‘What is the matter?’ inquired Monteagle of a person whom he knew, and who just then paused opposite the window. ‘Oh, nothing much, sir,’ was the careless reply. ‘A fellow confined for murder has broken loose; but that we shall always have while such a police exists.’ ‘There’s next to no law in San Francisco,’ observed Blodget, ‘but do you think, my good man, that the Irishman,—that the prisoner—will get clear?’ ‘I don’t know,’ said the other, moving on, while Monteagle quickly said, ‘So, you think it’s Jamie?’ ‘Who else can it be?’ said Blodget, ‘he is the man who has been arrested for murder.’ ‘Of course,’ returned the youth, and yet he thought it strange that Blodget had hesitated when he first mentioned the Irishman, and he connected it with the fact that Blodget had seemed to be listening all the evening as if in anticipation of some such occurrence. These reflections were, however, soon swallowed up by the gay conversation that succeeded, and the pleasures of wine, music, and an interchange of sentiments with beings who, if virtuous, would have graced any drawing-room in the country. Still Monteagle was occasionally drawn to the contemplation of his friend who seemed quite restless and listened to every noise in the street. Monteagle had attached himself to an Italian girl, who might be nineteen years of age. Round and plump—with black amorous eyes and good teeth, she seemed to be all alive, and wholly made up of kindness and affection. Her history was somewhat romantic, as Monteagle learned it from another of the inmates of the house. She was called Loretto, but whether a real or a feigned name was not known. She had taken the vows of a nun from the purest and most sincere motives, but after being two years in the convent, she found it impossible to fulfil her vows. She was naturally formed for love, and could no longer endure to exist without yielding to the demands of an ardent nature, inflamed by a continual contemplation of imaginary love scenes, which always presented themselves to her mind when she would ponder upon more sacred matters.