Читать книгу The Crime of the Century; Or, The Assassination of Dr. Patrick Henry Cronin - Henry M. Hunt - Страница 32

Dr. P. H. Cronin is in Canada. He was seen, recognized and spoken to here to-day by a former Chicagoan, and in return told of his troubles, bitterly denouncing a number of Garden City people, Alexander Sullivan particularly. The missing and supposed-to-be-murdered physician seemed to be slightly deranged. C. T. Long, who for three years was intimately acquainted with Dr. Cronin in Chicago, was walking down Yonge street shortly after 11 o'clock this morning, and when opposite the Arcade came face to face with the missing Irish nationalist. He was accompanied by a man of shorter stature. "Hello, Doc; what are you doing here?" was Long's greeting. To this the doctor answered "Hello," and then pausing and drawing himself up in an injured manner, continued: "You have me at a disadvantage, sir. What do you want?"

"Why, Cronin, is it possible that you don't remember me?"

"I do not know you, sir, and shall have you handed over to the police in case you bother me further."

Having delivered himself of this the doctor turned the corner of the Arcade and quickly followed the retreating footsteps of his friend, who turned down Victoria street, and together they were soon lost in the crowd. Long informed the Herald correspondent that for three years he had been intimately acquainted with Cronin while living in Chicago—in fact, employed him as his family physician and belonged to several organizations with him. He was completely dumbfounded, first at sight of him and then at his mode of treatment. Cronin was dressed in a black coat and vest, light colored pants, black silk hat, and carried a small black hand-bag in one hand and a light spring overcoat thrown over his arm. The person with him appeared to be twenty-seven or thirty years of age, and while Long cannot place him, his face seemed quite familiar. At first sight he was taken for Jack Lynch, bailiff in Judge Clifford's court, and very strongly resembled him, but as far as Long knew Lynch was unknown to Cronin. Cronin's companion was dressed in a dark suit of clothes and slouch hat. He carried nothing but a newspaper, which was afterward picked up on Victoria street and proved to be a Chicago evening newspaper of the 7th inst.

Long at once made for the Union Station in the hope that he might there run across the pair, but after waiting some thirty minutes concluded to notify the police and have them keep a sharp lookout for Cronin. While on the way to the Court street Station, police headquarters, and at the corner of King and Toronto streets, Long again caught sight of the pair walking rapidly down Toronto street. Slipping into a doorway at the receiver general's office he waited until they had passed, and then noticed that Cronin had adjusted a pair of goggles, but otherwise was attired precisely the same as on Yonge street. Stepping up to the doctor the point-blank question was put: "Cronin, what are you doing in Toronto when your friends in Chicago are hunting the earth for you?"

"Now, look here, Long," he replied, "for God's sake let up on me. I have already had enough notoriety and don't want to be bothered. Why can't you let me go? You know I have always been your friend, and I shall expect that you will say nothing about having seen me."

"Come in and let us talk the matter over," said Long, leading the pair into a convenient saloon. Cronin appeared to be a very sick man; in fact, the first impression conveyed was that he was out of his mind. He rambled away, talking about the Royal League and Mr. Warren, the secretary, and then, apparently getting frenzied, denounced in strong terms a number of St. Louis and Chicago gentlemen, among them Alexander Sullivan, John F. Scanlan, Dr. O'Reilly, M. F. Madden, Lawyer Berry, Harry Ballard, Judge Prendergast and Lawyer Wade. He mentioned several other names, but they were unknown to Long. Cronin went on to state that he had unearthed a great crime in Chicago during the past few months, but would give no details, and stated that his life had been settled as the penalty. "You know what kind of a man Sullivan is, don't you?" he said. "Well, he will never let up on me for what I have done, but I have a host of friends—yes, sir, a host of friends—in this country, and if harm comes to me all will not be well for him, I can assure you." All during the conversation his companion never opened his lips, and when he began talking of Sullivan he took him by the arm and whispered in his ear, after which Cronin refused to speak further.

"Where are you stopping in town?" was met with a point-blank refusal to say more and an entreaty not to follow him. He was allowed to leave the saloon, and at once Cronin and his companion entered a cab and were driven rapidly west on King street. Long, too, summoned a cab, but through a mistake of the driver the wrong hack was followed. This brought up at the Union Station shortly after 12 o'clock. Long glanced at the time tables and found that the first train leaving the depot would be at 12:20 and concluded to wait and see if the case would further develop. At exactly 12:18 a two-horse covered cab dashed up to the station and from it sprang Cronin, the unknown man, and a lady apparently about twenty-three years of age. They all three hurried into the train for Hamilton, not waiting to purchase tickets. Long boarded the train and asked Cronin for what point they were bound, and being refused a civil answer stated that he would stay with him and inform the police at the first station in case he refused to give up. He thereupon stated that they intended going to Niagara Falls. The lady was probably twenty to twenty-three or four years of age and wore a dark gray traveling dress and a turban hat. She carried a shawl-strap and a brown paper parcel. Cronin had nothing but his small bag and overcoat, while the stranger carried a large brown leather valise.

Long has known Cronin for the past three years and intimately for the past two, belonged to a number of societies with him and had frequently visited his office on Clark street and received in return calls from the doctor at the house he used to live in, 271 Huron street, and could not possibly be mistaken in the man. The only time Cronin ever made any remark to Long while in Chicago which would lead to the idea that he anticipated violence was one night while walking together up Clark street about 11:30 o'clock, and at Huron street the doctor requested Long to accompany him as far as Division street on a car, as he did not know what might happen to him. Passing Dillon's book store Frank Scanlan was met, and he went on home with the doctor.