A telegram was sent to the chief of the police at Springfield, Ill., asking if one C.J.  Miller lived there.  An answer in the negative was returned.  A few hours after, it was ascertained that a man named Miller, and his wife, did live at the number the prisoner gave in his speech, but the information came to Bardwell too late to do the prisoner any good.  Miller was taken to jail, every stitch of clothing literally torn from his body and examined again.  On the lower left side of the bosom of his shirt was found a dark reddish spot about the size of a dime.  Miller said it was paint which he had gotten on him at Jefferson Barracks.  This spot was only on the right side, and could not be seen from the under side at all, thus showing it had not gone through the cloth as blood or any liquid substance would do.

Chief-of-Police Mahaney, of Cairo, Ill., was with the prisoner, and he took his knife and scraped at the spot, particles of which came off in his hand.  Miller told them to take his clothes to any expert, and if the spot was shown to be blood, they might do anything they wished with him.  They took his clothes away and were gone some time.  After a while they were brought back and thrown into the cell without a word.  It is needless to say that if the spot had been found to be blood, that fact would have been announced, and the shirt retained as evidence.  Meanwhile numbers of rough, drunken men crowded into the cell and tried to force a confession of the deed from the prisoner’s lips.  He refused to talk save to reiterate his innocence.  To Mr. Mahaney, who talked seriously and kindly to him, telling him the mob meant to burn and torture him at three o’clock, Miller said:  “Burning and torture here lasts but a little while, but if I die with a lie on my soul, I shall be tortured forever.  I am innocent.”  For more than three hours, all sorts of pressure in the way of threats, abuse and urging, was brought to bear to force him to confess to the murder and thus justify the mob in its deed of murder.  Miller remained firm; but as the hour drew near, and the crowd became more impatient, he asked for a priest.  As none could be procured, he then asked for a Methodist minister, who came, prayed with the doomed man, baptized him and exhorted Miller to confess.  To keep up the flagging spirits of the dense crowd around the jail, the rumor went out more than once, that Miller had confessed.  But the solemn assurance of the minister, chief-of-police, and leading editor—­who were with Miller all along—­is that this rumor is absolutely false.

At three o’clock the mob rushed to the jail to secure the prisoner.  Mr. Ray had changed his mind about the promised burning; he was still in doubt as to the prisoner’s guilt.  He again addressed the crowd to that effect, urging them not to burn Miller, and the mob heeded him so far, that they compromised on hanging instead of burning, which was agreed to by Mr. Ray.  There was a loud yell, and a rush