Decidedly,” said Hazell; “I should have done
So in any case.”
“And now, Mr. Hazell,” said Racksole, “will
you do me the pleasure of lunching with me? If
you agree, I should like to lunch at the place you
usually frequent.”
So it came to pass that Theodore Racksole and
George Hazell, outdoor clerk in the Customs,
lunched together at “Thomas’s Chop-House,” in
the city of London, upon mutton-chops and coffee.
The millionaire soon discovered that he had got
hold of a keen-witted man and a person of much
insight.
“Tell me,” said Hazell, when they had reached
the cigarette stage, “are the magazine writers
anything like correct?”


THE STEAM LAUNCH 293
we try to do them down—it’s pretty even on the
whole. All’s fair in war, you know, and there
ain’t no ten commandments in a Government
office.”
Racksole laughed. “Can you get off this after-
noon?” he asked.
“Certainly,” said Hazell: “I’ll get one of my
pals to sign on for me, and then I shall be free.”
“Well,” said Racksole, “I should like you to
come down with me to the Grand Babylon.
Then we can talk over my little affair at length.
And may we go on your boat? I want to meet
your crew.”
“That will be all right,” Hazell remarked.
“My two men are the idlest, most soul-less chaps
you eversaw. They eat too much, and they have
an enormous appetite for beer; but they know
the river, and they know their business, and they
will do anything within the fair game if they are
paid for it, and aren’t asked to hurry.”
That night, just after dark, Theodore Racksole
embarked with his new friend George Hazell
in one of the black-painted Customs wherries,
manned by a crew of two men—both the latter
freemen of the river, a distinction which carries
with it certain privileges unfamiliar to the mere
landsman. It was a cloudy and oppressive even-
ing, not a star showing to illumine the slow tide,


294 T. RACKSOLE AND DAUGHTER
now just past its flood. The vast forms of steam-
ers at anchor—chiefly those of the General Steam
Navigation and the Aberdeen Line—heaved them-
selves high out of the water, straining sluggishly
at their mooring buoys. On either side the naked
walls of warehouses rose like grey precipices from
the stream, holding forth quaint arms of steam-
cranes. To the west the Tower Bridge spanned
the river with its formidable arch, and above
that its suspended footpath—a hundred and fifty
feet from earth. Down towards the East and
the Pool of London a forest of funnels and masts
were dimly outlined against the sinister sky.
Huge barges, each steered by a single man at the
end of a pair of giant oars, lumbered and swirled
down stream at all angles. Occasionally a tug
snorted busily past, flashing its red and green
signals and dragging an unwieldly tail of barges
in its wake. Then a Margate passenger steamer,
its electric lights gleaming from every porthole,
'swerved round to anchor, with its load of two
thousand fatigued excursionists. Over every-
thing brooded an air of mystery—a spirit and
feeling of strangeness, remoteness, and the inex-
plicable. As the broad, flat little boat bobbed its
way under the shadow of enormous hulks, be-
neath stretched hawsers, and past buoys covered
with green slime, Racksole could scarcely believe


THE STEAM LAUNCH 299
passed on the port side. Just as they got clear
of her bowsprit the fat man cried out excitedly,
“There’s her nose!” and he put the boat about
and began to pull back against the tide. And
surely the missing “Squirm’’ was comfortably
anchored on the starboard quarter of the Norwe-
gian ship, hidden neatly between the ship and
the shore. The men pulled very quietly along-
side.


CHAPTER XXVI
THE NIGHT CHASE AND THE MUD-LARK
“I’IL board her to start with,” said Hazell, whis.
pering to Racksole. “I’ll make out that I suspect
they’ve got dutiable goods on board, and that will
give me a chance to have a good look at her.”
Dressed in his official overcoat and peaked cap,
he stepped rather jauntily, as RackSole thought,
on to the low deck of the launch. “Anyone
aboard?” Racksole heard him cry out, and a
woman’s voice answered. “I’m a Customs ex-
amining officer, and I want to search the launch,”
Hazell shouted, and then disappeared down into
the little saloon amidships, and RackSole heard
no more. It seemed to the millionaire that Hazell
had been gone hours, but at length he returned.
“Can’t find anything,” he said, as he jumped
into the boat, and then privately to RackSole:
“There’s a woman on board. Looks as if she
might coincide with your description of Miss
Spencer. Steam's up, but there's no engineer.
I asked where the engineer was, and she inquired
what business that was of mine, and requested


