'Time for whisky and soda,' said Racksole, and got up as if to ring the bell; but Babylon waved him back.
'You have told me that this Sampson Levi had an audience of Prince Eugen today, 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 meantime, I feel fairly sure that Levi declined to produce Prince Eugen's required million. I have reason to believe that the money was lent elsewhere.'
'H'm!' mused Babylon; and then, carelessly, 'I am not at all surprised at that arrangement for spying through the bathroom of the State apartments.'
'Why are you not surprised?'
'Oh!' said Babylon, 'it is such an obvious dodge - 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 Racksole 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 Theodore Racksole.
'Well,' said Babylon, after a pause, 'let us begin. In the first place, it is possible you may be interested to hear that I happened to see Jules to-day.'
'You did!' Racksole 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 whither 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 Racksole. 'A highly suitable place for him, I should say.'
'But,' Babylon resumed, 'I caught sight of him again.'
'Where?'
'At Charing 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.'
'The cheek of the fellow!' exclaimed Theodore Racksole. 'The gorgeous and colossal cheek of the fellow!'
22. In The Wine Cellars Of The Grand Babylon
'DO you know anything of the antecedents of this Jules,' asked Theodore Racksole, helping himself to whisky.
'Nothing whatever,' said Babylon. '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 - he 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 have ever known, and he was specially skilled in the difficult task of 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?' Racksole queried, with a simple air.
'I should imagine that the present difficulty is to account for the man's presence in London.'
'That is easily accounted for,' said Racksole.
'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 Racksole. 'Jules is going to have another try - that's all.'
'Another try at what?'
'At Prince Eugen. 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 Eugen's predicament quite quiet, and he is 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 is 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 Eugen in this hotel?'
'Why not? If Reginald Dimmock fell on mere suspicion that he would turn out unfaithful to the conspiracy, why not Prince Eugen?'
'But it would be an unspeakable crime, and do infinite harm to the hotel!'
'True!' Racksole 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 you had 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 a most delicate operation. Moreover, Prince Eugen, unless he has changed his habits, is always served by his own attendant, old Hans, and therefore any attempt to tamper with a cooked dish immediately before serving would be hazardous in the extreme.'
'Granted,' said Racksole. '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 Eugen 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 Racksole. 'I know nothing of wine as an expert, and I very seldom drink it, but it seems to me that a bottle of wine might be tampered 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 Jules might still have an accomplice within the building.'
'And that a bottle of wine could be opened and recorked without leaving any trace of the operation?' Babylon was a trifle sarcastic.
'I don't see the necessity of opening the bottle in order to poison the wine,' said Racksole. 'I have never tried to poison anybody by means of a bottle of wine, and I don't 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 Jules' intentions.'
'Ah!' said Felix Babylon. 'The wine cellars beneath us are one of the wonders of London. I hope you are aware, Mr Racksole, that when you bought the Grand Babylon you bought what is probably the finest stock of wines in England, if not in Europe. In the valuation I reckoned them at sixty thousand pounds. And I may say that I always took care that the cellars were properly guarded. Even Jules would experience a serious difficulty in breaking into the cellars without the connivance of the wine-clerk, and the wine-clerk is, or was, incorruptible.'
'I am ashamed to say that I have not yet inspected my wines,' smil
ed Racksole; '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 to-morrow. If I may, I will accompany you.'
'Why not to-night?' Racksole suggested, calmly.
'To-night! 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-clerk 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's 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 Racksole.
'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 Racksole, as they walked out of the room together. Although the hour was so late, the hotel was not, of course, closed 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 latter was despatched 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 Racksole 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 extend 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 the bunch of keys, opened the great door, and then they were in the first cellar - the first of a suite of five. Racksole was struck not only by the icy coolness of the place, but also by its vastness. Babylon had seized a portable electric handlight, 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 Racksole entered upon 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 sair een'.
He displayed to Racksole's bewildered gaze, in their due order, all the wines of three continents - nay, of four, for the superb and luscious Constantia wine of Cape Colony was not wanting in that most catholic collection of vintages.
Beginning with the unsurpassed products of Burgundy, he continued with the clarets of Médoc, Bordeaux, and Sauterne; then to the champagnes of Ay, Hautvilliers, and Pierry; then to the hocks and moselles of Germany, and the brilliant imitation champagnes of Main, Neckar, and Naumburg; then to the famous and adorable Tokay of Hungary, and all the Austrian varieties of French wines, including Carlowitz and Somlauer; then to the dry sherries of Spain, including purest Manzanilla, and Amontillado, and Vino de Pasto; then to the wines of Malaga, both sweet and dry, and all the 'Spanish reds' 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 descanted 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 Racksole curiously, as they stood before the door, and looked within at the seined ends of bottles.
'Ah!' exclaimed Babylon, almost smacking his lips, 'therein lies the cream of all.'
'The best champagne, I suppose?' said Racksole.
'Yes,' said Babylon, 'the best champagne is there - a very special Sillery, 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 Racksole, 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 Racksole 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 caused 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 unrivalled vintage of Romanée-Conti, greatest of all modern Burgundies. If I remember right Prince Eugen 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 Racksole. 'Let us go inside.'
They entered the stone apartment, rendered almost sacred by the preciousness of its contents, and Racksole 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.'
'Looks broken, doesn't it?' Racksole suggested and then, putting a finger quickly on Babylon's shoulder, 'there's 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 Racksole walked firmly down the central passage-way 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 Racksole, upon whom he had laid angry hands.
23. Further Events In The Cellar
'WELL, Father,' Nella greeted her astounded parent. 'You should make sure that you have got hold of the right person before you use all that terrible muscular force of yours. I do believe you have 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 gr
ey dress was torn and dirty, and the usually trim Nella looked as though she had been shot down a canvas fire-escape.
Mechanically she smoothed her frock, and gave a straightening touch to her hair.
'Good evening, Miss Racksole,' said Felix Babylon, bowing formally. 'This is an unexpected pleasure.' Felix 's drawing-room manners never deserted him upon any occasion whatever.
'May I inquire what you are doing in my wine cellar, Nella Racksole?' 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 had been reading 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 on to 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 looked down below into the little sunk yard which separates the wall of the hotel from Salisbury 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 Racksole sharply.
'It sounded like a sawing 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.'
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