do I care. But I strongly suspect that my daughter had a narrow
escape of being murdered on your steam yacht. Now I have a steam yacht
of my own. Suppose I use it as you used yours! Suppose I smuggle you on
to it, steam out to sea, and then ask you to step off it into the ocean
one night. Such things have been done.

Such things will be done again. If I acted so, I should at least, have
the satisfaction of knowing that I had relieved society from the incubus
of a scoundrel.'

'But you won't,' Jules murmured.

'No,' said Racksole steadily, 'I won't--if you behave yourself this
morning. But I swear to you that if you don't I will never rest till you
are dead, police or no police. You don't know Theodore Racksole.'

'I believe you mean it,' Jules exclaimed, with an air of surprised
interest, as though he had discovered something of importance.

'I believe I do,' Racksole resumed. 'Now listen. At the best, you will
be given up to the police. At the worst, I shall deal with you myself.
With the police you may have a chance--you may get off with twenty
years' penal servitude, because, though it is absolutely certain that
you murdered Reginald Dimmock, it would be a little difficult to prove
the case against you. But with me you would have no chance whatever. I
have a few questions to put to you, and it will depend on how you answer
them whether I give you up to the police or take the law into my own
hands. And let me tell you that the latter course would be much simpler
for me. And I would take it, too, did I not feel that you were a very
clever and exceptional man; did I not have a sort of sneaking admiration
for your detestable skill and ingenuity.'

'You think, then, that I am clever?' said Jules. 'You are right. I am.
I should have been much too clever for you if luck had not been against
me.

You owe your victory, not to skill, but to luck.'

'That is what the vanquished always say. Waterloo was a bit of pure luck
for the English, no doubt, but it was Waterloo all the same.'

Jules yawned elaborately. 'What do you want to know?' he inquired, with
politeness.

'First and foremost, I want to know the names of your accomplices inside
this hotel.'

'I have no more,' said Jules. 'Rocco was the last.'

'Don't begin by lying to me. If you had no accomplice, how did you
contrive that one particular bottle of Romanee-Conti should be served to
his Highness Prince Eugen?'

'Then you discovered that in time, did you