The son of a rich Swiss hotel proprietor and financier, he had
contrived to established a connection with the officials of several
European Courts, and he had not spared money in that respect.
Sundry kings and not a few princesses called him Felix , and spoke
familiarly of the hotel as 'Felix 's'; and Felix had found that this
was very good for trade. The Grand Babylon was managed
accordingly. The 'note' of its policy was discretion, always
discretion, and quietude, simplicity, remoteness. The place was
like a palace incognito. There was no gold sign over the roof, not
even an explanatory word at the entrance. You walked down a
small side street off the Strand, you saw a plain brown building in
front of you, with two mahogany swing doors, and an official
behind each; the doors opened noiselessly; you entered; you were
in Felix 's. If you meant to be a guest, you, or your courier, gave
your card to Miss Spencer. Upon no consideration did you ask for
the tariff. It was not good form to mention prices at the Grand
Babylon; the prices were enormous, but you never mentioned
them. At the conclusion of your stay a bill was presented, brief and
void of dry details, and you paid it without a word. You met with.
a stately civility, that was all. No one had originally asked you to
come; no one expressed the hope that you would come again. The
Grand Babylon was far above such manoeuvres; it defied
competition by ignoring it; and consequently was nearly always
full during the season.
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