ll 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 assisted 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 passed 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 app