rely unfitted. It meant a political marriage, which means a forced
marriage, a union against inclination. And then what of Nella--Nella!

Hans returned. 'I have sent for the nearest doctor, and also for a
specialist,' he said.

'Good,' said Aribert. 'I hope they will hurry.' Then he sat down and
wrote a card. 'Take this yourself to Miss Racksole. If she is out of the
hotel, ascertain where she is and follow her. Understand, it is of the
first importance.'

Hans bowed, and departed for the second time, and Aribert was alone
again.

He gazed at Eugen, and made another frantic attempt to rouse him from
the deadly stupor, but it was useless. He walked away to the window:
through the opened casement he could hear the tinkle of passing hansoms
on the Embankment below, whistles of door-keepers, and the hoot of steam
tugs on the river. The world went on as usual, it appeared. It was an
absurd world.

He desired nothing better than to abandon his princely title, and live
as a plain man, the husband of the finest woman on earth.... But now!...

Pah! How selfish he was, to be thinking of himself when Eugen lay dying.
Yet--Nella!

The door opened, and a man entered, who was obviously the doctor. A few
curt questions, and he had grasped the essentials of the case. 'Oblige
me by ringing the bell, Prince. I shall want some hot water, and an
able-bodied man and a nurse.'

'Who wants a nurse?' said a voice, and Nella came quietly in. 'I am a
nurse,' she added to the doctor, 'and at your orders.'

The next two hours were a struggle between life and death. The first
doctor, a specialist who followed him, Nella, Prince Aribert, and old
Hans formed, as it were, a league to save the dying man. None else in
the hotel knew the real seriousness of the case. When a Prince falls
ill, and especially by his own act, the precise truth is not issued
broadcast to the universe.

According to official intelligence, a Prince is never seriously ill
until he is dead. Such is statecraft.

The worst feature of Prince Eugen's case was that emetics proved futile.

Neither of the doctors could explain their failure, but it was only
too apparent. The league was reduced to helplessness. At last the great
specialist from Manchester Square gave it out that there was no chance
for Prince Eugen unless the natural vigour of his constitution
should prove capable of throwing off the poison unaided by scientific
assistance, as a drunkard can sleep off his