Although the livery-man appeared to acquiesce in the detective's suggestion, and went away for the time being, he was more than ever determined in his mind to see the captain. He did not propose to "keep quiet about it." Accordingly, an hour later he went again to the station. He was told that the official was home at dinner, and he made a bee-line for the house. Schaack was there, and into his attentive ear Dinan poured his tale of the white horse, the buggy and the peculiar customer.
What possessed the doughty "burgomaster" (as Capt. Schaack was familiarly called by the residents of the North Division) to follow the course that he did at this juncture, passes all comprehension. On the witness-stand before the coroner's jury, some days later, he could only justify himself by the lame statement that, at the time, he did not believe that Cronin had been killed. He might also have admitted, and with truth, that he had placed absolute and implicit confidence in his subordinates, only--as had been the fate of many as good a man before him--to be deceived and betrayed. At any rate his treatment of the information, placed at his disposal by Dinan, was of such a character as to demonstrate so great a neglect of duty, both toward the chief of police and his subordinates and the public, that, when its full extent became known, he was, notwithstanding his previous record, first suspended from duty and subsequently dismissed from the force.
What Capt. Schaack should have done--what any other official of his own, or subordinate rank in the city would have done--was to have gone without unnecessary delay to the chief of police and acquainted him with the disclosures that the liveryman had made. Instead of this, however, upon returning to the station, he sent for Coughlin himself, the last man of all men, who should have been informed of what had transpired. When the detective responded, he was asked if Dinan's story was true, and replied that it was. Pressed for further particulars, he said that he had hired the rig for a man named Thomas Smith. Of this individual he knew very little, except that he had come to the station and introduced himself as a friend of Coughlin's brother, who lived in Hancock, Michigan. He had met this man Smith several times; and on the Saturday morning the visitor had asked him to procure him a horse and buggy for that evening, as he (Smith), not being known to the livery-men thereabouts, might experience some difficulty in securing one. This the detective protested, was the entire extent of his connection with the affair. He did not know what use the man had made of the rig, where he had gone, or what time he returned. In fact he had not set eyes on him since the day in question. Extraordinary as it may seem, Capt. Schaack accepted this story without question, and contented himself with ordering the detective to go out and find the man, and bring him in for examination. Coughlin promised to do so. Two days went by, and he failed to report. Schaack then sent for him again, and asked him if he had found his friend. Coughlin answered in the negative, and said that he did not know where to lay his hands on him, unless he happened to run across him in a saloon. This was not satisfactory.