The Washington times., 1911-08-23
CHAPTER I.
The Millionaire and the Waiter.


waiter of the Grand Baby.
lon, was bending formally
toward the alert, middle-aged mai
who had just entered the smoking
room.
1t was 7:45 o'clock on a particularly
sultry June night and dinner was
about to be served at the Grand Baby
Ion.
Men of all sizes, ages, and nationali'
ties, but every one alike arrayed in
faultless evening dress. were dotted
about the large, dim apartment. A
faint odor of flowers and the tinklt
of a fountain came from the conserva'
tory.
The walters commanded by Jules
moved softly across the thick Oriental
rugs, balancing their trays with the
deXterity of a juggler. and receiving
and executing orders with that air OF
profound importance of which only
really frst-class walters have the Sc
cret.
The atmosphere was an atmosphere
of serenity and repose, characteristic
of the Grand Babylon. 1t seemed i'm
possible that anything could occur 10
mar the peaceful, aristocratic monot-
ony of existence in that perfectly
managed establishment.
Yet on that night was to happen the
mightiest upheaval that the Grand
Babylon had ever known.
Yes, sir?" repeated Jules, and this
time there was shade of august dis
approval in his voice; it was not
usual for him to have to address
customer twice.
oh" said the alert, middle-aged
man, looking up at length.
Beautifully ignorant of the identity
of the great Jules. he allowed ms
gray eyes to twinkle as he caught
ers face.
Bring me an angel kiss"
Pardon, sir"
Bring me an angel kiss, and be
good enough to lose no time"
III it's an American drink, l fear
we don't keep IT, sir"
The voice of Jules fell icily distinct,
and several men glanced round un-
easily, as If to deprecate the slight
est disturbance of their calm.
whom Jules was speaking, however,
reassured them somewhat, for he had
all the look of that expert, the travel
ed Englishman, who can differentiate
between one hotel and another by
instinct, and who knows at once
where he may make a fuss with pro-
priety, and where 1t is advisable to
behave exactly as at a club.
The Grand Babylon was a hotel in
whose smoking room one behaved as
though one was at ones club.
Il didn't suppose you did, but you
can mix 1t, l guess. even in this
hotel"
This isn't an American hotel, sir"
The calculated insolence of the
words was cleverly masked beneath
an accent of humble submission.
The alert, middle-aged man sat UP
straight and gazed placidly at Jules.
who was pulling his famous red side
whiskers.
Get a liquor glass" he said half
curtly. and half with good -humored
tolerance. Pour into it equal guam
titles of marasChino. cream and
creame de menthe. Don't stir IT; don I
snake 1t. Bring it to me And, say,
tell the bartender"
bartender, sir?''
Tell the bartender to make a note
Of the recipe, as l shall probably want
ner so long as this weather lasts"
Il will send the drink to you, SIR
said Jules distantly.
That was his parting shot, by which
he indicated that he was not as other
walters are, and that any person who
treated him with disrespect did so at
his own peril.
A few minutes later, while the alert,
middle-aged man was testing the angel
kiss, Jules sat in cOnclave with Miss
OF the Grand Babylon.
This office was fairly large chamber,
with two sliding glass partitions which
overlooked the entrance hall and the
SmOking-room,
Only a small portion of the clerical
work of the great hotel was performed
there. The place served chiefly as the
lair of Miss Spencer, who was as well
known and as important as Jules him.
self.
Her aga-popa kpaw u Sava harSelf
and perhaps one other; and none cared.
The gracious and alluring contours OF
her figure were irreproachable; and In
the evenings she was a useful ornament
of which any hotel might be innocently
proud.
Her knowledge of Bradshaw, Of steam
ship services and the programs Of thea
ters and music halls was unrivaled: yet
she never Travelled, she never went to a
theater or music hall.
She seemed TO spend the whole Of her
life in that official lair of hers, impart-
ing information to guests, telephOning
70 the various departments, or engaged
in intimate conversation with her spe-
cial friends on the STAFF, as at present.
who's No. 1872" Jules inquired
Miss Spencer examined her ledger.
Mr.. Theodore Racksole, New York"
"I thought he must be a New York
er," said Jules, after a brief. significant
pause; but he talks rs good English
as you or !. Says he wants an angel
kiss-every night. I'll see he doesn't
stop here too long"
Miss Spencer smiled grimly in re-
sponse The notion of referring to
Theodore Racksole as "a New Yorker"
appealed to her sense Of humor, a sense
m which she was not deficient.
Che knew, of course, and she knew
that Jules knew, that this Theodore
Backsole must he the unique and only
Theodore Racksole, the third richest
man in the United states, and there
fore in the world.
Nevertheless, she ranged herself at
once on the side of Jules.
Inst as there was only one RackSole,
so there was only one Jules; and Miss
Spencer fnstinctively shared the latter's s
Indignation at the spectacle of any per-
son whatever, millionaire or emperor,
presuming to demand an angel kiss,
that unrespectable concoction of mara
scino and cream, within the precincts
of the Grand Babylon.
: In the world of hotels II was current
ly stated that, next to the proprietor.
there were three gods at the Grand
Rabylon-Jules, the head waiter; Miss
Spencer, and most powerful of all,
Rocco, the renowned chef, who earned
two thousand year and had chalet
on the Lake of Lucerne.
All the great hotels in Northumber-
land avenue and on the Thames En-
bankment had tried to get Rocco away
from the Grand Babylon. but without
success.
Rocco was well aware that even he
could rise no higher than to be maitre
d'hotei Of the Grand Babylon, which,
though II never advertised itself, and
didn't belong to a limited company,
stood an aasV first among the hotels of