"THE VALLEY OF FEAR\n\nBy Sir Arthur Conan Doyle\n\n\n\n\nPart 1--The Tragedy of Birlstone\n\n\n\n\nChapter 1--The Warning\n\n\n\n\"I am inclined to think--\" said I.\n\n\"I should do so,\" Sherlock Holmes remarked impatiently.\n\nI believe that I am one of the most long-suffering of mortals; but I'll\nadmit that I was annoyed at the sardonic interruption. \"Really, Holmes,\"\nsaid I severely, \"you are a little trying at times.\"\n\nHe was too much absorbed with his own thoughts to give any immediate\nanswer to my remonstrance. He leaned upon his hand, with his untasted\nbreakfast before him, and he stared at the slip of paper which he had\njust drawn from its envelope. Then he took the envelope itself, held it\nup to the light, and very carefully studied both the exterior and the\nflap.\n\n\"It is Porlock's writing,\" said he thoughtfully. \"I can hardly doubt\nthat it is Porlock's writing, though I have seen it only twice before.\nThe Greek e with the peculiar top flourish is distinctive. But if it is\nPorlock, then it must be something of the very first importance.\"\n\nHe was speaking to himself rather than to me; but my vexation\ndisappeared in the interest which the words awakened.\n\n\"Who then is Porlock?\" I asked.\n\n\"Porlock, Watson, is a nom-de-plume, a mere identification mark; but\nbehind it lies a shifty and evasive personality. In a former letter he\nfrankly informed me that the name was not his own, and defied me ever\nto trace him among the teeming millions of this great city. Porlock is\nimportant, not for himself, but for the great man with whom he is in\ntouch. Picture to yourself the pilot fish with the shark, the jackal\nwith the lion--anything that is insignificant in companionship with what\nis formidable: not only formidable, Watson, but sinister--in the highest\ndegree sinister. That is where he comes within my purview. You have\nheard me speak of Professor Moriarty?\"\n\n\"The famous scientific criminal, as famous among crooks as--\"\n\n\"My blushes, Watson!\" Holmes murmured in a deprecating voice.\n\n\"I was about to say, as he is unknown to the public.\"\n\n\"A touch! A distinct touch!\" cried Holmes. \"You are developing a certain\nunexpected vein of pawky humour, Watson, against which I must learn to\nguard myself. But in calling Moriarty a criminal you are uttering libel\nin the eyes of the law--and there lie the glory and the wonder of it!\nThe greatest schemer of all time, the organizer of every deviltry, the\ncontrolling brain of the underworld, a brain which might have made or\nmarred the destiny of nations--that's the man! But so aloof is he\nfrom general suspicion, so immune from criticism, so admirable in his\nmanagement and self-effacement, that for those very words that you have\nuttered he could hale you to a court and emerge with your year's pension\nas a solatium for his wounded character. Is he not the celebrated author\nof The Dynamics of an Asteroid, a book which ascends to such rarefied\nheights of pure mathematics that it is said that there was no man in the\nscientific press capable of criticizing it? Is this a man to traduce?\nFoul-mouthed doctor and slandered professor--such would be your\nrespective roles! That's genius, Watson. But if I am spared by lesser\nmen, our day will surely come.\"\n\n\"May I be there to see!\" I exclaimed devoutly. \"But you were speaking of\nthis man Porlock.\"\n\n\"Ah, yes--the so-called Porlock is a link in the chain some little way\nfrom its great attachment. Porlock is not quite a sound link--between\nourselves. He is the only flaw in that chain so far as I have been able\nto test it.\"\n\n\"But no chain is stronger than its weakest link.\"\n\n\"Exactly, my dear Watson! Hence the extreme importance of Porlock. Led\non by some rudimentary aspirations towards right, and encouraged by the\njudicious stimulation of an occasional ten-pound note sent to him by\ndevious methods, he has once or twice given me advance information which\nhas been of value--that highest value which anticipates and prevents\nrather than avenges crime. I cannot doubt that, if we had the cipher, we\nshould find that this communication is of the nature that I indicate.\"\n\nAgain Holmes flattened out the paper upon his unused plate. I rose and,\nleaning over him, stared down at the curious inscription, which ran as\nfollows:\n\n534 C2 13 127 36 31 4 17 21 41 DOUGLAS 109 293 5 37 BIRLSTONE 26\nBIRLSTONE 9 47 171\n\n\"What do you make of it, Holmes?\"\n\n\"It is obviously an attempt to convey secret information.\"\n\n\"But what is the use of a cipher message without the cipher?\"\n\n\"In this instance, none at all.\"\n\n\"Why do you say 'in this instance'?\"\n\n\"Because there are many ciphers which I would read as easily as I do the\napocrypha of the agony column: such crude devices amuse the intelligence\nwithout fatiguing it. But this is different. It is clearly a reference\nto the words in a page of some book. Until I am told which page and\nwhich book I am powerless.\"\n\n\"But why 'Douglas' and 'Birlstone'?\"\n\n\"Clearly because those are words which were not contained in the page in\nquestion.\"\n\n\"Then why has he not indicated the book?\"\n\n\"Your native shrewdness, my dear Watson, that innate cunning which is\nthe delight of your friends, would surely prevent you from inclosing\ncipher and message in the same envelope. Should it miscarry, you are\nundone. As it is, both have to go wrong before any harm comes from it.\nOur second post is now overdue, and I shall be surprised if it does\nnot bring us either a further letter of explanation, or, as is more\nprobable, the very volume to which these figures refer.\"\n\nHolmes's calculation was fulfilled within a very few minutes by the\nappearance of Billy, the page, with the very letter which we were\nexpecting.\n\n\"The same writing,\" remarked Holmes, as he opened the envelope, \"and\nactually signed,\" he added in an exultant voice as he unfolded the\nepistle. \"Come, we are getting on, Watson.\" His brow clouded, however,\nas he glanced over the contents.\n\n\"Dear me, this is very disappointing! I fear, Watson, that all our\nexpectations come to nothing. I trust that the man Porlock will come to\nno harm.\n\n\"DEAR MR. HOLMES [he says]:\n\n\"I will go no further in this matter. It is too dangerous--he suspects\nme. I can see that he suspects me. He came to me quite unexpectedly\nafter I had actually addressed this envelope with the intention of\nsending you the key to the cipher. I was able to cover it up. If he had\nseen it, it would have gone hard with me. But I read suspicion in his\neyes. Please burn the cipher message, which can now be of no use to you.\n\n\"FRED PORLOCK.\"\n\nHolmes sat for some little time twisting this letter between his\nfingers, and frowning, as he stared into the fire.\n\n\"After all,\" he said at last, \"there may be nothing in it. It may be\nonly his guilty conscience. Knowing himself to be a traitor, he may have\nread the accusation in the other's eyes.\"\n\n\"The other being, I presume, Professor Moriarty.\"\n\n\"No less! When any of that party talk about 'He' you know whom they\nmean. There is one predominant 'He' for all of them.\"\n\n\"But what can he do?\"\n\n\"Hum! That's a large question. When you have one of the first brains of\nEurope up against you, and all the powers of darkness at his back, there\nare infinite possibilities. Anyhow, Friend Porlock is evidently scared\nout of his senses--kindly compare the writing in the note to that upon\nits envelope; which was done, he tells us, before this ill-omened visit.\nThe one is clear and firm. The other hardly legible.\"\n\n\"Why did he write at all? Why did he not simply drop it?\"\n\n\"Because he feared I would make some inquiry after him in that case, and\npossibly bring trouble on him.