The Grand Babylon Hotel - Arnold Bennett (surface ebook reader .TXT) 📗

“To be frank, Jules, I think⁠—I think you⁠—er⁠—wink too much. And I think that it is regrettable when a head waiter falls into a habit of taking white ribbons from the handles of bedroom doors at three in the morning.”

Jules started slightly.

“I see how it is, sir. You wish me to go, and one pretext, if I may use the term, is as good as another. Very well, I can’t say that I’m surprised. It sometimes happens that there is incompatibility of temper between a hotel proprietor and his head waiter, and then, unless one of them goes, the hotel is likely to suffer. I will go, Mr. Racksole. In fact, I had already thought of giving notice.”

The millionaire smiled appreciatively. “What wages do you require in lieu of notice? It is my intention that you leave the hotel within an hour.”

“I require no wages in lieu of notice, sir. I would scorn to accept anything. And I will leave the hotel in fifteen minutes.”

“Good day, then. You have my good wishes and my admiration, so long as you keep out of my hotel.”

Racksole got up. “Good day, sir. And thank you.”

“By the way, Jules, it will be useless for you to apply to any other first-rate European hotel for a post, because I shall take measures which will ensure the rejection of any such application.”

“Without discussing the question whether or not there aren’t at least half a dozen hotels in London alone that would jump for joy at the chance of getting me,” answered Jules, “I may tell you, sir, that I shall retire from my profession.”

“Really! You will turn your brains to a different channel.”

“No, sir. I shall take rooms in Albemarle Street or Jermyn Street, and just be content to be a man-about-town. I have saved some twenty thousand pounds⁠—a mere trifle, but sufficient for my needs, and I shall now proceed to enjoy it. Pardon me for troubling you with my personal affairs. And good day again.”

That afternoon Racksole went with Félix Babylon first to a firm of solicitors in the City, and then to a stockbroker, in order to carry out the practical details of the purchase of the hotel.

“I mean to settle in England,” said Racksole, as they were coming back. “It is the only country⁠—” and he stopped.

“The only country?”

“The only country where you can invest money and spend money with a feeling of security. In the United States there is nothing worth spending money on, nothing to buy. In France or Italy, there is no real security.”

“But surely you are a true American?” questioned Babylon.

“I am a true American,” said Racksole, “but my father, who began by being a bedmaker at an Oxford college, and ultimately made ten million dollars out of iron in Pittsburg⁠—my father took the wise precaution of having me educated in England. I had my three years at Oxford, like any son of the upper middle class! It did me good. It has been worth more to me than many successful speculations. It taught me that the English language is different from, and better than, the American language, and that there is something⁠—I haven’t yet found out exactly what⁠—in English life that Americans will never get. Why,” he added, “in the United States we still bribe our judges and our newspapers. And we talk of the eighteenth century as though it was the beginning of the world. Yes, I shall transfer my securities to London. I shall build a house in Park Lane, and I shall buy some immemorial country seat with a history as long as the A. T. and S. railroad, and I shall calmly and gradually settle down. D’you know⁠—I am rather a good-natured man for a millionaire, and of a social disposition, and yet I haven’t six real friends in the whole of New York City. Think of that!”

“And I,” said Babylon, “have no friends except the friends of my boyhood in Lausanne. I have spent thirty years in England, and gained nothing but a perfect knowledge of the English language and as much gold coin as would fill a rather large box.”

These two plutocrats breathed a simultaneous sigh.

“Talking of gold coin,” said Racksole, “how much money should you think Jules has contrived to amass while he has been with you?”

“Oh!” Babylon smiled. “I should not like to guess. He has had unique opportunities⁠—opportunities.”

“Should you consider twenty thousand an extraordinary sum under the circumstances?”

“Not at all. Has he been confiding in you?”

“Somewhat. I have dismissed him.”

“You have dismissed him?”

“Why not?”

“There is no reason why not. But I have felt inclined to dismiss him for the past ten years, and never found courage to do it.”

“It was a perfectly simple proceeding, I assure you. Before I had done with him, I rather liked the fellow.”

“Miss Spencer and Jules⁠—both gone in one day!” mused Félix Babylon.

“And no one to take their places,” said Racksole. “And yet the hotel continues its way!”

But when Racksole reached the Grand Babylon he found that Miss Spencer’s chair in the bureau was occupied by a stately and imperious girl, dressed becomingly in black.

“Heavens, Nella!” he cried, going to the bureau. “What are you doing here?”

“I am taking Miss Spencer’s place. I want to help you with your hotel, Dad. I fancy I shall make an excellent hotel clerk. I have arranged with a Miss Selina Smith, one of the typists in the office, to put me up to all the tips and tricks, and I shall do very well.”

“But look here, Helen Racksole. We shall have the whole of London talking about this thing⁠—the greatest of all American heiresses a hotel clerk! And I came here for quiet and rest!”

“I suppose it was for the sake of quiet and rest that you bought the hotel, Papa?”

“You would insist on the steak,” he retorted. “Get out of this, on the instant.”

“Here I am, here to stay,” said Nella, and deliberately laughed at her parent.

Just then the face of a fair-haired man