第32部分(第1/8 页)

out　chinks　and　slopes　and　spicks　and　micks；　thinking　about　what　Elaine　Connelly　had　said。　He　thinks　you've　got　a　secret。　So　do　I。

And　maybe　I　do。　Yes；　maybe　I　do。　And　of　course　Brad　Dolan　wants　it。　Not　because　he　thinks　it's　important　（and　it's　not；　I　guess；　except　to　me）；　but　because　he　doesn't　think　very　old　men　like　myself　should　have　secrets。　No　taking　the　ponchos　off　the　hook　outside　the　kitchen；　no　secrets；　either。　No　getting　the　idea　that　the　likes　of　us　are　still　human。　And　why　shouldn't　we　be　allowed　such　an　idea？　He　doesn't　know。　And　in　that；　too；　he　is　like　Percy。

So　my　thoughts；　like　a　river　that　takes　an　oxbow　turn；　finally　led　back　to　where　they　had　been　when　Brad　Dolan　reached　out　from　beneath　the　kitchen　eave　and　grabbed　my　wrist：　to　Percy；　mean…spirited　Percy　Wetmore；　and　how　he　had　taken　his　revenge　on　the　man　who　had　laughed　at　him。　Delacroix　had　been　throwing　the　colored　spool　he　had　…　the　one　Mr。　Jingles　would　fetch　…　and　it　bounced　out　of　the　cell　and　into　the　corridor。　That　was　all　it　took；　Percy　saw　his　chance。

2。

〃No　you　fool！〃　Brutal　yelled；　but　Percy　paid　no　attention。　Just　as　Mr。　Jingles　reached　the　spool　…　too　intent　on　it　to　realize　his　old　enemy　was　at　hand　…　Percy　brought　the　sole　of　one　hard　black　workshoe　down　on　him。　There　was　an　audible　snap　as　Mr。　Jingles's　back　broke；　and　blood　gushed　from　his　mouth。　His　tiny　black　eyes　bulged　in　their　sockets；　and　in　them　I　read　an　expression　of　surprised　agony　that　was　al