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or cooking or Saul's conversion on the Damascus road。 She was looking out the window toward the ridges； her chin propped on her hand； her eyes as hazy as those ridges look on summer mornings when it's going to be hot。 Summer mornings like the one when the Detterick girls had been found； I thought for no reason。 I wondered why they hadn't screamed。
Their killer had hurt them； there had been blood on the porch； and on the steps。 So why hadn't they screamed？
〃You think John Coffey really killed that man Wharton； don't you？〃 Janice asked； looking back from the window at last。 〃Not that it was an accident； or anything like that； you think he used Percy Wetmore on Wharton like a gun。〃
〃Yes。〃
〃Why？〃
〃I don't know。'
〃Tell me again about what happened when you took Coffey off the Mile； would you？ Just that part。〃
So I did。 I told her how the skinny arm shooting out from between the bars and grabbing John 's bicep had reminded me of a snake…one of the water moccasins we were all scared of when we were kids swimming in the river … and how Coffey had said Wharton was a bad man。 Almost whispering it。
〃And Wharton said 。。。 ？〃 My wife was looking out the window again； but she was listening； all right。
〃Wharton said； 'That's right； nigger； bad as you'd want。； 〃
〃And that's all。〃
〃Yes。 I had a feeling that something was going to happen right then； but nothing did。 Brutal took Wharton's hand off John and told him to
