it not occur to you as extraordinary that on this particular
day Mr Hubbard should be ill in bed? Hubbard, I am informed, is
suffering from an attack of stomach poisoning, which has supervened
during the night. He says that he does not know what can have caused it.
His place in the wine cellars will be taken to-day by his assistant, a
mere youth, but to all appearances a fairly smart youth. I need not say
that we shall keep an eye on that youth.'

'One moment,' Prince Aribert interrupted. 'I do not quite understand how
you think the poisoning was to have been effected.'

'The bottle is now under examination by an expert, who has instructions
to remove as little as possible of the stuff which Jules put on the rim
of the mouth of it. It will be secretly replaced in its bin during the
day. My idea is that by the mere action of pouring out the wine takes
up some of the poison, which I deem to be very strong, and thus becomes
fatal as it enters the glass.'

'But surely the servant in attendance would wipe the mouth of the
bottle?'

'Very carelessly, perhaps. And moreover he would be extremely unlikely
to wipe off all the stuff; some of it has been ingeniously placed just
on the inside edge of the rim. Besides, suppose he forgot to wipe the
bottle?'

'Prince Eugen is always served at dinner by Hans. It is an honour which
the faithful old fellow reserves for himself.'

'But suppose Hans--' Racksole stopped.

'Hans an accomplice! My dear Racksole, the suggestion is wildly
impossible.'

That night Prince Aribert dined with his august nephew in the superb
dining-room of the Royal apartments. Hans served, the dishes being
brought to the door by other servants. Aribert found his nephew
despondent and taciturn. On the previous day, when, after the futile
interview with Sampson Levi, Prince Eugen had despairingly threatened to
commit suicide, in such a manner as to make it 'look like an accident',
Aribert had compelled him to give his word of honour not to do so.

'What wine will your Royal Highness take?' asked old Hans in his
soothing tones, when the soup was served.

'Sherry,' was Prince Eugen's curt order.

'And Romanee-Conti afterwards?' said Hans. Aribert looked up quickly.

'No, not to-night. I'll try Sillery to-night,' said Prince Eugen.

'I think I'll have Romanee-Conti, Hans, after all,' he said. 'It suits
me better than champagne.'

The famous and unsurpassable Burgundy was served with the roast. Old
Han