An hour before, so the field-marshal informed him, the battle-ship LOUISIANA had been sighted and by telegraph reported. She was approaching under forced draft. At any moment she might anchor in the outer harbor. Of this President Ham had been informed. He was grieved, indignant; he was also at a loss to understand. “It is very simple,” explained Billy. “She probably was somewhere in the Windward Passage. When the Secretary got my message he cabled Guantanamo, and Guantanamo wired the war-ship nearest Port-au-Prince.” “President Poussevain,” warned the field marshal, “is greatly disturbed.” “Tell him not to worry,” said Billy. “Tell him when the bombardment begins I will see that the palace is outside the zone of fire.” As Billy entered the room of St. Clair his eyes shone with a strange light. His manner, which toward a man of his repute St. Clair had considered a little too casual, was now enthusiastic, almost affectionate. “My dear St. Clair,” cried Billy, “I’VE FIXED IT! But, until I was SURE, I didn’t want to raise your hopes!” “Hopes of what?” demanded the actor. “An audience with the president!” cried Billy. “I’ve just called him up and he says I’m to bring you to the palace at once. He’s heard of you, of course, and he’s very pleased to meet you. I told him about ‘The Man Behind the Gun,’ and he says you must come in your makeup as ‘Lieutenant Hardy, U.S.A.,’ just as he’ll see you on the screen.” Mr. St. Clair stammered delightedly. “In uniform,” he protested; “won’t that be----” “White, special full dress,” insisted Billy. “Medals, side-arms, full-dress belt, and gloves. What a press story! ‘The King of the Movies Meets the President of Hayti!’ Of course, he’s only an ignorant negro, but on Broadway they don’t know that; and it will sound fine!” St. Clair coughed nervously. “DON’T forget,” he stammered, “I can’t speak French, or understand it, either.” The eyes of Billy became as innocent as those of a china doll. “Then I’ll interpret,” he said. “And, oh, yes,” he added, “he’s sending two of the palace soldiers to act as an escort--sort of guard of honor!” The King of the Movies chuckled excitedly. “Fine!” he exclaimed. “You ARE a brick!” With trembling fingers he began to shed his outer garments. To hide his own agitation Billy walked to the window and turned his back. Night had fallen and the electric lights, that once had been his care, sprang into life. Billy looked at his watch. It was seven o’clock. The window gave upon the harbor, and a mile from shore he saw the cargo lights of the PRINZ DER NEDERLANDEN, and slowly approaching, as though feeling for her berth, a great battle-ship. When Billy turned from the window his voice was apparently undisturbed. “We’ve got to hurry,” he said. “The LOUISIANA is standing in. She’ll soon be sending a launch for you. We’ve just time to drive to the palace and back before the launch gets here.”