小说园

第18部分（第1页）

A　week　or　so　after　Mr。　Jingles　had　settled　into　the　cigar　box；　Delacroix　called　me　and　Brutal　down　to　his　cell　to　see　something。　He　did　that　so　much　it　was　annoying　…　if　Mr。　Jingles　so　much　as　rolled　over　on　his　back　with　his　paws　in　the　air；　it　was　the　cutest　thing　on　Gods　earth；　as　far　as　that　half…pint　Cajun　was　concerned　…　but　this　time　what　he　was　up　to　really　was　sort　of　amusing。

Delacroix　had　been　pretty　much　forgotten　by　the　world　following　his　conviction；　but　he　had　one　relation　…　an　old　maiden　aunt；　I　believe　…　who　wrote　him　once　a　week。　She　had　also　sent　him　an　enormous　bag　of　peppermint　candies；　the　sort　which　are　marketed　under　the　name　Canada　Mints　these　days。　They　looked　like　big　pink　pills。　Delacroix　was　not　allowed　to　have　the　whole　bag　at　once；　naturally　…　it　was　a　five…pounder；　and　he　would　have　gobbled　them　until　he　had　to　go　to　the　infirmary　with　stomach…gripes。　Like　almost　every　murderer　we　ever　had　on　the　Mile；　he　had　absolutely　no　understanding　of　moderation。　Wed　give　them　out　to　him　half　a　dozen　at　a　time；　and　only　then　if　he　remembered　to　ask。

Mr。　Jingles　was　sitting　beside　Delacroix　on　the　bunk　when　we　got　down　there；　holding　one　of　those　pink　candies　in　his　paws　and　munching　contentedly　away　at　it。　Delacroix　was　simply　overe　with　delight　…　he　was　like　a　classical　pianist　watching　his　five…year…old　son　play　his　first　halting　exercises。　But　dont　get　me　wrong；　it　was　funny；　a　real　hoot。　The　candy　was　half　the　size　of　Mr。　Jingles；　and　his　whitefurred　belly　was　already　distended　from　it。

〃Take　it　away　from　him；　Eddie；〃　Brutal　said；　half…laughing　and　half…horrified。　〃Christ　almighty　Jesus；　hell　eat　till　he　busts。　I　can　smell　that　peppermint　from　here。　How　many　have　you　let　him　have？〃

〃This　his　second；〃　Delacroix　said；　looking　a　little　nervously　at　Mr。　Jingless　belly。　〃You　really　think　he　。。。　you　know　。。。　bus　his　guts？〃

〃Might；〃　Brutal　said。

That　was　enough　authority　for　Delacroix。　He　reached　for　the　half…eaten　pink　mint。　I　expected　the　mouse　to　nip　him；　but　Mr。　Jingles　gave　over　that　mint　…　what　remained　of　it；　anyway　…　as　meek　as　could　be。　I　looked　at　Brutal；　and　Brutal　gave　his　head　a　little　shake　as　if　to　say　no；　he　didnt　understand　it；　either。　Then　Mr。　Jingles　plopped　down　into　his　box　and　lay　there　on　his　side　in　an　exhausted　way　that　made　all　three　of　us　laugh。　After　that；　we　got　used　to　seeing　the　mouse　sitting　beside　Delacroix；　holding　a　mint　and　munching　away　on　it　just　as　neatly　as　an　old　lady　at　an　afternoon　tea…party；　both　of　them　surrounded　by　what　I　later　smelled　in　that　hole　in　the　beam　…　the　half…bitter；　half…sweet　smell　of　peppermint　candy。

Theres　one　more　thing　to　tell　you　about　Mr。　Jingles　before　moving　on　to　the　arrival　of　William　Wharton；　which　was　when　the　cyclone　really　touched　down　on　E　Block。　A　week　or　so　after　the　incident　of　the　peppermint　candies　…　around　the　time　when　wed　pretty　much　decided　Delacroix　wasnt　going　to　feed　his　pet　to　death；　in　other　words　…　the　Frenchman　called　me　down　to　his　cell。　I　was　on　my　own　for　the　time　being；　Brutal　over　at　the　missary　for　something；　and　according　to　the　regs；　I　was　not　supposed　to　approach　a　prisoner　in　such　circumstances。　But　since　I　probably　could　have　shot…putted　Delacroix　twenty　yards　one…handed　on　a　good　day；　I　decided　to　break　the　rule　and　see　what　he　wanted。

〃Watch　this；　Boss　Edgebe；〃　he　said。　〃You　gonna　see　what　Mr。　Jingles　can　do！〃　He　reached　behind　the　cigar　box　and　brought　up　a　small　wooden　spool。

〃Whered　you　get　that？〃　I　asked　him；　although　I　supposed　I　knew。　There　was　really　only　one　person　he　could　have　gotten　it　from。

