Waiting there, Paul planned the interview to suit himself.

He intended to say: "General, my name is Boyton; down here just like yourself, from the States, etc." He pictured to himself how cordially the General would receive him, give him his passport, perhaps, invite him to dine.
Paul regretted that his clothes were dusty and torn.
Eventually the aid-de-camp approached and said: "You may now see the General." Paul was ushered into a large room and the officer retired.

Paul looked around, and saw no one but a white-haired, mahogany-faced old man who sat writing at a table.

Advancing, Paul stood silently waiting to be noticed.

At last a pair of cold steel gray eyes were turned up to him which confused him so that he stammered in English: "Is this General Lynch ?" "Si," was the sharp reply.
In English, Paul continued: "General, I am a patrolled prisoner who came down to see if--" At this moment he was shocked by a heavy hand crashing on the table and a stentorian voice rang out in Spanish: "Speak you Spanish, speak you Spanish.