THE NIGHT CHASE AND MUD-LARK 301
me to get through with my own business and
clear off. Seems rather a smart sort. I poked
my nose into everything, but I saw no sign of
anyone else. Perhaps we’d better pull away and
lie near for a bit, just to see if anything queer
occurs.”
“You’re quite sure he isn’t on board?” Rack-
sole asked.
“Quite,” said Hazell, positively; “I know how
to search a vessel. See this,” and he handed to
Racksole a sort of steel skewer, about two feet
long, with a wooden handle. “That,” he said,
“is one of the Customs' aid to searching.”
“I suppose it wouldn’t do to go on board and
carry off the lady?” RackSole suggested, doubt-
fully.
“Well,” Hazell began, with equal doubtful-
ness, “as for that 32
“Where’s ’e Orf?” It was the man in the
bows who interrupted Hazell. Following the
direction of the man’s finger, both Hazell and
Racksole saw with more or less distinctness a
dinghy slip away from the forefoot of the Nor-
wegian vessel and disappear down stream into
the mist.
“It’s Jules, I’ll swear,” cried Racksole.
“After him, men. Ten pounds apiece if we
overtake him?”


THE NIGHT CHASE AND MUD-LARK 303
I believe I’m getting quite excited. It’s more
exciting than playing the trombone in an orches-
tra. I’ll run him down, eh?—and then we can
drag the chap in from the water.”
Racksole modded, but at that moment a barge,
with her red sails set, stood out of the fog clean
across the bows of the Customs boat, which nar-
rowly escaped instant destruction. When they
got clear, and the usual interchange of calm,
nonchalant swearing was over, the dinghy was
barely to be discerned in the mist, and the fat
man was breathing in such a manner that his
sighs might almost have been heard on the banks.
RackSole wanted violently to do something, but
there was nothing to do; he could only sit supine
by Hazell's side in the sternsheets. Gradually
they began again to overtake the dinghy, whose
one-man crew was evidently tiring. As they
came up, hand over fist, the dinghy’s nose
Swerved aside, and the tiny craft passed down a
water-lane between two anchored mineral barges,
which lay black and deserted about fifty yards
from the Surrey shore. “To starboard,” said
Racksole. “No, man!” Hazell replied; “we
can’t get through there. He’s bound to come
out below; it’s only a feint. I’ll keep our nose
straight ahead.”
And they went on, the fat man pounding


304 T. RACKSOLE AND DAUGHTER
away, with a face which glistened even in the
thick gloom. It was an empty dinghy which
emerged from between the two barges and went
drifting and revolving down towards Greenwich.
The fat man gasped a word to his comrade, and
the Customs boat stopped dead.
“’E’s all right,” said the man in the bows.
“If it's 'im you want, 'e's on one o’ them barges,
so you’ve only got to step on and take 'im orf.”
“That's all,” said a voice out of the depths of
the nearest barge, and it was the voice of Jules,
otherwise known as Mr. Tom Jackson.
“’Ear’im?” said the fat man, smiling. “’E’s
a good 'un, 'e is. But if I was you, Mr. Hazell,
or you, sir, I shouldn’t step on to that barge so
quick as all that.”
They backed the boat under the stern of the
nearest barge and gazed upwards.
“It’s all right,” said Racksole to Hazell; “I’ve
got a revolver. How can I clamber up there?”
“Yes, I daresay you’ve got a revolver all
right,” Hazell replied, sharply. “But you
mustn't use it. There mustn't be any noise.
We should have the river police down on us in a
twinkling if there was a revolver shot, and it
would be the ruin of me. If an inquiry was held
the Commissioners wouldn’t take any official
notice of the fact that my superior officer had


