IT happened that the small bedroom occupied by Jules during the years he was head-waiter at the Grand Babylon had remained empty since his sudden dismissal by Theodore Racksole. No other head-waiter had been formally appointed in his place; and, indeed, the absence of one man—even the unique Jules—could scarcely have been noticed in the enormous staff of a place like the Grand Babylon. The functions of a head-waiter are generally more ornamental, spectacular, and morally impressive than useful, and it was so at the great hotel on the Embankment. Racksole accordingly had the excellent idea of transporting his prisoner, with as much secrecy as possible, to this empty bedroom. There proved to be no difficulty in doing so; Jules showed himself perfectly amenable to a show of superior force.
Racksole took upstairs with him an old commissionaire who had been attached to the outdoor service of the hotel for many years—a grey-haired man, wiry as a terrier and strong as a mastiff. Entering the bedroom with Jules, whose hands were bound, he told the commissionaire to remain outside the door.
Jules’ bedroom was quite an ordinary apartment, though perhaps slightly superior to the usual accommodation provided for servants in the caravanserais of the West End. It was about fourteen by twelve. It was furnished with a bedstead, a small wardrobe, a small washstand and dressing-table, and two chairs. There were two hooks behind the door, a strip of carpet by the bed, and some cheap ornaments on the iron mantelpiece. There was also one electric light. The window was a little square one, high up from the floor, and it looked on the inner quadrangle.
The room was on the top storey—the eighth—and from it you had a view sheer to the ground. Twenty feet below ran a narrow cornice about a foot wide; three feet or so above the window another and wider cornice jutted out, and above that was the high steep roof of the hotel, though you could not see it from the window. As Racksole examined the window and the outlook, he said to himself that Jules could not escape by that exit, at any rate. He gave a glance up the chimney, and saw that the flue was far too small to admit a man’s body.
Then he called in the commissionaire, and together they bound Jules firmly to the bedstead, allowing him, however, to lie down. All the while the captive never opened his mouth—merely smiled a smile of disdain. Finally Racksole removed the ornaments, the carpet, the chairs and the hooks, and wrenched away the switch of the electric light. Then he and the commissionaire left the room, and Racksole locked the door on the outside and put the key in his pocket.
‘You will keep watch here,’ he said to the commissionaire, ‘through the night. You can sit on this chair. Don’t go to sleep. If you hear the slightest noise in the room blow your cab-whistle; I will arrange to answer the signal. If there is no noise do nothing whatever. I don’t want this talked about, you understand. I shall trust you; you can trust me.’
‘But the servants will see me here when they get up to-morrow,’ said the commissionaire, with a faint smile, ‘and they will be pretty certain to ask what I’m doing of up here. What shall I say to ‘em?’
‘You’ve been a soldier, haven’t you?’ asked Racksole.
‘I’ve seen three campaigns, sir,’ was the reply, and, with a gesture of pardonable pride, the grey-haired fellow pointed to the medals on his breast.
‘Well, supposing you were on sentry duty and some meddlesome person in camp asked you what you were doing—what should you say?’
‘I should tell him to clear off or take the consequences, and pretty quick too.’
‘Do that to-morrow morning, then, if necessary,’ said Racksole, and departed.
It was then about one o’clock a.m. The millionaire retired to bed—not his own bed, but a bed on the seventh storey. He did not, however, sleep very long. Shortly after dawn he was wide awake, and thinking busily about Jules.
He was, indeed, very curious to know Jules’ story, and he determined, if the thing could be done at all, by persuasion or otherwise, to extract it from him. With a man of Theodore Racksole’s temperament there is no time like the present, and at six o’clock, as the bright morning sun brought gaiety into the window, he dressed and went upstairs again to the eighth storey. The commissionaire sat stolid, but alert on his chair, and, at the sight of his master, rose and saluted.
‘Anything happened?’ Racksole asked.
‘Nothing, sir.’
‘Servants say anything?’
‘Only a dozen or so of ‘em are up yet, sir. One of ‘em asked what I was playing at, and so I told her I was looking after a bull bitch and a litter of pups that you was very particular about, sir.’
‘Good,’ said Racksole, as he unlocked the door and entered the room. All was exactly as he had left it, except that Jules who had been lying on his back, had somehow turned over and was now lying on his face. He gazed silently, scowling at the millionaire. Racksole greeted him and ostentatiously took a revolver from his hip-pocket and laid it on the dressing-table. Then he seated himself on the dressing-table by the side of the revolver, his legs dangling an inch or two above the floor.