\"\n\n\"No doubt,\" said I. \"Of course.\" I had picked up the original cipher\nmessage and was bending my brows over it. \"It's pretty maddening to\nthink that an important secret may lie here on this slip of paper, and\nthat it is beyond human power to penetrate it.\"\n\nSherlock Holmes had pushed away his untasted breakfast and lit the\nunsavoury pipe which was the companion of his deepest meditations. \"I\nwonder!\" said he, leaning back and staring at the ceiling. \"Perhaps\nthere are points which have escaped your Machiavellian intellect. Let us\nconsider the problem in the light of pure reason. This man's reference\nis to a book. That is our point of departure.\"\n\n\"A somewhat vague one.\"\n\n\"Let us see then if we can narrow it down. As I focus my mind upon it,\nit seems rather less impenetrable. What indications have we as to this\nbook?\"\n\n\"None.\"\n\n\"Well, well, it is surely not quite so bad as that. The cipher message\nbegins with a large 534, does it not? We may take it as a working\nhypothesis that 534 is the particular page to which the cipher refers.\nSo our book has already become a LARGE book, which is surely something\ngained. What other indications have we as to the nature of this large\nbook? The next sign is C2. What do you make of that, Watson?\"\n\n\"Chapter the second, no doubt.\"\n\n\"Hardly that, Watson. You will, I am sure, agree with me that if the\npage be given, the number of the chapter is immaterial. Also that if\npage 534 finds us only in the second chapter, the length of the first\none must have been really intolerable.\"\n\n\"Column!\" I cried.\n\n\"Brilliant, Watson. You are scintillating this morning. If it is not\ncolumn, then I am very much deceived. So now, you see, we begin to\nvisualize a large book printed in double columns which are each of a\nconsiderable length, since one of the words is numbered in the document\nas the two hundred and ninety-third. Have we reached the limits of what\nreason can supply?\"\n\n\"I fear that we have.\"\n\n\"Surely you do yourself an injustice. One more coruscation, my dear\nWatson--yet another brain-wave! Had the volume been an unusual one, he\nwould have sent it to me. Instead of that, he had intended, before his\nplans were nipped, to send me the clue in this envelope. He says so\nin his note. This would seem to indicate that the book is one which he\nthought I would have no difficulty in finding for myself. He had it--and\nhe imagined that I would have it, too. In short, Watson, it is a very\ncommon book.\"\n\n\"What you say certainly sounds plausible.\"\n\n\"So we have contracted our field of search to a large book, printed in\ndouble columns and in common use.\"\n\n\"The Bible!\" I cried triumphantly.\n\n\"Good, Watson, good! But not, if I may say so, quite good enough! Even\nif I accepted the compliment for myself I could hardly name any volume\nwhich would be less likely to lie at the elbow of one of Moriarty's\nassociates. Besides, the editions of Holy Writ are so numerous that he\ncould hardly suppose that two copies would have the same pagination.\nThis is clearly a book which is standardized. He knows for certain that\nhis page 534 will exactly agree with my page 534.\"\n\n\"But very few books would correspond with that.\"\n\n\"Exactly. Therein lies our salvation. Our search is narrowed down to\nstandardized books which anyone may be supposed to possess.\"\n\n\"Bradshaw!\"\n\n\"There are difficulties, Watson. The vocabulary of Bradshaw is nervous\nand terse, but limited. The selection of words would hardly lend itself\nto the sending of general messages. We will eliminate Bradshaw. The\ndictionary is, I fear, inadmissible for the same reason. What then is\nleft?\"\n\n\"An almanac!\"\n\n\"Excellent, Watson! I am very much mistaken if you have not touched the\nspot. An almanac! Let us consider the claims of Whitaker's Almanac. It\nis in common use. It has the requisite number of pages. It is in double\ncolumn. Though reserved in its earlier vocabulary, it becomes, if I\nremember right, quite garrulous towards the end.\" He picked the volume\nfrom his desk. \"Here is page 534, column two, a substantial block of\nprint dealing, I perceive, with the trade and resources of British\nIndia. Jot down the words, Watson! Number thirteen is 'Mahratta.' Not,\nI fear, a very auspicious beginning. Number one hundred and twenty-seven\nis 'Government'; which at least makes sense, though somewhat irrelevant\nto ourselves and Professor Moriarty. Now let us try again. What does the\nMahratta government do? Alas! the next word is 'pig's-bristles.' We are\nundone, my good Watson! It is finished!\"\n\nHe had spoken in jesting vein, but the twitching of his bushy eyebrows\nbespoke his disappointment and irritation. I sat helpless and unhappy,\nstaring into the fire. A long silence was broken by a sudden exclamation\nfrom Holmes, who dashed at a cupboard, from which he emerged with a\nsecond yellow-covered volume in his hand.\n\n\"We pay the price, Watson, for being too up-to-date!\" he cried. \"We are\nbefore our time, and suffer the usual penalties. Being the seventh of\nJanuary, we have very properly laid in the new almanac. It is more than\nlikely that Porlock took his message from the old one. No doubt he would\nhave told us so had his letter of explanation been written. Now let us\nsee what page 534 has in store for us. Number thirteen is 'There,'\nwhich is much more promising. Number one hundred and twenty-seven is\n'is'--'There is' \"--Holmes's eyes were gleaming with excitement, and his\nthin, nervous fingers twitched as he counted the words--\"'danger.' Ha!\nHa! Capital! Put that down, Watson. 'There is danger--may--come--very\nsoon--one.' Then we have the name 'Douglas'--'rich--country--now--at\nBirlstone--House--Birlstone--confidence--is--pressing.' There, Watson!\nWhat do you think of pure reason and its fruit? If the green-grocer had\nsuch a thing as a laurel wreath, I should send Billy round for it.\"\n\nI was staring at the strange message which I had scrawled, as he\ndeciphered it, upon a sheet of foolscap on my knee.\n\n\"What a queer, scrambling way of expressing his meaning!\" said I.\n\n\"On the contrary, he has done quite remarkably well,\" said Holmes. \"When\nyou search a single column for words with which to express your meaning,\nyou can hardly expect to get everything you want. You are bound to leave\nsomething to the intelligence of your correspondent. The purport is\nperfectly clear. Some deviltry is intended against one Douglas,\nwhoever he may be, residing as stated, a rich country gentleman. He is\nsure--'confidence' was as near as he could get to 'confident'--that it\nis pressing. There is our result--and a very workmanlike little bit of\nanalysis it was!\"\n\nHolmes had the impersonal joy of the true artist in his better work,\neven as he mourned darkly when it fell below the high level to which he\naspired. He was still chuckling over his success when Billy swung open\nthe door and Inspector MacDonald of Scotland Yard was ushered into the\nroom.\n\nThose were the early days at the end of the '80's, when Alec MacDonald\nwas far from having attained the national fame which he has now\nachieved. He was a young but trusted member of the detective force, who\nhad distinguished himself in several cases which had been intrusted\nto him. His tall, bony figure gave promise of exceptional physical\nstrength, while his great cranium and deep-set, lustrous eyes spoke no\nless clearly of the keen intelligence which twinkled out from behind his\nbushy eyebrows. He was a silent, precise man with a dour nature and a\nhard Aberdonian accent.