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