'Who's that ?' She indicated a man with a bald patch on the back of his head, who was propping himself up against the railing of the balcony and gazing immovable into the ball-room.
'Well, who is it ?' 'Isn't it Jules ?' 'Gemini! By the beard of the prophet, it is!' 'Perhaps Mr Jules is a guest of Mrs Sampson Levi.' 'Guest or no guest, he goes out of this hotel, even if I have to throw him out myself.' Theodore Racksole disappeared without another word, and Nella followed him.
But when the millionaire arrived on the balcony floor he could see nothing of Jules, neither there nor in the ball-room itself.

Saying no word aloud, but quietly whispering wicked expletives, he searched everywhere in vain, and then, at last, by tortuous stairways and corridors returned to his original post of observation, that he might survey the place anew from the vantage ground.

To his surprise he found a man in the dark little room, watching the scene of the ball as intently as he himself had been doing a few minutes before.

Hearing footsteps, the man turned with a start.
It was Jules.
The two exchanged glances in the half light for a second.
'Good evening, Mr Racksole,' said Jules calmly.

'I must apologize for being here.' 'Force of habit, I suppose,' said Theodore Racksole drily.
'Just so, sir.' 'I fancied I had forbidden you to re-enter this hotel ?' 'I thought your order applied only to my professional capacity.