\n\nTwice already in his career had Holmes helped him to attain success,\nhis own sole reward being the intellectual joy of the problem. For\nthis reason the affection and respect of the Scotchman for his amateur\ncolleague were profound, and he showed them by the frankness with which\nhe consulted Holmes in every difficulty. Mediocrity knows nothing higher\nthan itself; but talent instantly recognizes genius, and MacDonald had\ntalent enough for his profession to enable him to perceive that there\nwas no humiliation in seeking the assistance of one who already stood\nalone in Europe, both in his gifts and in his experience. Holmes was\nnot prone to friendship, but he was tolerant of the big Scotchman, and\nsmiled at the sight of him.\n\n\"You are an early bird, Mr. Mac,\" said he. \"I wish you luck with your\nworm. I fear this means that there is some mischief afoot.\"\n\n\"If you said 'hope' instead of 'fear,' it would be nearer the truth,\nI'm thinking, Mr. Holmes,\" the inspector answered, with a knowing grin.\n\"Well, maybe a wee nip would keep out the raw morning chill. No, I won't\nsmoke, I thank you. I'll have to be pushing on my way; for the early\nhours of a case are the precious ones, as no man knows better than your\nown self. But--but--\"\n\nThe inspector had stopped suddenly, and was staring with a look of\nabsolute amazement at a paper upon the table. It was the sheet upon\nwhich I had scrawled the enigmatic message.\n\n\"Douglas!\" he stammered. \"Birlstone! What's this, Mr. Holmes? Man, it's\nwitchcraft! Where in the name of all that is wonderful did you get those\nnames?\"\n\n\"It is a cipher that Dr. Watson and I have had occasion to solve. But\nwhy--what's amiss with the names?\"\n\nThe inspector looked from one to the other of us in dazed astonishment.\n\"Just this,\" said he, \"that Mr. Douglas of Birlstone Manor House was\nhorribly murdered last night!\"\n\n\n\n\nChapter 2--Sherlock Holmes Discourses\n\n\n\nIt was one of those dramatic moments for which my friend existed. It\nwould be an overstatement to say that he was shocked or even excited\nby the amazing announcement. Without having a tinge of cruelty in\nhis singular composition, he was undoubtedly callous from long\noverstimulation. Yet, if his emotions were dulled, his intellectual\nperceptions were exceedingly active. There was no trace then of the\nhorror which I had myself felt at this curt declaration; but his face\nshowed rather the quiet and interested composure of the chemist who sees\nthe crystals falling into position from his oversaturated solution.\n\n\"Remarkable!\" said he. \"Remarkable!\"\n\n\"You don't seem surprised.\"\n\n\"Interested, Mr. Mac, but hardly surprised. Why should I be surprised?\nI receive an anonymous communication from a quarter which I know to be\nimportant, warning me that danger threatens a certain person. Within\nan hour I learn that this danger has actually materialized and that\nthe person is dead. I am interested; but, as you observe, I am not\nsurprised.\"\n\nIn a few short sentences he explained to the inspector the facts about\nthe letter and the cipher. MacDonald sat with his chin on his hands and\nhis great sandy eyebrows bunched into a yellow tangle.\n\n\"I was going down to Birlstone this morning,\" said he. \"I had come to\nask you if you cared to come with me--you and your friend here. But from\nwhat you say we might perhaps be doing better work in London.\"\n\n\"I rather think not,\" said Holmes.\n\n\"Hang it all, Mr. Holmes!\" cried the inspector. \"The papers will be full\nof the Birlstone mystery in a day or two; but where's the mystery\nif there is a man in London who prophesied the crime before ever it\noccurred? We have only to lay our hands on that man, and the rest will\nfollow.\"\n\n\"No doubt, Mr. Mac. But how do you propose to lay your hands on the\nso-called Porlock?\"\n\nMacDonald turned over the letter which Holmes had handed him. \"Posted\nin Camberwell--that doesn't help us much. Name, you say, is assumed. Not\nmuch to go on, certainly. Didn't you say that you have sent him money?\"\n\n\"Twice.\"\n\n\"And how?\"\n\n\"In notes to Camberwell post office.\"\n\n\"Did you ever trouble to see who called for them?\"\n\n\"No.\"\n\nThe inspector looked surprised and a little shocked. \"Why not?\"\n\n\"Because I always keep faith. I had promised when he first wrote that I\nwould not try to trace him.\"\n\n\"You think there is someone behind him?\"\n\n\"I know there is.\"\n\n\"This professor that I've heard you mention?\"\n\n\"Exactly!\"\n\nInspector MacDonald smiled, and his eyelid quivered as he glanced\ntowards me. \"I won't conceal from you, Mr. Holmes, that we think in\nthe C.I.D. that you have a wee bit of a bee in your bonnet over this\nprofessor. I made some inquiries myself about the matter. He seems to be\na very respectable, learned, and talented sort of man.\"\n\n\"I'm glad you've got so far as to recognize the talent.\"\n\n\"Man, you can't but recognize it! After I heard your view I made it my\nbusiness to see him. I had a chat with him on eclipses. How the talk got\nthat way I canna think; but he had out a reflector lantern and a globe,\nand made it all clear in a minute. He lent me a book; but I don't mind\nsaying that it was a bit above my head, though I had a good Aberdeen\nupbringing. He'd have made a grand meenister with his thin face and gray\nhair and solemn-like way of talking. When he put his hand on my shoulder\nas we were parting, it was like a father's blessing before you go out\ninto the cold, cruel world.\"\n\nHolmes chuckled and rubbed his hands. \"Great!\" he said. \"Great! Tell me,\nFriend MacDonald, this pleasing and touching interview was, I suppose,\nin the professor's study?\"\n\n\"That's so.\"\n\n\"A fine room, is it not?\"\n\n\"Very fine--very handsome indeed, Mr. Holmes.\"\n\n\"You sat in front of his writing desk?\"\n\n\"Just so.\"\n\n\"Sun in your eyes and his face in the shadow?\"\n\n\"Well, it was evening; but I mind that the lamp was turned on my face.\"\n\n\"It would be. Did you happen to observe a picture over the professor's\nhead?\"\n\n\"I don't miss much, Mr. Holmes. Maybe I learned that from you. Yes, I\nsaw the picture--a young woman with her head on her hands, peeping at\nyou sideways.\"\n\n\"That painting was by Jean Baptiste Greuze.\"\n\nThe inspector endeavoured to look interested.\n\n\"Jean Baptiste Greuze,\" Holmes continued, joining his finger tips and\nleaning well back in his chair, \"was a French artist who flourished\nbetween the years 1750 and 1800. I allude, of course to his working\ncareer. Modern criticism has more than indorsed the high opinion formed\nof him by his contemporaries.\"\n\nThe inspector's eyes grew abstracted. \"Hadn't we better--\" he said.\n\n\"We are doing so,\" Holmes interrupted. \"All that I am saying has a\nvery direct and vital bearing upon what you have called the Birlstone\nMystery. In fact, it may in a sense be called the very centre of it.\"\n\nMacDonald smiled feebly, and looked appealingly to me. \"Your thoughts\nmove a bit too quick for me, Mr. Holmes. You leave out a link or two,\nand I can't get over the gap. What in the whole wide world can be the\nconnection between this dead painting man and the affair at Birlstone?\"\n\n\"All knowledge comes useful to the detective,\" remarked Holmes. \"Even\nthe trivial fact that in the year 1865 a picture by Greuze entitled\nLa Jeune Fille a l'Agneau fetched one million two hundred thousand\nfrancs--more than forty thousand pounds--at the Portalis sale may start\na train of reflection in your mind.\"\n\nIt was clear that it did. The inspector looked honestly interested.\n\n\"I may remind you,\" Holmes continued, \"that the professor's salary can\nbe ascertained in several trustworthy books of reference. It is seven\nhundred a year.\"\n\n\"Then how could he buy--\"\n\n\"Quite so! How could he?\"\n\n\"Ay, that's remarkable,\" said the inspector thoughtfully. \"Talk away,\nMr. Holmes. I'm just loving it. It's fine!