He stole quietly from the place. He hadn't proceeded more than a
block when he became aware of the fact that he hadn't a penny in his
clothes. This discovery disquieted him, and he half turned about to
go back. He couldn't go back. He had no key.

"Pshaw! I won't need any money;"--and he started off again toward
Connecticut Avenue. He dared not hail a car, and he would not have
dared had he possessed the fare. Some one might recognize him. He
walked briskly for ten minutes. The humor of the escapade appealed to
him greatly, and he had all he could do to smother the frequent
bursts of laughter which surged to his lips. He reached absently for
his cigar-case. No money, no cigars.

"That's bad. Without a cigar I'm likely to get nervous. Scraping off
that beard made me forgetful. Jove! with these fleshings I feel as
self-conscious as an untried chorus girl. These togs can't be very
warm in winter. Ha! that must be the embassy where all those lights
are; carriages. _Allons!_"

To make positive, he stopped a pedestrian.

"Pardon me, sir," he said, touching his hat, "but will you be so kind
as to inform me if yonder is the British embassy?"

"It is, my man," replied the gentleman.

"Thank you, sir."

And each passed on to his affairs.