 Chapter 17 and 18 of the Grand Babylon Hotel This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org, recording by Anosimum. The Grand Babylon Hotel by Arnold Bennett. Chapter 17 The Release of Prince Eugen Eugen! Prince Erbert called softly. At the sound of his own name, the young man in the cellar feebly raised his head and stared up at the grating which separated him from his two rescuers, but his features showed no recognition. He gazed in an aimless, vague, silly manner for a few seconds, his eyes blinking and the glare of the lantern, and then his head slowly drooped again onto his chest. He was dressed in a dark tweed travelling suit, and Rexel observed that one sleeve, the left, was torn across the upper part of the cuff, and that there were stains of dirt on the left shoulder, a soiled linen collar which had lost all its starch and was half unbuttoned, partially uncircled the captain'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. Rexel flashed the lantern into the corners of the cellar, but he could discover no other furniture except the chair on which the hereditary Prince of Posen sat, and a small deal table on which were a plate and a cup. Eugen! cried Prince Erbert once more, but this time his forlorn nephew made no response whatever, and then Erbert added in a low voice to Rexel, Perhaps he cannot see us clearly. But he must surely recognise your voice, said Rexel, in a hard, gloomy tone. There was a pause, and the two men above ground looked at each other hesitatingly. Each knew that they must enter that cellar and get Prince Eugen out of it, and each was somehow afraid to take the next step. Thank God he's not dead, said Erbert. He may be worse than dead, Rexel replied. Worse than? What do you mean? I mean, he may be mad. Come! Erbert almost shouted, with a sudden excess of energy, a wild impulse for action, and snatching the lantern from Rexel, he rushed into the dark room where they'd heard the conversation of Miss Spencer and the lady in the red hat. For a moment Rexel did not stir from the threshold of the window. Come! Prince Erbert repeated, and there was an imperious command in his utterance. What are you afraid of? I don't know, said Rexel, feeling stupid and queer. I don't know. Then he marched heavily after Prince Erbert into the room. On the mantelpiece were a couple of candles which had been blown out, and in a mechanical, unthinking way Rexel lighted them, and the two men glanced round the room. It presented no peculiar features. It was just an ordinary room, rather small, rather mean, rather shabby, with an ugly wallpaper, and ugly pictures, and ugly frames. Throwing over a chair was a man's evening-dressed jacket. The door was closed. Prince Erbert turned the knob, but he could not open it. He'd locked, he said. Evidently they know we're here. Nonsense! said Rexel briskly. How can they know? And taking hold of the knob, he violently shook the door, and it opened. I'd told you it wasn't locked, he added, and this small success of opening the door seemed to steady the man. It was a curious psychological effect, this terrorizing, for it amounted to that, of two courageous, full-grown men by the mere apparition of a helpless creature in a cellar. Gradually they both recovered from it. The next moment they were out in the passage which led to the front door of the house. The front door stood open. They looked into the street, up and down, but there was not a soul in sight. The street, lighted by three gas-lamps only, seemed strangely sinister and mysterious. She's gone, that's clear, said Rexel, meaning the woman with the red hat. And Miss Spencer after her, do you think? questioned Airbert. 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 Airbert had a narrow escape of precipitating himself to the bottom of them. The lantern showed that they were built on a curve. Suddenly Rexel resumed possession of the lantern and went first. The Prince closed behind him. At the foot was a short passage, and in this passage crouched the figure of a woman. Her eyes threw back the rays of the lantern, shining like a cat's at midnight. Then, as the men went nearer, they saw that it was Miss Spencer who barred their way. She seemed half to kneel on the stone floor, and in one hand she held what had first appeared to be a dagger, but which proved to be nothing more romantic than a rather long bread-knife. I hurt you! I hurt you! she exclaimed. Get back! You mustn't come here! There was a desperate and dangerous look on her face, and her form shook with scarcely controlled, passionate energy. Now see here, Miss Spencer, Rexel said calmly. I guess we've had enough of this Fandango. You'd better get up and clear out, or we'll just have to drag you off. He went calmly up to her, the lantern in his hand. Without another word she struck the knife into his arm, and the lantern fell extinguished. Rexel gave a cry, rather of angry surprise and 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! Rexel positively laughed. It was a queer laugh, but he laughed, and he could not help it. The idea of this woman, this bureau-clog, stopping his progress and that of Prince Herbert 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 heart resolve. Oh, no you won't, my girl, said Rexel. And he pulled out his revolver, cocked it, raised his hand. Put down that play-thing of yours, he said firmly. No, she answered, I shall shoot. She pressed her lips together. I shall shoot, he repeated. One, two, three, bang, bang! He had fired twice, purposely missing her. Miss Spencer never blenched. Rexel was tremendously surprised, and it would have been a thousand-fold more surprised could he have contrasted her behaviour now with her abject terror on the previous evening when Nella had threatened her. You've got a bit of pluck, he said, but it won't help you. Why won't you let us pass? As a matter of fact, pluck was just what she had not, really. She had merely subordinated one terror to another. She was desperately afraid of Rexel's revolver, but she was much more afraid of something else. Why won't you let us pass? I dare not, she said, with a plaintive tremor. Tom put me in charge. That was all. The man could see tears running down her poor wrinkled face. Theatre Rexel began to take off with light overcoat. I see I must take my coat off to you, he said, and he almost smiled. With a quick movement he threw the coat over Miss Spencer's head and flew at her, seizing both her arms while Prince Ayrebert assisted. Her struggles seized. She was beaten. That's all right, said Rexel. I could never have used that revolver to mean business with, of course. They carried her, unresisting, upstairs, and on to the upper floor where they locked her in a bedroom. She lay in the bed as if exhausted. Now for my poor Eugen, said Prince Ayrebert. Why don't you think we'd better search the house first? Rexel suggested. It'll be safer to know just how we stand. We can't afford any ambushes or things of that kind, you know. The Prince agreed, and they searched the house from top to bottom, but found no one. Then, having locked the front door and the French window of the sitting room, they proceeded again to the cellar. Here a new obstacle confronted them. The cellar door was, of course, locked. There was no sign of a key, and it appeared to be a heavy door. They were compelled to return to the bedroom where Miss Spencer was incarcerated in order to demand the key of the cellar from her. She still lay without movement on the bed. "'Toms got it,' she replied, faintly, to their question. "'Toms got it. I swear to you. He took it for safety.' "'Then how do you feed your prisoner?' Rexel asked sharply. "'Through the grating,' she answered. Both men shuddered. They felt she was peaking the truth. For the third time they went to the cellar door. In vain Rexel thrust himself against it. He could do no more than shake it. "'Let's try both together,' said Prince Erebert. "'Now!' There was a crack. "'Again!' said Prince Erebert. There was another crack, and then the upper hinge gave away. The rest was easy. Over the wreck of the door they entered Prince Eugene's prison. The captive still sat on his chair. The terrific noise and bustle of breaking down the door seemed not to have aroused him from his lethargy, but when Prince Erebert spoke to him in German, he looked at his uncle. "'Will you not come with us, Eugene,' said Prince Erebert. "'You needn't stay here any longer, you know.' "'Leave me alone,' was a strange reply. "'Leave me alone. What do you want?' "'We are here to get you out of this scrape,' said Erebert gently. Rexel stood aside. "'Who's that fellow?' said Eugene sharply. "'That is my friend Mr. Rexel, an Englishman, or rather, I should say, an American, to whom we owe a great deal. Come and have supper, Eugene.' "'I won't,' answered Eugene doggedly. "'I'm waiting here for her. You didn't think anyone had kept me here, did you, against my will? "'I tell you, I'm waiting for her. She said she'd come.' "'Who is she?' Erebert asked, humoring him. "'She?' "'Why, you know. "'I forgot, of course. You don't know. You mustn't ask. "'Don't pry, Uncle Erebert. She was wearing a red hat.' "'I'll take you to her, my dear Eugene.' Prince Erebert put his hands on the other's shoulder, but Eugene shook him off violently, stood up, and then sat down again. Erebert looked at Rexel, and they both looked at Prince Eugene. The latter's face was flushed, and Rexel observed that the left pupil was more dilated than the right. The man started, muttered odd, fragmentary scraps of sentences, now grumbling, now whining. "'His mind is unhinged,' Rexel whispered in English. "'Hush,' said Prince Erebert. He understands English. But Prince Eugene took no notice of the brief colloquy. "'We'd better get him upstairs, somehow,' said Rexel. "'Yes,' Erebert ascended. "'Eugene, the lady with the red hat, the lady you're waiting for, is upstairs. She has sent us down to ask you to come up. Won't you come?' "'Himmer,' the poor fellow exclaimed, with a kind of weak anger. "'Why did you not say this before?' He rose, staggered towards Erebert, and fell headlong on the floor. He had swarmed. The two men raised him, carried him up the stone steps, and laid him with infinite care on a sofa. He lay, breathing clearly 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 Erebert. "'I will,' said Rexel. At that moment there was a quick, curt rap on the French window, and both Rexel and the Prince glanced round startled. A girl's face was pressed against a large window-pane. It was Nellis. Rexel unfastened the catch, and she ended. "'I have found you,' she said lightly. "'You might have told me. I couldn't sleep. I inquired from the hotel folks if you had retired, and they said no. So I slipped out. I guessed where you were.' Rexel 