第7部分(第2/7 頁)

There　was　nothing　there　to　get　alarmed　about。　Delacroix　had　wept　briefly　after　turning　in　…　he　did　most　nights；　and　more　for　himself　than　for　the　folks　he　had　roasted　alive；　I　am　quite　sure　…　and　then　had　take　Mr。　Jingles；　the　mouse；　out　of　the　cigar　box　he　slept　in。　That　had　calmed　Del；　and　he　had　slept　like　a　baby　the　rest　of　the　night。　Mr。　Jingles　had　most　likely　spent　it　on　Delacroix's　stomach；　with　his　tail　curled　over　his　paws；　eyes　unblinking。　It　was　as　if　God　had　decided　Delacroix　needed　a　guardian　angel；　but　had　decreed　in　His　wisdom　that　only　a　mouse　would　do　for　a　rat　like　our　homicidal　friend　from　Louisiana。　Not　all　that　was　in　Brutal's　report；　of　course；　but　I　had　done　enough　night　watches　myself　to　fill　in　the　stuff　between　the　lines。　There　was　a　brief　note　about　Coffey：　〃Laid　aay　have　cried　some。　I　tried　to　get　some　talk　started；　but　after　a　few　grunted　replies　from　Coffey；　gave　up。　Paul　or　Harry　may　have　better　luck。〃

〃Getting　the　talk　started〃　was　at　the　center　of　our　job；　really。　I　didn't　know　it　then；　but　looking　back　from　the　vantage　point　of　this　strange　old　age　（I　think　all　old　ages　seem　strange　to　the　folk　who　must　endure　them）；　I　understand　that　it　was；　and　why　I　didn't　see　it　then　…　it　was　too　big；　as　central　to　our　work　as　our　respiration　was　to　our　lives。　It　wasn't　important　that　the　floaters　be　good　at　〃getting　the　talk　started；〃　but　it　was　vital　for　me　and　Harry　and　Brutal　and　Dean。。。　and　it　was　one　reason　why　Percy　Wetmore　was　such　a　disaster。　The　inmates　hated　him；　the　guards　hated　him　。。。　everyone　hated　him；　presumably；　except　for　his　political　connections；　Percy　himself；　and　maybe　（but　only　maybe）　his　mother。　He　was　like　a　dose　of　white　arsenic　sprinkled　into　a　wedding　cake；　and　I　think　I　knew　he　spelled　disaster　the　start。　He　was