THE NIGHT CHASE AND MUD-LARK 305
put me on to this job, and I should be requested
to leave the service.”
“Have no fear on that score,” said Racksole.
“I shall, of course, take all responsibility.”
“It wouldn’t matter how much responsibility
you took,” Hazell retorted; “you couldn’t put
me back into the service, and my career would
be at an end.”
“But there are other careers,” said Racksole,
who was really anxious to lame his ex-waiter by
means of a judiciously-aimed bullet. “There are
other careers.”
“The Customs is my career,” said Hazell, “so
let's have no shooting. We’ll wait about a bit;
he can’t escape. You can have my skewer if
you like ’’—and he gave Racksole his searching in-
strument. “And you can do what you please,
provided you do it neatly and don’t make a row
Over it.”
For a few moments the four men were passive
in the boat, surrounded by swirling mist, with
black water beneath them, and towering above
them a half-loaded barge with a desperate and
resourceful man on board. Suddenly the mist
parted and shrivelled away in patches, as though
before the breath of some monster. The sky was
visible; it was a clear sky, and the moon was
Shining. The transformation was just one of
20


306 T. RACKSOLE AND DAUGHTER
those meteorological quick-changes which happen
most frequently on a great river.
“That’s a sight better,” said the fat man. At
the same moment a head appeared over the edge
of the barge. It was Jules’ face—dark, sinister,
and leering.
“Is it Mr. Racksole in that boat?” he inquired,
calmly; “because, if so, let Mr. RackSole step up.
Mr. RackSole has caught me, and he can have me
for the asking. Here I am.” He stood up to
his full height on the barge, tall against the night
sky, and all the occupants of the boat could see
that he held firmly clasped in his right hand a
short dagger. “Now, Mr. Racksole, you’ve been
after me for a long time,” he continued; “here I
am. Why don’t you step up 2 If you haven’t
got the pluck yourself, persuade someone else to
step up in your place . . . the same fair treat-
ment will be accorded to all.” And Jules laughed
a low, penetrating laugh.
He was in the midst of this laugh when he
lurched suddenly forward.
“What’r' you doing of aboard my barge? Off
you goes!” It was a boy’s small shrill voice
that sounded in the night. A ragged boy's small
form had appeared silently behind Jules, and two
small arms with a vicious shove precipitated him
into the water. He fell with a fine gurgling





CHAPTER XXVII
THE CONFESSION of MR. Tom JACKSON
IT happened that the small bedroom occupied by
Jules during the years when he was head-waiter
at the Grand Babylon had remained empty since
his sudden dismissal by Theodore Racksole. No
other head-waiter had been formally appointed in
his place; and, indeed, the absence of one man—
even the unique Jules—could scarcely have been
noticed in the enormous staff of a place like the
Grand Babylon. The functions of a head-waiter
are generally more ornamental, spectacular, and
morally impressive than useful, and it was so at
the great hotel on the Embankment. Racksole
accordingly had the excellent idea of transporting
his prisoner, with as much secrecy as possible, to
this empty bedroom. There proved to be no dif-
ficulty in doing so; Jules showed himself perfectly
amenable to a show of superior force. Racksole
took upstairs with him an old commissionaire
who had been attached to the outdoor service of
the hotel for many years—a grey-haired man,
wiry as a terrier and strong as a mastiff. En-


310 T. RACKSOLE AND DAUGHTER
tering the bedroom with Jules, whose hands were
bound, he told the commissionaire to remain out-
side the door. Jules’ bedroom was quite an ordi-
nary apartment, though perhaps slightly superior
to the usual accommodation provided for servants
in the caravanserais of the West End. It was
about fourteen feet by twelve. It was furnished
with a bedstead, a small wardrobe, a small wash-
stand and dressing-table, and two chairs. There
were two hooks behind the door, a strip of carpet
by the bed, and some cheap ornaments on the
iron mantelpiece. There was also one electric
light. The window was a little square one, high
up from the floor, and it looked on the inner
quadrangle. The room was on the top storey—
the eighth—and from it you had a view sheer to
the ground. Twenty feet below ran a narrow
cornice about a foot wide; three feet or so above
the window another and wider cornice jutted out,
and above that was the high steep roof of the
hotel, though you could not see it from the win-
dow. As Racksole examined the window and the
outlook, he said to himself that Jules could not
escape by that exit, at any rate. He gave a
glance up the chimney, and saw that the flue was
far too small to admit a man’s body.
Then he called in the commissionaire, and to-
gether they bound Jules firmly to the bedstead,