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 Erebert. "'Hurt?' she inquired coldly. "'I hope not.' "'He is ill,' said Rexel. His brain is turned. Nellis began to examine the unconscious prince with the expert movement of a girl who had passed through the best hospital course to be obtained in New York. "'He has got brain fever,' she said. "'That is all, but it will be enough. Do you know if there is a bed anywhere in this remarkable house?' Chapter 18. In the night-time. "'He must on no account be moved,' said the dark little Belgian doctor, whose eyes seem to pierce so quizzically through his spectacles, and he said it with much positiveness. That pronouncement rather settled their plans for them. It was suddenly a professional triumph for Nellis, who, previous to the doctor's arrival, had told them the very same thing. Considerable argument had passed before the doctor was sent full. Prince Erebert was for keeping the whole affair a deep secret among their three selves. Theodore Rexel agreed so far, but he suggested further that at no matter what risk they should transport the patient over to England at once. Rexel had an idea that he should feel safer in that hotel of his, and better able to deal with any situation that might arise. Nellis coined the idea. In her quality of an amateur nurse, she assured them that Prince Eugen was much more seriously ill than either of them suspected, and she urged that they should take absolute possession of the house, and keep possession till Prince Eugen was convalescent. "'But what about the Spencer female?' Rexel had said. "'Keep her where she is. Keep her a prisoner, and hold the house against all comers. If Jules should come back, simply defy him to enter. That is all.' "'There are two of you, so you must keep an eye on the former occupiers if they return, and on Spencer, while I know as the patient. But first you must send for a doctor.' "'Doctor,' Prince Eurebret 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 Austin, 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 sell a fourth in search of a doctor, and he went. She gave Prince Eurebret certain other orders, and he promptly executed them. By the evening of the following day everything was going smoothly. The doctor came and departed several times, and sent medicine, and seemed fairly optimistic as to the issue of the illness. An old woman had been induced to come in and cook and clean. Miss Spencer was kept out of sight on the attic floor, pending some decision as to what to do with her. And no one outside the house had asked any questions. The inhabitants of that particular street must have been accustomed to strange behaviour on the part of their neighbours, unaccountable appearances and disappearances, strange flittings and arrivals. This strong-minded and active trio, Rexel, Nella, and Prince Eurebret, might have been lawful and accustomed tenants of the house for any outward evidence to the country. On the afternoon of the third day Prince Eugen was distinctly and seriously worse. Nella had set up with him the previous night and throughout the day. Her father had spent the morning at the hotel, and Prince Eurebret had kept watch. The two men were never absent from the house at the same time, and one of them always did duty as sentinel at night. On this afternoon Prince Eurebret and Nella sat together in the patient's bedroom. The doctor had just left. Theodore Rexel was downstairs, reading the New York Herald. The Prince and Nella were near the window, which looked onto 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 Eurebret. They had both felt that here under their care was a species of individuality quite new to them, and different from anything that 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 signetering 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 Rexels, too, duly marked the attitude of Prince Eurebret to his nephew. It was at once paternal and reverential. It is close clearly that Prince Eurebret continued, in spite of everything, to regard his nephew as his sovereign lord and master, as a being surrounded by a natural and inevitable pomp and awe. This attitude, at the beginning, seemed false and unreal to the Americans. It seemed to them to be assumed. But gradually they came to perceive that they were mistaken, and that though America might have cast out the monarchial superstition, nevertheless that superstition had vigorously survived in another part of the world. You and Mr. Rexel have been extraordinarily kind to me, said Prince Eurebret, very quietly, after the two had set some time in silence. Why? How? She asked unaffectedly. We are interested in this affair ourselves, you know. It began at our hotel. You mustn't forget that, Prince. I don't, he said. I forget nothing. But I cannot help feeling that I have led you into a strange entanglement. Why should you and Mr. Rexel be here? You who are supposed to be on a holiday, hiding in a strange house in a foreign country, subject to all sorts of annoyances and all sorts of risks, simply because I am anxious to avoid scandal, to avoid any sort of talk in connection with my misguided nephew. It is nothing to you that the hereditary Prince of Posen should be liable to a public disgrace. What will it matter to you if the throne of Posen becomes a laughingstock of Eurebret? I really don't know, Prince, Nenna smiled roguishly. But we Americans have a habit of going right through with anything we've begun. Ah, he said. Who knows how this thing will end? All our trouble, our anxieties, our watchfulness may come to nothing. I tell you that when I see Eugen lying there and think that we cannot learn his story until he recovers, I'm ready to go mad. We might be arranging things, making matters smooth, preparing for the future if only we knew, knew what he can tell us. I tell you that I'm ready to go mad. If anything should happen to you, Miss Rexall, I would kill myself. But why, she questioned, supposing, that is, that anything could happen to me, which it can't. Because I have dragged you into this, he replied, gazing at her. It is nothing to you. You are only being kind. How do you know it is nothing to me, Prince? She asked him quickly. Just then the sick man made a convulsive movement, and Nella flew to the bed and soothed him. From the head of the bed she looked over at Prince Erebert, and he returned her bright, excited glance. She was in her travelling frock, with a large, white Belgian apron tied over it. Large dark circles of fatigue and sleeplessness surrounded her eyes, and to the Prince her cheek seemed hollow and thin. Her hair lay thick over the temples, half covering the ears. Erebert 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 Jewel. Rexels left in the parlour on the ground floor. Nella had the front bedroom on the first floor. Miss Spencer was a muir 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 night to her owner-boat in the preludes of the harbour. Hour after hour Erebert 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. Erebert was tortured by the idea that if he could have only half an hour, only a quarter of an hour's rational speech with Prince Eugen, all might be cleared up and put right, and by the fact that that rational talk was absolutely impossible on Eugen's part until the fever had run its course. As the minutes crept on to midnight, the watcher made nervous by the intense electrical atmosphere which seems always to surround a person who is dangerously ill, grew more and more prey to vague and terrible apprehensions. His mind dwelt hysterically on the most fatal possibilities. He wondered what would occur if by any ill chance Eugen should die in that bed. How he would explain the affair to Pozen and to the Emperor, how he would justify himself. He saw himself being tried for murder, sentenced. Him, a print of the blood, led to the scaffold, a scene unparalleled in Europe for over a century. Then he gazed anew at the sick man, and thought he saw death in every drawn feature of that agonized face. He could have screamed aloud. His ears heard a peculiar resonant boom. He started. It was nothing but the city clock striking twelve, but there was another sound, a mysterious shuffle at the door. He listened, then jumped from his chair. Nothing now, nothing, but still he felt drawn to the door, and after what seemed an interminable interval he went and opened it, his heart beating furiously. Nelle lay in a heap on the door-mat. She was fully dressed, but had apparently lost consciousness. He clutched at her still in her body, picked her up, carried her to the chair by the fireplace, 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 sucker her. At last she opened her eyes and sighed. Where am I? She asked vaguely in a tremulous tone as she recognized him. Is it you? Did I do anything silly? Did I faint? What has happened? Were you ill? He questioned anxiously. He was kneeling at her feet, holding her hand tight. I saw Jule by the side of my bed. She murmured. I'm sure I saw him. He laughed at me. I had not undressed. I sprang up, frightened, but he had gone. And then I ran downstairs, to you. You were dreaming, he soothed her. Was I? You must have been. I've not heard a sound. No one could have entered. But if you like, I will wake Mr. Axel. Perhaps I was dreaming, she admitted. How foolish! You were overtired, he said, still unconsciously holding her hand. They gazed at each other. She smiled at him. You kissed me, she said suddenly, and he blushed red and stood up before her. Why did you kiss me? Ah, Miss Rexel! He murmured, hurrying the words out. Forgive me. It is unforgivable, but forgive me. I was overpowered by my feelings. I did not know what I was doing. Why did you kiss me? She repeated. Because, Nella, I love you. I have no right to say it. Why have you no right to say it? If Eugene dies, I shall owe a duty to Pozen, 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 Pozen, and the reigning prince of Pozen can only marry a princess. Good Prince Eugene will live, she said positively, and if he lives, then I shall be free. I would renounce all my rights to make you mine, if—if—if what, Prince? If you would deign to accept my hand. Am I then rich enough? Nella, he bent down to her. Then there was a crash of breaking glass. But went to the window and opened it. In the starlit gloom he could see that a letter had been raised against the back of the house. He thought he had footsteps at the end of the garden. It was Jule, he exclaimed to Nella, and without another word rushed upstairs to the attic. The attic was empty. Miss Pencil had mysteriously vanished. End of chapter 17 and 18 Chapter 19 and 20 of the Grand Babylon Hotel. