"Some one wants to see you," returned Brown.

By this time Palmer had reached the top of the stairs and was outside the bed room. Sullivan opened the door and recognized his visitor. Not a muscle of his face moved.

"All right," he said, nonchalantly, "I'm coming."

To dress himself, as neat as wax--just as he always looked--was but the work of a few minutes. Then the door was opened again, and his form was seen in the dimly lighted hallway. Preceded by Palmer, who had been joined by Broderick, he went down-stairs into the dimly lighted hallway.

"Good evening, Palmer," he said, pleasantly.

The detective returned the greeting. "I have a mittimus for your arrest, Mr. Sullivan."

"Very well," was the response. He led the way into the parlor, and Palmer commenced to read the doc.u.ment. Sullivan stood up near the mantelpiece, leaning his elbow slightly upon the marble slab, and listened attentively. Not for an instant did he betray the slightest emotion. A contemptuous sneer settled on his lips. His head was slightly thrown back as if in defiance of the officers. His hand toyed for an instant with fringed plush that covered the rocking chair close by on his left. He never once took his eyes off Palmer as he read the mittimus. This was in the following form:

STATE OF ILLINOIS, COOK COUNTY, SS.--_The People of the State of Illinois, to the Sheriff and Jailer of said County, Greeting:_ Whereas, at an inquisition taken for the people of the State of Illinois at the Coroner's office, in said County of Cook, on the 23d day of May, A. D. 1889, before me, Henry L. Hertz, Coroner, in and for said County, upon view of the body of Patrick Henry Cronin then and there lying dead, upon the oath of six good and lawful men of said county, who being duly sworn as a Coroner's jury, to inquire on the part of the people of the State of Illinois into all the circ.u.mstances attending the death of the said Patrick Henry Cronin, and by whom the same was produced, and in what manner and when and where the said Patrick Henry Cronin came to his death; and, whereas, the said jury, by their verdict then and there delivered to the said Henry L. Hertz, Coroner, did return and find that the said Patrick Henry Cronin came to his death by being beaten on his head with some blunt instrument or instruments in the hands of some person or persons to the jury unknown; and that one Daniel Coughlin, one Patrick O'Sullivan, one Alexander Sullivan, and one Woodruff, alias Black, were connected with the death of the said Patrick Henry Cronin either as princ.i.p.als or as accessories before the fact, and should be held to answer to the grand jury.

Now, therefore, you are hereby required to receive into your custody the said Daniel Coughlin, Patrick O'Sullivan, Alexander Sullivan and Woodruff, alias Black, and them safely keep until discharged by due course of law.

Witness my hand this 11th day of June, A. D. 1889.

HENRY L. HERTZ,

Coroner Cook County.

Palmer had hardly reached the last word, when Sullivan remarked, without a perceptible tremor in his voice:

"Will you not remain here with me over night, Palmer?"

"I have no authority to do that," answered the officer, after a moment's hesitation, "I was instructed to take you down to the jail. I am sorry, but I shall have to do it."

"Very well," replied Sullivan, "I should like to have some clean linen with me or have it sent over."

"Certainly, that will be granted," replied Officer Palmer.

"Wait till I get my hat and coat," said Mr. Sullivan.

He walked out of the parlor into the hall-way, took down a light overcoat from the coat-rack, and put it on. Palmer a.s.sisted him.

"You are taking this very coolly, Mr. Sullivan," said the officer.

"Yes," was the answer, "why shouldn't I? My conscience does not trouble me."

"This proceeding was not altogether unexpected?"

"Well, yes, it was rather, at this hour of the night."

Brown stepped to the door and Broderick followed. Sullivan came behind.

"I am ready," he said.

Brown opened the door. Broderick stepped out, closely followed by Sullivan and Palmer. The three men went down the steps to the sidewalk, where they were met by Williams. All four entered the carriage which was in waiting. A dozen people were on the sidewalk, and Sullivan's next door neighbors had gathered on the veranda to see the Irish leader driven away. The driver gathered his reins, wheeled the horses around, and started them toward Dearborn avenue at a rapid trot. The vehicle had barely reached the corner when a little newsboy, with a big bundle of evening papers under his left arm, and waving an open one with his right, ran up to the carriage window.

"Here is your extra," he screamed, with all the strength of his infantile lungs. "All about Alexander Sullivan charged with Cronin's murder."

Not a muscle of Sullivan's face moved, not a fibre of his frame, so far as the officers observed, so much as twitched. He sat in his seat as motionless as a statue, apparently the most unconcerned of the four occupants of the vehicle.

Within five minutes the jail was reached. Williams was the first to alight, and, going up the steps, two at a time, he rapped heavily upon the iron door. In a moment it was opened. He ran down again to the carriage, and the other three men, Sullivan included, stepped out. The prisoner ascended the stone steps to the jail with deliberation, nodded to a bailiff who bade him good evening, and pa.s.sed in. Not a word was spoken as the little party crossed the hall way and yard. The turnkey had evidently been prepared for the new arrival, for, no sooner had Palmer reached the head of the little stairway leading to the jail proper, than the iron gates swung open for their reception. In a dignified manner Sullivan bowed to the bailiff inside, but did not speak. The full light of a half dozen gas jets shone full on his face.

Not the slightest change was observable in his appearance. He was just as cool, just as collected, just as courteous, as he had appeared to his clients in his office but a few hours before. He stepped up to the wicket as Palmer read the mittimus to the deputy jailer, and, when the latter bade him a cordial good evening, he merely nodded his head. The officials did not ask him a single question, and when one of the bystanders approached him and asked: "Have you anything to say to-night?" he replied, in a polite but firm tone that admitted of no doubt as to its meaning:

"No, not to-night. What I have to say will be said in court. I have no more to say to-night than I had a week ago." With these words he shook hands with the detectives and others present whom he knew personally.

