"Sorry," Grey cursed, "bloody careless of me." He lifted the machine and groped on the floor for the weights, but Jones and Blakely were already on their knees picking them up.

"Don't bother, Grey," Jones said, then he barked at Blakely, "I've told you before to put the scale in the corner."

But Grey had already picked up a two-pound weight. He couldn't believe what he saw, and he carried the weight to the door and inspected it in the light to make certain his eyes weren't deceiving him. They weren't. In the bottom of the iron weight was a small hole packed hard with clay. He picked out the clay with a fingernail, his face chalky.

"What is it, Grey?" said Jones.

"This weight's been tampered with." The words were an accusation.

"What? Impossible!" Jones went up to Grey. "Let me see that." For an eternity he studied it, then smiled.

"It's not been tampered with. This is merely a corrective hole. The particular weight was probably a fraction heavier than it was supposed to be." He laughed weakly. "My God, you had me worried for a moment."

Grey walked rapidly over to the rest of the weights and picked up another one. It too had a hole in it.

"Christ! They've all been tampered with!"

"That's absurd," Jones said. "They're just corrective -"

"I know enough about weights and measures," Grey said, "to know holes aren't allowed. Not corrective holes. If the weight's wrong, it's never issued."

He whirled on Blakely, who cringed against the door. "What do you know about it?"

"Nothing, sir," Blakely said, terrified.

"You'd better tell me!"

"I don't know anything, sir, honest -"

"All right, Blakely. You know what I'm going to do? I'm going to go out of the hut and I'm going to tell everyone I meet about you, everyone - and I'm going to show them this weight, and before I can report it to Colonel Smedly-Taylor you'll be torn apart."

Grey started for the door."

"Wait, sir," Blakely choked out. "I'll tell you. It wasn't me, sir, it was the colonel. He made me do it. He caught me pinching a little rice and he swore he'd turn me in if I didn't help him -"

"Shut up, you fool," Jones said. Then, in a calmer voice, he said to Grey, "The fool's trying to implicate me. I never knew anything -"

"Don't you listen to him, sir," Blakely interrupted, babbling. "He always weighs the rice himself. Always. And he has the key to the safe that he keeps the weights in. You know yourself how he does it all. And anyone who handles weights has to look at the bottom sometimes. However well the holes're camouflaged, you've got to notice them. And it's been going on for a year or more."

"Shut up, Blakely!"

Jones screamed. "Shut up." Silence.

Then Grey said, "Colonel, how long have these weights been used?"

"I don't know."

"A year? Two years?"

"How the hell do I know? If the weights are fixed it's nothing to do with me."

"But you have the key and you keep them locked up?"

"Yes, but that doesn't mean -"

"Have you ever looked at the bottom of the weights?"

"No, but -"

"That's somewhat strange, isn't it?" said Grey relentlessly.

"No, it isn't, and I won't be cross-questioned by -"

"You'd better be telling the truth, for your own sake."

"Are you threatening me, Lieutenant? I'll have you court-martialed -"

"I don't know about that, Colonel. I'm here legally and the weights have been tampered with, haven't they?"

"Now, look here, Grey -"

"Haven't they?" Grey held the weight up to Jones's drained face, which was no longer boyish.

"I - suppose so," said Jones, "but that doesn't mean -"

"It means that either Blakely or you is responsible. Perhaps both of you. You're the only two allowed here. The weights are short, and one or both of you has been taking the extra ration."

"It wasn't me, sir," Blakely whined. "I only got a pound in every ten -"

"Liar!" shouted Jones.

"Oh no I'm not. I've told you a thousand times we'd be for it." He turned to Grey, wringing his hands. "Please sir, please, don't say anything. The men'd tear us to pieces."

"You bastard, I hope they do." Grey was glad that he had found the false weights. Oh yes, he was glad.

Jones took out his cigarette box and began to roll a cigarette. "Would you like one?" he said, the boy face jowled and strangely sick and tentatively smiling.

"No thank you." Grey hadn't had a smoke for four days and he needed one.

"We can sort this out," Jones said, his boyishness and good breeding returning. "Perhaps someone has tampered with the weights. But the amount is insignificant. I can easily get other weights, correct ones -"

"So you admit that they're crooked?"

"I'm only saying, Grey -" Jones stopped. "Get out, Blakely. Wait outside."

Immediately Blakely turned for the door.

"Stay where you are, Blakely," Grey said. Then he glanced back at Jones, his manner deferential. "There's no need for Blakely to go, is there, sir?"

Jones studied him through the smoke, then said, "No. Walls don't have ears. All right. You'll get a pound of rice a week."

"Is that all?"

