In the café, over the telephone, Billy addressed himself to the field-marshal in charge of the cable office. When Billy gave his name, the voice of that dignitary became violently agitated.
"Monsieur Barlow," he demanded, "do you know that the warship for which you cabled your Secretary of State makes herself to arrive?"
At the other end of the 'phone, although restrained by the confines of the booth, Billy danced joyously. But his voice was stern.
"Naturally," he replied. "Where is she now?"
An hour before, so the field-marshal informed him, the battleship Louisiana had been sighted and by telegraph reported. She was approaching under forced draught. 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 wirelessed the warship 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!"