Excerpt: "Jangling his keys on their big ring, the sheriff led John McLean down several steps, then through a long, narrow hall to the rear of the jail. From a distant corridor came the sound of a raucous voice attempting to sing one of the popular ragtimes of the day "Some fellow's still got a 'hang-over, '?" observed the sheriff as he paused before a cell, consulted a number, then searched for the key. As the door swung open a sleepy voice was raised in mock solemnity. "What ho, varlet! Why dost thou open the dungeon door? Has the king granted a reprieve?" His eyes blinking, the inmate stepped into the bright light of the hall. A dull red suffused his pale face as he saw the tall figure behind the sheriff."