e brought his long arms to his sides with a
thud.

'Why did you do it?'

'I was fascinated--fascinated by Jules. He, too, is a great man. We had
great opportunities, here in the Grand Babylon. It was a great game. It
was worth the candle. The prizes were enormous. You would admit these
things if you knew the facts. Perhaps some day you will know them, for
you are a fairly clever person at getting to the root of a matter. Yes,
I was blinded, hypnotized.'

'And now you are ruined.'

'Not ruined, not ruined. Afterwards, in a few years, I shall come up
again.

A man of genius like me is never ruined till he is dead. Genius is
always forgiven. I shall be forgiven. Suppose I am sent to prison. When
I emerge I shall be no gaol-bird. I shall be Rocco--the great Rocco. And
half the hotels in Europe will invite me to join them.'

'Let me tell you, as man to man, that you have achieved your own
degradation. There is no excuse.'

'I know it,' said Rocco. 'Let us go.'

Racksole was distinctly and notably impressed by this man--by this
master spirit to whom he was to have paid a salary at the rate of three
thousand pounds a year. He even felt sorry for him. And so, side by
side, the captor and the captured, they passed into the vast deserted
corridor of the hotel.

Rocco stopped at the grating of the first lift.

'It will be locked,' said Racksole. 'We must use the stairs to-night.'

'But I have a key. I always carry one,' said Rocco, and he pulled one
out of his pocket, and, unfastening the iron screen, pushed it open.
Racksole smiled at his readiness and aplomb.

'After you,' said Rocco, bowing in his finest manner, and Racksole
stepped into the lift.

With the swiftness of lighting Rocco pushed forward the iron screen,
which locked itself automatically. Theodore Racksole was hopelessly a
prisoner within the lift, while Rocco stood free in the corridor.

'Good-bye, Mr Racksole,' he remarked suavely, bowing again, lower
than before. 'Good-bye: I hate to take a mean advantage of you in this
fashion, but really you must allow that you have been very simple. You
are a clever man, as I have already said, up to a certain point. It is
past that point that my own cleverness comes in. Again, good-bye. After
all, I shall have no rest to-night, but perhaps even that will be better
that sleeping in a police cell. If you make a great noise you may wake
someone and ultimately get released from this lift. But I advise you to
co