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org recording by Anna Simon. The Grand Babylon Hotel by Arnold Bennett. Chapter 19 Royalty in the Grand Babylon The royal apartments at the Grand Babylon are famous in the world of hotels, and indeed elsewhere, as being, in their own way, unsurpassed. Some of the palaces of Germany, and in particular those of the mad Ludwig of Bavaria, may possess rooms and saloons which outshine them in gorgeous luxury and a mere wild, fairy-like extravagance of wealth, but there is nothing anywhere, even on 8th Avenue, New York, which can fairly be called more complete, more perfect, more enticing, or, not least important, more comfortable. The suite consists of six chambers. The anti-room, the saloon or audience chamber, the dining room, the yellow-drawn room, where royalty receives its friends, the library, and the state bedroom, to the last of which we have already been introduced. The most important and most impressive of these is, of course, the audience chamber, an apartment fifty feet long by forty feet broad, with a superb outlook over the Thames, the Schottale, and the higher signals of the south-western railway. The decoration of this room is mainly in the German taste, since four out of every six of its royal occupants are of teutonic blood. But its chief glory is its French ceiling, a masterpiece by Fragonard, taken bodily from a certain famous palace on the Loire. The walls are of panelled oak, with an eight-foot dado of aura cloth imitated from unique continental examples. The carpet, woven in one piece, is an antique specimen at the finest Turkish work, and it was obtained, a bargain by Felix Babylon, from an impecunious Romanian prince. The silver candelabra, now fitted with electric light, came from the Rhine, and each had a separate history. The royal chair, it is not etiquette to call it a throne, though it amounts to a throne, was looted by Napoleon from an Austrian city, and bought by Felix Babylon at the sale of a French collector. At each corner of the room stands a gigantic grotesque vase of German faience of the 16th century. These were presented to Felix Babylon by William I of Germany. On the conclusion of his first incognito visit to London in connection with the French trouble of 1875. There is only one picture in the audience chamber. It is a portrait of the lookless but noble Dom Pedro, emperor of the Brazils. Given to Felix Babylon by Dom Pedro himself, it hangs there solitary and sublime as a reminder to kings and princes that empires may pass away and greatness fall. A certain prince who was occupying the suite during the jubilee of 1887, when the Grand Babylon had seven persons of royal blood under its roof, sent a court message to Felix that the portrait must be removed. Felix respectfully declined to remove it, and the prince left for another hotel, where he was robbed of £2,000 worth of jewellery. The royal audience chamber of the Grand Babylon, if people only knew it, is one of the sights of London, but it is never shown, and if you ask the hotel servants about its wonders, they will tell you only foolish facts concerning it, as that the turkey carpet costs £50 to clean, and that one of the great vases is cracked across the pedestal, owing to the rough treatment accorded to it during a riotous game of blind men's buff, played one night by four young princes, a Balkan king, and his aide the camp. In one of the window recesses of this magnificent department, on a certain afternoon in late July, stood Prince Ereward of Posen. He was faultlessly dressed in the conventional frock coat of English civilization, with a gardenia in his buttonhole, and the indispensable crease down the front of the trousers. He seemed to be fairly amused, and also to expect someone, for at frequent intervals he looked rapidly over his shoulder in the direction of the door behind the royal chair. At last a little, wisened, 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 Ereward, approaching the old man. I must have a little talk with you about one or two matters. How do you find his royal highness? The old man saluted, military fashion. Not very well, your highness, he answered. I have 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? Ereward smiled affectionately on the old fellow. You could perceive that these two, so sharply differentiated in rank, had been intimate in the past, and would be intimate again. Do you know, my prince, said the old man, that we are to receive the financier, Samson Levi. Is that his name? In the audience chamber. Surely, if I may humbly suggest, the library would have been good enough for a financier. One would have thought so, a great prince, Ereward, 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 Ereward a look which might have meant anything. He sent me back on an errand, your highness. And you were to rejoin him here? Just so, highness, and I did rejoin him here, although, to tell the truth, I had begun to fear that I might never see my master again. The prince has been very ill in Ostend, Hans. So I have gathered, Hans responded, dryly, 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 Ereward solemnly. His life is very precious to Posen. At that moment Eugen, hereditary prince of Posen, entered the audience chamber. He was pale and languid, and his uniform seemed to be a trouble to him. His hair had been slightly ruffled, and there was a look of uneasiness, almost of alarmed unrest, in his fine dark eyes. He was like a man who was afraid to look behind him, lest he should see something there which ought not to be there. But at the same time here beyond doubt was royalty. Nothing could have been more striking than the contrast between Eugen, a sick man in the cheby house at Ostend, and this prince Eugen, in the royal apartments of the grand Babylon Hotel, surrounded by the luxury and pomp which modern civilisation can offer to those born in high places. All the desperate episode of Ostend was now hidden, passed over. It was supposed never to have occurred. It existed only like a secret shame in the hearts of those who'd witnessed it. Prince Eugen had recovered. At any rate he was convalescent, and had been removed to London, where he took up again the dropped threat of his princely life. The lady with the red hat, the incorruptible and savage Miss Spencer, the unscrupulous and brilliant Jewel, the dark, damp cellar, the horrible little bedroom. These things were over. Thanks to Prince Ebert and the Rexels, he'd emerged from them in safety. He was able to resume his public and official career. The Emperor had been informed of his safe arrival in London, after an unavoidable delay in Ostend. His name once more figured in the court chronicle of the newspapers. In short, everything was smothered over. Only Jewel, Rocco and Miss Spencer were still at large, and the body of Reginald Dimmick lay buried in the domestic mausoleum of the palace at Pozen, and Prince Eugen had still to interview Mr. Samson Levi. That various matters lay heavy on the mind of Prince Eugen was beyond question. He seemed to have withdrawn within himself, despite the extraordinary experiences through which he had recently passed, events which called aloud for explanations and confidence between the nephew and the uncle. He would say scarcely a word to Prince Ebert. Any illusion, however direct to the days at Ostend, was ignored by him with more or less ingenuity, and Prince Ebert was really no nearer a full solution of the mystery of Jewel's plot than he had been on the night when he and Rexel visited the gaming tables at Ostend. Eugen was well aware that he'd been kidnapped through the agency of the woman in the red hat, but, doubtless ashamed at having been her dupe, he would not proceed in any way with the clearing up of the matter. "'You will receive in this room, Eugen,' Ebert questioned him. "'Yes,' was the answer, given patishly. "'Why not? Even if I have no proper retinue here, surely that is no reason why I should not hold audience in a proper manner. Hans, you can go.' The old valley promptly disappeared. "'Ebert,' their red-eatery prince continued, when they were alone in the chamber. "'You think I'm mad?' "'My dear Eugen,' said Prince Ebert, startled in spite of himself. "'Don't be absurd.' "'I say you think I'm mad. You think that that attack of brain fever has left its permanent mark on me? Well, perhaps I am mad. Who can tell? God knows that I've been through enough lately to drive me mad.' Ebert made no reply. As a matter of strict fact the thought had crossed his mind that Eugen's brain had not yet recovered its normal tone and activity. This speech of his nephews, however, had the effect of immediately restoring his belief in the letter's entire sanity. He felt convinced that if only he could regain his nephew's confidence, the old brotherly confidence which had existed between them since the years when they played together as boys, all might yet be well. But at present there appeared to be no sign that Eugen meant to give his confidence to 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 Rexels, 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 Ebert, aghast, "'a thousand guineas! Do you know that theatre Rexel could buy up all posan 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. Ebert looked at him steadily. "'No,' he said. "'Why did you kiss her that night?' Ebert asked Prince Eugen carelessly. "'Case whom?' said Ebert, blushing and angry, despite his most determined efforts to keep calm and unconcerned. "'The Rexel girl. When do you mean?' "'I mean,' said Prince Eugen, that night in Ostend when I was ill. You thought I was in a delirium. Perhaps I was. But somehow I remember that with extraordinary distinctness. I remember raising my head for a fraction of an instant, and just in that fraction of an instant you kissed her. "'Oh, Uncle Ebert!' "'Listen, Eugen, for God's sake. I love Nala Rexel. I shall marry her.' "'Hew!' 