‘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!’ Chapter Twenty-Two 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!’