312 T. RACKSOLE AND DAUGHTER
and some meddlesome person in camp asked
you what you were doing—what should you
say?”
“I should tell him to clear off or take the con-
sequences, and pretty quick too.”
“Do that to-morrow morning, then, if neces-
sary,” said RackSole, and departed.
It was then about one o’clock A.M. The mil-
lionaire retired to bed—not his own bed, but a
bed on the seventh storey. He did not, however,
sleep very long. Shortly after dawn he was wide
awake, and thinking busily about Jules. He
was, indeed, very curious to know Jules' story,
and he determined, if the thing could be done at
all, by persuasion or otherwise, to extract it from
him. With a man of Theodore Racksole's tem-
perament there is no time like the present, and
at six o'clock, as the bright morning sun brought
gaiety into the window, he dressed and went up-
stairs again to the eighth storey. The commis-
sionaire sat stolid but alert on his chair, and, at
the sight of his master, rose and saluted.
“Anything happened?” Racksole asked.
“Nothing, sir.”
“Servants say anything?”
“Only a dozen or so of 'em are up yet, sir.
One of 'em asked what I was playing at, and so
I told her I was looking after a bull bitch and a


THE CONFESSION OF ME. JACKSON 321
Prince Eugen of Posen. The Ministers of the
King of Bosnia knew exactly the circumstances
of Prince Eugen. They knew that he could not
marry without liquidating his debts, and they
knew that he could only liquidate his debts
through this Jew, Sampson Levi. Unfortunately
for me, they ultimately wanted to make too sure
of Prince Eugen. They were afraid he might
after all arrange his marriage without the aid
of Mr. Sampson Levi, and so—well, you know
the rest. . . . It is a pity that the poor little in-
nocent King of Bosnia can’t have the Princess of
his Ministers’ choice.”
“Then you think that the King himself had no
part in this abominable crime?”
“I think decidedly not.”
“I am glad of that,” said Racksole, simply.
“And now, the name of your immediate em-
ployer.”
“He was merely an agent. He called himself
Sleszak—S-l-e-s-z-a-k. But I imagine that that
wasn’t his real name. I don’t know his real
name. An old man, he often used to be found
at the Hôtel Ritz, Paris.”
“Mr. Sleszak and I will meet,” said Racksole.
“Not in this world,” said Jules, quickly. “He
is dead. I heard only last night—just before our
little tussle.”
21


322 T. RACKSOLE AND DAUGHTER
There was a silence.
“It is well,” said Racksole, at length. “Prince
Eugen lives, despite all plots. After all, justice
is done.”
“Mr. RackSole is here, but he can see no one,
miss.” The words came from behind the door,
and the voice was the commissionaire's. Rack-
sole started up, and went towards the door.
“Nonsense,” was the curt reply, in feminine
tones. “Move aside instantly.”
The door opened, and Nella entered. There
were tears in her eyes.
“Oh! dad,” she exclaimed, “I’ve only just
heard you were in the hotel. We looked for you
everywhere. Come at once, Prince Eugen is
dying ” Then she saw the man sitting on
the bed, and stopped.
Later, when Jules was alone again, he re-
marked to himself, “I may get that hundred
thousand.”


