When I walked back up the path twenty minutes later； I could feel a worm of hunger stirring in my belly； and thought I could eat something a little more substantial than toast。 A dish of oatmeal； perhaps even a scrambled egg with a sausage on the side。 I love sausage； always have； but if I eat more than one these days； I'm apt to get the squitters。 One would be safe enough； though。 Then； with my belly full and with the damp air still perking up my brain （or so I hoped）； I would go up to the solarium and write about the execution of Eduard Delacroix。 I would do it as fast as I could； so as not to lose my courage。
It was Mr。 Jingles I was thinking about as I crossed the croquet course to the kitchen door … how Percy Wetmore had stamped on him and broken his back； and how Delacroix had screamed when he realized what his enemy had done … and I didn't see Brad Dolan standing there； half…hidden by the Dumpster； until he reached out and grabbed my wrist。
〃Out for a little stroll； Paulie？〃 he asked。
I jerked back from him； yanking my wrist out of his hand。 Some of it was just being startled … anyone will jerk when they're startled … but that wasn't all of it。 I'd been thinking about Percy Wetmore； remember； and it's Percy that Brad always reminds me of。 Some of it's how Brad always goes around with a paperback stuffed into his pocket （with Percy it was always a men's adventure magazine； with Brad it's books of jokes that are only funny if you're stupid and me