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It
was
a
purposeful
pose
,
an
almost
urgent
pose
.
And
his
voice
,
had
the
same
quality
,
which
was
why
,
I
suppose
,
I
did
n't
recognize
it
as
belonging
to
Coffey
at
first
.
He
seemed
a
different
man
from
the
lost
,
weepy
soul
that
had
occupied
this
cell
for
the
last
few
weeks
.
"
Give
im
to
me
,
Mr.
Edgecombe
!
While
there
's
still
time
!
"
Then
I
remembered
what
he
'd
done
for
me
,
and
understood
.
I
supposed
it
could
n't
hurt
,
but
I
did
n't
think
it
would
do
much
good
,
either
.
When
I
picked
the
mouse
up
,
I
winced
at
the
feel
--
there
were
so
many
splintered
bones
poking
at
various
spots
on
Mr.
Jingles
's
hide
that
it
was
like
picking
up
a
fur-covered
pincushion
.
This
was
no
urinary
infection
.
Still
--
"
What
are
you
doing
?
"
Brutal
asked
as
I
put
Mr.
Jingles
in
Coffey
's
huge
right
hand
.
"
What
the
hell
?
"
Coffey
pulled
the
mouse
back
through
the
bars
.
He
lay
limp
on
Coffey
's
palm
,
tail
hanging
over
the
arc
between
Coffey
's
thumb
and
first
finger
,
the
tip
twitching
weakly
in
midair
.
Then
Coffey
covered
his
right
hand
with
his
left
,
creating
a
kind
of
cup
in
which
the
mouse
lay
.
We
could
no
longer
see
Mr.
Jingles
himself
,
only
the
tail
,
hanging
down
and
twitching
at
the
tip
like
a
dying
pendulum
.
Coffey
lifted
his
hands
toward
his
face
,
spreading
the
fingers
of
the
right
as
he
did
so
,
creating
spaces
like
those
between
prison
bars
.
The
tail
of
the
mouse
now
hung
from
the
side
of
his
hands
that
was
facing
us
.
Brutal
stepped
next
to
me
,
still
holding
the
colored
spool
between
his
fingers
.
"
What
's
he
think
he
's
doing
?
"
"
Shh
,
"
I
said
.
Delacroix
had
stopped
screaming
.
"
Please
,
John
,
"
he
whispered
.
"
Oh
Johnny
,
help
him
,
please
help
him
,
oh
s
'
il
vous
pla
t.
"
Dean
and
Harry
joined
us
,
Harry
with
our
old
deck
of
Airplane
cards
still
in
one
hand
.
"
What
's
going
on
?
"
Dean
asked
,
but
I
only
shook
my
head
.
I
was
feeling
hypnotized
again
,
damned
if
I
was
n't
.
