The secretary,
Colonel Arocena, he informed me, was a personal friend of his, and if
we could see him it would be all right. Walking by his side I felt
quite safe and bold again, for I was, in a sense, walking with my hand
resting on the superb mane of the British Lion, whose roar was not to
be provoked with impunity. At the War Office I was introduced by the
Consul to his friend, Colonel Arocena, a genial old gentleman with a
bald head and a cigarette between his lips. He listened with some
interest and a smile, slightly incredulous I thought, to the sad story
of the ill-treatment I had been subjected to at the hands of Santa
Coloma's rebellious rascals. When I had finished he pushed over a sheet
of paper on which he had scrawled a few words to me, with the remark,
"Here, my young friend, take this, and you will be safe in Montevideo.
We have heard about your doings in Florida, also in Rocha, but we do
not propose going to war with England on your account."
At this speech we all laughed; then when I had pocketed the paper,
which bore the sacred seal of the War Office on the margin and requested
all persons to refrain from molesting the bearer in his lawful outgoings
and incomings, we thanked the pleasant old Colonel and retired. I spent
half an hour strolling about with the Consul, then we separated. I had
noticed two men in military uniform at some distance from us when we
were together, and now, returning homewards, I found that they were
following me.
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