t there was little reason for caution. The guards were too busy
collecting their fees, the juvenile delinquents were too busy acting
as ushers, with even the sex deviates from Number Three busy.

The customers, of course, were far too interested in what they were
buying.

And there was nothing to be done tonight. Bennington snarled to
himself, as he carefully made his way back to the house.

But tomorrow morning....

* * * * *

A good breakfast inside of him, the early morning sun brightening the
scene before him, not even combined could they dispel any of
Bennington's bitter anger at the memory of last night's saturnalia.

He marched across the twenty-five feet separating his house from the
Administration Building, a long, two-story structure on the western
end of the compound.

The entire end nearest his house was taken up by Message Center, the
one room which had had Bennington's full approval on his tour of
inspection both times he had seen the prison. Internally, the separate
parts of the prison were linked together by telephone, a P.A. system,
and intercom. The outside world could be reached or could come to them
by 'phone, radio, teletype, and facsimile reproduction.

Bennington opened the door, glanced up to check his wristwatch with
the big clock on the wall.

0800.

He stepped inside, closed the door, looked around.

The man on night duty was sound asleep.

Bennington coughed once, loudly. The man raised his head and looked
sleepily around.

"Are you the only one here?"

"The others come in around nine," the clerk said, yawning,
bleary-eyed.

"I see. Did anything come in last night?"

"That stuff." A wave toward a roll of yellow teletype paper.

Bennington stared at the man, continued to stare until the clerk
flushed a deep red. Finally the night man straightened in his chair,
then stood up. He picked up the roll of paper and came around his
desk.

"Sir," he said "this report came in last night. It is a list of the
prisoners we can expect to receive today and the probable time of
their arrival."

"Thank you," Bennington said, accepting the roll. "I will be in my
office if anyone is looking for me."

"Sir...." The clerk gulped, hesitated, forced out the words. "That's
the only copy."

Bennington looked the man directly in the eyes. "You must have been
very busy last night." He returned the roll of paper. "I'll be in my
office."

"Yes, sir!"

Benni