\"\n\nHolmes smiled. He was always warmed by genuine admiration--the\ncharacteristic of the real artist. \"What about Birlstone?\" he asked.\n\n\"We've time yet,\" said the inspector, glancing at his watch. \"I've a cab\nat the door, and it won't take us twenty minutes to Victoria. But about\nthis picture: I thought you told me once, Mr. Holmes, that you had never\nmet Professor Moriarty.\"\n\n\"No, I never have.\"\n\n\"Then how do you know about his rooms?\"\n\n\"Ah, that's another matter. I have been three times in his rooms, twice\nwaiting for him under different pretexts and leaving before he came.\nOnce--well, I can hardly tell about the once to an official detective.\nIt was on the last occasion that I took the liberty of running over his\npapers--with the most unexpected results.\"\n\n\"You found something compromising?\"\n\n\"Absolutely nothing. That was what amazed me. However, you have now seen\nthe point of the picture. It shows him to be a very wealthy man. How\ndid he acquire wealth? He is unmarried. His younger brother is a station\nmaster in the west of England. His chair is worth seven hundred a year.\nAnd he owns a Greuze.\"\n\n\"Well?\"\n\n\"Surely the inference is plain.\"\n\n\"You mean that he has a great income and that he must earn it in an\nillegal fashion?\"\n\n\"Exactly. Of course I have other reasons for thinking so--dozens of\nexiguous threads which lead vaguely up towards the centre of the web\nwhere the poisonous, motionless creature is lurking. I only mention\nthe Greuze because it brings the matter within the range of your own\nobservation.\"\n\n\"Well, Mr. Holmes, I admit that what you say is interesting: it's more\nthan interesting--it's just wonderful. But let us have it a little\nclearer if you can. Is it forgery, coining, burglary--where does the\nmoney come from?\"\n\n\"Have you ever read of Jonathan Wild?\"\n\n\"Well, the name has a familiar sound. Someone in a novel, was he not? I\ndon't take much stock of detectives in novels--chaps that do things\nand never let you see how they do them. That's just inspiration: not\nbusiness.\"\n\n\"Jonathan Wild wasn't a detective, and he wasn't in a novel. He was a\nmaster criminal, and he lived last century--1750 or thereabouts.\"\n\n\"Then he's no use to me. I'm a practical man.\"\n\n\"Mr. Mac, the most practical thing that you ever did in your life would\nbe to shut yourself up for three months and read twelve hours a day\nat the annals of crime. Everything comes in circles--even Professor\nMoriarty. Jonathan Wild was the hidden force of the London criminals,\nto whom he sold his brains and his organization on a fifteen per cent.\ncommission. The old wheel turns, and the same spoke comes up. It's all\nbeen done before, and will be again. I'll tell you one or two things\nabout Moriarty which may interest you.\"\n\n\"You'll interest me, right enough.\"\n\n\"I happen to know who is the first link in his chain--a chain with\nthis Napoleon-gone-wrong at one end, and a hundred broken fighting men,\npickpockets, blackmailers, and card sharpers at the other, with every\nsort of crime in between. His chief of staff is Colonel Sebastian Moran,\nas aloof and guarded and inaccessible to the law as himself. What do you\nthink he pays him?\"\n\n\"I'd like to hear.\"\n\n\"Six thousand a year. That's paying for brains, you see--the American\nbusiness principle. I learned that detail quite by chance. It's more\nthan the Prime Minister gets. That gives you an idea of Moriarty's gains\nand of the scale on which he works. Another point: I made it my business\nto hunt down some of Moriarty's checks lately--just common innocent\nchecks that he pays his household bills with. They were drawn on six\ndifferent banks. Does that make any impression on your mind?\"\n\n\"Queer, certainly! But what do you gather from it?\"\n\n\"That he wanted no gossip about his wealth. No single man should know\nwhat he had. I have no doubt that he has twenty banking accounts; the\nbulk of his fortune abroad in the Deutsche Bank or the Credit Lyonnais\nas likely as not. Sometime when you have a year or two to spare I\ncommend to you the study of Professor Moriarty.\"\n\nInspector MacDonald had grown steadily more impressed as the\nconversation proceeded. He had lost himself in his interest. Now his\npractical Scotch intelligence brought him back with a snap to the matter\nin hand.\n\n\"He can keep, anyhow,\" said he. \"You've got us side-tracked with your\ninteresting anecdotes, Mr. Holmes. What really counts is your remark\nthat there is some connection between the professor and the crime. That\nyou get from the warning received through the man Porlock. Can we for\nour present practical needs get any further than that?\"\n\n\"We may form some conception as to the motives of the crime. It is, as\nI gather from your original remarks, an inexplicable, or at least an\nunexplained, murder. Now, presuming that the source of the crime is as\nwe suspect it to be, there might be two different motives. In the first\nplace, I may tell you that Moriarty rules with a rod of iron over his\npeople. His discipline is tremendous. There is only one punishment in\nhis code. It is death. Now we might suppose that this murdered man--this\nDouglas whose approaching fate was known by one of the arch-criminal's\nsubordinates--had in some way betrayed the chief. His punishment\nfollowed, and would be known to all--if only to put the fear of death\ninto them.\"\n\n\"Well, that is one suggestion, Mr. Holmes.\"\n\n\"The other is that it has been engineered by Moriarty in the ordinary\ncourse of business. Was there any robbery?\"\n\n\"I have not heard.\"\n\n\"If so, it would, of course, be against the first hypothesis and in\nfavour of the second. Moriarty may have been engaged to engineer it on a\npromise of part spoils, or he may have been paid so much down to manage\nit. Either is possible. But whichever it may be, or if it is some third\ncombination, it is down at Birlstone that we must seek the solution. I\nknow our man too well to suppose that he has left anything up here which\nmay lead us to him.\"\n\n\"Then to Birlstone we must go!\" cried MacDonald, jumping from his chair.\n\"My word! it's later than I thought. I can give you, gentlemen, five\nminutes for preparation, and that is all.\"\n\n\"And ample for us both,\" said Holmes, as he sprang up and hastened to\nchange from his dressing gown to his coat. \"While we are on our way, Mr.\nMac, I will ask you to be good enough to tell me all about it.\"\n\n\"All about it\" proved to be disappointingly little, and yet there was\nenough to assure us that the case before us might well be worthy of\nthe expert's closest attention. He brightened and rubbed his thin hands\ntogether as he listened to the meagre but remarkable details. A long\nseries of sterile weeks lay behind us, and here at last there was a\nfitting object for those remarkable powers which, like all special\ngifts, become irksome to their owner when they are not in use. That\nrazor brain blunted and rusted with inaction.\n\nSherlock Holmes's eyes glistened, his pale cheeks took a warmer hue, and\nhis whole eager face shone with an inward light when the call for\nwork reached him. Leaning forward in the cab, he listened intently to\nMacDonald's short sketch of the problem which awaited us in Sussex. The\ninspector was himself dependent, as he explained to us, upon a scribbled\naccount forwarded to him by the milk train in the early hours of the\nmorning. White Mason, the local officer, was a personal friend, and\nhence MacDonald had been notified much more promptly than is usual at\nScotland Yard when provincials need their assistance. It is a very cold\nscent upon which the Metropolitan expert is generally asked to run.