‘I want to have a talk to you, Jackson,’ he began.
‘You can talk to me as much as you like,’ said Jules. ‘I shan’t interfere, you may bet on that.’
‘I should like you to answer some questions.’
‘That’s different,’ said Jules. ‘I’m not going to answer any questions while I’m tied up like this. You may bet on that, too.’
‘It will pay you to be reasonable,’ said Racksole.
‘I’m not going to answer any questions while I’m tied up.’
‘I’ll unfasten your legs, if you like,’ Racksole suggested politely, ‘then you can sit up. It’s no use you pretending you’ve been uncomfortable, because I know you haven’t. I calculate you’ve been treated very handsomely, my son. There you are!’ and he loosened the lower extremities of his prisoner from their bonds. ‘Now I repeat you may as well be reasonable. You may as well admit that you’ve been fairly beaten in the game and act accordingly. I was determined to beat you, by myself, without the police, and I’ve done it.’
‘You’ve done yourself,’ retorted Jules. ‘You’ve gone against the law. If you’d had any sense you wouldn’t have meddled; you’d have left everything to the police. They’d have muddled about for a year or two, and then done nothing. Who’s going to tell the police now? Are you? Are you going to give me up to ‘em, and say, “Here, I’ve caught him for you”. If you do they’ll ask you to explain several things, and then you’ll look foolish. One crime doesn’t excuse another, and you’ll find that out.’
With unerring insight, Jules had perceived exactly the difficulty of Racksole’s position, and it was certainly a difficulty which Racksole did not attempt to minimize to himself. He knew well that it would have to be faced. He did not, however, allow Jules to guess his thoughts.
‘Meanwhile,’ he said calmly to the other, ‘you’re here and my prisoner.
You’ve committed a variegated assortment of crimes, and among them is murder. You are due to be hung. You know that. There is no reason why I should call in the police at all. It will be perfectly easy for me to finish you off, as you deserve, myself. I shall only be carrying out justice, and robbing the hangman of his fee. Precisely as I brought you into the hotel, I can take you out again. A few days ago you borrowed or stole a steam yacht at Ostend. What you have done with it I don’t know, nor do I care. But I strongly suspect that my daughter had a narrow escape of being murdered on your steam yacht. Now I have a steam yacht of my own. Suppose I use it as you used yours! Suppose I smuggle you on to it, steam out to sea, and then ask you to step off it into the ocean one night. Such things have been done.
Such things will be done again. If I acted so, I should at least, have the satisfaction of knowing that I had relieved society from the incubus of a scoundrel.’
‘But you won’t,’ Jules murmured.
‘No,’ said Racksole steadily, ‘I won’t—if you behave yourself this morning. But I swear to you that if you don’t I will never rest till you are dead, police or no police. You don’t know Theodore Racksole.’
‘I believe you mean it,’ Jules exclaimed, with an air of surprised interest, as though he had discovered something of importance.
‘I believe I do,’ Racksole resumed. ‘Now listen. At the best, you will be given up to the police. At the worst, I shall deal with you myself. With the police you may have a chance—you may get off with twenty years’ penal servitude, because, though it is absolutely certain that you murdered Reginald Dimmock, it would be a little difficult to prove the case against you. But with me you would have no chance whatever. I have a few questions to put to you, and it will depend on how you answer them whether I give you up to the police or take the law into my own hands. And let me tell you that the latter course would be much simpler for me. And I would take it, too, did I not feel that you were a very clever and exceptional man; did I not have a sort of sneaking admiration for your detestable skill and ingenuity.’
‘You think, then, that I am clever?’ said Jules. ‘You are right. I am. I should have been much too clever for you if luck had not been against me.
You owe your victory, not to skill, but to luck.’
‘That is what the vanquished always say. Waterloo was a bit of pure luck for the English, no doubt, but it was Waterloo all the same.’
Jules yawned elaborately. ‘What do you want to know?’ he inquired, with politeness.
‘First and foremost, I want to know the names of your accomplices inside this hotel.’
‘I have no more,’ said Jules. ‘Rocco was the last.’
‘Don’t begin by lying to me. If you had no accomplice, how did you contrive that one particular bottle of Romanée-Conti should be served to his Highness Prince Eugen?’
‘Then you discovered that in time, did you?’ said Jules. ‘I was afraid so.
Let me explain that that needed no accomplice. The bottle was topmost in the bin, and naturally it would be taken. Moreover, I left it sticking out a little further than the rest.’
‘You did not arrange, then, that Hubbard should be taken ill the night before last?’
