up　from　the　toilet　bowl　was　swampy　and　unpleasant；　and　I　could　see　white　stuff　…　pus；　I　guess　…　floating　on　the　surface　of　the　water。

I　took　the　towel　off　the　rack　and　wiped　my　face　with　it。　I　was　sweating；　all　right；　it　was　pouring　off　me。　I　looked　into　the　metal　mirror　and　saw　the　flushed　face　of　a　man　running　a　high　fever　looking　back　at　me。　Hundred　and　three？　Hundred　and　four？

Better　not　to　know；　maybe。　I　put　the　towel　back　on　its　bar；　flushed　the　toilet；　and　walked　slowly　back　across　my　office　to　the　cellblock　door。　I　was　afraid　Bill　Dodge　or　someone　else　might　have　e　in　and　seen　three　prisoners　with　no　attendants；　but　the　place　was　empty。　Wharton　still　lay　unconscious　on　his　bunk；　Delacroix　had　fallen　silent；　and　John　Coffey　had　never　made　a　single　noise　at　all；　I　suddenly　realized。　Not　a　peep。　Which　was　worrisome。

I　went　down　the　Mile　and　glanced　into　Coffey's　cell；　half…expecting　to　discover　he'd　mitted　suicide　in　one　of　the　two　mon　Death　Row　ways　either　hanging　himself　with　his　pants；　or　gnawing　into　his　wrists。　No　such　thing；　it　turned　out。　Coffey　merely　sat　on　the　end　of　his　bunk　with　his　hands　in　his　lap；　the　largest　man　I'd　ever　seen　in　my　life；　looking　at　me　with　his　strange；　wet　eyes。

〃Cap'n？〃　he　said。

〃What's　up；　big　boy？〃

〃I　need　to　see　you。〃

〃Ain't　you　looking　right　at　me；　John　Coffey？〃

He　said　nothing　to　this；　only　went　on　studying　me　with　his　strange；　leaky　gaze。　I　sighed。

〃In　a　second；　big　boy