“What? What did you see?” Tony asked.
“No German soldiers,” Dick said. “Just one old man.”
Tony’s heart leaped at these words. “Just one old man in my Uncle Tomaso’s old room. That must be my uncle—it’s just got to be!”
“Take a quick look, Tony,” Dick said. “Go ahead.”
He moved back a bit so that Tony could get near the window. He took a quick glance around to see that no one was approaching. Then he watched Tony’s face to see if he could tell by the expression who it was he saw.
Tony moved his head up and looked in the window. He started to bring it down again, but then left it there, looking steadily inside the room. Dick heard his breath come fast. The light from the room fell faintly on his face, and Dick, studying it closely, saw the mouth twitch, the eyes fill with tears. And then Tony spoke, almost in a whisper.
“Uncle Tomaso,” he breathed. “My own Uncle Tomaso!”
Then he crouched down beside Dick again. The sergeant said nothing, and Tony could not speak for a few seconds.
“Yes, Dick, it’s my uncle,” Tony said. “And—he looks so old, sitting there just staring at the floor. He looks sad and broken and old. I almost didn’t recognize him.”
“Nobody else in the room?” Dick asked.