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d and received a transfer away from Old Sparky； over to C Block； and there a prisoner stabbed him in the throat with a shank and let out his life's blood on the dirty board floor。 I never knew why。 I don't think anyone ever knew why。 Old Sparky seems such a thing of perversity when I look back on those days； such a deadly bit of folly。 Fragile as blown glass； we are； even under the best of conditions。 To kill each other with gas and electricity； and in cold blood？ The folly。 The horror。
Brutal checked the strap； then stood back。 I waited for him to speak； but he didn't。 As he crossed his hands behind his back and stood at parade rest； I knew that he wouldn't。 Perhaps couldn't。 I didn't think I could； either； but then I looked at John 's terrified； weeping eyes and knew I had to。 Even if it damned me forever； I had to。
〃Roll on two；〃 I said in a dusty； cracking voice I hardly recognized as my own。
The cap hummed。 Eight large fingers and two large thumbs rose from the ends of the chair's broad oak arms and splayed tensely in ten different directions； their tips jittering。 His big knees made caged pistoning motions； but the clamps on his ankles held。 Overhead； three of the hanging lights blew out … Pow！ Pow！ Pow！ Marjorie Detterick screamed at the sound and fainted in her husband's arms。 She died in Memphis； eighteen years later。 Harry sent me the obit。 It was a trolley…car accident。
John surged forward against the chest…strap。 For a moment his eyes met mine。 They were aware； I was the last thing he saw as we tilted him off the edge of the world。 Then he fell against the seatback； the cap ing askew on his head a little； smoke … a sort of charry mist … drifting out from beneath it。 But on the whole； you know； it was quick。 I doubt if it was p
