"Five francs," I uttered, smothering a smile at the smallness of the amount.
"All right," agreed the officer—and I bought my ticket at once. I was so astonished that I could hardly dig up the money fast enough. As I left the little office I concluded that my luck had not left me on setting foot in Europe. I shipped my suit case direct to England, deciding to travel with only a small hand bag.
As my boat did not leave until morning, I now had the evening in which to stir up some excitement. I wandered along the streets of Constantinople ready to welcome any one or anything that came my way. Presently a sign "American Bar" greeted my eyes and in I immediately went, thinking that there the English or American language would be spoken and I might find a companion of some sort. I found that French was the only means of communication. Shortly, however, a man entered the place who knew a little English.
"Where can I find a bit of excitement this evening?" I asked.
"There is nothing going on to-night except at the Paris Café," replied the man.
"What takes place there?"
"Music, theatre, pretty women and plenty to eat and drink."
"Where is this café and how do I get there?" I asked, determined to investigate the establishment.
"The proprietor will be here in a moment and you can go with him."
In a few minutes a sleek-looking Frenchman arrived and was introduced, and in a second I was off with him in a closed carriage for the Paris Café. We rode on for an hour. It was nine o'clock in the evening. The Frenchman didn't speak a word of English. I began to think that I was up against a knockdown and drag-out game. I decided to stick, however, and see what this Paris Café was. We rode on. Finally, the carriage came to a stop and we alighted in front of a small house, brightly illuminated, from which was emanating the maudlin laughter of male and female voices. There was not another house to be seen. We might have been in the midst of an American prairie from the appearance of the darkened landscape. My French companion and I entered the house. I reluctantly paid the equivalent of one dollar admittance. On entering, the Frenchman was lost in the crowd and I was left to find my own way. An inebriated gathering of French life greeted my vision. I seated myself at a table in one end of the large room, ordered a drink and in a careless manner took in what was about me. A dozen or more tables with six or eight people at each occupied half of the hall, a highly-polished floor for dancing took up the other half and at one end was a stage on which a succession of scantily-clad French women of tender age executed a series of sensuous dances while the maudlin crowd cheered and applauded.