Part 12 (1/2)

Such being the situation, Billy determined that his first act to be reported should be of a nature to cause the president active mental anguish. With his guard at his heels he went directly to the cable station, and to the Secretary of State of the United States addressed this message: ”President refuses my pay; threatens shoot; wireless nearest war-s.h.i.+p proceed here full speed. William Barlow.”

Billy and the director of telegraphs, who out of office hours was a field-marshal, and when not in his s.h.i.+rt-sleeves always appeared in uniform, went over each word of the cablegram together. When Billy was a.s.sured that the field-marshal had grasped the full significance of it he took it back and added, ”Love to Aunt Maria.” The extra words cost four dollars and eighty cents gold, but, as they suggested ties of blood between himself and the Secretary of State, they seemed advisable. In the account-book in which he recorded his daily expenditures Billy credited the item to ”life-insurance.”

The revised cablegram caused the field-marshal deep concern. He frowned at Billy ferociously.

”I will forward this at once,” he promised. ”But, I warn you,” he added, ”I deliver also a copy to _my_ president!”

Billy sighed hopefully.

”You might deliver the copy first,” he suggested.

From the cable station Billy, still accompanied by his faithful retainers, returned to the power-house. There he bade farewell to the black brothers who had been his a.s.sistants, and upon one of them pressed a sum of money.

As they parted, this one, as though giving the pa.s.s-word of a secret society, chanted solemnly:

”_A huit heures juste_!”

And Billy clasped his hand and nodded.

At the office of the Royal Dutch West India Line Billy purchased a ticket to New York and inquired were there many pa.s.sengers.

”The s.h.i.+p is empty,” said the agent.

”I am glad,” said Billy, ”for one of my a.s.sistants may come with me. He also is being deported.”

”You can have as many cabins as you want,” said the agent. ”We are so sorry to see you go that we will try to make you feel you leave us on your private yacht.”

The next two hours Billy spent in seeking out those acquaintances from whom he could borrow money. He found that by asking for it in h.o.m.oeopathic doses he was able to shame the foreign colony into loaning him all of one hundred dollars. This, with what he had in hand, would take Claire and himself to New York and for a week keep them alive.

After that he must find work or they must starve.

In the garden of the Cafe Ducrot Billy placed his guard at a table with bottles of beer between them, and at an adjoining table with Claire plotted the elopement for that night. The garden was in the rear of the hotel and a door in the lower wall opened into the rue Cambon, that led directly to the water-front.

Billy proposed that at eight o'clock Claire should be waiting in the rue Cambon outside this door. They would then make their way to one of the less frequented wharfs, where Claire would arrange to have a rowboat in readiness, and in it they would take refuge on the steamer. An hour later, before the flight of Claire could be discovered, they would have started on their voyage to the mainland.

”I warn you,” said Billy, ”that after we reach New York I have only enough to keep us for a week. It will be a brief honeymoon. After that we will probably starve. I'm not telling you this to discourage you,” he explained; ”only trying to be honest.”

”I would rather starve with you in New York,” said Claire, ”than die here without you.”

At these words Billy desired greatly to kiss Claire, but the guards were scowling at him. It was not until Claire had gone to her room to pack her bag and the chance to kiss her had pa.s.sed that Billy recognized that the scowls were intended to convey the fact that the beer bottles were empty. He remedied this and remained alone at his table considering the outlook. The horizon was, indeed, gloomy, and the only light upon it, the loyalty and love of the girl, only added to his bitterness. Above all things he desired to make her content, to protect her from disquiet, to convince her that in the sacrifice she was making she also was plotting her own happiness. Had he been able to collect his ten thousand francs his world would have danced in suns.h.i.+ne. As it was, the heavens were gray and for the future the skies promised only rainy days. In these depressing reflections Billy was interrupted by the approach of the young man in the Panama hat. Billy would have avoided him, but the young man and his two friends would not be denied. For the service Billy had rendered them they wished to express their grat.i.tude. It found expression in the form of Planter's punch. As they consumed this Billy explained to the strangers why the customs men had detained them.

”You told them you were leaving to-night for Santo Domingo,” said Billy; ”but they knew that was impossible, for there is no steamer down the coast for two weeks.”

The one whose features seemed familiar replied:

”Still, we _are_ leaving to-night,” he said; ”not on a steamer, but on a war-s.h.i.+p.”

”A war-s.h.i.+p?” cried Billy. His heart beat at high speed. ”Then,” he exclaimed, ”you are a naval officer?”

The young man shook his head and, as though challenging Billy to make another guess, smiled.

”Then,” Billy complied eagerly, ”you are a diplomat! Are you our new minister?”