"I cannot say exactly, but not for very much longer. I am leaving my boys here and they will be with you during the time you stay here." His smile faded and he suddenly looked tired and old. "I ask this for a personal reason. Perhaps I am selfish."
"You saved our lives, sir," Allison said. "I'm giving my parole for a while longer."
"I'll give mine, sir," Stan promised.
They looked at O'Malley. "An' I'm gettin' away if I can," he declared.
The general bowed. "You know, of course, that I must place you in custody of a guard?"
"Sure," O'Malley replied. "Sure, but I'm gettin' itchy feet."
The general nodded. He handed the fat envelope to his eldest son, Lorenzo.
"You will keep this for me. Above all it must not be given to the Germans." He got to his feet. "Now I must be getting back to headquarters. I trust you have been comfortable, gentlemen?"
"We have, thank you, sir," Allison said.
Gravely the general shook hands with the three Yanks and with each of his sons. At the doorway he paused and they all gave him a snappy salute. After he was gone the Bolero boys were silent. They stood at the balcony looking down on the shady road until his car disappeared inside the German camp. Lorenzo turned to Stan and there was a tight smile on his lips.