"We'll make it two pounds per week, and half a pound of dried fish. Once a week."

"No sugar? Or eggs?"

"They both go to the hospital, you know that."

Jones waited and Grey waited and Blakely sobbed in the background. Then Grey began to leave, pocketing the weight.

"Grey, just a minute." Jones took two eggs and offered them to him. "Here, you'll get one a week, along with the rest of the supplies. And some sugar."

"I'll tell you what I'm going to do, Colonel. I'm going to go down to Colonel Smedly-Taylor and tell him what you said and I'm going to show him the weights - and if there's a borehole party, and I pray there will be one, I'm going to be there and I'm going to shove you down, but not too fast, because I want to see you die. I want to hear you scream and see you die, for a long time. Both of you."

Then he went out of the hut into the sun, and the heat of the day hit him and the pain ripped through his insides. But he willed himself to walk and started slowly down the hill.

Jones and Blakely at the door of the supply hut watched him go. And both were terrified.

"Oh, Christ, sir, what's going to happen?" Blakely whimpered. "They'll string us up -"

Jones jerked him back into the hut, slammed the door and backhanded him viciously. "Shut up!"

Blakely was babbling on the floor and tears were streaming down his face, so Jones jerked him up and smashed him again.

"Don't hit me, you've no right to hit -"

"Shut up and listen." Jones shook bun again. "Listen, damn you to hell. I've told you a thousand times to use the real weights on Grey's inspection day, you bloody incompetent fool. Stop sniveling and listen. First, you're to deny that anything was said. You understand? I made no offer to Grey, you understand?"

"But sir -"

"You're to deny it, you understand?"

"Yes sir."

"Good. We'll both deny it and if you stick to the story I'll get us out of this mess."

"Can you? Can you, sir?"

"I can if you deny it. Next. You know nothing about the weights and neither do I. You understand?"

"But we're the only ones -"

"You understand?"

"Yes, sir."

"Next. Nothing took place here except that Grey discovered the false weights and you and I were just as astonished. You understand?"

"But -"

"Now tell me what happened. God damn you, tell me!" Jones bellowed, towering over him.

"We - we were finishing the check, and then - then Grey fell against the weighing machine, and the weights got knocked over, and - and then we discovered the weights were false. Is that all right, sir?"

"What happened next?"

"Well, sir." Blakely thought a moment, then his face lit up. "Grey asked us about the weights, and I'd never seen that they were false, and you were just as surprised. Then Grey left."

Jones offered him some tobacco. "You've forgotten what Grey said. Don't you remember? He said, 'If you give me some extra rice, a pound a week, and an egg or two, I won't report this.' And then I told him to go to hell, that I would report the weights myself and would report him too, and I was beside myself with worry about the false weights. How did they get there? Who was the swine?"

Blakely's little eyes filled with admiration. "Yes, sir, I remember distinctly. He asked for a pound of rice and an egg or two. Just like you said."

"Then remember it, you stupid fool! If you'd used the right weights and held your tongue we wouldn't be in this mess, Don't you fail me again or I'll put the blame on you. It'll be your word against mine."

"I won't fail, sir, I promise -"

"It's our word against Grey's anyway. So don't worry, you keep your head and remember!"

"I won't forget, sir, I won't."

"Good." Jones locked the safe and the front door of the hut and left the area.

Jones is a sharp man, Blakely persuaded himself, he'll get us out of this. Now that the shock of being discovered had worn off he was feeling safer. Yes, and Jones'll have to save his own neck to save yours. Yes, Blakely my man, you're smart yourself, smart to make sure you've got the goods on him, just in case of a double-cross.

Colonel Smedly-Taylor scrutinized the weight ponderously.

"Astonishing!" he said. "I just can't believe it." He looked up keenly. "You seriously mean to tell me that Lieutenant Colonel Jones offered to bribe you? With camp provisions?"

"Yes, sir. It was exactly like I told you."

Smedly-Taylor sat down on his bed in the little bungalow and wiped off the sweat, for it was hot and sultry. "I don't believe it," he repeated, shaking his head.

"They were the only ones who had access to the weights -"

"I know that. It's not that I dispute your word, Grey, it's just so, well, incredible."

Smedly-Taylor was quiet for a long time and Grey waited patiently.

"Grey." The Colonel still examined the weight and the tiny hole as he continued. "I'll think what to do about this. The whole affair is fraught with danger. You must not mention this to anyone, anyone, you understand?"

"Yes, sir."

"My God, if it's as you say, well, those men would be massacred." Again Smedly-Taylor shook his head. "That two men - that Lieutenant Colonel Jones could - the camp rations! And every weight is false?"

"Yes, sir."

"How much do you think they are light, all in all?"