red
the man into his private office and at once began to put him in what is
known in police parlance as "the sweat box," or in other words, to put
him through a rapid course of questioning. At first the man--a mild
mannered young fellow, attired in clothes of cheap material, with bad
complexion, square features, heavy jaws, and a pronounced squint in one
eye--gave his name as Frank J. Black, although he afterwards admitted
that it was Woodruff. He was, he said, 26 years of age, a Canadian by
birth, and a railroad laborer by occupation.

"I want to make a confession," he remarked, after the preliminaries had
been completed. He was warned that it would have to be entirely
voluntary, and that no immunity could be promised. To this understanding
he gave his assent, and Sergeant Cosgrove, having been called in as a
witness, the prisoner commenced his story:

"A week ago last Wednesday," (May 1) he said, "I was in Sol Van Praag's
gambling house, at 392 South State Street, playing poker. I lost $8,
and, just before 11 o'clock, I got up from the table saying: I ought not
to gamble, I can't afford to lose any money. Just then William H. King,
an old friend of mine, who was standing by, said to me: 'I'll put you on
the road to make a few dollars if you want to.' I told him I was
willing," went on Woodruff, "and that I could be found at D. G. Dean's
livery stable, at 406 Webster Avenue, where I was working. We had
several drinks, and then went down State Street to Madison, where King
left me. He did not say how I was to make the money. But last Sunday he
came up to the stable in the afternoon, and called me out. We went into
a saloon near by, and King said to me: 'I want you to get a horse and
some light rig in which to carry a trunk, about 2 o'clock to-morrow
morning, if you can. I want you to do it quietly, and be sure to come
out before three or four o'clock. If you can't get out as early as that,
I don't want you at all.'"

Woodruff had been talking rapidly. He paused a moment for breath, and
then went on.

WOODRUFF'S LURID STORY.

"The wagon was to be brought to a corner a few blocks from our stable,
where King was to be in waiting. At three o'clock in the morning I
hitched a white horse to a light wagon and drove to the corner, where I
found King. He told me it was all right, and that there was $25 in it
for me. King got into the wagon and told me to drive to the rear of 528
North State Street. When we got there, we