"When I was about sixteen, I went to work driving a bakery wagon, so that I didn't see quite so much of my former pals, but delivering bread took me into places where no honest or moral man or boy ought to even dare to set his foot, let alone one like me; so I fell still further. "For all that, a pure, good girl fell in love with me, and I with her. I hated to deceive her, but made up my mind that I would cut it all out when we were married, if she'd promise to be my wife; and so we became engaged. But--I didn't cut it out. More than once she said, 'O Joe, you've been drinking! I smell it.' I'd laugh, and make some kind of an excuse, and she'd forgive me every time. Say, Mother Roberts, I hated myself from head to foot for lying as I did to that pure, sweet girl." "Go on, Joe, I'm listening." "One night I joined the boys in a game of cards in a saloon on Sequel Avenue. It appears that Mr. L----, the proprietor, who, by the way, was a veteran G. A. R. man, had received quite a sum of money that day--his back pension. _As God is my judge, I did not know this when I went in there that evening._ We had a round of drinks after the first game, and after the second, another round; then I said 'Good night' and went home. "Father and I slept in the same room, and I hadn't been in bed very long when a knock came on our door. "'Who's there?' asked father. "'Me, Constable ----, where's Joe? I want him.' "'Joe's out, Constable. What do you want him for?' asked father. "'No, I'm not out, Father. Here I am,' I said, at the same time jumping out of bed. 'What's up?' "'Joe, my boy, I'm sorry for you, but you're my prisoner. Dress as quick as you can and come with me. Mr. L---- was murdered tonight. He isn't dead yet, but he's dying. You were in his saloon a while ago, drinking and playing cards, and you are one of the three accused of the crime of murdering him for the sake of robbing him.' "The shock was so awful that I couldn't speak, and oh! poor old father! He shook me, saying, 'Speak, Joe. Tell the constable it's not so.' "Constable, my boy doesn't drink anything to speak of, and I don't suppose he knows one card from another; do you, Joe?' "Nobody answered this, and pretty soon we were in the presence of the dying man. Oh! Mother Roberts, it was like a horrible nightmare. I was dazed with the shock and the fright of it all. I could hardly get my voice when some one asked me where I had spent the evening, and at what time I had left that saloon. He must have been murdered right after I left. They tried to rouse him to see if he'd recognize me. He claimed to, but I'm sure he didn't; for he couldn't see and didn't know what he was talking about." "What of your two companions, Joe?" I asked. "One of them was there, in charge of the sheriff; I don't know where the other one was. From that night up to this we have been here in prison, though we haven't met. He's in a cell on another floor. He's sentenced to San Quentin for life.