〃Old　Toot…Toot；〃　he　said。　Watch　this。〃

I　was　already　watching；　and　could　see　Mr。　Jingles　in　his　box；　standing　up　with　his　small　front　paws　propped　on　the　edge；　his　black　eyes　fixed　on　the　spool　Delacroix　was　holding　between　the　thumb　and　first　finger　of　his　right　hand。　I　felt　a　funny　little　chill　go　up　my　back。　I　had　never　seen　a　mere　mouse　attend　to　something　with　such　sharpness　…　with　such　intelligence。　I　dont　really　believe　that　Mr。　Jingles　was　a　supernatural　visitation；　and　if　I　have　given　you　that　idea；　Im　sorry；　but　I　have　never　doubted　that　he　was　a　genius　of　his　kind。

Delacroix　bent　over　and　rolled　the　threadless　spool　across　the　floor　of　his　cell。　It　went　easily；　like　a　pair　of　wheels　connected　by　an　axle。　The　mouse　was　out　of　his　box　in　a　flash　and　across　the　floor　after　it；　like　a　dog　chasing　after　a　stick。　I　exclaimed　with　surprise；　and　Delacroix　grinned。

The　spool　hit　the　wall　and　rebounded。　Mr。　Jingles　went　around　it　and　pushed　it　back　to　the　bunk；　switching　from　one　end　of　the　spool　to　the　other　whenever　it　looked　like　it　was　going　to　veer　offcourse。　He　pushed　the　spool　until　it　hit　Delacroixs　foot。　Then　he　looked　up　at　him　for　a　moment；　as　if　to　make　sure　Delacroix　had　no　more　immediate　tasks　for　him　（a　few　arithmetic　problems　to　solve；　perhaps；　or　some　Latin　to　parse）。　Apparently　satisfied　on　this　score；　Mr。　Jingles　went　back　to　the　cigar　box　and　settled　down　in　it　again。

〃You　taught　him　that；〃　I　said。

〃Yessir；　Boss　Edgebe；〃　Delacroix　said；　his　smile　only　slightly　dissembling。　〃He　fetch　it　every　time。　Smart　as　hell；　aint　he？〃

〃And　the　spool？〃　I　asked。　〃How　did　you　know　to　fetch　that　for　him；　Eddie？〃

〃He　whisper　in　my　ear　that　he　want　it；〃　Delacroix　said　serenely。　〃Same　as　he　whisper　his　name。〃

Delacroix　showed　all　the　other　guys　his　mouses　trick　。。。　all　except　Percy。　To　Delacroix；　it　didnt　matter　that　Percy　had　suggested　the　cigar　box　and　procured　the　cotton　with　which　to　line　it。　Delacroix　was　like　some　dogs：　kick　them　once　and　they　never　trust　you　again；　no　matter　how　nice　you　are　to　them。

I　can　hear　Delacroix　now；　yelling；　Hey；　you　guys！　e　and　see　what　Mr。　Jingles　can　do！　And　them　going　down　in　a　bluesuit　cluster　…　Brutal；　Harry；　Dean；　even　Bill　Dodge。　All　of　them　had　been　properly　amazed；　too；　the　same　as　I　had　been。

Three　or　four　days　after　Mr。　Jingles　started　doing　the　trick　with　the　spool；　Harry　Terwilliger　rummaged　through　the　arts　and　crafts　stuff　we　kept　in　the　restraint　room；　found　the　Crayolas；　and　brought　them　to　Delacroix　with　a　smile　that　was　almost　embarrassed。　〃I　thought　you　might　like　to　make　that　spool　different　colors；〃　he　said。　〃Then　your　little　pald　be　like　a　circus　mouse；　or　something。〃

〃A　circus　mouse！〃　Delacroix　said；　looking　pletely；　rapturously　happy。　I　suppose　he　was　pletely　happy；　maybe　for　the　first　time　in　his　whole　miserable　life。　〃That　just　what　he　is；　too！　A　circus　mouse！　When　I　get　outta　here；　he　gonna　make　me　rich；　like　inna　circus！　You　see　if　he　dont。〃

Percy　Wetmore　would　no　doubt　have　pointed　out　to　Delacroix　that　when　he　left　Cold　Mountain；　hed　be　riding　in　an　ambulance　that　didnt　need　to　run　its　light　or　siren；　but　Harry　knew　better。　He　just　told　Delacroix　to　make　the　spool　as　colorful　as　he　could　as　quick　as　he　could；　because　hed　have　to　take　the　crayons　back　after　dinner。