‘I had no idea,’ said Jules, ‘that the excellent Hubbard was not enjoying his accustomed health.’
‘Tell me,’ said Racksole, ‘who or what is the origin of your vendetta against the life of Prince Eugen?’
‘I had no vendetta against the life of Prince Eugen,’ said Jules, ‘at least, not to begin with. I merely undertook, for a consideration, to see that Prince Eugen did not have an interview with a certain Mr Sampson Levi in London before a certain date, that was all. It seemed simple enough. I had been engaged in far more complicated transactions before. I was convinced that I could manage it, with the help of Rocco and Em—and Miss Spencer.’
‘Is that woman your wife?’
‘She would like to be,’ he sneered. ‘Please don’t interrupt. I had completed my arrangements, when you so inconsiderately bought the hotel. I don’t mind admitting now that from the very moment when you came across me that night in the corridor I was secretly afraid of you, though I scarcely admitted the fact even to myself then. I thought it safer to shift the scene of our operations to Ostend. I had meant to deal with Prince Eugen in this hotel, but I decided, then, to intercept him on the Continent, and I despatched Miss Spencer with some instructions. Troubles never come singly, and it happened that just then that fool Dimmock, who had been in the swim with us, chose to prove refractory. The slightest hitch would have upset everything, and I was obliged to—to clear him off the scene. He wanted to back out—he had a bad attack of conscience, and violent measures were essential. I regret his untimely decease, but he brought it on himself. Well, everything was going serenely when you and your brilliant daughter, apparently determined to meddle, turned up again among us at Ostend. Only twenty-four hours, however, had to elapse before the date which had been mentioned to me by my employers. I kept poor little Eugen for the allotted time, and then you managed to get hold of him. I do not deny that you scored there, though, according to my original instructions, you scored too late. The time had passed, and so, so far as I knew, it didn’t matter a pin whether Prince Eugen saw Mr Sampson Levi or not. But my employers were still uneasy. They were uneasy even after little Eugen had lain ill in Ostend for several weeks. It appears that they feared that even at that date an interview between Prince Eugen and Mr Sampson Levi might work harm to them. So they applied to me again. This time they wanted Prince Eugen to be—em—finished off entirely. They offered high terms.’
‘What terms?’
‘I had received fifty thousand pounds for the first job, of which Rocco had half. Rocco was also to be made a member of a certain famous European order, if things went right. That was what he coveted far more than the money—the vain fellow! For the second job I was offered a hundred thousand. A tolerably large sum. I regret that I have not been able to earn it.’
‘Do you mean to tell me,’ asked Racksole, horror-struck by this calm confession, in spite of his previous knowledge, ‘that you were offered a hundred thousand pounds to poison Prince Eugen?’
‘You put it rather crudely,’ said Jules in reply. ‘I prefer to say that I was offered a hundred thousand pounds if Prince Eugen should die within a reasonable time.’
‘And who were your damnable employers?’
‘That, honestly, I do not know.’
‘You know, I suppose, who paid you the first fifty thousand pounds, and who promised you the hundred thousand.’
‘Well,’ said Jules, ‘I know vaguely. I know that he came via Vienna from—em—Bosnia. My impression was that the affair had some bearing, direct or indirect, on the projected marriage of the King of Bosnia. He is a young monarch, scarcely out of political leading-strings, as it were, and doubtless his Ministers thought that they had better arrange his marriage for him. They tried last year, and failed because the Princess whom they had in mind had cast her sparkling eyes on another Prince. That Prince happened to be Prince Eugen of Posen. The Ministers of the King of Bosnia knew exactly the circumstances of Prince Eugen. They knew that he could not marry without liquidating his debts, and they knew that he could only liquidate his debts through this Jew, Sampson Levi. Unfortunately for me, they ultimately wanted to make too sure of Prince Eugen. They were afraid he might after all arrange his marriage without the aid of Mr Sampson Levi, and so—well, you know the rest.... It is a pity that the poor little innocent King of Bosnia can’t have the Princess of his Ministers’ choice.’
‘Then you think that the King himself had no part in this abominable crime?’
‘I think decidedly not.’
‘I am glad of that,’ said Racksole simply. ‘And now, the name of your immediate employer.’
‘He was merely an agent. He called himself Sleszak—S-l-e-s-z-a-k. But I imagine that that wasn’t his real name. I don’t know his real name. An old man, he often used to be found at the Hôtel Ritz, Paris.’
‘Mr Sleszak and I will meet,’ said Racksole.