\n\n\"DEAR INSPECTOR MACDONALD [said the letter which he read to us]:\n\n\"Official requisition for your services is in separate envelope. This is\nfor your private eye. Wire me what train in the morning you can get for\nBirlstone, and I will meet it--or have it met if I am too occupied. This\ncase is a snorter. Don't waste a moment in getting started. If you can\nbring Mr. Holmes, please do so; for he will find something after his own\nheart. We would think the whole had been fixed up for theatrical\neffect if there wasn't a dead man in the middle of it. My word! it IS a\nsnorter.\"\n\n\"Your friend seems to be no fool,\" remarked Holmes.\n\n\"No, sir, White Mason is a very live man, if I am any judge.\"\n\n\"Well, have you anything more?\"\n\n\"Only that he will give us every detail when we meet.\"\n\n\"Then how did you get at Mr. Douglas and the fact that he had been\nhorribly murdered?\"\n\n\"That was in the inclosed official report. It didn't say 'horrible':\nthat's not a recognized official term. It gave the name John Douglas. It\nmentioned that his injuries had been in the head, from the discharge of\na shotgun. It also mentioned the hour of the alarm, which was close on\nto midnight last night. It added that the case was undoubtedly one of\nmurder, but that no arrest had been made, and that the case was one\nwhich presented some very perplexing and extraordinary features. That's\nabsolutely all we have at present, Mr. Holmes.\"\n\n\"Then, with your permission, we will leave it at that, Mr. Mac. The\ntemptation to form premature theories upon insufficient data is the bane\nof our profession. I can see only two things for certain at present--a\ngreat brain in London, and a dead man in Sussex. It's the chain between\nthat we are going to trace.\"\n\n\n\n\nChapter 3--The Tragedy of Birlstone\n\n\n\nNow for a moment I will ask leave to remove my own insignificant\npersonality and to describe events which occurred before we arrived upon\nthe scene by the light of knowledge which came to us afterwards. Only in\nthis way can I make the reader appreciate the people concerned and the\nstrange setting in which their fate was cast.\n\nThe village of Birlstone is a small and very ancient cluster of\nhalf-timbered cottages on the northern border of the county of Sussex.\nFor centuries it had remained unchanged; but within the last few years\nits picturesque appearance and situation have attracted a number of\nwell-to-do residents, whose villas peep out from the woods around. These\nwoods are locally supposed to be the extreme fringe of the great Weald\nforest, which thins away until it reaches the northern chalk downs.\nA number of small shops have come into being to meet the wants of the\nincreased population; so there seems some prospect that Birlstone may\nsoon grow from an ancient village into a modern town. It is the centre\nfor a considerable area of country, since Tunbridge Wells, the nearest\nplace of importance, is ten or twelve miles to the eastward, over the\nborders of Kent.\n\nAbout half a mile from the town, standing in an old park famous for its\nhuge beech trees, is the ancient Manor House of Birlstone. Part of this\nvenerable building dates back to the time of the first crusade, when\nHugo de Capus built a fortalice in the centre of the estate, which had\nbeen granted to him by the Red King. This was destroyed by fire in\n1543, and some of its smoke-blackened corner stones were used when, in\nJacobean times, a brick country house rose upon the ruins of the feudal\ncastle.\n\nThe Manor House, with its many gables and its small diamond-paned\nwindows, was still much as the builder had left it in the early\nseventeenth century. Of the double moats which had guarded its more\nwarlike predecessor, the outer had been allowed to dry up, and served\nthe humble function of a kitchen garden. The inner one was still there,\nand lay forty feet in breadth, though now only a few feet in depth,\nround the whole house. A small stream fed it and continued beyond it,\nso that the sheet of water, though turbid, was never ditchlike or\nunhealthy. The ground floor windows were within a foot of the surface of\nthe water.\n\nThe only approach to the house was over a drawbridge, the chains and\nwindlass of which had long been rusted and broken. The latest tenants\nof the Manor House had, however, with characteristic energy, set this\nright, and the drawbridge was not only capable of being raised, but\nactually was raised every evening and lowered every morning. By thus\nrenewing the custom of the old feudal days the Manor House was converted\ninto an island during the night--a fact which had a very direct bearing\nupon the mystery which was soon to engage the attention of all England.\n\nThe house had been untenanted for some years and was threatening to\nmoulder into a picturesque decay when the Douglases took possession of\nit. This family consisted of only two individuals--John Douglas and his\nwife. Douglas was a remarkable man, both in character and in person. In\nage he may have been about fifty, with a strong-jawed, rugged face, a\ngrizzling moustache, peculiarly keen gray eyes, and a wiry, vigorous\nfigure which had lost nothing of the strength and activity of youth.\nHe was cheery and genial to all, but somewhat offhand in his manners,\ngiving the impression that he had seen life in social strata on some far\nlower horizon than the county society of Sussex.\n\nYet, though looked at with some curiosity and reserve by his more\ncultivated neighbours, he soon acquired a great popularity among the\nvillagers, subscribing handsomely to all local objects, and attending\ntheir smoking concerts and other functions, where, having a remarkably\nrich tenor voice, he was always ready to oblige with an excellent song.\nHe appeared to have plenty of money, which was said to have been gained\nin the California gold fields, and it was clear from his own talk and\nthat of his wife that he had spent a part of his life in America.\n\nThe good impression which had been produced by his generosity and by\nhis democratic manners was increased by a reputation gained for utter\nindifference to danger. Though a wretched rider, he turned out at every\nmeet, and took the most amazing falls in his determination to hold\nhis own with the best. When the vicarage caught fire he distinguished\nhimself also by the fearlessness with which he reentered the building\nto save property, after the local fire brigade had given it up as\nimpossible. Thus it came about that John Douglas of the Manor House had\nwithin five years won himself quite a reputation in Birlstone.\n\nHis wife, too, was popular with those who had made her acquaintance;\nthough, after the English fashion, the callers upon a stranger who\nsettled in the county without introductions were few and far between.\nThis mattered the less to her, as she was retiring by disposition, and\nvery much absorbed, to all appearance, in her husband and her domestic\nduties. It was known that she was an English lady who had met Mr.\nDouglas in London, he being at that time a widower. She was a beautiful\nwoman, tall, dark, and slender, some twenty years younger than her\nhusband; a disparity which seemed in no wise to mar the contentment of\ntheir family life.\n\nIt was remarked sometimes, however, by those who knew them best, that\nthe confidence between the two did not appear to be complete, since the\nwife was either very reticent about her husband's past life, or else, as\nseemed more likely, was imperfectly informed about it. It had also been\nnoted and commented upon by a few observant people that there were signs\nsometimes of some nerve-strain upon the part of Mrs. Douglas, and that\nshe would display acute uneasiness if her absent husband should ever\nbe particularly late in his return. On a quiet countryside, where all\ngossip is welcome, this weakness of the lady of the Manor House did not\npass without remark, and it bulked larger upon people's memory when the\nevents arose which gave it a very special significance.