turned unsuspectingly to the bedroom.
Racksole saw him place some sort of white flannel garment over the prone
form on the table, and then lift it bodily on to the great bed, where it
lay awfully still. The hidden watcher was sure now that it was a
corpse upon which Rocco had been exercising his mysterious and sinister
functions.

But whose corpse? And what functions? Could this be a West End hotel,
Racksole's own hotel, in the very heart of London, the best-policed city
in the world? It seemed incredible, impossible; yet so it was. Once more
he remembered what Felix Babylon had said to him and realized the
truth of the saying anew. The proprietor of a vast and complicated
establishment like the Grand Babylon could never know a tithe of the
extraordinary and queer occurrences which happened daily under his
very nose; the atmosphere of such a caravanserai must necessarily be
an atmosphere of mystery and problems apparently inexplicable.
Nevertheless, Racksole thought that Fate was carrying things with rather
a high hand when she permitted his chef to spend the night hours over
a man's corpse in his State bedroom, this sacred apartment which was
supposed to be occupied only by individuals of Royal Blood. Racksole
would not have objected to a certain amount of mystery, but he decidedly
thought that there was a little too much mystery here for his taste. He
thought that even Felix Babylon would have been surprised at this.

The electric chandelier in the centre of the ceiling was not lighted;
only the two lights on either side of the washstand were switched on,
and these did not sufficiently illuminate the features of the man on
the bed to enable Racksole to see them clearly. In vain the millionaire
strained his eyes; he could only make out that the corpse was probably
that of a young man. Just as he was wondering what would be the best
course of action to pursue, he saw Rocco with a square-shaped black box
in his hand. Then the chef switched off the two electric lights, and
the State bedroom was in darkness. In that swift darkness Racksole heard
Rocco spring on to the bed. Another half-dozen moments of suspense, and
there was a blinding flash of white, which endured for several seconds,
and showed Rocco standing like an evil spirit over the corpse, the black
box in one hand and a burning piece of aluminium wire in the other. The
aluminium wire burnt out, and darkness followed blacker than before.

Rocco had photographed