‘Not in this world,’ said Jules quickly. ‘He is dead. I heard only last night—just before our little tussle.’
There was a silence.
‘It is well,’ said Racksole at length. ‘Prince Eugen lives, despite all plots. After all, justice is done.’
‘Mr Racksole is here, but he can see no one, Miss.’ The words came from behind the door, and the voice was the commissionaire’s. Racksole started up, and went towards the door.
‘Nonsense,’ was the curt reply, in feminine tones. ‘Move aside instantly.’
The door opened, and Nella entered. There were tears in her eyes.
‘Oh! Dad,’ she exclaimed, ‘I’ve only just heard you were in the hotel. We looked for you everywhere. Come at once, Prince Eugen is dying—’ Then she saw the man sitting on the bed, and stopped.
Later, when Jules was alone again, he remarked to himself, ‘I may get that hundred thousand.’
WHEN, immediately after the episode of the bottle of Romanée-Conti in the State dining-room, Prince Aribert and old Hans found that Prince Eugen had sunk in an unconscious heap over his chair, both the former thought, at the first instant, that Eugen must have already tasted the poisoned wine. But a moment’s reflection showed that this was not possible. If the Hereditary Prince of Posen was dying or dead, his condition was due to some other agency than the Romanée-Conti. Aribert bent over him, and a powerful odour from the man’s lips at once disclosed the cause of the disaster: it was the odour of laudanum. Indeed, the smell of that sinister drug seemed now to float heavily over the whole table. Across Aribert’s mind there flashed then the true explanation. Prince Eugen, taking advantage of Aribert’s attention being momentarily diverted; and yielding to a sudden impulse of despair, had decided to poison himself, and had carried out his intention on the spot.
The laudanum must have been already in his pocket, and this fact went to prove that the unfortunate Prince had previously contemplated such a proceeding, even after his definite promise. Aribert remembered now with painful vividness his nephew’s words: ‘I withdraw my promise. Observe that—I withdraw it.’ It must have been instantly after the utterance of that formal withdrawal that Eugen attempted to destroy himself.
‘It’s laudanum, Hans,’ Aribert exclaimed, rather helplessly.
‘Surely his Highness has not taken poison?’ said Hans. ‘It is impossible!’
‘I fear it is only too possible,’ said the other. ‘It’s laudanum. What are we to do? Quick, man!’
‘His Highness must be roused, Prince. He must have an emetic. We had better carry him to the bedroom.’
They did, and laid him on the great bed; and then Aribert mixed an emetic of mustard and water, and administered it, but without any effect. The sufferer lay motionless, with every muscle relaxed. His skin was ice-cold to the touch, and the eyelids, half-drawn, showed that the pupils were painfully contracted.
‘Go out, and send for a doctor, Hans. Say that Prince Eugen has been suddenly taken ill, but that it isn’t serious. The truth must never be known.’
‘He must be roused, sire,’ Hans said again, as he hurried from the room.
Aribert lifted his nephew from the bed, shook him, pinched him, flicked him cruelly, shouted at him, dragged him about, but to no avail. At length he desisted, from mere physical fatigue, and laid the Prince back again on the bed. Every minute that elapsed seemed an hour. Alone with the unconscious organism in the silence of the great stately chamber, under the cold yellow glare of the electric lights, Aribert became a prey to the most despairing thoughts. The tragedy of his nephew’s career forced itself upon him, and it occurred to him that an early and shameful death had all along been inevitable for this good-natured, weak-purposed, unhappy child of a historic throne. A little good fortune, and his character, so evenly balanced between right and wrong, might have followed the proper path, and Eugen might have figured at any rate with dignity on the European stage. But now it appeared that all was over, the last stroke played. And in this disaster Aribert saw the ruin of his own hopes. For Aribert would have to occupy his nephew’s throne, and he felt instinctively that nature had not cut him out for a throne. By a natural impulse he inwardly rebelled against the prospect of monarchy. Monarchy meant so much for which he knew himself to be entirely unfitted. It meant a political marriage, which means a forced marriage, a union against inclination. And then what of Nella—Nella!
Hans returned. ‘I have sent for the nearest doctor, and also for a specialist,’ he said.
‘Good,’ said Aribert. ‘I hope they will hurry.’ Then he sat down and wrote a card. ‘Take this yourself to Miss Racksole. If she is out of the hotel, ascertain where she is and follow her. Understand, it is of the first importance.’
Hans bowed, and departed for the second time, and Aribert was alone again.
