The image did not move. Opposite the gallows was an open gallery, or scaffolding, like the stand at a racecourse, which, on state occasions, was crowded with spectators. She immediately took the pillows from under the head of the man who had two names, released the collar and tie, and arranged the arms alongside the body. He was painfully in earnest, too. McClintock, striking a match to relight his cigar, broke the spell. He was evidently nervous, and very anxious to be impressive; his projecting eyes sought to dominate. “You are not going out—this evening, I trust,” that lady asked, a trifle dismayed. It is you who took my name, not I yours. Wild will hang me. I'll go with you. She gulped for air merely, for it had been difficult to breathe with his hand almost cutting off the supply to her lungs.
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