'
'Do you really think, Dad, there was anything between Jules and
poor Mr Dimmock?'
'Think! I know! I tell you I saw that scamp give Dimmock a wink
last night at dinner that might have meant - well!'
'So you caught that wink, did you, Dad?'
'Why, did you?'
'Of course, Dad. I was going to tell you about it.'
The millionaire grunted.
'Look here, Father,' Nella whispered suddenly, and pointed to the
balcony immediately below them. 'Who's that?' She indicated a
man with a bald patch on the back of his head, who was propping
himself up against the railing of the balcony and gazing
immovable into the ball-room.
'Well, who is it?'
'Isn't it Jules?'
'Gemini! By the beard of the prophet, it is!'
'Perhaps Mr Jules is a guest of Mrs Sampson Levi.'
'Guest or no guest, he goes out of this hotel, even if I have to throw
him out myself.'
Theodore Racksole disappeared without another word, and Nella
followed him.
But when the millionaire arrived on the balcony floor he could see
nothing of Jules, neither there nor in the ball-room itself. Saying
no word aloud, but quietly whispering wicked expletives, he
searched everywhere in vain, and then, at last, by tortuous
stairways and corridors returned to his original post of observation,
that he might survey the place anew from the vantage ground. To
his surprise he found a man in the dark little room, watching the
scene of the ball as intently as he himself had been doing a few
minutes before.
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