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.’