As they parted, this one, as though giving the pass-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 passengers.

“The ship is empty,” said the agent.

“I am glad,” said Billy, “for one of my assistants 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 homoeopathic 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 passed 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 sunshine.  As it was, the heavens were gray and for the future the skies