'
'I do,' said the millionaire, and added, 'about my dinner.'
'Rocco is a great man,' murmured Mr Babylon as he touched the
bell, ignoring the last words. 'My compliments to Mr Rocco,' he
said to the page who answered his summons, 'and if it is quite
convenient I should be glad to see him here for a moment.'
'What do you give Rocco?' Racksole inquired.
'Two thousand a year and the treatment of an Ambassador.'
'I shall give him the treatment of an Ambassador and three
thousand.'
'You will be wise,' said Felix Babylon.
At that moment Rocco came into the room, very softly - a man of
forty, thin, with long, thin hands, and an inordinately long brown
silky moustache.
'Rocco,' said Felix Babylon, 'let me introduce Mr Theodore
Racksole, of New York.'
'Sharmed,' said Rocco, bowing. 'Ze - ze, vat you call it,
millionaire?'
'Exactly,' Racksole put in, and continued quickly: 'Mr Rocco, I
wish to acquaint you before any other person with the fact that I
have purchased the Grand Babylon Hotel. If you think well to
afford me the privilege of retaining your services I shall be happy
to offer you a remuneration of three thousand a year.'
'Tree, you said?'
'Three.'
'Sharmed.'
'And now, Mr Rocco, will you oblige me very much by ordering a
plain beefsteak and a bottle of Bass to be served by Jules - I
particularly desire Jules - at table No. 17 in the dining-room in ten
minutes from now? And will you do me the honour of lunching
with me to-morrow?'
Mr Rocco gasped, bowed, muttered something in French, and
departed.
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