CHAPTER XXVIII
THE STATE BEDROOM ONCE MORE
WHEN, immediately after the episode of the bot-
tle of Romanée-Conti in the State dining-room,
Prince Aribert and old Hans found that Prince
Eugen had sunk in an unconscious heap over his
chair, both the former thought, at the first in-
stant, that Eugen must have already tasted the
poisoned wine. But a moment’s reflection
showed that this was not possible. If the Hered-
itary Prince of Posen was dying or dead, his con-
dition was due to some other agency than the
Romanée-Conti. Aribert bent over him, and a
powerful odour from the man’s lips at once dis-
closed the cause of the disaster: it was the odour
of laudanum. Indeed, the smell of that sinister
drug seemed now to float heavily over the whole
table. Across Aribert’s mind there flashed then
the true explanation. Prince Eugen, taking ad-
vantage of Aribert’s attention being momentarily
diverted, and, yielding to a sudden impulse of
despair, had decided to poison himself, and had
carried out his intention on the spot. The lauda-


324 T. RACKSOLE AND DAUG-EITER
num must have been already in his pocket, and
this fact went to prove that the unfortunate Prince
had previously contemplated such a proceeding
even after his definite promise. Aribert remem.
bered now with painful vividness his nephew's
words: “I withdraw my promise. Observe that
—I withdraw it.” It must have been instantly ,
after the utterance of that formal withdrawa
that Eugen attempted to destroy himself.
“It’s laudanum, Hans,” Aribert exclaimed,
rather helplessly.
“Surely his Highness has not taken poison?”
said Hans. “It is impossible!” -
“I fear it is only too possible,” said the other.
“It’s laudanum. What are we to do? Quick,
man | *
“His Highness must be roused, sire. He must
have an emetic. We had better carry him to
the bedroom.”
They did, and laid him on the great bed; and
then Aribert mixed an emetic of mustard and
water, and administered it, but without any
effect. The sufferer lay motionless, with every
muscle relaxed. His skin was ice-cold to the
touch, and the eyelids, half-drawn, showed that
the pupils were painfully contracted.
“Go out, and send for a doctor, Hans. Say
that Prince Eugen has been suddenly taken ill


THE STATE BEDROOM ONCE MORE 325
but that it isn’t serious. The truth must never
be known.”
“He must be roused, sire,” Hans said again,
as he hurried from the room.
Aribert lifted his nephew from the bed, shook
him, pinched him, flicked him cruelly, shouted
at him, dragged him about, but to no avail. At
length he desisted, from mere physical fatigue,
and laid the Prince back again on the bed.
Every minute that elapsed seemed an hour.
Alone with the unconscious organism in the
silence of the great stately chamber, under the
cold yellow glare of the electric lights, Aribert
became a prey to the most despairing thoughts.
The tragedy of his nephew’s career forced itself
upon him, and it occurred to him that an early
and shameful death had all along been inevitable
for this good-natured, weak-purposed, unhappy
child of a historic throne. A little good fortune,
and his character, so evenly balanced between
right and wrong, might have followed the proper
path, and Eugen might have figured at any rate
with dignity on the European stage. But now it
appeared that all was over, the last stroke played.
And in this disaster Aribert saw the ruin of his
own hopes. For Aribert would have to occupy
his nephew’s throne, and he felt instinctively that
nature had not cut him out for a throne. By a


THE STATE BEDROOM ONCE MORE 327
The door opened, and a man entered, who was
obviously the doctor. A few curt questions, and
he had grasped the essentials of the case.
“Oblige me by ringing the bell, Prince. I shall
want Some hot water, and an able-bodied man
and a nurse.”
“Who wants a nurse?” said a voice, and Nella
came quietly in. “I am a nurse,” she added to
the doctor, “and at your orders.”
The next two hours were a struggle between
life and death. The first doctor, a specialist who
followed him, Nella, Prince Aribert, and old
Hans formed, as it were, a league to save the
dying man. None else in the hotel knew the
real seriousness of the case. When a Prince falls
ill, and especially by his own act, the precise truth
is not issued broadcast to the universe. Accord-
ing to official intelligence, a Prince is never
seriously ill until he is dead. Such is state-
craft.
The worst feature of Prince Eugen’s case was
that emetics proved futile. Neither of the doc-
tors could explain their failure, but it was only
too apparent. The league was reduced to help-
lessness. At last the great specialist from Man-
chester Square gave it out that there was no
chance for Prince Eugen unless the natural vigour
of his constitution should prove capable of throw-


