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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