The steamer reached Port au Prince in the morning and I went to the Hotel Bellevue, which faced the park, directly opposite the presidential palace. I had just finished breakfast when an American quadroon named Belford, who boasted the proud title of Admiral of the Haytian Navy and with whom I had become well acquainted during my previous visit, entered the hotel. He recognized me instantly and after an exchange of greetings and some random remarks about the old days, he wanted to know what I was doing there. I handed him my card, showing that I was the representative of the Maxim Powder & Torpedo Co. “But what is your real business?” he inquired with a smile. “The card states it correctly.” “How long are you going to stay?” “At least long enough to sell old Hippolyte a good bill of goods, I hope.” “You are not going to see the old man himself?” he incredulously inquired. “Surely. I hope to see him to-day.” “You’d better be careful, Boynton. He remembers you in a way that is likely to make trouble for you.” “He ought to have forgotten all about our little difference by this time, or at least he should not harbor hatred of me.” “The old man has a long memory. He never forgets and I never have known him to forgive.” I laughed at his friendly anxiety but he continued in the same strain. While we were talking we saw a young officer coming up the path to the hotel. “Here comes one of the old man’s aides,” said Belford. “He’s after you already.” I told him it was impossible, for I had been in town only a few hours, but he insisted he was right and quickly left me so we should not be found together. I stepped into a side room where the young officer came up to see me in a few minutes, guided by the hotel proprietor. “This is Captain Boynton?” he said, with more of declaration than inquiry. “At your service, sir.” “President Hippolyte requests you to call on him at three o’clock this afternoon.” “Present my compliments to the President and tell him I will be at the palace at that hour,” I replied. Belford rejoined me when the aide was out of sight. He said he did not like the looks of things and advised me to go back on board the steamer, which was still in the harbor. I told him I thought he was unnecessarily alarmed, but that anyway I had come to Hayti as an American citizen on legitimate business, and I proposed to stay until it had been transacted. In the middle of the afternoon I donned full evening dress, according to the court requirement, and presented myself at the palace, where I was at once ushered into Hippolyte’s private reception room. “What brings you here, Captain Boynton?” was the sharp salutation of the old black butcher. “I am selling munitions of war,” I replied, and handed him my card. “Is that all?” he asked, with a look as keen as a razor and in a voice almost as cutting. “That is all.” With this assurance, which seemed to carry conviction, Hippolyte relaxed considerably and shook hands with me.