es。 His weight was given as two…eighty； but I think that was only an estimate； he had to have been three hundred and twenty； maybe as much as three hundred and fifty pounds。 Under the space for scars and identifying marks； one word had been blocked out in the laborious printing of Magnusson； the old trusty in Registration： Numerous。
I looked up。 Coffey had shuffled a bit to one side and I could see Harry standing across the corridor in front of Delacroix's cell … he was our only other prisoner in E Block when Coffey came in。 Del was a slight； balding man with the worried face of an accountant who knows his embezzlement will soon be discovered。 His tame mouse was sitting on his shoulder。
Percy Wetmore was leaning in the doorway of the cell which had just bee John Coffey's。 He had taken his hickory baton out of the custom…made holster he carried it in； and was tapping it against one palm the way a man does when he has a toy he wants to use。 And all at once I couldn't stand to have him there。 Maybe it was the unseasonable heat； maybe it was the urinary infection heating up my groin and making the itch of my flannel underwear all but unbearable； maybe it was knowing that the state had sent me a black man next door to an idiot to execute； and Percy clearly wanted to hand…tool him a little first。 Probably it was all those things。 Whatever it was； I stopped caring about his political connections for a little while。
〃Percy。〃 I said。 〃They're moving house over in