There was a silence.
‘It is well,’ said Racksole at length. ‘Prince Eugen lives, despite all plots. After all, justice is done.’
‘Mr Racksole is here, but he can see no one, Miss.’ The words came from behind the door, and the voice was the commissionaire’s. Racksole started up, and went towards the door.
‘Nonsense,’ was the curt reply, in feminine tones. ‘Move aside instantly.’
The door opened, and Nella entered. There were tears in her eyes.
‘Oh! Dad,’ she exclaimed, ‘I’ve only just heard you were in the hotel. We looked for you everywhere. Come at once, Prince Eugen is dying—’ Then she saw the man sitting on the bed, and stopped.
Later, when Jules was alone again, he remarked to himself, ‘I may get that hundred thousand.’
Chapter Twenty-Eight THE STATE BEDROOM ONCE MORE
WHEN, immediately after the episode of the bottle of Romanée-Conti in the State dining-room, Prince Aribert and old Hans found that Prince Eugen had sunk in an unconscious heap over his chair, both the former thought, at the first instant, that Eugen must have already tasted the poisoned wine. But a moment’s reflection showed that this was not possible. If the Hereditary Prince of Posen was dying or dead, his condition was due to some other agency than the Romanée-Conti. Aribert bent over him, and a powerful odour from the man’s lips at once disclosed the cause of the disaster: it was the odour of laudanum. Indeed, the smell of that sinister drug seemed now to float heavily over the whole table. Across Aribert’s mind there flashed then the true explanation. Prince Eugen, taking advantage of Aribert’s attention being momentarily diverted; and yielding to a sudden impulse of despair, had decided to poison himself, and had carried out his intention on the spot.