He gazed at Eugen, and made another frantic attempt to rouse him from the deadly stupor, but it was useless. He walked away to the window: through the opened casement he could hear the tinkle of passing hansoms on the Embankment below, whistles of door-keepers, and the hoot of steam tugs on the river. The world went on as usual, it appeared. It was an absurd world.
He desired nothing better than to abandon his princely title, and live as a plain man, the husband of the finest woman on earth.... But now!...
Pah! How selfish he was, to be thinking of himself when Eugen lay dying. Yet—Nella!
The door opened, and a man entered, who was obviously the doctor. A few curt questions, and he had grasped the essentials of the case. ‘Oblige me by ringing the bell, Prince. I shall want some hot water, and an able-bodied man and a nurse.’
‘Who wants a nurse?’ said a voice, and Nella came quietly in. ‘I am a nurse,’ she added to the doctor, ‘and at your orders.’
The next two hours were a struggle between life and death. The first doctor, a specialist who followed him, Nella, Prince Aribert, and old Hans formed, as it were, a league to save the dying man. None else in the hotel knew the real seriousness of the case. When a Prince falls ill, and especially by his own act, the precise truth is not issued broadcast to the universe.
According to official intelligence, a Prince is never seriously ill until he is dead. Such is statecraft.
The worst feature of Prince Eugen’s case was that emetics proved futile.
Neither of the doctors could explain their failure, but it was only too apparent. The league was reduced to helplessness. At last the great specialist from Manchester Square gave it out that there was no chance for Prince Eugen unless the natural vigour of his constitution should prove capable of throwing off the poison unaided by scientific assistance, as a drunkard can sleep off his potion. Everything had been tried, even to artificial respiration and the injection of hot coffee. Having emitted this pronouncement, the great specialist from Manchester Square left. It was one o’clock in the morning. By one of those strange and futile coincidences which sometimes startle us by their subtle significance, the specialist met Theodore Racksole and his captive as they were entering the hotel. Neither had the least suspicion of the other’s business.
In the State bedroom the small group of watchers surrounded the bed. The slow minutes filed away in dreary procession. Another hour passed. Then the figure on the bed, hitherto so motionless, twitched and moved; the lips parted.
‘There is hope,’ said the doctor, and administered a stimulant which was handed to him by Nella.
In a quarter of an hour the patient had regained consciousness. For the ten thousandth time in the history of medicine a sound constitution had accomplished a miracle impossible to the accumulated medical skill of centuries.
In due course the doctor left, saying that Prince Eugen was ‘on the high road to recovery,’ and promising to come again within a few hours. Morning had dawned. Nella drew the great curtains, and let in a flood of sunlight.
Old Hans, overcome by fatigue, dozed in a chair in a far corner of the room.
The reaction had been too much for him. Nella and Prince Aribert looked at each other. They had not exchanged a word about themselves, yet each knew what the other had been thinking. They clasped hands with a perfect understanding. Their brief love-making had been of the silent kind, and it was silent now. No word was uttered. A shadow had passed from over them, but only their eyes expressed relief and joy.
‘Aribert!’ The faint call came from the bed. Aribert went to the bedside, while Nella remained near the window.
‘What is it, Eugen?’ he said. ‘You are better now.’
‘You think so?’ murmured the other. ‘I want you to forgive me for all this, Aribert. I must have caused you an intolerable trouble. I did it so clumsily; that is what annoys me. Laudanum was a feeble expedient; but I could think of nothing else, and I daren’t ask anyone for advice. I was obliged to go out and buy the stuff for myself. It was all very awkward.
But, thank goodness, it has not been ineffectual.’
‘What do you mean, Eugen? You are better. In a day or so you will be perfectly recovered.’
‘I am dying,’ said Eugen quietly. ‘Do not be deceived. I die because I wish to die. It is bound to be so. I know by the feel of my heart. In a few hours it will be over. The throne of Posen will be yours, Aribert. You will fill it more worthily than I have done. Don’t let them know over there that I poisoned myself. Swear Hans to secrecy; swear the doctors to secrecy; and breathe no word yourself. I have been a fool, but I do not wish it to be known that I was also a coward. Perhaps it is not cowardice; perhaps it is courage, after all—courage to cut the knot. I could not have survived the disgrace of any revelations, Aribert, and revelations would have been sure to come. I have made a fool of myself, but I am ready to pay for it. We of Posen—we always pay—everything except our debts. Ah! those debts! Had it not been for those I could have faced her who was to have been my wife, to have shared my throne. I could have hidden my past, and begun again. With her help I really could have begun again. But Fate has been against me—always! always! By the way, what was that plot against me, Aribert? I forget, I forget.’
