"I can find the place again all right," I said, "but I want money. It's not a one-man job. That's why I came to London."
"Got it?"
I shook my head. "On the contrary, I've spent what I had. They're a shy lot here, Billy—and I wasn't going to give the show away absolutely. I shall have to try New York."
"You're about right," answered Billy. "Unless you roll up in a frock-coat with introductions, the average Britisher's got no manner of use for you. You'll do better in the States. When are you going?"
"As soon as I can get a ship," I replied. "I've hung on here till I've got just enough left to square my bill. To-morrow I shall go down to the docks and sign on in the first boat that will take me."
"I wish I was coming with you," said Billy wistfully.
"Why not?" I suggested.
He shook his head. "I'm putting in for a job," he explained: "some prospecting business in Mexico that Maxwells are running. They've kept me hanging about for six weeks, so I may as well see it out now."
"Well, give me an address of some kind," I said. "In case my business comes off and yours doesn't, I'd like to have you with me."
Billy pulled out a pencil and a bit of paper and scribbled down a few words. "This is where I'm staying," he said: "34 Vauxhall Road. I'll tell 'em where to forward letters when I leave."