The Grand Babylon Hôtel · Arnold Bennett
Part 10
Chapter 10 of 19 · 14 min read
‘See here!’ replied the Prince, ‘I don’t want to have any arguments, but this yacht must return to Ostend at once, where you will be given up to the authorities.’
‘Really!’ snarled Mr Tom Jackson. ‘Shall I!’ Then he called out in French to the man at the wheel, ‘Hi André! let these two be put off in the dinghy.’
It was a peculiar situation. Certain of nothing but the possession of Nella’s revolver, the Prince scarcely knew whether to carry the argument further, and with stronger measures, or to accept the situation with as much dignity as the circumstances would permit.
‘Let us take the dinghy,’ said Nella; ‘we can row ashore in an hour.’
He felt that she was right. To leave the yacht in such a manner seemed somewhat ignominious, and it certainly involved the escape of that profound villain, Mr Thomas Jackson. But what else could be done? The Prince and Nella constituted one party on the vessel; they knew their own strength, but they did not know the strength of their opponents. They held the hostile ringleader bound and captive, but this man had proved himself capable of giving orders, and even to gag him would not help them if the captain of the yacht persisted in his obstinate course. Moreover, there was a distinct objection to promiscuous shooting. The Prince felt that there was no knowing how promiscuous shooting might end.
‘We will take the dinghy,’ said the Prince quickly, to the captain.
A bell rang below, and a sailor and the Negro boy appeared on deck. The pulsations of the screw grew less rapid. The yacht stopped. The dinghy was lowered. As the Prince and Nella prepared to descend into the little cock-boat Mr Tom Jackson addressed Nella, all bound as he lay.
‘Good-bye,’ he said, ‘I shall see you again, never fear.’.
In another moment they were in the dinghy, and the dinghy was adrift. The yacht’s screw churned the water, and the beautiful vessel slipped away from them. As it receded a figure appeared at the stem. It was Mr Thomas Jackson.
He had been released by his minions. He held a white handkerchief to his ear, and offered a calm, enigmatic smile to the two forlorn but victorious occupants of the dinghy. Jules had been defeated for once in his life; or perhaps it would be more just to say that he had been out- manoeuvred. Men like Jules are incapable of being defeated. It was characteristic of his luck that now, in the very hour when he had been caught red-handed in a serious crime against society, he should be effecting a leisurely escape—an escape which left no clue behind.
The sea was utterly calm and blue in the morning sun. The dinghy rocked itself lazily in the swell of the yacht’s departure. As the mist cleared away the outline of the shore became more distinct, and it appeared as if Ostend was distant scarcely a cable’s length. The white dome of the great Kursaal glittered in the pale turquoise sky, and the smoke of steamers in the harbour could be plainly distinguished. On the offing was a crowd of brown-sailed fishing luggers returning with the night’s catch. The many-hued bathing-vans could be counted on the distant beach. Everything seemed perfectly normal. It was difficult for either Nella or her companion to realize that anything extraordinary had happened within the last hour. Yet there was the yacht, not a mile off, to prove to them that something very extraordinary had, in fact, happened. The yacht was no vision, nor was that sinister watching figure at its stern a vision, either.
‘I suppose Jules was too surprised and too feeble to inquire how I came to be on board his yacht,’ said the Prince, taking the oars.
‘Oh! How did you?’ asked Nella, her face lighting up. ‘Really, I had almost forgotten that part of the affair.’
‘I must begin at the beginning and it will take some time,’ answered the Prince. ‘Had we not better postpone the recital till we get ashore?’
‘I will row and you shall talk,’ said Nella. ‘I want to know now.’
He smiled happily at her, but gently declined to yield up the oars.
‘Is it not sufficient that I am here?’ he said.
‘It is sufficient, yes,’ she replied, ‘but I want to know.’
With a long, easy stroke he was pulling the dinghy shorewards. She sat in the stern-sheets.
‘There is no rudder,’ he remarked, ‘so you must direct me. Keep the boat’s head on the lighthouse. The tide seems to be running in strongly; that will help us. The people on shore will think that we have only been for a little early morning excursion.’
‘Will you kindly tell me how it came about that you were able to save my life, Prince?’ she said.
‘Save your life, Miss Racksole? I didn’t save your life; I merely knocked a man down.’
‘You saved my life,’ she repeated. ‘That villain would have stopped at nothing. I saw it in his eye.’
‘Then you were a brave woman, for you showed no fear of death.’ His admiring gaze rested full on her. For a moment the oars ceased to move.