His eyes closed. There was a sudden noise. Old Hans had slipped from his chair to the floor. He picked himself up, dazed, and crept shamefacedly out of the room.
Aribert took his nephew’s hand.
‘Nonsense, Eugen! You are dreaming. You will be all right soon. Pull yourself together.’
‘All because of a million,’ the sick man moaned. ‘One miserable million English pounds. The national debt of Posen is fifty millions, and I, the Prince of Posen, couldn’t borrow one. If I could have got it, I might have held my head up again. Good-bye, Aribert.... Who is that girl?’
Aribert looked up. Nella was standing silent at the foot of the bed, her eyes moist. She came round to the bedside, and put her hand on the patient’s heart. Scarcely could she feel its pulsation, and to Aribert her eyes expressed a sudden despair.
At that moment Hans re-entered the room and beckoned to her.
‘I have heard that Herr Racksole has returned to the hotel,’ he whispered, ‘and that he has captured that man Jules, who they say is such a villain.’
Several times during the night Nella inquired for her father, but could gain no knowledge of his whereabouts. Now, at half-past six in the morning, a rumour had mysteriously spread among the servants of the hotel about the happenings of the night before. How it had originated no one could have determined, but it had originated.
‘Where is my father?’ Nella asked of Hans.
He shrugged his shoulders, and pointed upwards. ‘Somewhere at the top, they say.’
Nella almost ran out of the room. Her interruption of the interview between Jules and Theodore Racksole has already been described. As she came downstairs with her father she said again, ‘Prince Eugen is dying—but I think you can save him.’
‘I?’ exclaimed Theodore.
‘Yes,’ she repeated positively. ‘I will tell you what I want you to do, and you must do it.’
AS Nella passed downstairs from the top storey with her father—the lifts had not yet begun to work—she drew him into her own room, and closed the door.
‘What’s this all about?’ he asked, somewhat mystified, and even alarmed by the extreme seriousness of her face.
‘Dad,’ the girl began, ‘you are very rich, aren’t you? very, very rich?’ She smiled anxiously, timidly. He did not remember to have seen that expression on her face before. He wanted to make a facetious reply, but checked himself.
‘Yes,’ he said, ‘I am. You ought to know that by this time.’
‘How soon could you realize a million pounds?’
‘A million—what?’ he cried. Even he was staggered by her calm reference to this gigantic sum. ‘What on earth are you driving at?’
‘A million pounds, I said. That is to say, five million dollars. How soon could you realize as much as that?’
‘Oh!’ he answered, ‘in about a month, if I went about it neatly enough. I could unload as much as that in a month without scaring Wall Street and other places. But it would want some arrangement.’
‘Useless!’ she exclaimed. ‘Couldn’t you do it quicker, if you really had to?’
‘If I really had to, I could fix it in a week, but it would make things lively, and I should lose on the job.’
‘Couldn’t you,’ she persisted, ‘couldn’t you go down this morning and raise a million, somehow, if it was a matter of life and death?’
He hesitated. ‘Look here, Nella,’ he said, ‘what is it you’ve got up your sleeve?’
‘Just answer my question, Dad, and try not to think that I’m a stark, staring lunatic.’
‘I rather expect I could get a million this morning, even in London. But it would cost pretty dear. It might cost me fifty thousand pounds, and there would be the dickens of an upset in New York—a sort of grand universal slump in my holdings.’
‘Why should New York know anything about it?’
‘Why should New York know anything about it!’ he repeated. ‘My girl, when anyone borrows a million sovereigns the whole world knows about it. Do you reckon that I can go up to the Governors of the Bank of England and say, “Look here, lend Theodore Racksole a million for a few weeks, and he’ll give you an IOU and a covering note on stocks”?’
‘But you could get it?’ she asked again.
‘If there’s a million in London I guess I could handle it,’ he replied.
‘Well, Dad,’ and she put her arms round his neck, ‘you’ve just got to go out and fix it. See? It’s for me. I’ve never asked you for anything really big before. But I do now. And I want it so badly.’
He stared at her. ‘I award you the prize,’ he said, at length. ‘You deserve it for colossal and immense coolness. Now you can tell me the true inward meaning of all this rigmarole. What is it?’
‘I want it for Prince Eugen,’ she began, at first hesitatingly, with pauses.
‘He’s ruined unless he can get a million to pay off his debts. He’s dreadfully in love with a Princess, and he can’t marry her because of this.
