Читать книгу The Crime of the Century; Or, The Assassination of Dr. Patrick Henry Cronin - Henry M. Hunt - Страница 6

Table of Contents

DR. CRONIN FAILS TO RETURN HOME—ANXIETY OF HIS FRIENDS—THE EARLY MORNING RIDE TO THE ICE HOUSE—O'SULLIVAN'S SURPRISE AND IGNORANCE—THE MYSTERIOUS WAGON AND ITS OCCUPANTS—A BLOODY TRUNK IS FOUND—THE SEARCH COMMENCED—"IT IS HIS HAIR."

Dr. Cronin did not join his friends at the meeting of the Celto-American Society that memorable Saturday night. Nor, although the Conklins waited for him until long past midnight, were the familiar footsteps heard upon the stairs. The Sabbath dawned, and the first streaks of grey penetrated through the curtains into his apartments, but he was still absent. Naturally the Conklins became alarmed. During all the years that the physician had lived with them he had been a model of punctuality in his habits. It was the first occasion that he had remained so long from home without reason. If his business affairs happened to keep him away even an hour longer than usual it was his invariable practice to in some way contrive to advise his friends, so that they might notify any patients that came in his absence. Moreover, he was not a drinking man and such a thing as staying out all night with boon companions was foreign to his practice. Yet, eight hours had sped by, the morning had broken, and he had not returned. No wonder, then, that the family was alarmed, or that Mr. Conklin, without waiting for breakfast, determined to procure a buggy and drive to P. O'Sullivan's residence, which adjoined his ice house, at the corner of Seminary Avenue and Lake View. A startling surprise awaited him at the end of his six mile ride. O'Sullivan, when aroused from bed, was, to all appearances, considerably surprised when asked if the doctor was in the house.

P. O'SULLIVAN, THE ICE MAN.

"This is all news to me," he said, with an apparent air of frankness. "I have not been out of town and I know nothing of the man in a buggy."

"Was there not an accident in your ice house?" he was asked. "No," was the reply. "I have only four men in my employ and none of them have been injured."

"Then you did not call on Dr. Cronin, or send for him?"

"No, the man who did call used my name without authority. You say he used one of my cards, leaving it at the office. Well, I can understand how that happened. My cards are scattered all over Lake View and the city, and anybody could have used one in the same way."

"Do you know Dr. Cronin?" the ice man was asked.

"Yes," was his reply, "I have met him several times, and we were quite friendly."

"How did you come to engage him as physician to your family and workmen, when you live six miles from his office?"

This pointed query seemed to stagger the ice man for a moment, but at last he replied:

"He was recommended to me by Justice Mahoney." The latter, who had been elected a Lake View Magistrate but a few weeks before, had been regarded as one of Dr. Cronin's friends.

"Then you do not know how it happened that he was summoned to your ice house?" was the final query.

"I do not," emphatically replied O'Sullivan, "I cannot understand what were the motives of the man who went for him."

This was all that the ice man had to say. In the light of subsequent events, however, it was of importance. Mr. Conklin's worst fears were intensified. Driving rapidly home, he learned from his wife that the physician had not taken his revolver, as was his practice when going on a long trip; that he had only a small amount of money with him, and that he wore no jewelry of value except a watch. Without delay, Conklin proceeded to notify Frank J. Scanlan, his brother John, and two or three other Irish-Americans of prominence.

"This is the work of political enemies," they said without hesitation, "it has been skillfully planned and executed. It will take time and money to find him, if it is not intended to murder him."

Significant words. At that very hour the blood of the murdered man was calling aloud for vengeance.

A hue and cry was at once raised. The Chicago police were notified, and the most experienced detectives of the department started out on the case. Pinkerton's Detective Agency was retained, and Detective Frank Murray went out to Lake View as fast as a swift horse could take him. Captain Schaack of the Chicago Avenue Station, and officers of the Lake View police, were waited on and urged to turn loose all the officers they could spare to solve the mystery. Last, but not least, the newspaper offices were advised of the disappearance, and a score or more of sleuth reporters were soon in the suburb. By sundown of Sunday nearly sixty people were engaged in the search.