any long…time prison screw will tell you。 That was the kind of stuff we thought of without even knowing we were thinking of it … the way we knew not to let the cons call us by our first names； the way we knew that the sound of rapidly jingling keys meant trouble on the block； because it was the sound of a prison guard running and prison guards never run unless there's trouble in the valley。 Stuff Percy Wetmore was never going to get wise to。
Tonight； however； Wharton had no interest in grabbing or choking。 He snatched the tin cup； downed the pop in three long swallows； then voiced a resounding belch。 〃Excellent！〃 he said。
I held my hand out。 〃Cup。〃
He held it for a moment； teasing with his eyes。 〃Suppose I keep it？〃
I shrugged。 〃We'll e in and take it back。 You'll go down to the little room。 And you will have drunk your last R。C。 Unless they serve it down in hell； that is。〃
His smile faded。 〃I don't like jokes about hell； screwtip。〃 He thrust the cup out through the bars。 〃Here。 Take it。〃
I took it。 From behind me； Percy said： 〃Why in God's name did you want to give a lugoon like him a soda…pop？〃
Because it was loaded with enough infirmary dope to put him on his back for forty…eight hours； and he never tasted a thing； I thought。
〃With Paul；〃 Brutal said； 〃the quality of mercy is not strained； it droppeth like the gentle rain from heaven。〃
〃Huh？〃 Percy asked； frowning。
〃Means he's a soft touch。 Always has been； always will be。 Want to play a game of Crazy Eights； Percy？〃
Percy snorted。 〃Except for Go Fish and Old Maid； that's the stupidest card…game ever made。〃
〃That's why I thought you might like a few hands；〃 Brutal said； smiling sweetly。
〃Everybody's a Wisenheimer；〃 Percy said；