oner or later, be revealed--were, in a figurative sense,
deprived of the power of speech. In the presence of the hacked and
decomposing body of the man they had maligned they had not a word to
say.

THE LONELY SCENE OF THE MURDER.

Startling developments were destined from this time on to follow each
other in rapid succession. Less than twenty-four hours after all that
was mortal of Dr. Cronin had been taken from the Lake View man-hole, the
place where his life's blood had been shed was discovered, and the
officers of the law were in possession of important clues which promised
to lead to the capture of the murderers.

It was a lonely place that the assassins of the Irish Nationalist had
chosen to perform their bloody work.

Patrick O'Sullivan, the ice man, resided in a comfortable house on the
corner of Bosworth and Roscoe Streets, in Lake View, less than two
miles from the man-hole that had been converted by the murderers into a
temporary tomb. Ample grounds surrounded the residence, while barns,
sheds and out-houses filled up most of the ground in the rear. The
corner lot back of these structures was vacant, but immediately next,
facing Ashland Avenue almost in a straight line with O'Sullivan's house,
and less than 150 feet away, stood a vacant cottage. It was a one-story
and basement, with an unfinished attic, weather-beaten and worn. The
street entrance led up a flight of wood stairs, while access to the rear
could only be obtained by another flight. The cottage stood fenced in in
a narrow lot, crowded into which, not fifty feet away, in the rear, was
a still smaller house.

[Illustration: SCENE OF THE TRAGEDY.]

This was occupied by an aged Swedish couple, Jonas Carlson and his wife
and their son John, a strapping, well-built fellow of some twenty-five
years. His parents owned the property, and about their only means of
livelihood was the rent derived from the larger cottage, when they were
fortunate enough to secure a tenant. Good luck, however, had failed to
attend them. Early in the year, the man, who, with his family, had
occupied it for some time, was convicted of embezzlement and sent to the
penitentiary, and his wife and children, lacking the wherewithal to pay
the rent, were forced to vacate. At the best, it was not a particularly
desirable locality, for, barring O'Sullivan's house, the two buildings
stood alone in an area as large as a city square, while the prairie,
dotted here and there wit