Del　made　it　colorful；　all　right。　When　he　was　done；　one　end　of　the　spool　was　yellow；　the　other　end　was　green；　and　the　drum　in　the　middle　was　firehouse　red。　We　got　used　to　hearing　Delacroix　trumpet；　〃Maintenant；　msieurs　et　mesdames！　Le　cirque　presentement　le　mous　amusant　et　amazeant！〃　That　wasnt　exactly　it；　but　it　gives　you　an　idea　of　that　stewpot　French　of　his。　Then　hed　make　this　sound　way　down　in　his　throat　…　I　think　it　was　supposed　to　represent　a　drumroll　…　and　fling　the　spool。　Mr。　Jingles　would　be　after　it　in　a　flash；　either　nosing　it　back　or　rolling　it　with　his　paws。　That　second　way　really　was　something　you　would　have　paid　to　see　in　a　circus；　I　think。　Delacroix　and　his　mouse　and　his　mouses　brightly　colored　spool　were　our　chief　amusements　at　the　time　that　John　Coffey　came　into　our　care　and　custody；　and　that　was　the　way　things　remained　for　awhile。　Then　my　urinary　infection；　which　had　lain　still　for　awhile；　came　back；　and　William　Wharton　arrived；　and　all　hell　broke　loose。

10。

The　dates　have　mostly　slipped　out　of　my　head。　I　suppose　I　could　have　my　granddaughter；　Danielle；　look　some　of　them　out　of　the　old　newspaper　files；　but　what　would　be　the　point？　The　most　important　of　them；　like　the　day　we　came　down　to　Delacroixs　cell　and　found　the　mouse　sitting　on　his　shoulder；　or　the　day　William　Wharton　came　on　the　block　and　almost　killed　Dean　Stanton；　would　not　be　in　the　papers；　anyway。　Maybe　its　better　to　go　on　just　as　I　have　been；　in　the　end；　I　guess　the　dates　dont　matter　much；　if　you　can　remember　the　things　you　saw　and　keep　them　in　the　right　order。

I　know　that　things　got　squeezed　together　a　little。　When　Delacroixs　DOE　papers　finally　came　to　me　from　Curtis　Andersons　office；　I　was　amazed　to　see　that　our　Cajun　pals　date　with　Old　Sparky　had　been　advanced　from　when　we　had　expected；　a　thing　that　was　almost　unheard　of；　even　in　those　days　when　you　didnt　have　to　move　half　of　heaven　and　all　the　earth　to　execute　a　man。　It　was　a　matter　of　two　days；　I　think；　from　the　twenty…seventh　of　October　to　the　twenty…fifth。　Dont　hold　me　to　it　exactly；　but　I　know　thats　close；　I　remember　thinking　that　Toot　was　going　to　get　his　Corona　box　back　even　sooner　than　he　had　expected。

Wharton；　meanwhile；　got　to　us　later　than　expected。　For　one　thing；　his　trial　ran　longer　than　Andersons　usually　reliable　sources　had　thought　it　would　（when　it　came　to　Wild　Billy；　nothing　was　reliable；　we　would　soon　discover；　including　our　time…tested　and　supposedly　foolproof　methods　of　prisoner　control）。　Then；　after　he　had　been　found　guilty　…　that　much；　at　least；　went　according　to　the　script　…　he　was　taken　to　Indianola　General　Hospital　for　tests。　He　had　had　a　number　of　supposed　seizures　during　the　trial；　twice　serious　enough　to　send　him　crashing　to　the　floor；　where　he　lay　shaking　and　flopping　and　drumming　his　feet　on　the　boards。　Whartons　court…appointed　lawyer　claimed　he　suffered　from　〃epilepsy　spells〃　and　had　mitted　his　crimes　while　of　unsound　mind；　the　prosecution　claimed　the　fits　were　the　sham　acting　of　a　coward　desperate　to　save　his　own　life。　After　observing　the　so…called　〃epilepsy　spells〃　at　first　hand；　the　jury　decided　the　fits　were　an　act。　The　judge　concurred　but　ordered　a　series　of　pre…sentencing　tests　after　the　verdict　came　down。　God　knows　why；　perhaps　he　was　only　curious。

Its　a　blue…eyed　wonder　that　Wharton　didnt　escape　from　the　hospital　（and　the　irony　that　Warden　Moores　wife；　Melinda；　was　in　the　same　hospital　at　the　same　time　did　not　escape　any　of　us）；　but　he　didnt。　They　had　him　surrounded　by　guards；　I　suppose；　and　perhaps　he　still　had　hopes　of　being　declared　inpetent　by　reason　of　epilepsy；　if　there　is　such　a　thing。

He　wasnt。　The　doctors　found　nothing　wrong　with　his　brain　…　physiologically；　at　least　…　and　Billy　〃the　Kid〃　Wharton　was　at　last　bound　for　Cold　Mountain。　That　might　have　been　around　the　sixteenth　or　the　eighteenth；　its　my　recollection　that　Wharton　arrived　about　two　weeks　after　John　Coffey　and　a　week　or　ten　days　before　Delacroix　walked　the　Green　Mile。

The　day　our　new　psychopath　joined　us　was　an　eventful　one　for　me。　I　woke　up　at　four　that　morning　with　my　groin　throbbing　and　my　penis　feeling　hot　and　clogged　and　swollen。　Even　before　I　swung　my　feet　out　of　bed；　I　knew　that　my　urinary　infection　wasnt　getting　better；　as　I　had　hoped。　It　had　been　a　brief　turn　for　the　better；　that　was　all；　and　it　was　over。

I　went　out　t