\n\nThere was yet another individual whose residence under that roof was, it\nis true, only an intermittent one, but whose presence at the time of\nthe strange happenings which will now be narrated brought his name\nprominently before the public. This was Cecil James Barker, of Hales\nLodge, Hampstead.\n\nCecil Barker's tall, loose-jointed figure was a familiar one in the main\nstreet of Birlstone village; for he was a frequent and welcome visitor\nat the Manor House. He was the more noticed as being the only friend\nof the past unknown life of Mr. Douglas who was ever seen in his new\nEnglish surroundings. Barker was himself an undoubted Englishman; but by\nhis remarks it was clear that he had first known Douglas in America and\nhad there lived on intimate terms with him. He appeared to be a man of\nconsiderable wealth, and was reputed to be a bachelor.\n\nIn age he was rather younger than Douglas--forty-five at the most--a\ntall, straight, broad-chested fellow with a clean-shaved, prize-fighter\nface, thick, strong, black eyebrows, and a pair of masterful black eyes\nwhich might, even without the aid of his very capable hands, clear a way\nfor him through a hostile crowd. He neither rode nor shot, but spent his\ndays in wandering round the old village with his pipe in his mouth, or\nin driving with his host, or in his absence with his hostess, over the\nbeautiful countryside. \"An easy-going, free-handed gentleman,\" said\nAmes, the butler. \"But, my word! I had rather not be the man that\ncrossed him!\" He was cordial and intimate with Douglas, and he was no\nless friendly with his wife--a friendship which more than once seemed\nto cause some irritation to the husband, so that even the servants were\nable to perceive his annoyance. Such was the third person who was one of\nthe family when the catastrophe occurred.\n\nAs to the other denizens of the old building, it will suffice out of a\nlarge household to mention the prim, respectable, and capable Ames, and\nMrs. Allen, a buxom and cheerful person, who relieved the lady of some\nof her household cares. The other six servants in the house bear no\nrelation to the events of the night of January 6th.\n\nIt was at eleven forty-five that the first alarm reached the small local\npolice station, in charge of Sergeant Wilson of the Sussex Constabulary.\nCecil Barker, much excited, had rushed up to the door and pealed\nfuriously upon the bell. A terrible tragedy had occurred at the Manor\nHouse, and John Douglas had been murdered. That was the breathless\nburden of his message. He had hurried back to the house, followed within\na few minutes by the police sergeant, who arrived at the scene of the\ncrime a little after twelve o'clock, after taking prompt steps to warn\nthe county authorities that something serious was afoot.\n\nOn reaching the Manor House, the sergeant had found the drawbridge\ndown, the windows lighted up, and the whole household in a state of wild\nconfusion and alarm. The white-faced servants were huddling together in\nthe hall, with the frightened butler wringing his hands in the doorway.\nOnly Cecil Barker seemed to be master of himself and his emotions;\nhe had opened the door which was nearest to the entrance and he had\nbeckoned to the sergeant to follow him. At that moment there arrived\nDr. Wood, a brisk and capable general practitioner from the village.\nThe three men entered the fatal room together, while the horror-stricken\nbutler followed at their heels, closing the door behind him to shut out\nthe terrible scene from the maid servants.\n\nThe dead man lay on his back, sprawling with outstretched limbs in the\ncentre of the room. He was clad only in a pink dressing gown, which\ncovered his night clothes. There were carpet slippers on his bare feet.\nThe doctor knelt beside him and held down the hand lamp which had stood\non the table. One glance at the victim was enough to show the healer\nthat his presence could be dispensed with. The man had been horribly\ninjured. Lying across his chest was a curious weapon, a shotgun with the\nbarrel sawed off a foot in front of the triggers. It was clear that this\nhad been fired at close range and that he had received the whole charge\nin the face, blowing his head almost to pieces. The triggers had\nbeen wired together, so as to make the simultaneous discharge more\ndestructive.\n\nThe country policeman was unnerved and troubled by the tremendous\nresponsibility which had come so suddenly upon him. \"We will touch\nnothing until my superiors arrive,\" he said in a hushed voice, staring\nin horror at the dreadful head.\n\n\"Nothing has been touched up to now,\" said Cecil Barker. \"I'll answer\nfor that. You see it all exactly as I found it.\"\n\n\"When was that?\" The sergeant had drawn out his notebook.\n\n\"It was just half-past eleven. I had not begun to undress, and I was\nsitting by the fire in my bedroom when I heard the report. It was not\nvery loud--it seemed to be muffled. I rushed down--I don't suppose it\nwas thirty seconds before I was in the room.\"\n\n\"Was the door open?\"\n\n\"Yes, it was open. Poor Douglas was lying as you see him. His bedroom\ncandle was burning on the table. It was I who lit the lamp some minutes\nafterward.\"\n\n\"Did you see no one?\"\n\n\"No. I heard Mrs. Douglas coming down the stair behind me, and I rushed\nout to prevent her from seeing this dreadful sight. Mrs. Allen, the\nhousekeeper, came and took her away. Ames had arrived, and we ran back\ninto the room once more.\"\n\n\"But surely I have heard that the drawbridge is kept up all night.\"\n\n\"Yes, it was up until I lowered it.\"\n\n\"Then how could any murderer have got away? It is out of the question!\nMr. Douglas must have shot himself.\"\n\n\"That was our first idea. But see!\" Barker drew aside the curtain, and\nshowed that the long, diamond-paned window was open to its full extent.\n\"And look at this!\" He held the lamp down and illuminated a smudge of\nblood like the mark of a boot-sole upon the wooden sill. \"Someone has\nstood there in getting out.\"\n\n\"You mean that someone waded across the moat?\"\n\n\"Exactly!\"\n\n\"Then if you were in the room within half a minute of the crime, he must\nhave been in the water at that very moment.\"\n\n\"I have not a doubt of it. I wish to heaven that I had rushed to the\nwindow! But the curtain screened it, as you can see, and so it never\noccurred to me. Then I heard the step of Mrs. Douglas, and I could not\nlet her enter the room. It would have been too horrible.\"\n\n\"Horrible enough!\" said the doctor, looking at the shattered head and\nthe terrible marks which surrounded it. \"I've never seen such injuries\nsince the Birlstone railway smash.\"\n\n\"But, I say,\" remarked the police sergeant, whose slow, bucolic common\nsense was still pondering the open window. \"It's all very well your\nsaying that a man escaped by wading this moat, but what I ask you is,\nhow did he ever get into the house at all if the bridge was up?\"\n\n\"Ah, that's the question,\" said Barker.\n\n\"At what o'clock was it raised?\"\n\n\"It was nearly six o'clock,\" said Ames, the butler.\n\n\"I've heard,\" said the sergeant, \"that it was usually raised at sunset.\nThat would be nearer half-past four than six at this time of year.\"\n\n\"Mrs. Douglas had visitors to tea,\" said Ames. \"I couldn't raise it\nuntil they went. Then I wound it up myself.\"\n\n\"Then it comes to this,\" said the sergeant: \"If anyone came from\noutside--IF they did--they must have got in across the bridge before\nsix and been in hiding ever since, until Mr. Douglas came into the room\nafter eleven.