The gallant manner in which Blodget had espoused his cause, completely won the confidence of Monteagle, and when he said to the youth, ‘Come, now that rascal of a Sintown has been turned out, we will just amuse ourselves here, if you have no objection.’
‘Sintown, is his name? it seems to me that I have heard that name. Was he not once arrested for robbing a Mexican?’
‘Something of that sort, I believe,’ returned Blodget, glancing stealthily at the youth, ‘but there was no proof of his guilt.’
‘Proof—there is proof enough in the scoundrel’s eye and, indeed, in all the rest of his features, to hang a dozen men.’
Blodget smiled pensively and drew Monteagle to the table. After playing a little while, Monteagle lost a couple of slugs, when Blodget took his arm and said, ‘Come, my good fellow, the luck goes against you to-night. You must wait till Madame Fortune, who, according to Bonaparte, always favors the young, is in a better mood.’
Monteagle had already become fascinated by the game, but he did not care to evince greater devotion to the gambling table than his companion; therefore he announced his readiness to depart.
They had scarcely gone a dozen paces from the door, when a man stepped lightly up to Blodget, and clapping his hand on his shoulder, said, ‘You are my prisoner, sir.’
Monteagle started; but Blodget very coolly turned his face towards the man and let the segar-smoke stream from his mouth directly into the eyes of the officer.
‘You will go with me,’ cried the officer angrily.
‘Will I? In—deed. Something of a prophet too—’