into the jail. I've done it myself, several times. But if you want to confide in me…' and he'd let the words hang with just the right amount of gravity and out would come the secrets of the King and the King would be in the camp jail - but what purpose would that serve?
For the moment, the colonel had a greater worry - the weights. That could be a catastrophe of infinite proportions.
Colonel Smedly-Taylor knew that he could always get whatever information he wanted from this child at his whim — he knew the men so very well. He knew he was a clever commander - by God, he should be after all this time - and the first rule was keep the respect of your officers, treat them leniently until they really stepped out of line, then devour one of them ruthlessly as a lesson to the others. But you had to pick the right time, and the right crime, and the right officer.
'All right, Marlowe,' he said firmly. 'I'll fine you a month's pay. I'll keep it off your record and we'll say no more about it. But don't break any more rules.'
'Thank you, sir.' Peter Marlowe saluted and left, glad to be away from the interview. He had been on the threshold of telling everything. The colonel was a good and kind man, and his reputation for fairness was vast.
'Your conscience bothering you?' Grey asked outside the bungalow, noticing the sweat.
Peter Marlowe didn't answer. He was still upset and enormously relieved to have escaped.
The colonel called out, 'Grey! Could I see you for a moment?'
'Yes, sir.' Grey looked a last time at Peter Marlowe. One month's pay!
Not very much, considering that the colonel had him. Grey was surprised and not a little angry that Marlowe had got off so lightly. But, at the same time, he had seen Smedly-Taylor operate before. And he knew that the colonel was tenacious as a bulldog, that he played men like fish. He must have a plan, to let Marlowe go so easily.
Grey stepped around Peter Marlowe and went inside once more.
'Er, close the door, Grey.'
'Yes, sir.'
When they were alone, Colonel Smedley-Taylor said, 'I've seen Lieutenant Colonel Jones and Quartermaster Sergeant Blakely.'
'Yes, sir?' Now we're getting somewhere!
'I have relieved them of their duties as from today,' the colonel said, playing with the weight.
Grey's smile was broad. 'Yes, sir.' Now, when would the court-martial be, and how would it be arranged, and would it be in camera and would they be reduced to the ranks? Soon everyone in camp would know that he, Grey, had caught them at their treachery; he, Grey, was a guardian angel, and my God, how wonderful it would be.
'And we'll forget the matter,' the colonel said.
Grey's smile vanished. 'What?'
'Yes. I have decided to forget the matter. And so will you. In fact I repeat my order. You are not to mention this to anyone and you are to forget it.'
Grey was so astounded that he sank to the bed and stared at the colonel.
'But we can't do that, sir!' he burst out. 'We caught them redhanded.
Stealing the camp food. That's your food and my food. And they tried to bribe me. To bribe me!' His voice became hysterical. 'Holy Christ, I caught them, they're thieves, they deserve to be hung and quartered.'
'True.' Colonel Smedly-Taylor nodded gravely. 'But I think, under the circumstances, that this is the wisest decision.'
Grey leaped to his feet. 'You can't do that!' he shouted. 'You can't let them off scot-free! You can't —'
'Don't tell me what I can or cannot do!'
'I'm sorry,' Grey said, fighting for control. 'But, sir, those men are thieves.
I caught them. You've got the weight.'
'I've decided that this is the end of the matter.' His voice was calm. 'The matter is closed.'
Grey's temper snapped. 'By God, it's not closed! I won't let it be closed!
Those bastards've been eating when we've been hungry! They deserve to get chopped! And I insist —'
Smedly-Taylor's voice overrode the hysteria. 'Shut up, Grey! You can't insist on anything. The matter is closed.'
Smedly-Taylor sighed heavily and picked up a piece of paper and said,
'This is your official report. I've added something today. I'll read it to you. 'I strongly recommend Lieutenant Grey for his work as Provost Marshal of the Camp Police. His performance of duty is, beyond question, excellent. I would like to recommend that he be given the acting rank of Captain.'' He looked up from the paper. 'I propose sending this to the Camp Commandant today and recommending that your promotion be effective from today's date,' He smiled. 'You know of course that he has the authority to promote you. Congratulations, Captain Grey. You deserve it.'
He offered Grey his hand.
But Grey didn't accept it. He merely looked at it and at the paper, and he knew. 'Why, you rotten bastard! You're buying me off. You're as bad -
maybe you've been eating the rice too. Why, you shit, you dirty rotten shit
—'
'You hold your tongue, you jumped-up subaltern! Stand to attention! I said stand to attention!'
'You're in with them, and I'm not going to let any of you get away with it.'
Grey shouted and snatched the weight off the table and backed away. 'I can't prove anything about you yet, but I've proof against them. This weight —'
'What about the weight, Grey?'
