The watcher's intake of breath was sibilant. The air was sweet with the perfume of flowers, and the melody of murmuring insects, the blue sky was cloudless, the heat of the sun was tempered by the heather-scented west wind. Gradually McClintock shifted the burden to Spurlock's shoulders and retired among his books and music rolls. “I have been bearing this—for your sake. Against the walls hung an assortment of staves, brown-bills, (weapons then borne by the watch,) muskets, handcuffs, great-coats, and lanterns. Sebastian leapt down into the crypt.
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