spot in the Embankment wall, and, to the
intense astonishment of Racksole, jumped clean over the wall, as it
seemed, into the river. 'Is he so desperate as to commit suicide?'
Racksole exclaimed as he ran, but a second later the puff and snort of a
steam launch told him that Jules was not quite driven to suicide. As
the millionaire crossed the Embankment roadway he saw the funnel of the
launch move out from under the river-wall. It swerved into midstream and
headed towards London Bridge. There was a silent mist over the river.
Racksole was helpless....

Although Racksole had now been twice worsted in a contest of wits within
the precincts of the Grand Babylon, once by Rocco and once by Jules,
he could not fairly blame himself for the present miscarriage of his
plans--a miscarriage due to the meddlesomeness of an extraneous person,
combined with pure ill-fortune. He did not, therefore, permit the
accident to interfere with his sleep that night.

On the following day he sought out Prince Aribert, between whom and
himself there now existed a feeling of unmistakable, frank friendship,
and disclosed to him the happenings of the previous night, and
particularly the tampering with the bottle of Romanee-Conti.

'I believe you dined with Prince Eugen last night?'

'I did. And curiously enough we had a bottle of Romanee-Conti, an
admirable wine, of which Eugen is passionately fond.'

'And you will dine with him to-night?'

'Most probably. To-day will, I fear, be our last day here. Eugen wishes
to return to Posen early to-morrow.'

'Has it struck you, Prince,' said Racksole, 'that if Jules had succeeded
in poisoning your nephew, he would probably have succeeded also in
poisoning you?'

'I had not thought of it,' laughed Aribert, 'but it would seem so. It
appears that so long as he brings down his particular quarry, Jules
is careless of anything else that may be accidentally involved in the
destruction. However, we need have no fear on that score now. You know
the bottle, and you can destroy it at once.'

'But I do not propose to destroy it,' said Racksole calmly. 'If Prince
Eugen asks for Romanee-Conti to be served to-night, as he probably will,
I propose that that precise bottle shall be served to him--and to you.'

'Then you would poison us in spite of ourselves?'

'Scarcely,' Racksole smiled. 'My notion is to discover the accomplices
within the hotel. I have already inquired as to the wine-clerk, Hubbard.
Now does