She gave a gesture of impatience.
‘It happened that I saw you last night in your carriage,’ he said. ‘The fact is, I had not had the audacity to go to Berlin with my story. I stopped in Ostend to see whether I could do a little detective work on my own account.
It was a piece of good luck that I saw you. I followed the carriage as quickly as I could, and I just caught a glimpse of you as you entered that awful house. I knew that Jules had something to do with that house. I guessed what you were doing. I was afraid for you. Fortunately I had surveyed the house pretty thoroughly. There is an entrance to it at the back, from a narrow lane. I made my way there. I got into the yard at the back, and I stood under the window of the room where you had the interview with Miss Spencer. I heard everything that was said. It was a courageous enterprise on your part to follow Miss Spencer from the Grand Babylon to Ostend. Well, I dared not force an entrance, lest I might precipitate matters too suddenly, and involve both of us in a difficulty. I merely kept watch. Ah, Miss Racksole! you were magnificent with Miss Spencer; as I say, I could hear every word, for the window was slightly open. I felt that you needed no assistance from me. And then she cheated you with a trick, and the revolver came flying through the window. I picked it up, I thought it would probably be useful. There was a silence. I did not guess at first that you had fainted. I thought that you had escaped. When I found out the truth it was too late for me to intervene. There were two men, both desperate, besides Miss Spencer—’
‘Who was the other man?’ asked Nella.
‘I do not know. It was dark. They drove away with you to the harbour. Again I followed. I saw them carry you on board. Before the yacht weighed anchor I managed to climb unobserved into the dinghy. I lay down full length in it, and no one suspected that I was there. I think you know the rest.’
‘Was the yacht all ready for sea?’
‘The yacht was all ready for sea. The captain fellow was on the bridge, and steam was up.’
‘Then they expected me! How could that be?’
‘They expected some one. I do not think they expected you.’
‘Did the second man go on board?’
‘He helped to carry you along the gangway, but he came back again to the carriage. He was the driver.’
‘And no one else saw the business?’
‘The quay was deserted. You see, the last steamer had arrived for the night.’
There was a brief silence, and then Nella ejaculated, under her breath.
‘Truly, it is a wonderful world!’
And it was a wonderful world for them, though scarcely perhaps, in the sense which Nella Racksole had intended. They had just emerged from a highly disconcerting experience. Among other minor inconveniences, they had had no breakfast. They were out in the sea in a tiny boat. Neither of them knew what the day might bring forth. The man, at least, had the most serious anxieties for the safety of his Royal nephew. And yet—and yet—neither of them wished that that voyage of the little boat on the summer tide should come to an end. Each, perhaps unconsciously, had a vague desire that it might last for ever, he lazily pulling, she directing his course at intervals by a movement of her distractingly pretty head. How was this condition of affairs to be explained? Well, they were both young; they both had superb health, and all the ardour of youth; and—they were together.
The boat was very small indeed; her face was scarcely a yard from his. She, in his eyes, surrounded by the glamour of beauty and vast wealth; he, in her eyes, surrounded by the glamour of masculine intrepidity and the brilliance of a throne.
But all voyages come to an end, either at the shore or at the bottom of the sea, and at length the dinghy passed between the stone jetties of the harbour. The Prince rowed to the nearest steps, tied up the boat, and they landed. It was six o’clock in the morning, and a day of gorgeous sunlight had opened. Few people were about at that early hour.
‘And now, what next?’ said the Prince. ‘I must take you to an hotel.’
‘I am in your hands,’ she acquiesced, with a smile which sent the blood racing through his veins. He perceived now that she was tired and overcome, suffering from a sudden and natural reaction.
At the Hôtel Wellington the Prince told the sleepy door-keeper that they had come by the early train from Bruges, and wanted breakfast at once. It was absurdly early, but a common English sovereign will work wonders in any Belgian hotel, and in a very brief time Nella and the Prince were breakfasting on the verandah of the hotel upon chocolate that had been specially and hastily brewed for them.
‘I never tasted such excellent chocolate,’ claimed the Prince.
The statement was wildly untrue, for the Hôtel Wellington is not celebrated for its chocolate. Nevertheless Nella replied enthusiastically, ‘Nor I.’
Then there was a silence, and Nella, feeling possibly that she had been too ecstatic, remarked in a very matter-of-fact tone: ‘I must telegraph to Papa instantly.’
Thus it was that Theodore Racksole received the telegram which drew him away from Detective Marshall.
