“Nothing will happen. Take this ticket. Steal in when the performance has begun, and go upstairs, open one of the top boxes which are usually empty, and if the usher comes in, give him a peseta. He’s a friend of mine.”
“Good. Now we’ll tell the woman, and be on our way. Shall we have supper first?” asked Quentin.
“No; we must have clear heads. We’ll have supper at the El Pino farm, or—in jail.”
“You’ve spoken like a man. Let’s go.”
They entered the garret.
“Doña Sinda,” said Quentin, “we are going to crawl about the roof a bit.”
“Wait a moment, comrade,” said Pacheco. “They won’t do anything to me; but if they see you, they’ll tie you up,” and as he spoke, he opened a wardrobe, took out a grey cloak, a kerchief, and a broad-brimmed hat.
“Who’s that for?”
“For you.”
Pacheco made a bundle of the things, and said: