The Grand Babylon Hotel | Page 6

as the feminine
equivalent of the Tsar of All the Russias. Such women are only made in America, and
they only come to their full bloom in Europe, which they imagine to be a continent
created by Providence for their diversion.
The young lady by the window glanced disapprovingly at the menu card. Then she
looked round the dining-room, and, while admiring the diners, decided that the room
itself was rather small and plain. Then she gazed through the open window, and told
herself that though the Thames by twilight was passable enough, it was by no means level
with the Hudson, on whose shores her father had a hundred thousand dollar country
cottage. Then she returned to the menu, and with a pursing of lovely lips said that there
appeared to be nothing to eat.
'Sorry to keep you waiting, Nella.' It was Mr Racksole, the intrepid millionaire who had
dared to order an Angel Kiss in the smoke-room of the Grand Babylon. Nella - her proper
name was Helen - smiled at her parent cautiously, reserving to herself the right to scold if
she should feel so inclined.
'You always are late, father,' she said.
'Only on a holiday,' he added. 'What is there to eat?'
'Nothing.'
'Then let's have it. I'm hungry. I'm never so hungry as when I'm being seriously idle.'
'Consommé Britannia,' she began to read out from the menu, 'Saumon d'Ecosse, Sauce
Genoise, Aspics de Homard. Oh, heavens! Who wants these horrid messes on a night like
this?'

'But, Nella, this is the best cooking in Europe,' he protested.
'Say, father,' she said, with seeming irrelevance, 'had you forgotten it's my birthday
to-morrow?'
'Have I ever forgotten your birthday, O most costly daughter?'
'On the whole you've been a most satisfactory dad,' she answered sweetly, 'and to reward
you I'll be content this year with the cheapest birthday treat you ever gave me. Only I'll
have it to-night.'
'Well,' he said, with the long-suffering patience, the readiness for any surprise, of a parent
whom Nella had thoroughly trained, 'what is it?'
'It's this. Let's have filleted steak and a bottle of Bass for dinner to-night. It will be simply
exquisite. I shall love it.'
'But my dear Nella,' he exclaimed, 'steak and beer at Felix 's! It's impossible! Moreover,
young women still under twenty-three cannot be permitted to drink Bass.'
'I said steak and Bass, and as for being twenty-three, shall be going in twenty-four
to-morrow.'
Miss Racksole set her small white teeth.
There was a gentle cough. Jules stood over them. It must have been out of a pure spirit of
adventure that he had selected this table for his own services. Usually Jules did not
personally wait at dinner. He merely hovered observant, like a captain on the bridge
during the mate's watch. Regular frequenters of the hotel felt themselves honoured when
Jules attached himself to their tables.
Theodore Racksole hesitated one second, and then issued the order with a fine air of
carelessness:
'Filleted steak for two, and a bottle of Bass.' It was the bravest act of Theodore Racksole's
life, and yet at more than one previous crisis a high courage had not been lacking to him.
'It's not in the menu, sir,' said Jules the imperturbable.
'Never mind. Get it. We want it.'
'Very good, sir.'
Jules walked to the service-door, and, merely affecting to look behind, came immediately
back again.
'Mr Rocco's compliments, sir, and he regrets to be unable to serve steak and Bass to-night,
sir.'

'Mr Rocco?' questioned Racksole lightly.
'Mr Rocco,' repeated Jules with firmness.
'And who is Mr Rocco?'
'Mr Rocco is our chef, sir.' Jules had the expression of a man who is asked to explain who
Shakespeare was.
The two men looked at each other. It seemed incredible that Theodore Racksole, the
ineffable Racksole, who owned a thousand miles of railway, several towns, and sixty
votes in Congress, should be defied by a waiter, or even by a whole hotel. Yet so it was.
When Europe's effete back is against the wall not a regiment of millionaires can turn its
flank. Jules had the calm expression of a strong man sure of victory. His face said: 'You
beat me once, but not this time, my New York friend!'
As for Nella, knowing her father, she foresaw interesting events, and waited confidently
for the steak. She did not feel hungry, and she could afford to wait.
'Excuse me a moment, Nella,' said Theodore Racksole quietly, 'I shall be back in about
two seconds,' and he strode out of the salle à manger. No one in the room recognized the
millionaire, for he was unknown to London, this being his first visit to Europe for over
twenty years. Had anyone done so, and caught the expression