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；