Her parents wouldn’t allow it. He was to have got it from Sampson Levi, but he arrived too late—owing to Jules.’
‘I know all about that—perhaps more than you do. But I don’t see how it affects you or me.’
‘The point is this, Dad,’ Nella continued. ‘He’s tried to commit suicide—he’s so hipped. Yes, real suicide. He took laudanum last night. It didn’t kill him straight off—he’s got over the first shock, but he’s in a very weak state, and he means to die. And I truly believe he will die. Now, if you could let him have that million, Dad, you would save his life.’
Nella’s item of news was a considerable and disconcerting surprise to Racksole, but he hid his feelings fairly well.
‘I haven’t the least desire to save his life, Nell. I don’t overmuch respect your Prince Eugen. I’ve done what I could for him—but only for the sake of seeing fair play, and because I object to conspiracies and secret murders.
It’s a different thing if he wants to kill himself. What I say is: Let him.
Who is responsible for his being in debt to the tune of a million pounds? He’s only got himself and his bad habits to thank for that. I suppose if he does happen to peg out, the throne of Posen will go to Prince Aribert. And a good thing, too! Aribert is worth twenty of his nephew.’
‘That’s just it, Dad,’ she said, eagerly following up her chance. ‘I want you to save Prince Eugen just because Aribert—Prince Aribert—doesn’t wish to occupy the throne. He’d much prefer not to have it.’
‘Much prefer not to have it! Don’t talk nonsense. If he’s honest with himself, he’ll admit that he’ll be jolly glad to have it. Thrones are in his blood, so to speak.’
‘You are wrong, Father. And the reason is this: If Prince Aribert ascended the throne of Posen he would be compelled to marry a Princess.’
‘Well! A Prince ought to marry a Princess.’
‘But he doesn’t want to. He wants to give up all his royal rights, and live as a subject. He wants to marry a woman who isn’t a Princess.’
‘Is she rich?’
‘Her father is,’ said the girl. ‘Oh, Dad! can’t you guess? He—he loves me.’ Her head fell on Theodore’s shoulder and she began to cry.
The millionaire whistled a very high note. ‘Nell!’ he said at length. ‘And you? Do you sort of cling to him?’
‘Dad,’ she answered, ‘you are stupid. Do you imagine I should worry myself like this if I didn’t?’ She smiled through her tears. She knew from her father’s tone that she had accomplished a victory.
‘It’s a mighty queer arrangement,’ Theodore remarked. ‘But of course if you think it’ll be of any use, you had better go down and tell your Prince Eugen that that million can be fixed up, if he really needs it. I expect there’ll be decent security, or Sampson Levi wouldn’t have mixed himself up in it.’
‘Thanks, Dad. Don’t come with me; I may manage better alone.’
She gave a formal little curtsey and disappeared. Racksole, who had the talent, so necessary to millionaires, of attending to several matters at once, the large with the small, went off to give orders about the breakfast and the remuneration of his assistant of the evening before, Mr George Hazell. He then sent an invitation to Mr Felix Babylon’s room, asking that gentleman to take breakfast with him. After he had related to Babylon the history of Jules’ capture, and had a long discussion with him upon several points of hotel management, and especially as to the guarding of wine-cellars, Racksole put on his hat, sallied forth into the Strand, hailed a hansom, and was driven to the City. The order and nature of his operations there were too complex and technical to be described here.
When Nella returned to the State bedroom both the doctor and the great specialist were again in attendance. The two physicians moved away from the bedside as she entered, and began to talk quietly together in the embrasure of the window.
‘A curious case!’ said the specialist.
‘Yes. Of course, as you say, it’s a neurotic temperament that’s at the bottom of the trouble. When you’ve got that and a vigorous constitution working one against the other, the results are apt to be distinctly curious.
Do you consider there is any hope, Sir Charles?’
‘If I had seen him when he recovered consciousness I should have said there was hope. Frankly, when I left last night, or rather this morning, I didn’t expect to see the Prince alive again—let alone conscious, and able to talk. According to all the rules of the game, he ought to get over the shock to the system with perfect ease and certainty. But I don’t think he will. I don’t think he wants to. And moreover, I think he is still under the influence of suicidal mania. If he had a razor he would cut his throat. You must keep his strength up. Inject, if necessary. I will come in this afternoon. I am due now at St James’s Palace.’ And the specialist hurried away, with an elaborate bow and a few hasty words of polite reassurances to Prince Aribert.