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 Ebert, quietly. Some accent of determination and a latter's tone made Eugen rather more serious. "'You can't marry her,' he said. The Emperor won't permit a morganetic marriage. "'The Emperor has nothing to do with the affair. I shall renounce my rights. I shall become a plain citizen. "'In which case you will have no fortune to speak of.' "'But my wife will have a fortune. Knowing the sacrifices which I shall have made in order to marry her, she will not hesitate to place that fortune in my hands for our mutual use,' said Ebert stiffly. "'You will decidedly be rich,' used Eugen, as his ideas dwelt on theatre Rexels' reputed wealth. "'But have you thought of this?' he asked, and his mild eyes glowed again in a sort of madness. "'Have you thought that I am unmarried, and might die at any moment, and then the throne will descend to you?' "'To you,' Ebert. "'The throne will never descend to me, Eugen,' said Ebert, softly. "'For you will live. You are thoroughly convalescent. You have nothing to fear.' "'It is the next seven days that I fear,' said Eugen. "'The next seven days? Why?' "'I do not know, but I fear them. If I can survive them?' "'Mr. Samson Levi,' sighed Hans, announced in a loud tone. "'I will see him,' he said, with a gesture to Hans, as if to indicate that Mr. Samson Levi might enter at once. "'I beg one moment first,' said Ebert, laying a hand gently on his nephew's arm, and giving old Hans a glance which had the effect of precipitating that admirably trained servant through the doorway. "'What is it?' asked Prince Eugen crossly. "'Why this sudden seriousness? Don't forget that I have an appointment with Mr. Samson Levi, and must not keep him waiting. Someone said that punctuality is the politeness of princes.' "'Eugen,' said Ebert, "'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 honor to be your uncle. I have the honor to be the same age as you, and to have been your companion from youth up. Give me your confidence. I thought you'd given it me years ago, but I've lately discovered that you had your secrets even then, and now, since your illness, you are still more secretive.' "'What do you mean, Ebert?' 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. Samson 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've been chattering in my delirium. You mustn't take any notice of that, Ebert. When one has a fever, one's ideas become grotesque and fanciful.' "'You never talked in your delirium?' Ebert replied. At least not about yourself. I knew about this projected loan before I saw you in Ostend.' "'Who told you?' demanded Eugen fiercely. "'Then you admit that you're trying to raise a loan?' "'I admit nothing. Who told you?' "'Theater Rexel, the millionaire. These rich men have no secrets from each other. They form a coterie, closer than any coterie of ours, Eugen, and far more powerful. They talk, and in talking they rule the world, these millionaires. They are the real monarchs.' "'Curse them!' said Eugen. "'Yes, perhaps so. But let me return to your case. Imagine my shame, my disgust, when I found that Rexel could tell me more about your affairs than I knew myself. Happily, he's a good fellow, one can trust him. Otherwise I should have been tempted to do something desperate when I discovered that all your private history was in his hands.' "'Eugen, let us come to the point. Why do you want that million? Is it actually true that you are so deeply in debt?' "'I have no desire to improve the occasion,' I merely ask.' "'And what if I do owe a million?' said Prince Eugen, with assumed veller. "'Oh, nothing, my dear Eugen. Nothing. Only it is rather a large sum to have scattered in ten years, is it not? How did you manage it?' "'Don't ask, Erobert. 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've settled with Levi all will be smooth. Erobert, I wouldn't lose Anna for the imperial throne. She's 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 deaths, 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'm glad you've been frank with me, Eugen,' said Prince Erobert. "'But I will be playing with you. You will never marry the princess Anna.' "'And why?' said Eugen, super silly as again. "'Because her parents will not permit it, because you will not be able to present a clean sheet to them, because this Samson Levi will never lend you a million.' "'Explain yourself.' "'I propose to do so. You were kidnapped. It is a horrid word, but we must use it in Ostend. "'True. Do you know why?' "'I suppose because that vile old red-headed woman and her accomplices wanted to get some money out of me. Fortunately, thanks to you, they didn't. "'Not at all,' said Erobert. "'They wanted no money from you. They knew well enough that you had no money. They knew you were the naughty schoolboy among European princes, with no sense of responsibility or of duty towards your kingdom. Shall I tell you why they kidnapped you?' "'When you've 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 Samson Levi. And it appears to me that they succeeded. Assuming that you don't obtain the money from Levi, is there another financier in all Europe from whom you can get it on such strange securities you have to offer?' "'Possibly there's not,' said Prince Eugene calmly. "'But, you see, I shall get it from Samson Levi. Levi promised it, and I know from other sources that he is a man of his word. He said that the money, subject to certain formalities, would be available till—' "'Till?' "'Till the end of June. And it is now the end of July.' "'Well, what is a month? He's only too glad to lend the money. He will get excellent interest. How on earth have you got into your sage-old head this notion of a plot against me? The idea's ridiculous. A plot against me? What fool?' "'Have you ever thought of Bosnia?' asked Erebert coldly. "'What of Bosnia?' "'I'll 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's going to. He's going to marry the Princess Anna.' "'Not while I live. He made overtures there a year ago, and was rebuffed. "'Yes, but he will make overtures again. And this time he will not be rebuffed. "'Oh, Eugen, can't you see that this plot against you is being engineered by some persons who know all about your affairs and whose desire is to prevent your marriage with Princess Anna? Only one man in Europe can have any motive for wishing to prevent your marriage with Princess Anna, and that is the man who means to marry her himself.' Eugen went very pale. "'Then, Erebert, do you mean to convey to me that my detention in Ostend was contrived by the agents of the king of Bosnia?' "'I do. "'With a view to stopping my negotiations with Samson Levi and so putting an end to the possibility of my marriage with Anna?' Erebert nodded. "'You're a good friend to me, Erebert. You mean well, but you are mistaken. You've been worrying about nothing. Have you forgotten about Reginald Dimmock?' "'I remember you said that he died. I said nothing of the sort. I said that he had been assassinated. That was part of it, my poor Eugen.' "'Poo!' said Eugen. I don't believe he was assassinated. And as for Samson Levi, I will bet you a thousand marks that he and I come to terms this morning, and that the million is in my hands before I leave London.' Erebert 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. Samson Levi at one time or another?' "'I haven't,' said Erebert. "'You—you are a fossil!' He rang a silver bell. "'Hence, I will receive Mr. Samson Levi.' Whereupon Erebert 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 Samson 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, Samson Levi had never yet learned how to be at ease with these exalted individuals during the first few minutes of an interview. Afterwards he resumed command of himself and his faculties, but at the beginning he was invariably flustered, scarred of face, and inclined to perspiration. "'We will proceed to business at once,' said Prince Eugen. "'Will you take a seat, Mr. Levi?' "'I thank your royal highness.' "'Now, as to that loan which we had already practically arranged—a million, I think it was,' said the Prince, eerily. "'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 five-and-a-half percent, and in ten years the whole amount will be paid back. "'I—' "'I am—' "'I believe I informed you that the fortune of Princess Anna, who is about to accept my hand, will ultimately amount to something like fifty millions of marks, which is over two million pounds in your English money.' Prince Eugen stopped. He had no fancy for talking in this confidential manner to financiers, but he felt that circumstances demanded it. "'You see, it's like this,' your royal highness, began Mr. Samson Levi, in his homely English idiom. "'It's like this. I said I could keep that bit of money available till the end of June, and you were to give me an interview here before that date, not having heard from your highness, and not knowing your highness's address, though my German agents made every inquiry. I concluded that you'd made other arrangements, money being so cheap these 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've 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. Samson Levi, with a tremendous and dazzling air of politeness, which surprised even himself. "'But my syndicate has now lent the money elsewhere. It is in South America. I don't mind telling your highness that we've lent it to the Chilean government.' "'Hang the Chilean government, Mr. Levi,' exclaimed the Prince, and he went white. "'I must have that million. It was an arrangement.' "'It was an arrangement, I admit,' said Mr. Samson 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 tomorrow, you will ruin one of the oldest of reigning families, and incidentally you will alter the map of Europe. You are not keeping faith, and I'd 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. Samson 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, personal little man who had been born in a Brickson semi-detached villa, and whose highest idea of pleasure was a Sunday up the river in an expensive electric lounge, confronting and utterly routing in a hotel belonging to an American millionaire, the representative of a race of man 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. "'Arabird,' said Prince Eugene, a little later, "'you were right. It is all over. I have only one refuge.' "'You don't mean?' Arabird stopped, dumbfounded. "'Yes, I do,' he said quickly. "'I can manage it so that it will look like an accident.' End of chapter nineteen and twenty.' Chapter twenty-one and twenty-two of the Grand Babylon Hotel. