The next two hours were a struggle between life and death. The first doctor, a specialist who followed him, Nella, Prince Aribert, and old Hans formed, as it were, a league to save the dying man. None else in the hotel knew the real seriousness of the case. When a Prince falls ill, and especially by his own act, the precise truth is not issued broadcast to the universe. According to official intelligence, a Prince is never seriously ill until he is dead. Such is statecraft. The worst feature of Prince Eugen’s case was that emetics proved futile. Neither of the doctors could explain their failure, but it was only too apparent. The league was reduced to helplessness. At last the great specialist from Manchester Square gave it out that there was no chance for Prince Eugen unless the natural vigour of his constitution should prove capable of throwing off the poison unaided by scientific assistance, as a drunkard can sleep off his potion. Everything had been tried, even to artificial respiration and the injection of hot coffee. Having emitted this pronouncement, the great specialist from Manchester Square left. It was one o’clock in the morning. By one of those strange and futile coincidences which sometimes startle us by their subtle significance, the specialist met Theodore Racksole and his captive as they were entering the hotel. Neither had the least suspicion of the other’s business. In the State bedroom the small group of watchers surrounded the bed. The slow minutes filed away in dreary procession. Another hour passed. Then the figure on the bed, hitherto so motionless, twitched and moved; the lips parted. ‘There is hope,’ said the doctor, and administered a stimulant which was handed to him by Nella. In a quarter of an hour the patient had regained consciousness. For the ten thousandth time in the history of medicine a sound constitution had accomplished a miracle impossible to the accumulated medical skill of centuries. In due course the doctor left, saying that Prince Eugen was ‘on the high road to recovery,’ and promising to come again within a few hours. Morning had dawned. Nella drew the great curtains, and let in a flood of sunlight. Old Hans, overcome by fatigue, dozed in a chair in a far corner of the room. The reaction had been too much for him. Nella and Prince Aribert looked at each other. They had not exchanged a word about themselves, yet each knew what the other had been thinking. They clasped hands with a perfect understanding. Their brief love-making had been of the silent kind, and it was silent now. No word was uttered. A shadow had passed from over them, but only their eyes expressed relief and joy. ‘Aribert!’ The faint call came from the bed. Aribert went to the bedside, while Nella remained near the window. ‘What is it, Eugen?’ he said. ‘You are better now.’