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 out look. 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 promised only rainy days. In these de pressing 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 gratitude. 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-ship.” “A war-ship?” 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?” One of the other young men exclaimed reproachfully: “You know him perfectly well!” he protested. “You’ve seen his picture thousands of times.” With awe and pride he placed his hand on Billy’s arm and with the other pointed at the one in the Panama hat. “It’s Harry St. Clair,” he announced. “Harry St. Clair, the King of the Movies!” “The King of the Movies,” repeated Billy. His disappointment was so keen as to be embarrassing. “Oh!” he exclaimed, “I thought you----” Then he remembered his manners. “Glad to meet you,” he said. “Seen you on the screen.” Again his own troubles took precedence. “Did you say,” he demanded, “One of our war-ships is coming here TO-DAY?” “Coming to take me to Santo Domingo,” explained Mr. St. Clair. He spoke airily, as though to him as a means of locomotion battle-ships were as trolley-cars. The Planter’s punch, which was something he had never before encountered, encouraged the great young man to unbend. He explained further and fully, and Billy, his mind intent upon his own affair, pretended to listen.