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer. Please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Anna Simon. The Grand Babylon Hotel by Arnold Bennett. Chapter twenty-one. The Return of Felix Babylon. On the evening of Prince Eugene's fateful interview with Miss Assemson Levi, Theodore Rexow was wondering somewhat aimlessly and uneasily about the entrance hall and adjacent corridors of the Grand Babylon. He had returned from Austin only a day or two previously, and had endeavoured with all his might to forget the affair which had carried him there, to regard it, in fact, as done with. But he found himself unable to do so. In vain he remarked under his breath that there were some things which were best left alone. If his experience as a manipulator of markets, a contriver of gigantic schemes in New York, had taught him anything at all, it should surely have taught him that. Yet he could not feel reconciled to such a position. The mere presence of the Princess 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 Princess of Posen would not continue their own battle, nevertheless he, Theodore Rexow, wanted to continue it for them. To a certain extent, of course, the battle had been won, for Prince Eugene had been rescued from an extremely difficult and dangerous position, and the enemy, consisting of Shill, Rogo, Miss Spencer, and perhaps others, had been put to flight. But that, he conceived, was not enough. It was very far from being enough, that the criminals, for criminals they decidedly were, should still be at large, he regarded as an absurd anomaly. And there was another point. He had said nothing to the police of all that had occurred. He disdained the police, but he could scarcely fail to perceive that if the police should by accident gain a clue to the real state of the case, he might be placed rather awkwardly, for the simple reason that in the eyes of the law it amounted to a misdemeanor to conceal as much as he had concealed. He asked himself, for the thousandth time, why he had adopted a policy of concealment from the police, why he had become in any way interested in the Posen matter, and why, at this present moment, he should be so anxious to prosecute it further. To the first two questions he replied, rather lamely, that he had been influenced by Nella, and also by a natural spirit of adventure. To the third he replied, that he had always been in the habit of carrying things through, and was now actuated by a mere childish, obstinate desire to carry this one through. Moreover, he was plentately 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-Saxons' deep-found instinct for helping the right side to conquer, even when grave risks must thereby be run, with no corresponding advantage. He was turning these things over in his mind as he walked about the vast hotel on that evening of the last day in July. The Society Papers had been stating for a week past that London was empty, but, in spite of the Society Papers, London persisted in seeming to be just as full as ever. The Grand Babylon was certainly not as crowded as it had been a month earlier, but it was doing a very passable business. At the close of the season the gay butterflies of the social community have a habit of hovering for a day or two in the big hotels, before they flutter away to castle and country-house, meadow and moor, lake and stream. The great basket-chairs in the portico were well filled by old and middle-aged gentlemen engaged in enjoying the varied delights of liqueurs, cigars, and the full moon which floated so serenely above the Thames. Here and there a pretty woman, on the arm of a cavalier, in immaculate attire, swept her train as she turned to and fro in the promenade of the terrace. Waiters and uniformed commissioners and gold-braided doorkeepers moved noiselessly about. At short intervals the chief of the doorkeepers blew a shrill whistle and handsoms drove up with a 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 handsoms to shame by its mere outward glory. It was a hot night, a night for the summer woods, and safe for the vehicles there was no rapid movement of any kind. It seemed as though the world—the world, that is to say, of the grand Babylon—was fully engaged in the solemn processes of digestion and small talk. Even the long row of the embankment gas-lamps stretching right and left scarcely trembled in the still, warm, caressing air. The stars overhead looked down with many blinkings upon the enormous pile of the grand Babylon, and the moon regarded it with bland and changeless face. What they thought of it and its inhabitants cannot, unfortunately, be recorded. What Theodore Rexell thought of the moon can be recorded. He thought it was a nuisance. It somehow fascinated his gaze with its silly stare, and so interfered with his complex meditations. He glanced round at the well-dressed and satisfied people—his guests, his customers. They appeared to ignore him absolutely. Probably only a very small percentage of them had the least idea that this tall, spare man, with the iron-grey hair and the thin, firm, resolute face who wore his American-cut evening-clothes with such careless ease, was the sole proprietor of the grand Babylon, and possibly the richest man in Europe. As has already been stated, Rexell was not a celebrity in England. The guests of the grand Babylon saw merely a restless male person whose restlessness was rather a disturber of their quietude, but with whom, to judge by his countenance, it would be inadvisable to remonstrate. Therefore, Theodore Rexell continued his perambulations unchallenged and kept saying to himself, I must do something. But what? He could think of no cause to pursue. At last he walked straight through the hotel and out at the other entrance, and sew up the little unassuming side-street into the roaring torrent of the narrow and crowded strand. He jumped on a putty-bus and paid his fare to putty, five pence, and then, finding that the humble occupants of the vehicle stared at the spectacle of a man in evening-dress for without a dust-coat, he jumped off again, oblivious of the fact that the conductor jerked a flim towards him and winked at the passengers as who should say, There goes a lunatic! She went into a tobacconist's shop and asked for a cigar. The shopman mildly inquired with price. What are the best you've got? asked Theodore Rexell. Five chalanges, sir, said the man promptly. Gave me a penny-one, with Theodore Rexell's laconic request, and he walked out of the shop, smoking the penny-cigar. It was a new sensation for him. He was inhaling the aromatic odours of Eugene Rimmel's establishment for the sale of scents, and a gentleman walking slowly in the opposite direction accosted him with a quiet, Good evening, Mr. Rexell. 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. 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 Rexell. It isn't my custom any more than it's yours. I wanted to have a real good long yarn with you, and lo, here you are. Where have you sprung from? From Lausanne, said Felix Babylon. I had finished my duties there, and I had nothing else to do, and I felt homesick. I felt a nostalgia of London, and so I came over, just as you see. Let me raise the handbag for Rexell's notice. One toothbrush, one razor, two slippers, eh? He laughed. I was wondering, as I walked along, where I should stay. Me, Felix Babylon, homeless in London. I should advise you to stay at the Grand Babylon, Rexell laughed back. It is a good hotel, and I know the proprietor personally. Rather expensive, is it not? Said Babylon. To you, sir, answered Rexell. The inclusive terms will be exactly half a crown a week. Do you accept? I accept, said Babylon, and added, You're very good, Mr. Rexell. They strolled together back to the hotel, saying nothing in particular, but feeling very content with each other's company. Many customers, asked Felix Babylon. Very tolerable, said Rexell, assuming as much of the error of the professional hotel proprietor as he could. I think I may say, in this storekeeper's phrase, that if there's any business about, I'm doing it. Tonight the people are all on the terrace in the Portico. It's so confoundedly hot, and the consumption of ice is simply enormous, nearly as large as it would be in New York. In that case, said Babylon politely, let me offer you another cigar. But I have not finished this one. That is just why I wish to offer you another one. Cigars, 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 Rexell laughingly lighted the road-shield Havana, which Babylon gave him, and they entered the hotel arm in arm. But no sooner had they mounted the steps than little Felix became the object of numberless greetings. It appeared that he had been highly popular among his quantum guests. At last they reached the managerial room where Babylon was regaled on a chicken, and Rexell assisted him in the consumption of a bottle of hide-seeked monopole, Cárdorre. "'This chicken is almost perfectly grilled,' said Babylon at length. "'It is a credit to the house. But why, my dear Rexell, why in the name of heaven did you quarrel with Rocco?' "'Then you've heard?' "'Heard, my dear friend, it was an every newspaper on the continent. John Jonas prophesied that the grand Babylon would have to close its doors within half a year now that Rocco had deserted it. But of course I knew better. I knew that you must have a good reason for allowing Rocco to depart, and that you must have made arrangements in advance for a substitute.' "'As a matter of fact, I had not made arrangements in advance,' said Theodore Rexell, a little ruefully. But happily we have found in our second sous-chef an artist inferior only to Rocco himself. But however was me a good fortune.' "'Surely,' said Babylon, it was indiscreet to trust to me a good fortune in such a serious matter. "'I didn't trust to me a good fortune. I didn't trust to anything except Rocco, and he deceived me.' "'But why did you quarrel with him?' "'I didn't quarrel with him. I found him embalming a corpse in the state bedroom one night.' "'You what?' Babylon almost screamed. "'I found him embalming a corpse in the state bedroom,' repeated Rexell in his quietest tones. The two men gazed at each other, and then Rexell replenished Babylon's glass. "'Tell me,' said Babylon, settling himself deep in an easy chair and lighting a cigar. And Rexell, thereupon, recounted to him the whole of the posing episode, with every circumstantial detail so far as he knew it. It was a long and complicated recital and occupied about an hour. During that time little Felix never spoke a word, scarcely moved a muscle. Only his small eyes gazed through the bluish haze of smoke. The clock on the mantelpiece tinkled midnight. "'Time for whiskey and soda,' said Rexell, and got up as if to ring the bell, but Babylon waved him back. "'You have told me that this Samson Levi had an audience of Prince Eugene to-day, but you have not told me the result of that audience,' said Babylon. "'Because I do not yet know it, but I shall doubtless know to-morrow. In the mean time I feel fairly sure that Levi declined to produce Prince Eugene's required million. I have reason to believe that the money was lent elsewhere.' "'Hmmm,' mused Babylon, and then carelessly. "'I am not at all surprised at that arrangement for spying through the bathroom with the State Apartments.' "'Why are you not surprised?' "'Oh,' said Babylon, it is such an obvious dodge. It was so easy to carry out. As for me, I took special care never to involve myself in these affairs. I knew they existed. I somehow felt that they existed. But I also felt that they lay outside my sphere. My business was to provide board and lodging of the most sumptuous kind to those who didn't mind paying for it. And I did my business. If anything else went on in the hotel, under the rose, I long determined to ignore it unless it should happen to be brought before my notice. And it never was