Just how Terrence would settle the matter, he did not know; but he who had such remarkable ability for getting one into a scrape could surely devise some means to get him out, and Fernando was perfectly willing to trust him. So, deeming the matter wholly settled, he sat down to his books once more, and had actually forgotten the officer, when Terrence bolted into the room his face expressive of anxiety.
"It's all arranged, me boy. Ye did right in lavin' it to me. The young Britisher and I have made all arrangements."
"Arrangements? what arrangements?" asked Fernando with guileless innocence.
"Arrangements for the meeting, to be sure."
"What meeting?"
"Meeting with Lieutenant Matson."
Throwing down his book, Fernando started up impatiently said:
"I don't want to meet the infernal lieutenant. I thought you had settled it."
"So I did, and right dacintly, too. Now what weapons do ye want?"
"Weapons!" cried Fernando, the truth at last beginning to dawn upon him. "Great Heavens! Terrence, do you mean a duel?"