\"\n\n\"That is so! Mr. Douglas went round the house every night the last thing\nbefore he turned in to see that the lights were right. That brought him\nin here. The man was waiting and shot him. Then he got away through the\nwindow and left his gun behind him. That's how I read it; for nothing\nelse will fit the facts.\"\n\nThe sergeant picked up a card which lay beside the dead man on the\nfloor. The initials V.V. and under them the number 341 were rudely\nscrawled in ink upon it.\n\n\"What's this?\" he asked, holding it up.\n\nBarker looked at it with curiosity. \"I never noticed it before,\" he\nsaid. \"The murderer must have left it behind him.\"\n\n\"V.V.--341. I can make no sense of that.\"\n\nThe sergeant kept turning it over in his big fingers. \"What's V.V.?\nSomebody's initials, maybe. What have you got there, Dr. Wood?\"\n\nIt was a good-sized hammer which had been lying on the rug in front of\nthe fireplace--a substantial, workmanlike hammer. Cecil Barker pointed\nto a box of brass-headed nails upon the mantelpiece.\n\n\"Mr. Douglas was altering the pictures yesterday,\" he said. \"I saw him\nmyself, standing upon that chair and fixing the big picture above it.\nThat accounts for the hammer.\"\n\n\"We'd best put it back on the rug where we found it,\" said the sergeant,\nscratching his puzzled head in his perplexity. \"It will want the best\nbrains in the force to get to the bottom of this thing. It will be a\nLondon job before it is finished.\" He raised the hand lamp and walked\nslowly round the room. \"Hullo!\" he cried, excitedly, drawing the window\ncurtain to one side. \"What o'clock were those curtains drawn?\"\n\n\"When the lamps were lit,\" said the butler. \"It would be shortly after\nfour.\"\n\n\"Someone had been hiding here, sure enough.\" He held down the light, and\nthe marks of muddy boots were very visible in the corner. \"I'm bound to\nsay this bears out your theory, Mr. Barker. It looks as if the man got\ninto the house after four when the curtains were drawn, and before six\nwhen the bridge was raised. He slipped into this room, because it was\nthe first that he saw. There was no other place where he could hide,\nso he popped in behind this curtain. That all seems clear enough. It\nis likely that his main idea was to burgle the house; but Mr. Douglas\nchanced to come upon him, so he murdered him and escaped.\"\n\n\"That's how I read it,\" said Barker. \"But, I say, aren't we wasting\nprecious time? Couldn't we start out and scout the country before the\nfellow gets away?\"\n\nThe sergeant considered for a moment.\n\n\"There are no trains before six in the morning; so he can't get away\nby rail. If he goes by road with his legs all dripping, it's odds that\nsomeone will notice him. Anyhow, I can't leave here myself until I am\nrelieved. But I think none of you should go until we see more clearly\nhow we all stand.\"\n\nThe doctor had taken the lamp and was narrowly scrutinizing the body.\n\"What's this mark?\" he asked. \"Could this have any connection with the\ncrime?\"\n\nThe dead man's right arm was thrust out from his dressing gown, and\nexposed as high as the elbow. About halfway up the forearm was a curious\nbrown design, a triangle inside a circle, standing out in vivid relief\nupon the lard-coloured skin.\n\n\"It's not tattooed,\" said the doctor, peering through his glasses. \"I\nnever saw anything like it. The man has been branded at some time as\nthey brand cattle. What is the meaning of this?\"\n\n\"I don't profess to know the meaning of it,\" said Cecil Barker; \"but I\nhave seen the mark on Douglas many times this last ten years.\"\n\n\"And so have I,\" said the butler. \"Many a time when the master has\nrolled up his sleeves I have noticed that very mark. I've often wondered\nwhat it could be.\"\n\n\"Then it has nothing to do with the crime, anyhow,\" said the sergeant.\n\"But it's a rum thing all the same. Everything about this case is rum.\nWell, what is it now?\"\n\nThe butler had given an exclamation of astonishment and was pointing at\nthe dead man's outstretched hand.\n\n\"They've taken his wedding ring!\" he gasped.\n\n\"What!\"\n\n\"Yes, indeed. Master always wore his plain gold wedding ring on the\nlittle finger of his left hand. That ring with the rough nugget on it\nwas above it, and the twisted snake ring on the third finger. There's\nthe nugget and there's the snake, but the wedding ring is gone.\"\n\n\"He's right,\" said Barker.\n\n\"Do you tell me,\" said the sergeant, \"that the wedding ring was BELOW\nthe other?\"\n\n\"Always!\"\n\n\"Then the murderer, or whoever it was, first took off this ring you call\nthe nugget ring, then the wedding ring, and afterwards put the nugget\nring back again.\"\n\n\"That is so!\"\n\nThe worthy country policeman shook his head. \"Seems to me the sooner we\nget London on to this case the better,\" said he. \"White Mason is a smart\nman. No local job has ever been too much for White Mason. It won't be\nlong now before he is here to help us. But I expect we'll have to look\nto London before we are through. Anyhow, I'm not ashamed to say that it\nis a deal too thick for the likes of me.\"\n\n\n\n\nChapter 4--Darkness\n\n\n\nAt three in the morning the chief Sussex detective, obeying the urgent\ncall from Sergeant Wilson of Birlstone, arrived from headquarters in a\nlight dog-cart behind a breathless trotter. By the five-forty train in\nthe morning he had sent his message to Scotland Yard, and he was at the\nBirlstone station at twelve o'clock to welcome us. White Mason was\na quiet, comfortable-looking person in a loose tweed suit, with a\nclean-shaved, ruddy face, a stoutish body, and powerful bandy legs\nadorned with gaiters, looking like a small farmer, a retired gamekeeper,\nor anything upon earth except a very favourable specimen of the\nprovincial criminal officer.\n\n\"A real downright snorter, Mr. MacDonald!\" he kept repeating. \"We'll\nhave the pressmen down like flies when they understand it. I'm hoping\nwe will get our work done before they get poking their noses into it and\nmessing up all the trails. There has been nothing like this that I can\nremember. There are some bits that will come home to you, Mr. Holmes,\nor I am mistaken. And you also, Dr. Watson; for the medicos will have\na word to say before we finish. Your room is at the Westville Arms.\nThere's no other place; but I hear that it is clean and good. The man\nwill carry your bags. This way, gentlemen, if you please.\"\n\nHe was a very bustling and genial person, this Sussex detective. In ten\nminutes we had all found our quarters. In ten more we were seated in the\nparlour of the inn and being treated to a rapid sketch of those events\nwhich have been outlined in the previous chapter. MacDonald made an\noccasional note; while Holmes sat absorbed, with the expression of\nsurprised and reverent admiration with which the botanist surveys the\nrare and precious bloom.\n\n\"Remarkable!\" he said, when the story was unfolded, \"most remarkable! I\ncan hardly recall any case where the features have been more peculiar.\"\n\n\"I thought you would say so, Mr. Holmes,\" said White Mason in great\ndelight. \"We're well up with the times in Sussex. I've told you now\nhow matters were, up to the time when I took over from Sergeant Wilson\nbetween three and four this morning. My word! I made the old mare go!\nBut I need not have been in such a hurry, as it turned out; for there\nwas nothing immediate that I could do. Sergeant Wilson had all the\nfacts. I checked them and considered them and maybe added a few of my\nown.\"\n\n\"What were they?\" asked Holmes eagerly.\n\n\"Well, I first had the hammer examined. There was Dr. Wood there to\nhelp me. We found no signs of violence upon it. I was hoping that if Mr.\nDouglas defended himself with the hammer, he might have left his mark\nupon the murderer before he dropped it on the mat. But there was no\nstain.