When he had gone Prince Aribert took the other doctor aside. ‘Forget everything, doctor,’ he said, ‘except that I am one man and you are another, and tell me the truth. Shall you be able to save his Highness? Tell me the truth.’
‘There is no truth,’ was the doctor’s reply. ‘The future is not in our hands, Prince.’
‘But you are hopeful? Yes or no.’
The doctor looked at Prince Aribert. ‘No!’ he said shortly. ‘I am not. I am never hopeful when the patient is not on my side.’
‘You mean—?’
‘I mean that his Royal Highness has no desire to live. You must have observed that.’
‘Only too well,’ said Aribert.
‘And you are aware of the cause?’
Aribert nodded an affirmative.
‘But cannot remove it?’
‘No,’ said Aribert. He felt a touch on his sleeve. It was Nella’s finger.
With a gesture she beckoned him towards the ante-room.
‘If you choose,’ she said, when they were alone, ‘Prince Eugen can be saved.
I have arranged it.’
‘You have arranged it?’ He bent over her, almost with an air of alarm. ‘Go and tell him that the million pounds which is so necessary to his happiness will be forthcoming. Tell him that it will be forthcoming today, if that will be any satisfaction to him.’
‘But what do you mean by this, Nella?’
‘I mean what I say, Aribert,’ and she sought his hand and took it in hers.
‘Just what I say. If a million pounds will save Prince Eugen’s life, it is at his disposal.’
‘But how—how have you managed it? By what miracle?’
‘My father,’ she replied softly, ‘will do anything that I ask him. Do not let us waste time. Go and tell Eugen it is arranged, that all will be well.
Go!’
‘But we cannot accept this—this enormous, this incredible favour. It is impossible.’
‘Aribert,’ she said quickly, ‘remember you are not in Posen holding a Court reception. You are in England and you are talking to an American girl who has always been in the habit of having her own way.’
The Prince threw up his hands and went back in to the bedroom. The doctor was at a table writing out a prescription. Aribert approached the bedside, his heart beating furiously. Eugen greeted him with a faint, fatigued smile.
‘Eugen,’ he whispered, ‘listen carefully to me. I have news. With the assistance of friends I have arranged to borrow that million for you. It is quite settled, and you may rely on it. But you must get better. Do you hear me?’
Eugen almost sat up in bed. ‘Tell me I am not delirious,’ he exclaimed.
‘Of course you aren’t,’ Aribert replied. ‘But you mustn’t sit up. You must take care of yourself.’
‘Who will lend the money?’ Eugen asked in a feeble, happy whisper.
‘Never mind. You shall hear later. Devote yourself now to getting better.’
The change in the patient’s face was extraordinary. His mind seemed to have put on an entirely different aspect. The doctor was startled to hear him murmur a request for food. As for Aribert, he sat down, overcome by the turmoil of his own thoughts. Till that moment he felt that he had never appreciated the value and the marvellous power of mere money, of the lucre which philosophers pretend to despise and men sell their souls for. His heart almost burst in its admiration for that extraordinary Nella, who by mere personal force had raised two men out of the deepest slough of despair to the blissful heights of hope and happiness. ‘These Anglo-Saxons,’ he said to himself, ‘what a race!’
By the afternoon Eugen was noticeably and distinctly better. The physicians, puzzled for the third time by the progress of the case, announced now that all danger was past. The tone of the announcement seemed to Aribert to imply that the fortunate issue was due wholly to unrivalled medical skill, but perhaps Aribert was mistaken. Anyhow, he was in a most charitable mood, and prepared to forgive anything.
‘Nella,’ he said a little later, when they were by themselves again in the ante-chamber, ‘what am I to say to you? How can I thank you? How can I thank your father?’
‘You had better not thank my father,’ she said. ‘Dad will affect to regard the thing as a purely business transaction, as, of course, it is. As for me, you can—you can—’
‘Well?’
‘Kiss me,’ she said. ‘There! Are you sure you’ve formally proposed to me, mon prince?’
‘Ah! Nell!’ he exclaimed, putting his arms round her again. ‘Be mine! That is all I want!’
‘You’ll find,’ she said, ‘that you’ll want Dad’s consent too!’
‘Will he make difficulties? He could not, Nell—not with you!’
‘Better ask him,’ she said sweetly.
A moment later Racksole himself entered the room. ‘Going on all right?’ he enquired, pointing to the bedroom. ‘Excellently,’ the lovers answered together, and they both blushed.
‘Ah!’ said Racksole. ‘Then, if that’s so, and you can spare a minute, I’ve something to show you, Prince.’