THE STATE BEDROOM ONCE MORE 329
hours. Morning had dawned. Nella drew the
great curtains, and let in a flood of sunlight.
Old Hans, overcome by fatigue, dozed in a chair
in a far corner of the room. The reaction had
been too much for him. Nella and Prince Ari-
bert looked at each other. They had not ex-
changed a word about themselves, yet each knew
what the other had been thinking. They clasped
hands with a perfect understanding. Their brief
love-making had been of the silent kind, and it
was silent now. No word was uttered. A
shadow had passed from over them, but only
their eyes expressed relief and joy.
“Aribert l” The faint call came from the bed.
Aribert went to the bedside, while Nella remained
near the window.
“What is it, Eugen?” he said. “You are
better now.”
“You think so?” murmured the other. “I
want you to forgive me for all this, Aribert. I
must have caused you an intolerable trouble.
I did it so clumsily; that is what annoys me.
Laudanum was a feeble expedient; but I could
think of nothing else, and I daren’t ask anyone
for advice. I was obliged to go out and buy the
stuff for myself. It was all very awkward.
But, thank goodness, it has not been ineffectual.”
“What do you mean, Eugen? You are bet-


332 T. RACKSOLE AND DAUGHTER
in the morning, a rumour had mysteriously
spread among the servants of the hotel about the
happenings of the night before. How it had
originated no one could have determined, but it
had originated.
“Where is my father?” Nella asked of Hans.
He shrugged his shoulders, and pointed up-
wards. “Somewhere at the top, they say.”
Nella almost ran out of the room. Her inter-
ruption of the interview between Jules and Theo-
dore RackSole has already been described. As
she came downstairs with her father she said
again, “Prince Eugen is dying—but I think you
can save him.”
“I?” exclaimed Theodore.
“Yes,” she repeated positively. “I will tell
you what I want you to do, and you must do it.”


CHAPTER XXIX
THEODORE IS CALLED TO THE RESCUE
AS Nella passed downstairs from the top storey
with her father—the lifts had not yet begun to
work—she drew him into her own room, and
closed the door.
“What’s this all about?” he asked, somewhat
mystified, and even alarmed by the extreme seri-
Ousness of her face.
“Dad,” the girl began, “you are very rich,
aren’t you? very, very rich?” She smiled anx-
iously, timidly. He did not remember to have
seen that expression on her face before. He
wanted to make a facetious repy, but checked
himself.
“Yes,” he said, “I am. You ought to know
that by this time.”
“How soon could you realise a million pounds?”
“A million—what?” he cried. Even he was
staggered by her calm reference to this gigan-
tic sum. “What on earth are you driving
at?”
“A million pounds, I said. That is to say, five


334 T. RACKSOLE AND DAUGHTER
million dollars. How soon could you realise as
much as that?”
“Oh!” he answered, “in about a month, if I
went about it neatly enough. I could unload as
much as that in a month without scaring Wall
Street and other places. But it would want some
management.”
“Useless!” she exclaimed. “Couldn’t you do
it quicker, if you really had to?”
“If I really had to, I could fix it in a week,
but it would make things lively, and I should lose
on the job.”
“Couldn’t you,” she persisted, “couldn’t you
go down-town this morning and raise a million,
somehow, if it was a matter of life and death?’”
He hesitated. “Look here, Nella,” he said,
“what is it you’ve got up your sleeve?”
“Just answer my question, dad, and try not to
think that I’m a stark, staring lunatic.”
“I rather expect I could get a million this
morning, even in London. But it would cost
pretty dear. It might cost me fifty thousand
pounds, and there would be the dickens of an
upset in New York—a sort of grand universal
slump in my holdings.”
“Why, should New York know anything about
it?” -
“Why should New York know anything about


