et me offer you another cigar.'

'But I have not finished this one.'

'That is just why I wish to offer you another one. A cigar such as
yours, my good friend, ought never to be smoked within the precincts of
the Grand Babylon, not even by the proprietor of the Grand Babylon, and
especially when all the guests are assembled in the portico. The fumes
of it would ruin any hotel.'

Theodore Racksole laughingly lighted the Rothschild Havana which Babylon
gave him, and they entered the hotel arm in arm. But no sooner had they
mounted the steps than little Felix became the object of numberless
greetings. It appeared that he had been highly popular among his quondam
guests. At last they reached the managerial room, where Babylon was
regaled on a chicken, and Racksole assisted him in the consumption of a
bottle of Heidsieck Monopole, Carte d'Or.

'This chicken is almost perfectly grilled,' said Babylon at length. 'It
is a credit to the house. But why, my dear Racksole, why in the name of
Heaven did you quarrel with Rocco?'

'Then you have heard?'

'Heard! My dear friend, it was in every newspaper on the Continent. Some
journals prophesied that the Grand Babylon would have to close its doors
within half a year now that Rocco had deserted it. But of course I knew
better. I knew that you must have a good reason for allowing Rocco
to depart, and that you must have made arrangements in advance for a
substitute.'

'As a matter of fact, I had not made arrangements in advance,' said
Theodore Racksole, a little ruefully; 'but happily we have found in
our second sous-chef an artist inferior only to Rocco himself. That,
however, was mere good fortune.'

'Surely,' said Babylon, 'it was indiscreet to trust to mere good fortune
in such a serious matter?'

'I didn't trust to mere good fortune. I didn't trust to anything except
Rocco, and he deceived me.'

'But why did you quarrel with him?'

'I didn't quarrel with him. I found him embalming a corpse in the State
bedroom one night--'

'You what?' Babylon almost screamed.

'I found him embalming a corpse in the State bedroom,' repeated Racksole
in his quietest tones.

The two men gazed at each other, and then Racksole replenished Babylon's
glass.

'Tell me,' said Babylon, settling himself deep in an easy chair and
lighting a cigar.

And Racksole thereupon recounted to him the whole of the Posen episode,
with every circumstantial detail so far as he knew it. It was a long a