The Grand Babylon Hotel | Page 9

his
power.
'You have had anxieties, Mr Racksole?'
'Still have them. I am now holiday-making in London with my daughter in order to get
rid of them for a time.'
'Is the purchase of hotels your notion of relaxation, then?'
Racksole shrugged his shoulders. 'It is a change from railroads,' he laughed.
'Ah, my friend, you little know what you have bought.'
'Oh! yes I do,' returned Racksole; 'I have bought just the first hotel in the world.'
'That is true, that is true,' Babylon admitted, gazing meditatively at the antique Persian
carpet. 'There is nothing, anywhere, like my hotel. But you will regret the purchase, Mr
Racksole. It is no business of mine, of course, but I cannot help repeating that you will
regret the purchase.'
'I never regret.'

'Then you will begin very soon - perhaps to-night.'
'Why do you say that?'
'Because the Grand Babylon is the Grand Babylon. You think because you control a
railroad, or an iron-works, or a line of steamers, therefore you can control anything. But
no. Not the Grand Babylon. There is something about the Grand Babylon - ' He threw up
his hands.
'Servants rob you, of course.'
'Of course. I suppose I lose a hundred pounds a week in that way. But it is not that I mean.
It is the guests. The guests are too - too distinguished.
The great Ambassadors, the great financiers, the great nobles, all the men that move the
world, put up under my roof. London is the centre of everything, and my hotel - your
hotel - is the centre of London. Once I had a King and a Dowager Empress staying here
at the same time. Imagine that!'
'A great honour, Mr Babylon. But wherein lies the difficulty?'
'Mr Racksole,' was the grim reply, 'what has become of your shrewdness - that
shrewdness which has made your fortune so immense that even you cannot calculate it?
Do you not perceive that the roof which habitually shelters all the force, all the authority
of the world, must necessarily also shelter nameless and numberless plotters, schemers,
evil-doers, and workers of mischief? The thing is as clear as day - and as dark as night.
Mr Racksole, I never know by whom I am surrounded. I never know what is going
forward.
Only sometimes I get hints, glimpses of strange acts and strange secrets.
You mentioned my servants. They are almost all good servants, skilled, competent. But
what are they besides? For anything I know my fourth sub-chef may be an agent of some
European Government. For anything I know my invaluable Miss Spencer may be in the
pay of a court dressmaker or a Frankfort banker. Even Rocco may be someone else in
addition to Rocco.'
'That makes it all the more interesting,' remarked Theodore Racksole.

'What a long time you have been, Father,' said Nella, when he returned to table No. 17 in
the salle manger.
'Only twenty minutes, my dove.'
'But you said two seconds. There is a difference.'
'Well, you see, I had to wait for the steak to cook.'

'Did you have much trouble in getting my birthday treat?'
'No trouble. But it didn't come quite as cheap as you said.'
'What do you mean, Father?'
'Only that I've bought the entire hotel. But don't split.'
'Father, you always were a delicious parent. Shall you give me the hotel for a birthday
present?'
'No. I shall run it - as an amusement. By the way, who is that chair for?'
He noticed that a third cover had been laid at the table.
'That is for a friend of mine who came in about five minutes ago. Of course I told him he
must share our steak. He'll be here in a moment.'
'May I respectfully inquire his name?'
'Dimmock - Christian name Reginald; profession, English companion to Prince Aribert of
Posen. I met him when I was in St Petersburg with cousin Hetty last fall. Oh; here he is.
Mr Dimmock, this is my dear father. He has succeeded with the steak.'
Theodore Racksole found himself confronted by a very young man, with deep black eyes,
and a fresh, boyish expression. They began to talk.
Jules approached with the steak. Racksole tried to catch the waiter's eye, but could not.
The dinner proceeded.
'Oh, Father!' cried Nella, 'what a lot of mustard you have taken!'
'Have I?' he said, and then he happened to glance into a mirror on his left hand between
two windows. He saw the reflection of Jules, who stood behind his chair, and he saw
Jules give a slow, significant, ominous wink to Mr Dimmock - Christian name, Reginald.
He examined his mustard in silence. He thought that perhaps he had helped himself rather
plenteously to mustard.