第34部分(第1/7 页)

ld　Sparky　ran　off　a　generator；　and　unless　that　took　a　direct　lightning…hit；　the　show　would　go　on。　Harry　was　in　the　switch　room　that　night；　so　he　and　Bill　Dodge　and　Percy　Wetmore　acted　as　ushers；　seeing　folks　into　their　seats　and　asking　each　one　if　he'd　like　a　cold　drink　of　water。　There　were　two　women　present：　the　sister　of　the　girl　Del　had　raped　and　murdered；　and　the　mother　of　one　of　the　fire　victims。　The　latter　lady　was　large　and　pale　and　determined。　She　told　Harry　Terwilliger　that　she　hoped　the　man　she'd　e　to　see　was　good　and　scared；　that　he　knew　the　fires　in　the　furnace　were　stoked　for　him；　and　that　Satan's　imps；　were　waiting　for　him。　Then　she　burst　into　tears　and　buried　her　face　in　a　lace　hanky　that　was　almost　the　size　of　a　pillowslip。

Thunder；　hardly　muffled　at　all　by　the　tin　roof；　banged　harsh　and　loud。　People　glanced　up　uneasily。　Men　who　looked　unfortable　wearing　ties　this　late　at　night　wiped　at　their　florid　cheeks。　It　was　hotter　than　blue　blazes　in　the　storage　shed。　And；　of　course；　they　kept　turning　their　eyes　to　Old　Sparky。　They　might　have　made　jokes　about　this　chore　earlier　in　the　week；　but　the　jokes　were　gone　by　eleven…thirty　or　so　that　night。　I　started　all　this　by　telling　you　that　the　humor　went　out　of　the　situation　in　a　hurry　for　the　people　who　had　to　sit　down　in　that　oak　chair；　but　the　condemned　prisoners　weren't　the　only　ones　who　lost　the　smiles　off　their　faces　when　the　time　actually　came。　It　just　seemed　so　bald；　somehow；　squatting　up　there　on　its　platform；　with　the　clamps　on　the　legs　sticking　off　to　either　side；　looking　like　the　things　a　person　with　polio　would　have　to　wear。　There　wasn't　much　talk；　and　when　the　thunder　boomed　again；　as　sharp　and　personal　as　a　splintering　tree；　the　sister　of　Delacroix's　victim　gave　a　little　scream。　The　last　per