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of his pants； saw the spot spreading there； and blushed a dark； fiery red。 He looked up at me again； then at Harry and Dean。 I remember being glad that Old Toot…Toot was gone。 If he'd been around； the story would have been all over the prison in a single day。 And； given Percy's last name…an unfortunate one； in this context … it was a story that would have been told with the relish of high glee for years to e。
〃You talk about this to anyone； and you'll all be on the breadlines in a week；〃 he whispered fiercely。 It was the sort of crack that would have made me want to swat him under other circumstances； but under these； I only pitied him。 I think he saw that pity； and it made it worse with him … like having an open wound scoured with tles。
'〃What goes on here stays here；〃 Dean said quietly。 〃You don't have to worry about that。〃
Percy looked back over his shoulder； toward Delacroix's cell。 Brutal was just locking the door； and from inside； deadly clear； we could still hear Delacroix giggling。 Percy's look was as black as thunder。 I thought of telling him that you reaped what you sowed in this life； and then decided this might not be the right time for a scripture lesson。
〃As for him … 〃 he began； but never finished。 He left； instead； head down； to go into the storage room and look for a dry pair of pants。
〃He's so purty；〃 Wharton said in a dreamy voice。 Harry told him to shut the fuck up before he went down to the restraint room just on general damned principles。 Wharton folded his arms on his chest； closed his eyes； and appeared to go to sleep。
9。
The night before Delacroix's execution came down hotter and muggier than ever … eighty…one degrees by the thermometer outside the Admin readyroom window when I clocked in at six。 Eighty…one degrees at the end of October； think of that； and thunder rumbling in the west like it does in July。 I'd met a member of my congregation in town that afternoon； and he had asked me； with apparent seriousness； if I thought such unseasonable weather could be a sign of the Last Times。 I said that I was sure not； but it crossed my mind that it was Last Times for Eduard Delacroix； all right。 Yes indeed it was。
Bill Dodge was standing in the door to the exercise yard； drinking coffee and smoking him a little smoke。 He looked around at me and said； 〃Well； lookit here。 Paul Edgebe； big as life and twice as ugly。〃
〃How'd the day go； Billy？〃
〃All right。〃
〃Delacroix？〃
〃Fine。 He seems to understand it's tomorrow； and yet it's like he don't understand。 You know how most of em are when the end finally es for them。〃
I nodded。 〃Wharton？'
Bill laughed。 〃What a edian。 Makes Jack Benny sound like a Quaker。 He told Rolfe Wettermark that he ate strawberry jam out of his wife's pussy。〃
〃What did Rolfe say？〃
〃That he wasn't married。 Said it must have been his mother Wharton was thinking of。〃
I laughed； and hard。 That really was funny； in a low sort of way。 And it was good just to be able to laugh without feeling like someone was lighting matches way down low in my gut。 Bill laughed with me； then turned the rest of his coffee out in the yard； which was empty except for a few shuffling trusties； most of whom had been there for a thousand years or so。
Thunder rumbled somewhere far off； and unfocused heat lightning flashed in the darkening sky overhead。 Bill looked up uneasily； his laughter dying。
〃I tell you what； though；〃 he said； 〃I don't like this weather much。 Feels like something's gonna happen。 Something bad。〃
About that he was right。 The bad thing happened right around quarter of ten that night。 That was when Percy killed Mr。 Jingles。
10。
At first it seemed like it was going to be a pretty good night in spite of the heat … John Coffey was being his usual quiet self； Wild Bill was making out to be Mild Bill； and Delacroix was in good spirits for a man who had a date with Old Sparky in a little more than twenty…four hours。
He did understand what was going to happen to him； at least on the most basic level； he had ordered chili for his last meal and gave me special instructions for the kitchen。 〃Tell em to lay on dat hotsauce；〃 he said。 〃Tell em the kind dat really jump up your t'roat an' say howdy … the green stuff； none of dat mild。 Dat stuff gripe me like a motherfucker； I can't get off the toilet the nex' day； but I don't think I gonna have a problem this time； n'est…ce pas？〃
Most of them worry about their immortal souls with a kind of moronic ferocity； but Delacroix pretty much dismissed my questions about what he wanted for spiritual fort in his last hours。 If 〃dat fella〃 Schuster had been good enough for Big Chief Bitterbuck； Del reckoned； Schuster would be good enough for him。 No； what he cared about … you've guessed already； I'm sure … was what was going to happen to Mr。 Jingles after he； Delacroix； passed on。 I was used to spending long hours with the condemned on the night before their last march； but this was the first time I'd spent those long hours pondering the fate of a mouse。
Del considered scenario after scenario； patiently working the possibilities through his dim mind。 And while he thought aloud； wanting to provide for his pet mouse's future as if it were a child that had to be put through college； he threw that colored spool against the wall。 Each time he did it； Mr。 Jingles would spring after it； track it down； and then roll it back to Del's foot。 It started to get on my nerves after awhile …first the clack of the spool against the stone wall； then the minute clitter of Mr。 Jingles's paws。 Although it was a cute trick； it palled after niy minutes or so。 And Mr。 Jingles never seemed to get tired。 He paused every now and then to refresh himself with a drink of water out of a coffee saucer Delacroix kept for just that purpose； or to munch a pink crumb of peppermint candy； and then back to it he went。 Several times it was on the tip of my tongue to tell Delacroix to give it a rest； and each time I reminded myself that he had this night and tomorrow to play the spool…game with Mr。 Jingles； and that was all。 Near the end； though； it began to be really difficult to hold onto that thought … you know how it is； with a noise that's repeated over and over。 After a while it shoots your nerve。 I started to speak after all； then something made me look over my shoulder and out the cell door。 John Coffey was standing at his cell door across the way； and he shook his head at me： right； left； back to center。 As if he had read my mind and was telling me to think again。
I would see that Mr。 Jingles got to Delacroix's maiden aunt； I said； the one who had sent him the big bag of candy。 His colored spool could go as well； even his 〃house〃 … we'd take up a collection and see that Toot gave up his claim on the Corona box。 No； said Delacroix after some consideration （he had time to throw the spool against the wall at least five times； with Mr。 Jingles either nosing it back or pushing it with his paws）； that wouldn't do。 Aunt Hermione was too old； she wouldn't understand Mr。 Jingles's frisky ways； and suppose Mr。 Jingles outlived her？ What would happen to him then？ No； no； Aunt Hermione just wouldn't do。
Well； then； I asked； suppose one of us took it？ One of us guards？ We could keep him right here on E Block。 No； Delacroix said； he thanked me kindly for the thought； certainement； but Mr。 Jingles was a mouse that yearned to be free。 He； Eduard Delacroix； knew this； because Mr。 Jingles had … you guessed it … whispered the information in his ear。
〃All right；〃 I said； 〃one of us will take him home； Del。 Dean； maybe。 He's got a little boy that would just love a pet mouse； I bet。〃
Delacroix actually turned pale with horror at the thought。 A little kid in charge of a rodent genius like Mr。 Jingles？ How in the name of le bon Dieu could a little kid be expected to keep up with his training； let alone teach him new tricks？ And suppose the kid lost interest and forgot to feed him for two or three days at a stretch？ Delacroix； who had roasted six human beings alive in an effort to cover up his original crime； shuddered with the delicate revulsion of an ardent anti…vivisectionist。
All right； I said； I'd take him myself （promise them anything； remember； in th