brought before my notice. However, I admit that there is a certain pleasurable excitement in this kind of affair, and doubtless you have experienced that.' "'I have,' said Rexel, 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 the other Rexel. "'Well,' said Babylon, after a pause, let us begin. "'In the first place, it is possible you may be interested here that I happen to see Jules today.' "'You did?' Rexel remarked, with much calmness. "'Where?' "'Well, it was early this morning, in Paris, just before I left there. The meeting was quite accidental, and Jules seemed rather surprised at meeting me. He respectfully inquired where I was going, and I said that I was going to Switzerland. At that moment I thought I was going to Switzerland. It had occurred to me that, after all, I should be happier there, and that I had better turn back and not see London any more. However, I changed my mind once again, and decided to come on to London, and accept the risks of being miserable there without my hotel. Then I asked Jules whether he was bound, and he told me that he was off to Constantinople, being interested in a new French hotel there. I wished him good luck, and we parted. "'Constantinople, eh?' said Rexel. A highly suitable place for him, I should say.' "'But,' Verbalon resumed, I called side of him again. "'Where?' "'At Charin 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.' "'That cheek of the fellow!' exclaimed Theodore Rexel. The gorgeous and colossal cheek of the fellow! Chaplet 22, in the wine cellars of the Grand Babylon. "'Do you know anything of the antecedents of this Jules?' asked Theodore Rexel, helping himself to whiskey. "'Nothing whatever,' said Verbalon. "'Until you told me, I don't think I was aware that his true name was Thomas Jackson, though of course I knew that it was not Jules. I certainly was not aware that Miss Spencer was his wife, but I had long suspected that their relations were somewhat more intimate than the nature of their respective duties in the hotel absolutely demanded. "'All that I do know of Jules, who 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've ever known, and he was specially skilled in the difficult task for retaining his own dignity while not interfering with that of other people. I'm afraid this information is a little too vague to be of any practical assistance in the present difficulty.' "'What is the present difficulty?' Rexel queried with a simple air. "'I should imagine that the present difficulty is to account for the man's presence in London.' "'That is easy accounted for,' said Rexel. "'How? Do you suppose he is anxious to give himself up to justice, or that the chains of habit bind him to the hotel?' "'Neither,' said Rexel. "'Jules is going to have another try, that's all.' "'Another try at what?' "'At Prince Eugene, 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 Eugene's predicament quite quiet, and he's taking advantage of that fact. As he already is fairly rich on his own admission, the reward which has been offered to him must be enormous, and he's absolutely determined to get it. He has several times recently proved himself to be a daring fellow, unless I am mistaken, he will shortly prove himself to be still more daring.' "'But what can he do? Surely you don't suggest that he will attempt the life of Prince Eugene in this hotel?' "'Why not? If Reginald Dimmock fell on mere suspicion that he would turn out unfaithful to the conspiracy, why not Prince Eugene?' "'But it would be an unspeakable climb, and do infinite harm to the hotel.' "'True,' Rexel admitted, smiling. Little Felix Babylon seemed to brace himself for the grasping of his monstrous idea. "'How could it possibly be done?' he asked at length. Dimmock was poisoned. "'Yes, but yet Rocco here then, and Rocco was in the plot. It is conceivable that Rocco could have managed it. Barely conceivable. But without Rocco I cannot think it possible. I cannot even think that Jules would attempt it. You see, in a place like the Grand Babylon, as probably I needn't point out to you, food has to pass through so many hands that to poison one person without killing perhaps fifty would be your most delicate operation. Moreover, Prince Eugene, unless he has changed his habits, is always served by his own attendant, old Hans, and therefore any attempted temper with a cooked dish immediately before serving would be hazardous in the extreme.' "'Grandad,' said Rexel, the wine, however, might be more easily got at. Had you thought of that?' "'I had not,' Babylon admitted. "'You are an ingenious theorist, but I happen to know that Prince Eugene 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 Rexel, and I very seldom drink it, but it seems to me that a bottle of wine might be tempered 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 Jewel might still have an accomplice within the building.' "'And that a bottle of wine could be opened and recorged without leaving any trace of the operation?' Babylon was a trifle sarcastic. "'I do not see the necessity of opening the bottle in order to poison the wine,' said Rexel. "'I have never tried to poison anybody by means of a bottle of wine, and I do not lay claim to any natural talent as a poisoner, but I think I could devise several ways of managing the trick. Of course, I admit I may be entirely mistaken as to Jewel's intentions.' "'Ah!' said Felix Babylon. "'The wine cellars beneath us are one of the wonders of London. I hope you are aware, Mr. Rexel, that when you bought the Grand Babylon, you bought what is probably the finest stock of wines in England, if not in Europe. In evaluation I reckoned them at sixty thousand pounds, and I may say that I always took care that the cellars were properly guarded. Even Jewel would experience a serious difficulty in breaking into the cellars without the connivance of the wine-clark, and the wine-clark is, or was, incorruptible. I am ashamed to say that I have not yet inspected my wines,' smiled Rexel. "'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 tomorrow. If I may, I will accompany you.' "'Why not tonight?' Rexel suggested, calmly. "'Tonight it is very late. Hubbard will have gone to bed.' "'And may I ask who is Hubbard? I remember the name but dimly.' "'Hubbard is the wine-clark 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 teetotaler. Hubbard is a curiosity. No wine can leave the cellars without his knowledge, and no person can enter the cellars without his knowledge. At least that is how it was in my time,' Babylon added. "'We will wake him,' said Rexel. "'But it is one o'clock in the morning,' Babylon protested. "'Never mind. That is, if you consent to accompany me. A cellar is the same by night as by day. Therefore, why not now?' Babylon shrugged his shoulders. "'As you wish,' he agreed, with his indestructible politeness. "'And now to find this Mr. Hubbard, with his key of the cupboard,' said Rexel, as they walked out of the room together. Although the hour was so late, the hotel was not, of course, close 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 letters was inspected 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. Rexel 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' extent over or rather under quite half the superficial areas of the whole hotel, the longitudinal half, which lies next to the Strand, owing to the fact that the ground slopes sharply from the Strand to the river, the Grand Babylon is, so to speak, deeper near the Strand than it is near the Thames. Towards the Thames there is, below the entrance level, a basement and a sub-basement. Towards the Strand there is basement, sub-basement, and the huge wine cellars beneath all. After descending the four flights of the service stairs and traversing a long passage running parallel with the kitchen, the two found themselves opposite a door, which, on being unlocked, gave access to another flight of stairs. At the foot of this was the main entrance to the cellars. Outside the entrance was the wine-lift, for the ascension of delicious fluids to the upper floors, and opposite Mr. Hubbard's little office. There was electric light everywhere. Babylon, who, as being most accustomed to them, held a bunch of keys, opened the great door, and then they were in the first cellar, the first of a suite of five. Rexle was struck not only by the icy coolness of the place, but also by its vastness. Babylon had seized a portable electric hand-light attached to a long wire, which lay handy, and, waving it about, disclosed the dimensions of the place. By that flashing illumination the subterranean chamber looked unutterably weird and mysterious, with its rows of numbered bins stretching away into the distance till the radiance was reduced to the occasional far gleam of the light on the shoulder of a bottle. Then Babylon switched on the fixed electric lights, and Theodore Rexle ended up on a personally conducted tour of what was quite the most interesting part of his own property. To see the innocent enthusiasm of Felix Babylon for these stores of exhilarating liquid was what is called in the North a sight for serene. He displayed to Rexle's bewildered gaze, in their due order, all the wines of three continents, nay, of fall, for the superb and luscious Constancia wine of Cape Colony was not wanting that most catholic collection of vintages. Beginning with the unsurpassed products of Burgundy, he continued with the clarees of Medoc, Bordeaux, and Sautern, then to the Champagnes of Aie, Haut-Villiers, and Pierre-Y, then to the hox and morcelle of Germany, and the brilliant imitation Champagnes of Maine, Neckar, and Nambourg, then to the famous and adorable toquet of Hungary, and all the Austrian varieties of French wines, including Carlewitz and Sommlauer, then to the dry cherries of Spain, including purest Manzanilla, and Amontillado, and Vina de Pasto, then to the wines of Malaga, both sweet and dry, and all the Spanish rats from Catalonia, including the dark tent so often used sacramentally, then to the renowned port of Oporto. Then he proceeded to the Italian cellar, and escanted upon the excellence of Barolo from Piedmont, of Chianti from Tuscany, of Orvieto from the Roman states, of the tears of Christ from Naples, and the commoner Marsala from Sicily, and so on to an extent and with a fullness of detail which cannot be rendered here. At the end of the suite of cellars there was a glazed door which, as could be seen, gave access to a supplemental and smaller cellar, an apartment about fifteen or sixteen feet square. Anything special in there, asked Rexel curiously, as he stood before the door, and looked within at the seried ends of bottles. Ah! exclaimed Babylon, almost smacking his lips. Therein lies the cream of all. The best champagne, I suppose, said Rexel. Yes, said