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up from the toilet bowl was swampy and unpleasant； and I could see white stuff … pus； I guess … floating on the surface of the water。
I took the towel off the rack and wiped my face with it。 I was sweating； all right； it was pouring off me。 I looked into the metal mirror and saw the flushed face of a man running a high fever looking back at me。 Hundred and three？ Hundred and four？
Better not to know； maybe。 I put the towel back on its bar； flushed the toilet； and walked slowly back across my office to the cellblock door。 I was afraid Bill Dodge or someone else might have e in and seen three prisoners with no attendants； but the place was empty。 Wharton still lay unconscious on his bunk； Delacroix had fallen silent； and John Coffey had never made a single noise at all； I suddenly realized。 Not a peep。 Which was worrisome。
I went down the Mile and glanced into Coffey's cell； half…expecting to discover he'd mitted suicide in one of the two mon Death Row ways either hanging himself with his pants； or gnawing into his wrists。 No such thing； it turned out。 Coffey merely sat on the end of his bunk with his hands in his lap； the largest man I'd ever seen in my life； looking at me with his strange； wet eyes。
〃Cap'n？〃 he said。
〃What's up； big boy？〃
〃I need to see you。〃
〃Ain't you looking right at me； John Coffey？〃
He said nothing to this； only went on studying me with his strange； leaky gaze。 I sighed。
〃In a second； big boy
