“If you brought us here to get information, you will be disappointed, General,” Stan said. “We will not talk.”
“I brought you here to tell you that we intend to make you talk,” the general barked. “I merely wished to warn you and then to let you have a little time to think it over.”
“We are prisoners of war,” Stan reminded him.
“The code provides for disciplining prisoners of war. We have some very effective methods. You will talk and be glad to. Now get out.”
Stan and O’Malley turned toward the door. Two armed men stood waiting for them. They marched out with the guards close behind them.
“Sure, an’ this is a nice mess,” O’Malley grumbled.
“Could be worse,” Stan said.
The guards left them after passing them into the yard of their house. They headed for their room. Passing through the outer hall, they saw that the lecture was still going on in the living room. They went up the stairs.
Stan opened the door and O’Malley shoved into the room close behind him. They stood looking at Sim’s bunk. The straw ticking of the mattress had been slit open and some of the straw was scattered on the floor. Sim was not in the room. Stan walked over to a little table. One small light bulb was flooding the room with light.
“He was here and left in a hurry. He didn’t turn off the light.”