KUNZE'S SUPPOSED PART IN THE CRIME.
Considerable surprise was occasioned by the appearance of the name of John Kunze in the indictment.
JOHN KUNZE. Nobody had supposed that a German was connected with the conspiracy, while it was regarded as remarkable that the police should have been able to keep the fact that there was another suspect so complete a secret. Now, however, the facts came out. Kunze had come from Germany a few years before, representing that he was the heir to a large estate in Luxemburg, and had worked at various places and at anything he could get to do. For some reason or other he was taken under the protecting wing of Dan Coughlin, of whom he came to be regarded as a protege. The two men were together almost daily, and could scarcely have been on more intimate terms. Before the Grand Jury, Mertes, the milkman, had identified Kunze's picture as that of one of the two men whom he had seen drive up in a buggy to the Carlson cottage between eight and nine o'clock on the night of the murder.
"He was the man who staid in the buggy and held the horse while the other man ran up the steps and entered the door," were the milkman's own words.
In addition to this, a young man named James had positively identified the German as one of the tenants of the flat on Clark street, saying that he had seen him, coming and going, and at the windows, for nearly a month. More than this, he had seen him washing his feet before the window. The Grand Jury had considered this evidence as conclusive. Kunze was arrested in Chicago on July 1st, and slept that night, with his fellow suspects, five in number, in a cell in "Murderers' row."
CHAPTER XVII.
PUBLIC ABHORRENCE AT THE CRIME—A GREAT OUT-POURING OF THE PEOPLE—COSMOPOLITAN ASSEMBLAGE AT CENTRAL MUSIC HALL—A JUDGE'S VIGOROUS SPEECH—CONGRESSMEN DENOUNCE THE CRIME—THE RIVAL DEMONSTRATIONS AT CHELTENHAM BEACH AND OGDEN'S GROVE.
Greater honors could scarcely have been accorded the departed statesman, patriot or warrior than were paid by the citizens of Chicago to the memory of the man who had been removed from their midst by means and methods so foul and dastardly.
Three thousand men and women—young people just budding into manhood and womanhood, old folks with whitened locks and faltering step—crowded the spacious Central Music Hall and its approaches on the night of June 28, to express their detestation of the crime that had stained the fair fame of the Garden City, to denounce the criminals and to demand of those responsible for the execution of the law that no effort be spared to bring the guilty to justice. It was one of the most cosmopolitan assemblages that had ever been gathered under a roof in Chicago. There were native Americans, British Americans and Irish Americans, Swedes and Italians, Frenchmen and Germans. Members of the colored race were scattered here and there through the vast audience, and even the Chinese colony had its representatives in a couple of distinguished looking Celestials, who, with characteristic modesty, occupied seats away back in the rear.