'Ah!' said Babylon thoughtfully. 'I have heard of hotels that run
themselves. If they do, you may be sure that they obey the laws of
gravity and run downwards. You will have your hands full. For
example, have you yet heard about Miss Spencer?'

'No,' said Racksole. 'What of her?'

'She has mysteriously vanished during the night, and nobody
appears to be able to throw any light on the affair. Her room is
empty, her boxes gone.

You will want someone to take her place, and that someone will
not be very easy to get.'

'H'm!' Racksole said, after a pause. 'Hers is not the only post that
falls vacant to-day.'

A little later, the millionaire installed himself in the late owner's
private room and rang the bell.

'I want Jules,' he said to the page.

While waiting for Jules, Racksole considered the question of Miss
Spencer's disappearance.

'Good morning, Jules,' was his cheerful greeting, when the
imperturbable waiter arrived.

'Good morning, sir.'