If I don't, you shall clap me in the Condemned Hold in his stead. "I was about to add," continued Gay, "that my opera shall have no music except the good old ballad tunes. Spurlock had sensed what had gone completely over McClintock's head—that this was the playing of a soul in damnation. The door crashed back against the wall inside and both men hurtled into the room, weapons at the ready—and stopped dead. The easel and palette having been packed up, and the canvass carefully removed by Austin, the party took leave of the prisoner, who was so much abstracted that he scarcely noticed their departure. .
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