‘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.’
Chapter Thirty CONCLUSION
‘I’VE a great deal to tell you, Prince,’ Racksole began, as soon as they were out of the room, ‘and also, as I said, something to show you. Will you come to my room? We will talk there first. The whole hotel is humming with excitement.’
‘With pleasure,’ said Aribert.
‘Glad his Highness Prince Eugen is recovering,’ Racksole said, urged by considerations of politeness.
‘Ah! As to that--’ Aribert began. ‘If you don’t mind, we’ll discuss that later, Prince,’ Racksole interrupted him.
They were in the proprietor’s private room.
‘I want to tell you all about last night,’ Racksole resumed, ‘about my capture of Jules, and my examination of him this morning.’ And he launched into a full account of the whole thing, down to the least details. ‘You see,’ he concluded, ‘that our suspicions as to Bosnia were tolerably correct. But as regards Bosnia, the more I think about it, the surer I feel that nothing can be done to bring their criminal politicians to justice.’
‘And as to Jules, what do you propose to do?’
‘Come this way,’ said Racksole, and led Aribert to another room. A sofa in this room was covered with a linen cloth. Racksole lifted the cloth-- he could never deny himself a dramatic moment--and disclosed the body of a dead man.
It was Jules, dead, but without a scratch or mark on him.
‘I have sent for the police--not a street constable, but an official from Scotland Yard,’ said Racksole.
‘How did this happen?’ Aribert asked, amazed and startled. ‘I understood you to say that he was safely immured in the bedroom.’
‘So he was,’ Racksole replied. ‘I went up there this afternoon, chiefly to take him some food. The commissionaire was on guard at the door. He had heard no noise, nothing unusual. Yet when I entered the room Jules was gone.
He had by some means or other loosened his fastenings; he had then managed to take the door off the wardrobe. He had moved the bed in front of the window, and by pushing the wardrobe door three parts out of the window and lodging the inside end of it under the rail at the head of the bed, he had provided himself with a sort of insecure platform outside the window. All this he did without making the least sound. He must then have got through the window, and stood on the little platform. With his fingers he would just be able to reach the outer edge of the wide cornice under the roof of the hotel. By main strength of arms he had swung himself on to this cornice, and so got on to the roof proper. He would then have the run of the whole roof.