give the impression that the accused quietly summoned them to
his cell to make a voluntary statement. The defendant denies
this, of course, but the evidence goes in and the harm has
been done. No doubt the methods of the inquisition are in
vogue the world over under similar conditions. Everybody
knows that a statement by the accused immediately upon his
arrest is usually the most important evidence that can be
secured in any case. It is a police officer's duty to secure
one if he can do so by legitimate means. It is his custom to
secure one by any means in his power. As his oath, that such
a statement was voluntary, makes it ipso facto admissible as
evidence, the statutes providing that a defendant cannot be
compelled to give evidence against himself are practically
nullified.

In the more important cases the accused is usually put through
some sort of an inquisitorial process by the captain at the
station-house. If he is not very successful at getting
anything out of the prisoner the latter is turned over to the
sergeant and a couple of officers who can use methods of a
more urgent character. If the prisoner is arrested by
headquarters detectives, various efficient devices to compel
him to "give up what he knows" may be used--such as depriving
him of food and sleep, placing him in a cell with a "stool
pigeon" who will try to worm a confession out of him, and the
usual moral suasion of a heart-to-heart talk in the back room
with the inspector.

This is the darker side of the picture of practical
government. It is needless to say that the police do not