Babylon. The best champagne is there, a very special ciliary, as exquisite as you will find anywhere, but I see, my friend, that you fall into the common error of putting champagne first among wines. That distinction belongs to Burgundy. You have old Burgundy in that cellar, Mr. Rexel, 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 Rexel 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 calls 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 unrivaled vintage of Romanie Conti, greatest of all modern Burgonies. If I remember right, Prince Eugene 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 Rexel, let us go inside. They entered the stone apartment, rendered almost sacred by the preciousness of its contents, and Rexel 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. It looks broken, doesn't it? Rexel suggested, and then putting a finger quickly on Babylon's shoulder. There is someone in the cellar. Can't you hear breathing down there behind that bin? The two men stood tense and silent for a while, listening under the ray of the single electric light in the ceiling. Half the cellar was involved in gloom. At length Rexel walked firmly down the central passageway between the bins and turned to the corner at the right. Come out, you villain! he said in a low, well-nigh vicious tone, and dragged up a cowering figure. He had expected to find a man, but it was his own daughter, Nella Rexel, 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've got hold of the right person before you use all that terrible muscular force of yours. I do believe you've 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 they usually trimmed Nella, looked as though she'd been shot down a canvas fire escape. Mechanically, she smoothed her frock and gave a straightening touch to her hair. Good evening, Miss Rexel, said Felix Bebelon, bowing formally. This is an unexpected pleasure. Felix's strong room menace never deserted him upon any occasion whatever. May I inquire what you're doing in my wine cellar, Nella Rexel? said the millionaire, a little stiffly. He was certainly somewhat annoyed at having mistaken his daughter for a criminal. Moreover, he hated to be surprised, and upon this occasion he had been surprised beyond any ordinary surprise. Lastly, he was not at all pleased that Nella should be observed in that strange predicament by a stranger. I will tell you, said Nella. I'd been reading a rather late in my room. The night was so close. I heard Big Ben strike half-past twelve, and then I put the book down and went out onto the balcony of my window for a little fresh air before going to bed. I leaned over the balcony very quietly. You will remember that I am on the third floor now, and look down below into the little sunk yard which separates the wall of the hotel from Salesbury Lane. I was rather astonished to see a figure creeping across the yard. I knew there was no entrance into the hotel from that yard, and besides it is fifteen or twenty feet below the level of the street. So I watched. The figure went close up against the wall and disappeared from my view. I leaned over the balcony as far as I dared, but I couldn't see him. I could hear him, however. What could you hear? questioned Rexel sharply. It sounded like a soaring noise, said Nella, and it went on for quite a long time, nearly a quarter of an hour, I should think, a rasping sort of noise. Why on earth didn't you come and warn me or someone else in the hotel? asked Rexel. Oh, I don't know, dad, she replied sweetly. I got interested in it, and I thought I would see it out myself. Well, as I was saying, Mr. Babylon, she continued, addressing her remarks to Felix, with a dazzling smile. That noise went on for quite a long time. At last it stopped, and the figure reappeared from under the wall, crossed the yard, climbed up the opposite wall by some means or other, and sewed over the railings into Salesbury Lane. I felt rather relieved then, because I knew he hadn't actually broken into the hotel. He walked down Salesbury 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 creaking your neck from my window, Mr. Babylon, you can get a glimpse of the embankment and the river. I saw the man cross the embankment and lean over the river wall, where he seemed to be talking to someone. He then walked along the embankment to Westminster, and that was the last I saw of him. I waited a minute or two for him to come back, but he didn't come back, and so I thought it was about time I began to make enquiries into the affair. I went downstairs instantly and out of the hotel, through the quarter-angle, into Salesbury Lane, and I looked over those railings. There was a letter on the other side, by which it was perfectly easy, once you had got over the railings, to climb down into the yard. I was horribly afraid lest someone might walk up Salesbury Lane and catch me in the act of negotiating those railings, but no one did, and I surmounted them, with no where's damage than a torn skirt. I crossed the yard on tiptoe, and I found that, in the wall, close to the ground, and almost exactly under my window, there was an iron grating, about one foot by fourteen inches. I suspected, as there was no other iron rock near, that the mysterious visitor must have been soaring at this grating for private purposes of his own. I gave it a good shake, and I was not at all surprised that a good part of it came off in my hand, leaving just enough room for a person to creep through. I decided that I would creep through, and now I wish I hadn't. I don't know, Mr. Babylon, whether you have ever tried to creep through a small hole with a skirt on. Have you? I have not had that pleasure, said little Felix, bowing again, and absently taking up a bottle which lay to his hand. Well, you are fortunate, the improtorbable Nella resumed. For quite three minutes I thought I should perish in that grating dad, with my shoulder inside and the rest of me outside. However, at last, by the most amazing and agonizing efforts, I pulled myself through, and fell into this extraordinary cellar, more dead than alive. Then I wondered what I should do next. Should I wait for the mysterious visitor to return and stab him with my pocket scissors if he tried to enter, or should I raise an alarm? First of all, I replaced the broken grating. Then I struck a match, and I saw that it 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 just decided to wait and see if the visitor returned when I heard footsteps, and then voices, and then you came in. I must say I was rather taken aback, especially as I recognized the voice of Mr. Babylon. You see, I didn't want to frighten you. If I'd bobbed up from behind the bottles and said, Boo, you would have had a serious shock. I wanted to think of a way of breaking my presence gently to you. But you saved me the trouble, dad. Was I really breathing so loudly that you could hear me? The girl ended her strange recital, and there was a moment's silence in the cellar. Raxel merely nodded an affirmative to her concluding question. Well, Nella, my girl, said the millionaire at length. We are much obliged for your gymnastic efforts. Very much obliged. But now I think you'd 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 burglary caught red-handed. This isn't a burglary, my dear. I calculate it's something far worse than a burglary. What! she cried. Murder! Arson! Dynamite plot! How perfectly splendid! Mr. Babylon informs me that Jule is in London. Said Raxel quietly. Jule! she exclaimed under her breath, and her tone changed instantly to the utmost seriousness. Switch off the light, quick! Springing to the switch, she put the cellar in darkness. What's that for? said her father. If he comes back, he would see the light and be frightened away, said Nella. That wouldn't do it all. It wouldn't, Mr. Raxel, said Babylon, and there was in his voice a note of admiration for the girl's sagacity which Raxel heard with high paternal pride. Listen, Nella! said the letter, drawing his daughter to him in the profound gloom of the cellar. We fancy that Jule may be trying to temper with a certain bottle of wine, a bottle which might possibly be drunk by Prince Eugene. Now, do you think that the man you saw might have been Jule? I hadn't previously thought of him as being Jule, but immediately he mentioned the name I somehow knew that he was. Yes, I'm sure it was Jule. Well, just hear what I have to say. There's no time to lose. If he's coming at all, he will be here very soon, and you can help. Raxel explained what he thought Jule's 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. Jule alive, said Babylon, who seemed rather taken aback at this novel method of dealing with criminals. Surely, he added, it would be simpler and easier to inform the police of your suspicion and to leave everything to them. My dear fellow, said Raxel, we've already gone much too far without the police to make it advisable for us to call them in at this somewhat advanced stage of the proceedings. Besides, if you must know it, I have a particular desire to capture the scandal 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, Jule will not get out of it again, at any rate, through the grating. You had better place yourself on the other side of the glass door in the big cellar. You'll be in a position to observe from there. I will skip off at once. All you have to do is to take note of what the fellow does. If he has any accomplices within the hotel, we shall probably be able, by that means, to discover who the accomplice is. Lighting a match and shading it with his hands, Raxel showed them both out of the little cellar. Now, if you lock this glass door on the outside, he can't escape this way. The panes of glass are too small, and the woodwork too stout. So, if he comes into the trap, you two will have the pleasure of actually seeing him frantically writhe therein, without any personal danger. But perhaps you'd better not show yourselves. In another moment, Felix Bebelon and Nella were left to themselves in the darkness of the cellar, listening to the receding footfalls of theatre Raxel. But the sound of these footfalls had not died away before another sound greeted their ears. The grating of the small cellar was being removed. I hope your father will be in time, whispered Felix. Hush! the girl warned him, and they stopped side by side in tense silence. A man, cautiously but very neatly, wormed his body through the aperture of the grating. The watchers could only see his form indistinctly in the darkness. Then, being fairly within the cellar, he walked without a least hesitation to the electric switch and turned on the light. It was unmistakably joule, and he knew the geography of the cellar very well. Bebelon could with difficulty repress a start as he saw this bold