Chapter Sixteen THE WOMAN WITH THE RED HAT
‘THERE is one thing, Prince, that we have just got to settle straight off,’ said Theodore Racksole.
They were all three seated—Racksole, his daughter, and Prince Aribert— round a dinner table in a private room at the Hôtel Wellington. Racksole had duly arrived by the afternoon boat, and had been met on the quay by the other two. They had dined early, and Racksole had heard the full story of the adventures by sea and land of Nella and the Prince. As to his own adventure of the previous night he said very little, merely explaining, with as little detail as possible, that Dimmock’s body had come to light.
‘What is that?’ asked the Prince, in answer to Racksole’s remark.
‘We have got to settle whether we shall tell the police at once all that has occurred, or whether we shall proceed on our own responsibility. There can be no doubt as to which course we ought to pursue. Every consideration of prudence points to the advisability of taking the police into our confidence, and leaving the matter entirely in their hands.’
‘Oh, Papa!’ Nella burst out in her pouting, impulsive way. ‘You surely can’t think of such a thing. Why, the fun has only just begun.’
‘Do you call last night fun?’ questioned Racksole, gazing at her solemnly.
‘Yes, I do,’ she said promptly. ‘Now.’
‘Well, I don’t,’ was the millionaire’s laconic response; but perhaps he was thinking of his own situation in the lift.
‘Do you not think we might investigate a little further,’ said the Prince judiciously, as he cracked a walnut, ‘just a little further—and then, if we fail to accomplish anything, there would still be ample opportunity to consult the police?’
‘How do you suggest we should begin?’ asked Racksole.
‘Well, there is the house which Miss Racksole so intrepidly entered last evening’—he gave her the homage of an admiring glance; ‘you and I, Mr Racksole, might examine that abode in detail.’
‘To-night?’
‘Certainly. We might do something.’
‘We might do too much.’
‘For example?’
‘We might shoot someone, or get ourselves mistaken for burglars. If we outstepped the law, it would be no excuse for us that we had been acting in a good cause.’
‘True,’ said the Prince. ‘Nevertheless—’ He stopped.
‘Nevertheless you have a distaste for bringing the police into the business.
You want the hunt all to yourself. You are on fire with the ardour of the chase. Is not that it? Accept the advice of an older man, Prince, and sleep on this affair. I have little fancy for nocturnal escapades two nights together. As for you, Nella, off with you to bed. The Prince and I will have a yarn over such fluids as can be obtained in this hole.’
‘Papa,’ she said, ‘you are perfectly horrid to-night.’
‘Perhaps I am,’ he said. ‘Decidedly I am very cross with you for coming over here all alone. It was monstrous. If I didn’t happen to be the most foolish of parents—There! Good-night. It’s nine o’clock. The Prince, I am sure, will excuse you.’
If Nella had not really been very tired Prince Aribert might have been the witness of a good-natured but stubborn conflict between the millionaire and his spirited offspring. As it was, Nella departed with surprising docility, and the two men were left alone.
‘Now,’ said Racksole suddenly, changing his tone, ‘I fancy that after all I’m your man for a little amateur investigation to-night. And, if I must speak the exact truth, I think that to sleep on this affair would be about the very worst thing we could do. But I was anxious to keep Nella out of harm’s way at any rate till to-morrow. She is a very difficult creature to manage, Prince, and I may warn you,’ he laughed grimly, ‘that if we do succeed in doing anything to-night we shall catch it from her ladyship in the morning. Are you ready to take that risk?’
‘I am,’ the Prince smiled. ‘But Miss Racksole is a young lady of quite remarkable nerve.’
‘She is,’ said Racksole drily. ‘I wish sometimes she had less.’
‘I have the highest admiration for Miss Racksole,’ said the Prince, and he looked Miss Racksole’s father full in the face.
‘You honour us, Prince,’ Racksole observed. ‘Let us come to business. Am I right in assuming that you have a reason for keeping the police out of this business, if it can possibly be done?’
‘Yes,’ said the Prince, and his brow clouded. ‘I am very much afraid that my poor nephew has involved himself in some scrape that he would wish not to be divulged.’
‘Then you do not believe that he is the victim of foul play?’
‘I do not.’
‘And the reason, if I may ask it?’
‘Mr Racksole, we speak in confidence—is it not so? Some years ago my foolish nephew had an affair—an affair with a feminine star of the Berlin stage. For anything I know, the lady may have been the very pattern of her sex, but where a reigning Prince is concerned scandal cannot be avoided in such a matter. I had thought that the affair was quite at an end, since my nephew’s betrothal to Princess Anna of Eckstein-Schwartzburg is shortly to be announced. But yesterday I saw the lady to whom I have referred driving on the Digue. The coincidence of her presence here with my nephew’s disappearance is too extraordinary to be disregarded.’
