him　then？　No；　no；　Aunt　Hermione　just　wouldn't　do。

Well；　then；　I　asked；　suppose　one　of　us　took　it？　One　of　us　guards？　We　could　keep　him　right　here　on　E　Block。　No；　Delacroix　said；　he　thanked　me　kindly　for　the　thought；　certainement；　but　Mr。　Jingles　was　a　mouse　that　yearned　to　be　free。　He；　Eduard　Delacroix；　knew　this；　because　Mr。　Jingles　had　…　you　guessed　it　…　whispered　the　information　in　his　ear。

〃All　right；〃　I　said；　〃one　of　us　will　take　him　home；　Del。　Dean；　maybe。　He's　got　a　little　boy　that　would　just　love　a　pet　mouse；　I　bet。〃

Delacroix　actually　turned　pale　with　horror　at　the　thought。　A　little　kid　in　charge　of　a　rodent　genius　like　Mr。　Jingles？　How　in　the　name　of　le　bon　Dieu　could　a　little　kid　be　expected　to　keep　up　with　his　training；　let　alone　teach　him　new　tricks？　And　suppose　the　kid　lost　interest　and　forgot　to　feed　him　for　two　or　three　days　at　a　stretch？　Delacroix；　who　had　roasted　six　human　beings　alive　in　an　effort　to　cover　up　his　original　crime；　shuddered　with　the　delicate　revulsion　of　an　ardent　anti…vivisectionist。

All　right；　I　said；　I'd　take　him　myself　（promise　them　anything；　remember；　in　their　last　forty…eight　hours；　promise　them　anything）。　How　would　that　be？

〃No；　sir；　Boss　Edgebe；〃　Del　said　apologetically。　He　threw　the　spool　again。　It　hit　the　wall；　bounced；　spun；　then　Mr。　Jingles　was　on　it　like　white　on　rice　and　nosing　it　back　to　Delacroix。　〃Thank　you　kindly　…　merci　beaucoup　…　but　you　live　out　in　the　woods；　and　Mr。　Jingles；　he　be　sc