But the longer he thought over the matter, the more were his perplexity and curiosity increased, until at last he wavered in his firm determination not to go, and when the ball was about to begin, of which the sounds of hurrying steps and musical instruments apprised him, he changed his mind. Combing his hair slightly, he tried to brush his rough garments with his hands, arranged his necktie and flannel collar a little, dusted his long boots with a towel, washed his hands, laid aside his weapons, and went off to the hall with the intention of at least looking in at the door to see what was going on.
He met Pedro in the corridor.
“Ha! Senhor Armstrong has changed his mind?”
“Yes, I have.”
Lawrence said this in the slightly defiant tone of a man who gives in with a bad grace. He was altogether “out of sorts” and unlike himself, but Pedro, like a true friend, took no notice of that.
“I’m glad you have given in, senhor,” said Pedro, “for it saves me the trouble of dragging you there by force, in order that I may have the pleasure of seeing how you will look under the influence of a surprise.”
“A surprise, Pedro?”
“Yes. But come; the ball is about to begin.”
At the end of the corridor they encountered the English sportsman, who at the same moment chanced to meet his friend, to whom he said—
“I say, just come and—aw—have a look at the company. All free and easy, no tickets required, no dress, no—aw—there goes the governor—”