The Grand Babylon Hôtel
friend, Miss Spencer. At least, so she tells me.’
‘Is Miss Spencer on board?’ Nella asked, seeing perhaps a faint ray of
hope in the possible presence of a woman.
‘Miss Spencer is not on board. There is no one on board except you and
myself and a small crew--a very discreet crew, I may add.’
‘I will have nothing more to say to you. You must take your own course.’
‘Thanks for the permission,’ he said. ‘I will send you up some
breakfast.’
He went to the saloon stairs and whistled, and a Negro boy appeared with
a tray of chocolate. Nella took it, and, without the slightest
hesitation, threw it overboard. Mr Jackson walked away a few steps and
then returned.
‘You have spirit,’ he said, ‘and I admire spirit. It is a rare quality.’
She made no reply. ‘Why did you mix yourself up in my affairs at all?’
he went on. Again she made no reply, but the question set her thinking:
why had she mixed herself up in this mysterious business? It was quite
at variance with the usual methods of her gay and butterfly existence to
meddle at all with serious things. Had she acted merely from a desire to
see justice done and wickedness punished? Or was it the desire of
adventure? Or was it, perhaps, the desire to be of service to His Serene
Highness Prince Aribert? ‘It is no fault of mine that you are in this
fix,’ Jules continued. ‘I didn’t bring you into it. You brought yourself
into it. You and your father--you have been moving along at a pace which
is rather too rapid.’
‘That remains to be seen,’ she put in coldly.
‘It does,’ he admitted. ‘And I repeat that I can’t help admiring you--
that is, when you aren’t interfering with my private affairs. That is a
proceeding which I have never tolerated from anyone--not even from a
millionaire, nor even from a beautiful woman.’ He bowed. ‘I will tell
you what I propose to do. I propose to escort you to a place of safety,
and to keep you there till my operations are concluded, and the
possibility of interference entirely removed. You spoke just now of
murder. What a crude notion that was of yours! It is only the amateur
who practises murder--’
‘What about Reginald Dimmock?’ she interjected quickly.
He paused gravely.
‘Reginald Dimmock,’ he repeated. ‘I had imagined his was a case of heart
disease. Let me send you up some more chocolate. I’m sure you’re
hungry.’
‘I will starve before I touch your food,’ she said.
‘Gallant creature!’ he murmured, and his eyes roved over her face. Her
superb, supercilious beauty overcame him. ‘Ah!’ he said, ‘what a wife
you would make!’ He approached nearer to her. ‘You and I, Miss Racksole,
your beauty and wealth and my brains--we could conquer the world. Few
men are worthy of you, but I am one of the few. Listen! You might do
worse. Marry me. I am a great man; I shall be greater. I adore you.
Marry me, and I will save your life. All shall be well. I will begin
again. The past shall be as though there had been no past.’
‘This is somewhat sudden--Jules,’ she said with biting contempt.
‘Did you expect me to be conventional?’ he retorted. ‘I love you.’
‘Granted,’ she said, for the sake of the argument. ‘Then what will occur
to your present wife?’
‘My present wife?’
‘Yes, Miss Spencer, as she is called.’
‘She told you I was her husband?’
‘Incidentally she did.’
‘She isn’t.’
‘Perhaps she isn’t. But, nevertheless, I think I won’t marry you.’ Nella
stood like a statue of scorn before him.
He went still nearer to her. ‘Give me a kiss, then; one kiss--I won’t
ask for more; one kiss from those lips, and you shall go free. Men have
ruined themselves for a kiss. I will.’
‘Coward!’ she ejaculated.
‘Coward!’ he repeated. ‘Coward, am I? Then I’ll be a coward, and you
shall kiss me whether you will or not.’
He put a hand on her shoulder. As she shrank back from his lustrous
eyes, with an involuntary scream, a figure sprang out of the dinghy a
few feet away. With a single blow, neatly directed to Mr Jackson’s ear,
Mr Jackson was stretched senseless on the deck. Prince Aribert of Posen
stood over him with a revolver. It was probably the greatest surprise of
Mr Jackson’s whole life.
‘Don’t be alarmed,’ said the Prince to Nella, ‘my being here is the
simplest thing in the world, and I will explain it as soon as I have
finished with this fellow.’
Nella could think of nothing to say, but she noticed the revolver in the
Prince’s hand.
‘Why,’ she remarked, ‘that’s my revolver.’
‘It is,’ he said, ‘and I will explain that, too.’
The man at the wheel gave no heed whatever to the scene.
Chapter Eleven THE COURT PAWNBROKER
‘MR SAMPSON LEVI wishes to see you, sir.’
These words, spoken by a servant to Theodore Racksole, aroused the
millionaire from a reverie which had been the reverse of pleasant. The
fact was, and it is necessary to insist on it, that Mr Racksole, owner
of the Grand Babylon Hôtel, was by no means in a state of self-
satisfaction. A mystery had attached itself to his hotel, and with all
his acumen and knowledge of things in general he was unable to solve
that mystery. He laughed at the fruitless efforts of the police, but he
could not honestly say that his own efforts had been less barren. The
public was talking, for, after all, the disappearance of poor Dimmock’s
body had got noised abroad in an indirect sort of way, and Theodore
Racksole did not like the idea of his impeccable hotel being the subject
of sinister rumours. He wondered, grimly, what the public and the Sunday
newspapers would say if they were aware of all the other phenomena, not
yet common property: of Miss Spencer’s disappearance, of Jules’ strange
visits, and of the non-arrival of Prince Eugen of Posen. Theodore
Racksole had worried his brain without result. He had conducted an
elaborate private investigation without result, and he had spent a
certain amount of money without result. The police said that they had a
clue; but Racksole remarked that it was always the business of the
police to have a clue, that they seldom had more than a clue, and that a
clue without some sequel to it was a pretty stupid business. The only
sure thing in the whole affair was that a cloud rested over his hotel,
his beautiful new toy, the finest of its kind. The cloud was not
interfering with business, but, nevertheless, it was a cloud, and he
fiercely resented its presence; perhaps it would be more correct to say
that he fiercely resented his inability to dissipate it.
‘Mr Sampson Levi wishes to see you, sir,’ the servant repeated, having
received no sign that his master had heard him.
‘So I hear,’ said Racksole. ‘Does he want to see me, personally?’
‘He asked for you, sir.’
‘Perhaps it is Rocco he wants to see, about a menu or something of that
kind?’
‘I will inquire, sir,’ and the servant made a move to withdraw.
‘Stop,’ Racksole commanded suddenly. ‘Desire Mr Sampson Levi to step
this way.’
The great stockbroker of the ‘Kaffir Circus’ entered with a simple
unassuming air. He was a rather short, florid man, dressed like a
typical Hebraic financier, with too much watch-chain and too little
waistcoat. In his fat hand he held a gold-headed cane, and an absolutely
new silk hat--for it was Friday, and Mr Levi purchased a new hat every
Friday of his life, holiday times only excepted. He breathed heavily and
sniffed through his nose a good deal, as though he had just performed
some Herculean physical labour. He glanced at the American millionaire
with an expression in which a slight embarrassment might have been
detected, but at the same time his round, red face disclosed a certain
frank admiration and good nature.
‘Mr Racksole, I believe--Mr Theodore Racksole. Proud to meet you, sir.’
Such were the first words of Mr Sampson Levi. In form they were the
greeting of a third-rate chimney-sweep, but, strangely enough, Theodore
Racksole liked their tone. He said to himself that here, precisely where
no one would have expected to find one, was an honest man.
‘Good day,’ said Racksole briefly. ‘To what do I owe the pleasure--’
‘I expect your time is limited,’ answered Sampson Levi. ‘Anyhow, mine
is, and so I’ll come straight to the point, Mr Racksole. I’m a plain
man. I don’t pretend to be a gentleman or any nonsense of that kind. I’m
a stockbroker, that’s what I am, and I don’t care who knows it. The
other night I had a ball in this hotel. It cost me a couple of thousand
and odd pounds, and, by the way, I wrote out a cheque for your bill this
morning. I don’t like balls, but they’re useful to me, and my little
wife likes ‘em, and so we give ‘em. Now, I’ve nothing to say against the
hotel management as regards that ball: it was very decently done, very
decently, but what I want to know is this--Why did you have a private
detective among my guests?’
‘A private detective?’ exclaimed Racksole, somewhat surprised at this
charge.
‘Yes,’ Mr Sampson Levi said firmly, fanning himself in his chair, and
gazing at Theodore Racksole with the direct earnest expression of a man
having a grievance. ‘Yes; a private detective. It’s a small matter, I
know, and I dare say you think you’ve got a right, as proprietor of the
show, to do what you like in that line; but I’ve just called to tell you
that I object. I’ve called as a matter of principle. I’m not angry; it’s
the principle of the thing.’
‘My dear Mr Levi,’ said Racksole, ‘I assure you that, having let the
Gold Room to a private individual for a private entertainment, I should
never dream of doing what you suggest.’
‘Straight?’ asked Mr Sampson Levi, using his own picturesque language.
‘Straight,’ said Racksole smiling.
‘There was a gent present at my ball that I didn’t ask. I’ve got a
wonderful memory for faces, and I know. Several fellows asked me
afterwards what he was doing there. I was told by someone that he was
one of your waiters, but I didn’t believe that. I know nothing of the
Grand Babylon; it’s not quite my style of tavern, but I don’t think
you’d send one of your own waiters to watch my guests--unless, of
course, you sent him as a waiter; and this chap didn’t do any waiting,
though he did his share of drinking.’
‘Perhaps I can throw some light on this mystery,’ said Racksole. ‘I may
tell you that I was already aware that man had attended your ball
uninvited.’
‘How did you get to know?’
‘By pure chance, Mr Levi, and not by inquiry. That man was a former
waiter at this hotel--the head waiter, in fact--Jules. No doubt you have
heard of him.’
‘Not I,’ said Mr Levi positively.
‘Ah!’ said Racksole, ‘I was informed that everyone knew Jules, but it
appears not. Well, be that as it may, previously to the night of your
ball, I had dismissed Jules. I had ordered him never to enter the
Babylon again.
But on that evening I encountered him here--not in the Gold Room, but in
the hotel itself. I asked him to explain his presence, and he stated he
was your guest. That is all I know of the matter, Mr Levi, and I am
extremely sorry that you should have thought me capable of the enormity
of placing a private detective among your guests.’
‘This is perfectly satisfactory to me,’ Mr Sampson Levi said, after a
pause.
‘I only wanted an explanation, and I’ve got it. I was told by some pals
of mine in the City I might rely on Mr Theodore Racksole going straight
to the point, and I’m glad they were right. Now as to that feller Jules,
I shall make my own inquiries as to him. Might I ask you why you
dismissed him?’
‘I don’t know why I dismissed him.’
‘You don’t know? Oh! come now! I’m only asking because I thought you
might be able to give me a hint why he turned up uninvited at my ball.
Sorry if I’m too inquisitive.’
‘Not at all, Mr Levi; but I really don’t know. I only sort of felt that