But to Byron Hadley the glass was always half-empty. He spent most of the morning bitching to Mert about the bite that the goddam government was going to take out of  his windfall. "They'll leave me about enough to buy a new car with,' he allowed, 'and then what happens? You have to pay the damn taxes on the car, and the repairs and maintenance, you get your goddam kids pestering you to take 'em for a ride with the top down -'
'And to drive it, if they're old enough,' Mert said. Old Mert Entwhistle knew which side his bread was buttered on, and he didn't say what must have been as obvious to him as to the rest of us: If that money's worrying you so bad, Byron old kid old sock, I'll just take it off your hands. After all, what are friends for?
'That's right, wanting to drive it, wanting to learn to drive on it, for Chrissake,' Byron said with a shudder. 'Then what happens at the end of the year? If you figured the tax wrong and you don't have enough left over to pay the overdraft, you got to pay out of your own pocket, or maybe even borrow it from one of those kikey loan agencies. And they audit you anyway, you know. It don't matter. And when the government audits you, they always take more. Who can fight Uncle Sam? He puts his hand inside your shirt and squeezes your tit until it's purple, and you end up getting the short end. Christ.'
He lapsed into a morose silence, thinking of what terrible bad luck he'd had to inherit that $35,000. Andy Dufresne had been spreading tar with a big Padd brush less than fifteen feet away and now he tossed it into his pail and walked over to where Mert and Hadley were sitting.
We all tightened up, and I saw one of the other screws, Tim Youngblood, drag his hand down to where his pistol was bolstered. One of the fellows in the sentry tower struck his partner on the arm and they both turned, too. For one moment I thought Andy was going to get shot, or clubbed. Then he said, very softly, to Hadley: 'Do you trust your wife?'
Hadley just stared at him. He was starting to get red in the face, and I knew that was a bad sign. In about three seconds he as going to pull his billy and give Andy the butt end of it right in the solar plexus, where that big bundle of nerves is. A hard enough hit there can kill you, but they always go for it. If it doesn't kill you it will paralyze you long enough to forget whatever cute move it was that you had planned.
"Boy," Hadley said, I'll give you just one chance to pick up that Padd. And then you're goin' off this roof on your head.'
Andy just looked at him, very calm and still. His eyes were like ice. It was as if he hadn't heard. And I found myself wanting to tell him how it was, to give him the crash course. The crash course is you never let on that you hear the guards talking, you never try to horn in on their conversation unless you're asked (and then you always tell them just what they wanting to hear and shut up again). Black man, white man, red man., yellow man, in prison it doesn't matter because we've got our own brand of equality. In prison every con's a nigger and you have to get used to the idea if you intend to survive men like Hadley and Greg Staminas, who really would kill you just as soon as look at you. When you're in stir you belong to the state and if you forget it, woe is you. I've known men who've lost eyes, men who've lost toes and fingers; I knew one man who lost the tip of his penis and counted himself lucky that was all he lost. I wanted to tell Andy that it was already too late. He could go back and pick up his brush and there would still be some big lug waiting for him in the showers that night, ready to charlie-horse both of his legs and leave him writhing on the cement. You could buy a lug like rat for a pack of cigarettes or three Baby Ruths. Most of all, I wanted to tell him not to make it any worse than it already was.
What I did was to keep on running tar onto the roof as if nothing at all was happening. Like everyone else, I look after my own ass first. I have to. It's cracked already, and in Shawshank there have always been Hadleys wiling to finish the job of breaking it.
Andy said, 'Maybe I put it wrong. Whether you trust her or not is immaterial. The problem is whether or not you believe she would ever go behind your back, try to hamstring you.'
Hadley got up. Mert got up. Tim Youngblood got up. Hadley's face was as red as the side of a firebarn. 'Your only, problem,' he said, 'is going to be how many bones you still get unbroken. You can count them in the infirmary. Come on, Mert we're throwing this sucker over the side.'
Tim Youngblood drew his gun. The rest of us kept tarring like mad. The sun beat down. They were going to do it; Hadley and Mert were simply going to pitch him over the side. Terrible accident Dufresne, prisoner 81433-SHNK, was taking a couple of empties down and slipped on the ladder. Too bad.
They laid hold of him, Mert on the right arm, Hadley on the left. Andy didn't resist. His eyes never left Hadley's red, horsey face.
'If you've got your thumb on her, Mr Hadley,' he said in that same calm, composed voice, 'there's not a reason why you shouldn't have every cent of that money. Final score, Mr Byron Hadley thirty-five thousand, Uncle Sam zip.'
Mert started to drag him towards the edge. Hadley just stood still. For a moment Andy was like a rope between them in a tug-of-war game. Then Hadley said, 'Hold on one second, Mert. What do you mean, boy?'
'I mean, if you've got your thumb on your wife, you can give it to her,' Andy said.
'You better start making sense, boy, or you're going over.'
"The government allows you a one-time-only gift to your spouse,' Andy said. 'It's good up to sixty thousand dollars.'
Hadley was now looking at Andy as if he had been poleaxed. 'Naw, that ain't right,'
he said. 'Tax free?'
'Tax free,' Andy said. 'IRS can't touch cent one.'
'How would you know a thing like that?'
Tim Youngblood said: 'He used to be a banker, Byron. I s'pose he might-'
'Shut ya head, Trout,' Hadley said without looking at him. Tim Youngblood flushed and shut up. Some of the guards called him Trout because of his thick lips and buggy eyes. Hadley kept looking at Andy. 'You're the smart banker who shot his wife. Why should I believe a smart banker like you? So I can wind up in here breaking rocks right alongside you? You'd like that, wouldn't you?'

