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t served him as posure。 He brushed his hair back from his forehead with his hands … soft and white and small； the hands of a girl in her early teens； you would have thought … and then approached the cell。 Delacroix saw him； and he cringed back even farther on his bunk； gibbering in a mixture of English and stewpot French。
〃I ain't done with you； Pierre；〃 he said； then jumped as one of Brutal's huge hands fell on his shoulder。
〃Yes you are；〃 Brutal said。 〃Now go on。 Get in the breeze！〃
〃You don't scare me； you know；〃 Percy said。 〃Not a bit！〃 His eyes shifted to me。 〃Either of you。〃 But we did。 You could see that in his eyes as clear as day； and it made him even more dangerous。 A guy like Percy doesn't even know himself what he means to do from minute to minute and second to second。
What he did right then was turn away from us and go walking up the corridor in long； arrogant strides。 He had shown the world what happened when scrawny； half…bald little Frenchmen tried to cop his joint； by God； and he was leaving the field a victor。
I went through my set speech； all about how we had the radio … Make Believe Ballroom and Our Gal Sunday； and how we'd treat him jake if he did the same for us。 That little homily was not what you'd call one of my great successes。 He cried all the way through it； sitting huddled up at the foot of his bunk； as far from me as he could get without actually fading into the corner。 He cringed every time I moved； and I don't
