“You don’t need to speak any language to give a man ten dollars,” said Billy.

“Oh!” exclaimed the man in the Panama.  “I was afraid if I tried that they might arrest us.”

“They may arrest you if you don’t,” said Billy.

Acting both as interpreter and disbursing agent, Billy satisfied the demands of his fellow employees of the government, and his fellow countrymen he directed to the Hotel Ducrot.

As some one was sure to take their money, he thought it might as well go to his mother-in-law elect.  The young man in the Panama expressed the deepest gratitude, and Billy, assuring him he would see him later, continued to the power-house, still wondering where he had seen him before.

At the power-house he found seated at his desk a large, bearded stranger whose derby hat and ready-to-wear clothes showed that he also had but just arrived on the Prinz der Nederlanden.

“You William Barlow?” demanded the stranger.  “I understand you been threatening, unless you get your pay raised, to commit sabotage on these works?”

“Who the devil are you?” inquired Billy.

The stranger produced an impressive-looking document covered with seals.

“Contract with the president,” he said.  “I’ve taken over your job.  You better get out quiet,” he advised, “as they’ve given me a squad of nigger policemen to see that you do.”

“Are you aware that these works are the property of the Wilmot Company?” asked Billy, “and that if anything went wrong here they’d hold you responsible?”

The stranger smiled complacently.

“I’ve run plants,” he said, “that make these lights look like a stable lantern on a foggy night.”

“In that case,” assented Billy, “should anything happen, you’ll know exactly what to do, and I can leave you in charge without feeling the least anxiety.”

“That’s just what you can do,” the stranger agreed heartily, “and you can’t do it too quick!” From the desk he took Billy’s favorite pipe and loaded it from Billy’s tobacco-jar.  But when Billy had reached the door he called to him.  “Before you go, son,” he said, “you might give me a tip about this climate.  I never been in the tropics.  It’s kind of unhealthy, ain’t it?”

His expression was one of concern.

“If you hope to keep alive,” began Billy, “there are two things to avoid—­”

The stranger laughed knowingly.

“I got you!” he interrupted.  “You’re going to tell me to cut out wine and women.”

“I was going to tell you,” said Billy, “to cut out hoping to collect any wages and to avoid every kind of soup.”