　　但是在哈力眼中，装了水的玻璃杯永远有一半是空的。哈力整个早上都在跟麦德抱怨，该死的政府要抽走他大部分的意外之财，“留下来的钱只够买辆新车，”他悻悻然，“然后怎么样？买了车以后还要付该死的税、付修理费和保养费，该死的孩子们又闹着要你带他们出去兜风——”
　　“等到他们长大了，还会要求把车开出去，”麦德说，老麦德知道面包的哪一面涂了奶油，他没有说出我们每个人心底的话，“老小子，如果那笔钱真是这么烫手的话，我很愿意接下这烫手山芋，否则要朋友做什么呢？”
　　“对啦！他们会要求开车，要求学开车，天哪！”哈力说到这里有点不寒而栗，“然后到了年底会怎么样？如果你发现不小心把税算错了，还得自掏腰包来补税，甚至还要去借贷来缴税。然后他们还要稽查你的财务呢，稽查完他们铁定要收更多的税，永远都这样。谁有能耐跟山姆大叔对抗？他们伸手到你衬衫里捏着你的奶头，直到你发紫发黑为止，最后倒霉的还是自己，老天爷！”
　　他陷入了懊恼的沉默中，想着他继承了这三万五千元，真是倒霉透了。安迪正在十五英尺外用一根大刷子刷沥青，他把刷子顺手扔到桶里，走向麦德和哈力坐的地方。
　　我们都紧张起来，我看到有个叫杨勒的警卫准备掏出枪来。在瞭望塔上的一名警卫也用手戳戳同伴的手臂，两人一起转过身来。有一阵子，我还以为安迪会被射杀、狠狠打一顿或两者都发生。
　　他轻声问哈力：“你信得过你太太吗？”
　　哈力只是瞪着他，开始涨红了脸，我知道要坏事了。三秒钟之内，他会抽出警棍来，朝着安迪的胃部要害打下去，胃后面正是太阳神经丛的所在，那儿有一大束神经，只要力道够大，就能送人上西天，但他们还是会打下去，万一没死，也足以让你麻痹很长一段时间，忘掉原本想做什么。
　　“小子，”哈力说，“我只给你一次机会去捡起刷子，然后从这屋顶滚下去。”
　　安迪只是看着他，非常冷静，目光如冰，恍若没有听到他的话似的。我真想上去告诉他识时务点，给他上一门速成课，告诉他，你绝不能让警卫知道你在偷听他们谈话，更不能插嘴，除非他们问你（即使他们问你，也只能有问必答，然后立刻闭嘴）。在这里，无论黑、白、红、黄哪色人种，在狱卒眼中都一样，他们全把你当黑鬼，如果你想在哈力和史特马这种人手下活命的话，你得习惯这种想法。当你坐牢的时候，你的命是属于国家的，如果你忘了这点，只有自己倒霉。我曾经看过瞎了眼的人，断了手指、脚趾的人，还有一个人命根子断了一小截，还暗自庆幸只受了这点伤。我想告诉安迪，已经太迟了。他可以回去捡起刷子，但是晚上还是会有个笨蛋在淋浴间等着他，准备打得他两腿痉挛，痛得在地上打滚。而你只要用一包香烟，就可以买通这样的笨蛋。最重要的是，我想告诉他，情况已经够糟了，不要把事情弄得比现在更糟。
　　但我什么也没做，只是若无其事地继续铺着沥青。我跟其他人一样，懂得如何明哲保身。我不得不如此。东西已经裂开来啦，而在肖申克，永远会有些像哈力这类人，极乐意把它打断。
　　安迪说：“也许我说得不对，你信不信任她不重要，问题在于你是否认为她会在你背后动手脚。”
　　哈力站起来，麦德站起来，杨勒也站起来。哈力的脸涨得通红。“现在惟一的问题是，你到底还有几根骨头没断，你可以到医务室去好好数一数。来吧，麦德！我们把这家伙丢下去。”
　　杨勒拔出枪来。我们其他人都疯狂地埋头铺沥青。大太阳底下，他们就要这么干了，哈力和麦德准备一人一边把他丢下去。可怕的意外！编号八一四三三?SHNK的囚犯杜佛尼脚踩空了几步，整个人从梯子上滑了下去。太惨了。
　　他们两人合力抓住他，麦德在右，哈力在左，安迪没有抵抗，眼睛一直盯住哈力紫涨的脸孔。
　　“哈力先生，如果她完全在你的掌控之下，”他还是用一贯平静镇定的声音说，“那么没有什么理由你不能全数保有那笔钱。最后的比数是：拜伦·哈力先生三万五千，山姆大叔零。”
　　麦德开始把他拉下去，哈力却只是站在那儿不动。有一阵子，安迪好像拔河比赛的那条绳子，在他们两人之间拉扯着。然后哈力说：“麦德，停一会儿。你说什么？”
　　“如果你控制得了你老婆，就可以把钱交给她。”安迪说。
　　“你最好把话说清楚点，否则是自找苦吃。”
　　“税捐处准许每个人一生中可以馈赠配偶一次礼物，金额最高可达六万元。”安迪说。
　　哈力怔怔地望着安迪，好像被斧头砍了一下那样。“不会吧，免税？”他说。
　　“免税，”安迪说，“税捐处一分钱也动不了。”
　　“你怎么知道这件事？”
　　杨勒说：“他以前在银行工作，我想他也许——”
　　“闭嘴，你这鳟鱼！”哈力说道，看也不看他，杨勒满脸通红，闭上嘴。有些警卫喊他鳟鱼，因为他嘴唇肥厚，眼睛凸出。哈力盯着安迪看，“你就是那个杀掉老婆的聪明银行家，我为何要相信像你这样的聪明银行家？你想要我跟你一样尝到铁窗滋味吗？你想害我，是不是？”