‘But how does this theory square with the murder of Reginald Dimmock?’
‘It does not square with it. My idea is that the murder of poor Dimmock and the disappearance of my nephew are entirely unconnected—unless, indeed, this Berlin actress is playing into the hands of the murderers. I had not thought of that.’
‘Then what do you propose to do to-night?’
‘I propose to enter the house which Miss Racksole entered last night and to find out something definite.’
‘I concur,’ said Racksole. ‘I shall heartily enjoy it. But let me tell you, Prince, and pardon me for speaking bluntly, your surmise is incorrect. I would wager a hundred thousand dollars that Prince Eugen has been kidnapped.’
‘What grounds have you for being so sure?’
‘Ah! said Racksole, ‘that is a long story. Let me begin by asking you this.
Are you aware that your nephew, Prince Eugen, owes a million of money?’
‘A million of money!’ cried Prince Aribert astonished. ‘It is impossible!’
‘Nevertheless, he does,’ said Racksole calmly. Then he told him all he had learnt from Mr Sampson Levi.
‘What have you to say to that?’ Racksole ended. Prince Aribert made no reply.
‘What have you to say to that?’ Racksole insisted.
‘Merely that Eugen is ruined, even if he is alive.’
‘Not at all,’ Racksole returned with cheerfulness. ‘Not at all. We shall see about that. The special thing that I want to know just now from you is this:
Has any previous application ever been made for the hand of the Princess Anna?’
‘Yes. Last year. The King of Bosnia sued for it, but his proposal was declined.’
‘Why?’
‘Because my nephew was considered to be a more suitable match for her.’
‘Not because the personal character of his Majesty of Bosnia is scarcely of the brightest?’
‘No. Unfortunately it is usually impossible to consider questions of personal character when a royal match is concerned.’
‘Then, if for any reason the marriage of Princess Anna with your nephew was frustrated, the King of Bosnia would have a fair chance in that quarter?’
‘He would. The political aspect of things would be perfectly satisfactory.’
‘Thanks!’ said Racksole. ‘I will wager another hundred thousand dollars that someone in Bosnia—I don’t accuse the King himself—is at the bottom of this business. The methods of Balkan politicians have always been half-Oriental. Let us go.’
‘Where?’
‘To this precious house of Nella’s adventure.’
‘But surely it is too early?’
‘So it is,’ said Racksole, ‘and we shall want a few things, too. For instance, a dark lantern. I think I will go out and forage for a lantern.’
‘And a revolver?’ suggested Prince Aribert.
‘Does it mean revolvers?’ The millionaire laughed. ‘It may come to that.’ ‘Here you are, then, my friend,’ said Racksole, and he pulled one out of his hip pocket. ‘And yours?’
‘I,’ said the Prince, ‘I have your daughter’s.’
‘The deuce you have!’ murmured Racksole to himself.
It was then half past nine. They decided that it would be impolitic to begin their operations till after midnight. There were three hours to spare.
‘Let us go and see the gambling,’ Racksole suggested. ‘We might encounter the Berlin lady.’
The suggestion, in the first instance, was not made seriously, but it appeared to both men that they might do worse than spend the intervening time in the gorgeous saloon of the Kursaal, where, in the season, as much money is won and lost as at Monte Carlo. It was striking ten o’clock as they entered the rooms. There was a large company present—a company which included some of the most notorious persons in Europe. In that multifarious assemblage all were equal. The electric light shone coldly and impartially on the just and on the unjust, on the fool and the knave, on the European and the Asiatic. As usual, women monopolized the best places at the tables.
The scene was familiar enough to Prince Aribert, who had witnessed it frequently at Monaco, but Theodore Racksole had never before entered any European gaming palace; he had only the haziest idea of the rules of play, and he was at once interested. For some time they watched the play at the table which happened to be nearest to them. Racksole never moved his lips.
With his eyes glued on the table, and ears open for every remark, of the players and the croupier, he took his first lesson in roulette. He saw a mere youth win fifteen thousand francs, which were stolen in the most barefaced manner by a rouged girl scarcely older than the youth; he saw two old gamesters stake their coins, and lose, and walk quietly out of the place; he saw the bank win fifty thousand francs at a single turn.