THEODORE CALLED TO THE RESCUE 339
away from the bedside as she entered, and began
to talk quietly together in the embrasure of the
window.
“A curious case!” said the specialist.
“Yes. Of course, as you say, it’s a neurotic
temperament that’s at the bottom of the trouble.
When you’ve got that and a vigorous constitution
working one against the other, the results are apt
$o be distinctly curious. Do you consider there
ls any hope, Sir Charles?” -
“If I had seen him when he recovered con-
Sciousness I should have said there was hope.
Frankly, when I left last night, or rather this
morning, I didn’t expect to see the Prince alive
again—let alone conscious, and able to talk. Ac-
cording to all the rules of the game, he ought to
get over the shock to the system with perfect ease
and certainty. But I don’t think he will. I
don’t think he wants to. And, moreover, I think
he is still under the influence of suicidal mania.
If he had a razor he would cut his throat. You
must keep his strength up. Inject, if necessary.
I will come in this afternoon. I am due now at
St. James’s Palace.” And the specialist hurried
away, with an elaborate bow and a few hasty
words of polite reassurances to Prince Aribert.
When he had gone Prince Aribert took the
other doctor aside. “Forget everything, doctor,”


340 T. RACKSOLE AND DAUGHTER
he said, “except that I am one man and you are
another, and tell me the truth. Shall you be
able to save His Highness? Tell me the truth.”
“There is no truth,” was the doctor’s reply.
“The future is not in our hands, Prince.”
“But you are hopeful? Yes or no.”
The doctor looked at Prince Aribert. “No!”
he said, shortly. “I am not. I am never hope-
ful when the patient is not on my side.”
“You mean—?”
“I mean that his Royal Highness has no desire
to live. You must have observed that.”
“Only too well,” said Aribert.
“And you are aware of the cause?”
Aribert nodded an affirmative.
“But cannot remove it?”
“No,” said Aribert. He felt a touch on his
sleeve. It was Nella’s finger. With a gesture
she beckoned him towards the anteroom.
“If you choose,” she said, when they were
alone, “Prince Eugen can be saved. I have ar-
ranged it.”
“You have arranged it?” He bent over her,
almost with an air of alarm.
“Go and tell him that the million pounds which
is so necessary to his happiness will be forthcom-
ing. Tell him that it will be forthcoming to-day,
if that will be any satisfaction to him.”


THEODORE CALLED TO THE RESCUE 341
“But what do you mean by this, Nella?”
“I mean what I say, Aribert,” and she sought
his hand and took it in hers. “Just what I say.
If a million pounds will save Prince Eugen’s life,
they are at his disposal.”
“But how—how have you managed it? By
what miracle?”
“My father,” she replied, softly, “will do any-
thing that I ask him. Do not let us waste time.
Go and tell Eugen it is arranged, that all will be
well. Go!”
“But we cannot accept this—this enormous,
this incredible favour. It is impossible.”
“Aribert,” she said, quickly, “remember you
are not in Posen holding a Court reception. You
are in England and you are talking to an Ameri-
can girl who has always been in the habit of hav-
ing her own way.”
The Prince threw up his hands and went back
into the bedroom. The doctor was at a table
writing out a prescription. Aribert approached
the bedside, his heart beating furiously. Eugen
greeted him with a faint, fatigued smile.
“Eugen,” he whispered, “listen carefully to
me. I have news. With the assistance of friends
I have arranged to borrow that million for you
It is quite settled, and you may rely on it. But
you must get better. Do you hear me?”


342 T. RACKSOLE AND DAUGHTER
Eugen almost sat up in bed. “Tell me I am
not delirious,” he exclaimed.
“Of course you aren’t,” Aribert replied. “But
you mustn't sit up. You must take care of
yourself.”
“Who will lend the money?” Eugen asked in
a feeble, happy whisper.
“Never mind. You shall hear later. Devote
yourself now to getting better.”
The change in the patient’s face was extra-
ordinary. His mind seemed to have put on an
entirely different aspect. The doctor was startled
to hear him murmur a request for food. As for
Aribert, he sat down, overcome by the turmoil of
his own thoughts. Till that moment he felt
that he had never appreciated the value and the
marvellous power of mere money, of the lucre
which philosophers pretend to despise and men
sell their souls for. His heart almost burst in its
admiration for that extraordinary Nella, who by
mere personal force had raised two men out of
the deepest slough of despair to the blissful
heights of hope and happiness. “These Anglo-
Saxons,” he said to himself, “what a race!”
By the afternoon Eugen was noticeably and
distinctly better. The physicians, puzzled for the
third time by the progress of this case, announced
now that all danger was past. The tone of the