The door to the inner cage and corridor opened, and, as soon as he had stepped in, was pulled to and locked.

The ex-Irish leader, whose name was a household word wherever, throughout the wide world, two or three of the Irish race were gathered together, was a prisoner of the State, a prisoner charged with complicity in one of the most dastardly and cold blooded murders that had ever disgraced a civilized community.

Yet, even now, his phenomenal firmness and self possession remained with him. For a few moments he paced the corridor while the turnkeys arranged the bedding which had been specially provided for him in Cell number 25 of "Murderers' Row."

"This way if you please," said one of the jailers, when this had been done.

With a respectful half inclination of the body, Sullivan stepped into the narrow cell, and the big key grated in the lock. When, ten minutes later, the same jailer peered in through the grating, the prisoner, stretched upon his cot, was as sound asleep as a new born babe.

Many of the friends of the murdered physician remained in their headquarters until the arrest had been fully accomplished, and there was considerable jubilation when the information that Sullivan had been placed behind the bars was received. Telegrams conveying the developments of the day were sent to scores of prominent Irishmen in the leading cities of the country.

"This is a splendid days work," said Luke Dillon. "This crime will now be fully exposed. The plot will be unraveled and guilty brought to punishment."

"Everything is progressing in the right direction," said P. W. Dunne, one of the closest friends of the dead man, "I am the last man to gloat over a fallen foe, but Alexander Sullivan's arrest comes none too soon."

ALEXANDER SULLIVAN'S EVENTFUL LIFE.

Alexander Sullivan had been a conspicuous figure in Chicago's political life for some time, and a few years before had been a prominent figure in two of the most exciting murder trials ever witnessed in that city. Many persons believed, from the active part which Alexander Sullivan has taken in Irish affairs, that he was by birth an Irishman. He was a native of Amherstburg, Ont., where his father was stationed in the British military service. He went to Detroit in his youth and was engaged for a time in the boot and shoe store of A. J. Bour. Subsequently he set up in the same trade for himself, his store being in the Bresler Block, on Michigan avenue. He was not a success in the business, and his career in it was ended by the destruction of the establishment by fire, the work of an incendiary. It was charged by his enemies that he set the fire himself, but an investigation failed to fasten the guilt upon him.

Before this time he had made himself conspicuous in the trades unions as an advocate of the labor movement, then quite strong. In the political campaign of 1868 he took the stump for the Republican candidate. He was a polished and forcible speaker, and did excellent service throughout the State. His political course greatly offended his Irish brethren, nearly all of whom were Democrats, and they denounced him with great vigor. Soon after the installation of President Grant he was appointed Collector of Internal Revenue at Santa Fe, N. M., but was not confirmed.

Subsequently, however, he was made Secretary of the Territory. He established a Republican paper at Santa Fe, and published it for some time. He became embroiled in several quarrels in the Territory, and was once shot at by Gen. Heath. He was next heard of in this city, where he was connected in a reportorial capacity with the _Inter-Ocean_ and the _Times_. In 1873 he was made Secretary of the Board of Public Works, and held it for some time.

About 1874 he was married to Miss Margaret Buchanan, who for some time occupied a prominent position as a teacher in the public schools, at one time being Princ.i.p.al of the Houghton School. The evening of Aug. 7, 1876, Mr. Sullivan shot and killed Francis Hanford, Princ.i.p.al of the North Division High School in this city.

The record is that at a meeting of the City Council on the evening mentioned, when the report of the Committee on Schools was submitted, it was accompanied by two letters written by Mr.

Hanford, one of which made this statement: "The instigator and engineer-in-chief of all the deviltry connected with the legislation of the Board of Education is Mrs. Sullivan, wife of the Secretary of the Board of Public Works."

The letters further accused Mr. Sullivan's wife of bringing editorial and Catholic influences to bear upon the Board of Education, and of conspiring with Mayor Colvin and others to have J. L. Pickard, Superintendent of Public Schools, superseded by Duane Doty. Duane Doty and Mrs. Sullivan, it was further averred, were a "mutual admiration society."

Sullivan was present in the Council when these reflections on his wife were read. He went home, and, after narrating the case to Mrs.

Sullivan, took her and a younger brother in a carriage to Mr.

Hanford's house, and, meeting Hanford on the sidewalk in front of his house, demanded a retraction of what he had written. Hanford refused to give it. Sullivan struck him, and a general squabble ensued, during which, it was alleged, Hanford pushed Mrs. Sullivan, and thereupon Sullivan shot him. Hanford died in thirty minutes.

Sullivan was indicted for murder and tried twice. The first trial began Oct, 17 and ended Oct. 26. The jury disagreed. It stood eleven for acquittal and one for conviction. The second trial began Feb. 27 and ended March 10. Sullivan was acquitted.

At the time there was some talk of indicting the jury, a strong belief prevailing that their verdict had been bought. The jury, however, were never molested. Since his acquittal Mr. Sullivan had been practicing law in Chicago and gathering unto himself that influence with Irish secret societies, notably the Clan-na-Gael, which resulted in his election and re-election as President of the new Land League, which consolidated the Irish-American societies of all kinds. His power and influence was phenomenal, and he ruled every organization with which he was connected, with an iron hand.

As a result he made many warm friends, and just as many inveterate enemies, some of whom hated him with extraordinary intensity. Men like Parnell and Michael Davitt, however, extended him their full confidence, and were the first to come to his defense when the news of his arrest was published on the other side of the Atlantic.