With this intention he called at the headquarters at Callao, and informed the aid-de-camp that he desired an interview with the General.
That officer told him to wait a few hours, which he did. Waiting there,
Paul planned the interview to suit himself. He intended to say:
"General, my name is Boyton; down here just like yourself, from the
States, etc." He pictured to himself how cordially the General
would receive him, give him his passport, perhaps, invite him to dine.
Paul regretted that his clothes were dusty and torn.
Eventually the aid-de-camp approached and said: "You may now see the
General."
Paul was ushered into a large room and the officer retired. Paul looked around, and saw no one but a white-haired, mahogany-faced old man who sat writing at a table. Advancing, Paul stood silently waiting to be noticed. At last a pair of cold steel gray eyes were turned up to him which confused him so that he stammered in English:
"Is this General Lynch?"
"Si," was the sharp reply.
In English, Paul continued: "General, I am a patrolled prisoner who came down to see if—"
At this moment he was shocked by a heavy hand crashing on the table and a stentorian voice rang out in Spanish:
"Speak you Spanish, speak you Spanish. Muerte Dios, I understand not much English."
Paul mumbled a request in Spanish to have his parole transferred to Callao. "No, No, Anda!" pointing to the door, Paul retired and soon after rejoined his companion at Ancon.