and unscrupulous ex-waiter moving with such an air of assurance and determination about the precious cellar. Jules went directly to his small bin, which was number seventeen, and took there from the topmost bottle. The harmony con- ti! Prince Eugene's wine! Bebelon exclaimed under his breath. Jules neatly and quickly removed the seal with an instrument which had clearly brought for the purpose. He then took a little flat box from his pocket, which seemed to contain a sort of black salve. Rubbing his finger on 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 deathly replaced the seal and restored the bottle to its position. He then turned off the light and made for the aperture. When he was halfway through, Nella exclaimed, He will escape after all! There is not a time! We must stop him! But Bebelon, that embodiment of caution, forcibly but nevertheless politely, restrained this Yankee girl, whom he deemed so rash and imprudent, and before she could free herself, the lithe form of Jules had disappeared. Chapter 24 The Bottle of Wine As regards Theodore Rexell, who was to have caught this man from the outside of the cellar, he made his way as rapidly as possible from the wine cellars up to the ground floor, out of the hotel by the quadrangle, through the quadrangle, and out into the top of Salesbury Lane. Now, owing to the vastness of the structure of the Grand Bebelon, the mere distance thus to be traversed amounted to a little short of 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, Rexell could not have been expected to accomplish the journey in less than five minutes. As a matter of fact, six minutes had elapsed before he reached the top of Salesbury Lane, because he had been delayed nearer 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 Salesbury Lane near the top. Rexell ran round this at good racing speed, but he was unfortunate enough to run straight up against the very policeman who had not long before so courageously supplied Jule with a match. The policeman seemed to be scarcely in so plight a mood just then. Hello, he said, his naturally suspicious nature, being doubtless aroused by the spectacle of a bare-headed man in evening-dress running violently down the lane. What's this? Where are you for in such a hurry? And he forcibly detained he at a Rexell for a moment and scrutinized his face. Now, officer, said Rexell quietly, none of your larks, if you please, I've no time to lose. Beg your pardon, sir, the policeman remarked, though hesitatingly, and not quite with good temper, and Rexell was allowed to proceed on his way. The millionaire's scheme for trapping Jule was to get down into the little sunk-yard by means of the letter, and then to secrete himself behind some convenient abutment of brickwork until Mr. Tom Jackson should have got into the cellar. He therefore nimbly surmounted the railings, their railings of his own hotel, and was gingerly descending the letter, when low a rough hand seized him by the coat-collar, and with a ferocious jerk urged him backwards. The fact was, Theodore Rexell had counted without the policeman. That guardian of the peace, mistrusting Rexell's manner, quietly followed him down the lane. The sight of the millionaire climbing the railings had put him on his metal, and the result was the ignominious capture of Rexell. In vain, Theodore expostulated, explained, anathematized. Only one thing would satisfy this stolid policeman, namely that Rexell should return with him to the hotel and there establish his identity. If Rexell then proved to be Rexell, owner of the Grand Babylon, well and good, the policeman promised to apologize. So Theodore had no alternative, but to accept the suggestion. To prove his identity was, of course, the work of only a few minutes, after which Rexell, annoyed but cool as ever, returned to his railings, while the policeman went off to another part of his beat, where he would be likely to meet a comrade and have a chat. In the meantime, our friend Jules, sublimely unconscious of the altercation going on outside, and of the special risk which he ran, was of course actually in the cellar, which had reached before Rexell got to the railings for the first time. It was indeed a happy chance for Jules that his exit from the cellar coincided with the period during which Rexell was absent from the railings. As Rexell 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 on the embankment wall, and, to the intense astonishment of Rexell, jumped clean over the wall as it seemed into the river. Is he so desperate as to commit suicide? Rexell exclaimed as he rang, but a second later the puff and snort of his team-launch told him that Jules was not quite driven to suicide. As the millionaire crossed the embankment roadway he saw the funnel of the launch move out from under the river wall. It swerved into midstream and headed towards London Bridge. There was a silent mist over the river. Rexell was helpless. Although Rexell had now been twice worsted in a contest of wits within the precincts of the Grand Babylon, once by Rocco and once by Jules, he could not fairly blame himself for the present miscarriage of his plans, a miscarriage due to the meddlesomeness of an extraneous person combined with pure ill fortune. He did not, therefore, permit the accident to interfere with his sleep that night. On the following day he sought out Prince Erebert, between whom and himself there now existed a feeling of unmistakable frank friendship, and disclosed to him the happenings of the previous night, and particularly the tempering with a bottle of Romanie Conti. I believe you dined with Prince Eugen last night? I did, and curiously enough we had a bottle of Romanie Conti, an admirable wine of which Eugen is passionately fond. And you will dine with him tonight? Most probably. Today will, I fear, be our last day here. Eugen wishes to return to Posen early tomorrow. As it struck you, Prince, said Rexell, that if Jules had succeeded in poisoning your nephew, he would probably have succeeded also in poisoning you. I had not thought of it, laughed Erebert, but it would seem so. It appears that so long as he brings down his particular quarry, Jules is careless of anything else that may be accidentally involved in the destruction. However, we need have no fear on that score now. You know the bottle, and you can destroy it at once. But I do not propose to destroy it, said Rexell calmly. If Prince Eugen asks for Romanie Conti to be served tonight, as he probably will, I propose that that precise bottle shall be served to him and to you. Then you would poison us in spite of ourselves? Scarcely, Rexell smiled. My notion is to discover the accomplices within the hotel. I have already inquired as to the wine-clog, Hubbard. Now does it not occur to you as extraordinary that on this particular day Mr. Hubbard should be ill in bed? Mr. Hubbard, I am informed, is suffering from an attack of stomach poisoning, which has supervened during the night. He says that he does not know what kind of cause it. His place in the wine cellars will be taken to-day by his assistant, a mere youth, but to all appearances a fairly smart youth. I need not say that we shall keep an eye on that youth. One moment, Prince Hubbard interrupted. I do not quite understand how you think the poisoning was to have been affected. The bottle is now under examination by an expert, who has instructions to remove as little as possible the stuff which she'll put on the rim of the mouth of it. It will be secretly replaced in its bin during the day. My idea is that by the mere action of pouring out, the wine takes up some of the poison, which I deem to be very strong, and thus becomes fatal as it enters the glass. But surely the servant in attendance would wipe the mouth of the bottle. Very carelessly, perhaps, and moreover he would be extremely unlikely to wipe off all the stuff. Some of it has been ingeniously placed just on the inside edge of the rim. Besides, suppose he forgot to wipe the bottle. Prince Eugen is always served at dinner by Hans. It is an honour which the faithful old fellow reserves for himself. But suppose Hans, Rexall stopped. Hans, an accomplice? My dear Rexall, the suggestion is wildly impossible. That night Prince Erobert dined with his august nephew in the superb dining room of the royal apartment. Hans served, the dishes being brought to the door by other servants. Erobert found his nephew despondent and taciturn. On the previous day, when, after the futile interview with Samson Levi, Prince Eugen had despairingly threatened to commit suicide in such a manner as to make it look like an accident, Erobert 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 curd order. And Rominé Conti, afterwards, said Hans. Erobert looked up quickly. No, not tonight. I'll try ciliary tonight, said Prince Eugen. I think I'll have Rominé Conti, Hans, after all, he said. It suits me better than champagne. The famous and unsurpassable burgundy was served with a roast. Old Hans brought it tenderly in its wicker cradle. Inserted the corkscrew with mathematical precision and drew the cork, which he offered for his master's inspection. Eugen nodded and told him to put it down. Erobert watched with intense interest. He could not, for an instant, believe that Hans was not the very soul of fidelity, and yet, despite himself, Rexall's words had caused him a certain uneasiness. At that moment Prince Eugen murmured across the table. Erobert, I withdraw my promise. Observe that. I withdraw it. Erobert shook his head emphatically, without removing his gaze from Hans. The white-head servant perfectorily dusted his napkin round the neck of the bottle of Rominé Conti and poured out a glass. Erobert trembled from head to foot. Eugen took up the glass and held it to the light. Don't drink it, said Erobert, very quietly. It is poisoned. Poisoned, exclaimed Prince Eugen. Poisoned, Sire, exclaimed Old Hans, with an air of profound amazement and concern, and he seized the glass. Impossible, Sire! I myself opened the bottle. No one else has touched it, and the cork was perfect. I tell you, it is poisoned, Erobert 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 Erobert saw that Old Hans, at any rate, was not an accomplice of Jewel. Springing up from his seat, he knocked the glass from the aged servitor's hands, and the fragments of it fell with a light tinkling crash partly on the table and partly on the floor. The Prince and the Servant gazed at one another in a distressing and terrible silence. There was a slight noise, and Erobert looked aside. He saw that Eugen's body had slipped forward limply over the left arm of his chair. The Prince's arms hung straight and lifeless. His eyes were closed. He was unconscious. Hans, murmured Erobert. Hans, what is this? End of chapter 23 and 24.