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When I walked back up the path twenty minutes later; I could feel a worm of hunger stirring in my belly; and thought I could eat something a little more substantial than toast。 A dish of oatmeal; perhaps even a scrambled egg with a sausage on the side。 I love sausage; always have; but if I eat more than one these days; I'm apt to get the squitters。 One would be safe enough; though。 Then; with my belly full and with the damp air still perking up my brain (or so I hoped); I would go up to the solarium and write about the execution of Eduard Delacroix。 I would do it as fast as I could; so as not to lose my courage。
It was Mr。 Jingles I was thinking about as I crossed the croquet course to the kitchen door … how Percy Wetmore had stamped on him and broken his back; and how Delacroix had screamed when he realized what his enemy had done … and I didn't see Brad Dolan standing there; half…hidden by the Dumpster; until he reached out and grabbed my wrist。
〃Out for a little stroll; Paulie?〃 he asked。
I jerked back from him; yanking my wrist out of his hand。 Some of it was just being startled … anyone will jerk when they're startled … but that wasn't all of it。 I'd been thinking about Percy Wetmore; remember; and it's Percy that Brad always reminds me of。 Some of it's how Brad always goes around with a paperback stuffed into his pocket (with Percy it was always a men's adventure magazine; with Brad it's books of jokes that are only funny if you're stupid and me