344 T. RACKSOLE AND DAUGHTER
“Excellently,” the lovers answered together,
and they both blushed.
“Ah!” said Racksole. “Then, if that's so,
and you can spare a minute, I’ve something to
show you, Prince.”


346 T. RACKSOLE AND DAUGHTER
ing can be done to bring their criminal politicians
to justice.”
“And as to Jules, what do you propose to do?”
“Come this way,” said Racksole, and led Ari-
bert to another room. A sofa in this room was
covered with a linen cloth. Racksole lifted the
cloth—he could never deny himself a dramatic
moment—and disclosed the body of a dead man.
It was Jules, dead, but without a scratch or
mark on him.
“I have sent for the police—not a street con-
stable, but an official from Scotland Yard,” said
Racksole.
“How did this happen?” Aribert asked,
amazed and startled. “I understood you to say
that he was safely immured in the bedroom.”
“So he was,” Racksole replied. “I went up
there this afternoon, chiefly to take him some
food. The commissionaire was on guard at the
door. He had heard no noise, nothing unusual.
Yet when I entered the room Jules was gone.
He had by some means or other loosened his fast-
enings; he had then managed to take the door
off the wardrobe. He had moved the bed in front
of the window, and by pushing the wardrobe
door three parts out of the window and lodging
the inside end of it under the rail at the head of
the bed, he had provided himself with a sort of


CONCLUSION 847
insecure platform outside the window. All this
he did without making the least sound. He must
then have got through the window, and stood on
the little platform. With his fingers he would
just be able to reach the outer edge of the wide
cornice under the roof of the hotel. By main
strength of arms he had swung himself on to this
cornice, and so got on to the roof proper. . He
would then have the run of the whole roof. At
the side of the building facing Salisbury Lane
there is an iron fire-escape, which runs right
down from the ridge of the roof into a little sunk
yard level with the cellars. Jules must have
thought that his escape was accomplished. But
it unfortunately happened that one rung in the
iron escape-ladder had rusted rotten through
being badly painted. It gave way, and Jules,
not expecting anything of the kind, fell to the
ground. That was the end of all his cleverness
and ingenuity.”
As Racksole ceased speaking he replaced the
linen cloth with a gesture from which reverence
was not wholly absent.
When the grave had closed over the dark and
tempestuous career of Tom Jackson, once the
pride of the Grand Babylon, there was little
trouble for the people whose adventures we have
described. Miss Spencer, that yellow-haired,


350 T. RACKSOLE AND DAUGHTER
satisfactory personal security, and the money
was to be paid off in fifteen years.
“You wish to talk to me, Prince,” said Rack-
sole to Aribert, when they were seated together
in the former’s room.
“I wish to tell you,” replied Aribert, “that it
is my intention to renounce all my rights and
titles as a Royal Prince of Posen, and to be known
in future as Count Hartz—a rank to which I am
entitled through my mother. Also that I have a
private income of ten thousand pounds a year,
and a chateau and a town house in Posen. I tell
you this because I am here to ask the hand of
your daughter in marriage. I love her, and I
am vain enough to believe that she loves me. I
have already asked her to be my wife, and she
has consented. We await your approval.”
“You honour us, Prince,” said Racksole with
a slight smile, “and in more ways than one.
May I ask your reason for renouncing your
princely titles?” -
“Simply because the idea of a morganatic mar-
riage would be as repugnant to me as it would be
to yourself and to Nella.”
“That is good.”
The Prince laughed.
“I suppose it has occurred to you that ten thou-
sand pounds per annum, for a man in your posi-


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