only on the dancers, but on the occupants of the balcony itself.

It may seem incredible to the uninitiated that the guests at any
social gathering held in so gorgeous and renowned an apartment as
the Gold Room of the Grand Babylon should need the observation
of a watchful eye. Yet so it was. Strange matters and unexpected
faces had been descried from the little window, and more than one
European detective had kept vigil there with the most eminently
satisfactory results.

At eleven o'clock Theodore Racksole, afflicted by vexation of
spirit, found himself gazing idly through the little barred window.
Nella was with him.

Together they had been wandering about the corridors of the hotel,
still strange to them both, and it was quite by accident that they
had lighted upon the small room which had a surreptitious view of
Mr and Mrs Sampson Levi's ball. Except for the light of the
chandelier of the ball-room the little cubicle was in darkness.
Nella was looking through the window; her father stood behind.

'I wonder which is Mrs Sampson Levi?' Nella said, 'and whether
she matches her name. Wouldn't you love to have a name like that,
Father - something that people could take hold of - instead of
Racksole?'

The sound of violins and a confused murmur of voices rose gently
up to them.

'Umphl' said Theodore. 'Curse those evening papers!' he added,