read.'

'Mr Dimmock, I tender my apologies--my formal apologies,' said Racksole,
when the girl had gone away with the book. 'Good night.'

'Pray don't mention it,' said Dimmock suavely--and bowed him out.

Chapter Four ENTRANCE OF THE PRINCE

NEVERTHELESS, sundry small things weighed on Racksole's mind. First
there was Jules' wink. Then there was the ribbon on the door-handle and
Jules' visit to No. 111, and the broken window--broken from the outside.
Racksole did not forget that the time was 3 a.m. He slept but little
that night, but he was glad that he had bought the Grand Babylon Hotel.
It was an acquisition which seemed to promise fun and diversion.

The next morning he came across Mr Babylon early. 'I have emptied my
private room of all personal papers,' said Babylon, 'and it is now at
your disposal.

I purpose, if agreeable to yourself, to stay on in the hotel as a guest
for the present. We have much to settle with regard to the completion of
the purchase, and also there are things which you might want to ask me.
Also, to tell the truth, I am not anxious to leave the old place with
too much suddenness. It will be a wrench to me.'

'I shall be delighted if you will stay,' said the millionaire, 'but it
must be as my guest, not as the guest of the hotel.'

'You are very kind.'

'As for wishing to consult you, no doubt I shall have need to do so, but
I must say that the show seems to run itself.'

'Ah!' said Babylon thoughtfully. 'I have heard of hotels that run
themselves. If they do, you may be sure that they obey the laws of
gravity and run downwards. You will have your hands full. For example,
have you yet heard about Miss Spencer?'

'No,' said Racksole. 'What of her?'

'She has mysteriously vanished during the night, and nobody appears to
be able to throw any light on the affair. Her room is empty, her boxes
gone.

You will want someone to take her place, and that someone will not be
very easy to get.'

'H'm!' Racksole said, after a pause. 'Hers is not the only post that
falls vacant to-day.'

A little later, the millionaire installed himself in the late owner's
private room and rang the bell.

'I want Jules,' he said to the page.

While waiting for Jules, Racksole considered the question of Miss
Spencer's disappearance.

'Good morning, Jules,' was his cheerful greeting, when the imperturbable
waiter arrived.

'Good morning, sir.'

'Take a chair.'

'Thank you, sir.'

'We have