\"\n\n\"That, of course, proves nothing at all,\" remarked Inspector MacDonald.\n\"There has been many a hammer murder and no trace on the hammer.\"\n\n\"Quite so. It doesn't prove it wasn't used. But there might have been\nstains, and that would have helped us. As a matter of fact there were\nnone. Then I examined the gun. They were buckshot cartridges, and, as\nSergeant Wilson pointed out, the triggers were wired together so that,\nif you pulled on the hinder one, both barrels were discharged. Whoever\nfixed that up had made up his mind that he was going to take no chances\nof missing his man. The sawed gun was not more than two foot long--one\ncould carry it easily under one's coat. There was no complete maker's\nname; but the printed letters P-E-N were on the fluting between the\nbarrels, and the rest of the name had been cut off by the saw.\"\n\n\"A big P with a flourish above it, E and N smaller?\" asked Holmes.\n\n\"Exactly.\"\n\n\"Pennsylvania Small Arms Company--well-known American firm,\" said\nHolmes.\n\nWhite Mason gazed at my friend as the little village practitioner looks\nat the Harley Street specialist who by a word can solve the difficulties\nthat perplex him.\n\n\"That is very helpful, Mr. Holmes. No doubt you are right. Wonderful!\nWonderful! Do you carry the names of all the gun makers in the world in\nyour memory?\"\n\nHolmes dismissed the subject with a wave.\n\n\"No doubt it is an American shotgun,\" White Mason continued. \"I seem\nto have read that a sawed-off shotgun is a weapon used in some parts of\nAmerica. Apart from the name upon the barrel, the idea had occurred to\nme. There is some evidence then, that this man who entered the house and\nkilled its master was an American.\"\n\nMacDonald shook his head. \"Man, you are surely travelling overfast,\"\nsaid he. \"I have heard no evidence yet that any stranger was ever in the\nhouse at all.\"\n\n\"The open window, the blood on the sill, the queer card, the marks of\nboots in the corner, the gun!\"\n\n\"Nothing there that could not have been arranged. Mr. Douglas was an\nAmerican, or had lived long in America. So had Mr. Barker. You don't\nneed to import an American from outside in order to account for American\ndoings.\"\n\n\"Ames, the butler--\"\n\n\"What about him? Is he reliable?\"\n\n\"Ten years with Sir Charles Chandos--as solid as a rock. He has been\nwith Douglas ever since he took the Manor House five years ago. He has\nnever seen a gun of this sort in the house.\"\n\n\"The gun was made to conceal. That's why the barrels were sawed. It\nwould fit into any box. How could he swear there was no such gun in the\nhouse?\"\n\n\"Well, anyhow, he had never seen one.\"\n\nMacDonald shook his obstinate Scotch head. \"I'm not convinced yet\nthat there was ever anyone in the house,\" said he. \"I'm asking you to\nconseedar\" (his accent became more Aberdonian as he lost himself in his\nargument) \"I'm asking you to conseedar what it involves if you suppose\nthat this gun was ever brought into the house, and that all these\nstrange things were done by a person from outside. Oh, man, it's just\ninconceivable! It's clean against common sense! I put it to you, Mr.\nHolmes, judging it by what we have heard.\"\n\n\"Well, state your case, Mr. Mac,\" said Holmes in his most judicial\nstyle.\n\n\"The man is not a burglar, supposing that he ever existed. The ring\nbusiness and the card point to premeditated murder for some private\nreason. Very good. Here is a man who slips into a house with the\ndeliberate intention of committing murder. He knows, if he knows\nanything, that he will have a deeficulty in making his escape, as the\nhouse is surrounded with water. What weapon would he choose? You would\nsay the most silent in the world. Then he could hope when the deed was\ndone to slip quickly from the window, to wade the moat, and to get away\nat his leisure. That's understandable. But is it understandable that\nhe should go out of his way to bring with him the most noisy weapon he\ncould select, knowing well that it will fetch every human being in the\nhouse to the spot as quick as they can run, and that it is all odds that\nhe will be seen before he can get across the moat? Is that credible, Mr.\nHolmes?\"\n\n\"Well, you put the case strongly,\" my friend replied thoughtfully.\n\"It certainly needs a good deal of justification. May I ask, Mr. White\nMason, whether you examined the farther side of the moat at once to see\nif there were any signs of the man having climbed out from the water?\"\n\n\"There were no signs, Mr. Holmes. But it is a stone ledge, and one could\nhardly expect them.\"\n\n\"No tracks or marks?\"\n\n\"None.\"\n\n\"Ha! Would there be any objection, Mr. White Mason, to our going down to\nthe house at once? There may possibly be some small point which might be\nsuggestive.\"\n\n\"I was going to propose it, Mr. Holmes; but I thought it well to put you\nin touch with all the facts before we go. I suppose if anything should\nstrike you--\" White Mason looked doubtfully at the amateur.\n\n\"I have worked with Mr. Holmes before,\" said Inspector MacDonald. \"He\nplays the game.\"\n\n\"My own idea of the game, at any rate,\" said Holmes, with a smile. \"I go\ninto a case to help the ends of justice and the work of the police. If\nI have ever separated myself from the official force, it is because they\nhave first separated themselves from me. I have no wish ever to score at\ntheir expense. At the same time, Mr. White Mason, I claim the right to\nwork in my own way and give my results at my own time--complete rather\nthan in stages.\"\n\n\"I am sure we are honoured by your presence and to show you all we\nknow,\" said White Mason cordially. \"Come along, Dr. Watson, and when the\ntime comes we'll all hope for a place in your book.\"\n\nWe walked down the quaint village street with a row of pollarded elms\non each side of it. Just beyond were two ancient stone pillars,\nweather-stained and lichen-blotched, bearing upon their summits a\nshapeless something which had once been the rampant lion of Capus of\nBirlstone. A short walk along the winding drive with such sward and oaks\naround it as one only sees in rural England, then a sudden turn, and the\nlong, low Jacobean house of dingy, liver-coloured brick lay before\nus, with an old-fashioned garden of cut yews on each side of it. As we\napproached it, there was the wooden drawbridge and the beautiful broad\nmoat as still and luminous as quicksilver in the cold, winter sunshine.\n\nThree centuries had flowed past the old Manor House, centuries of\nbirths and of homecomings, of country dances and of the meetings of fox\nhunters. Strange that now in its old age this dark business should have\ncast its shadow upon the venerable walls! And yet those strange, peaked\nroofs and quaint, overhung gables were a fitting covering to grim and\nterrible intrigue. As I looked at the deep-set windows and the long\nsweep of the dull-coloured, water-lapped front, I felt that no more\nfitting scene could be set for such a tragedy.\n\n\"That's the window,\" said White Mason, \"that one on the immediate right\nof the drawbridge. It's open just as it was found last night.\"\n\n\"It looks rather narrow for a man to pass.\"\n\n\"Well, it wasn't a fat man, anyhow. We don't need your deductions, Mr.\nHolmes, to tell us that. But you or I could squeeze through all right.\"\n\nHolmes walked to the edge of the moat and looked across. Then he\nexamined the stone ledge and the grass border beyond it.\n\n\"I've had a good look, Mr. Holmes,\" said White Mason. \"There is nothing\nthere, no sign that anyone has landed--but why should he leave any\nsign?\"\n\n\"Exactly. Why should he? Is the water always turbid?\"\n\n\"Generally about this colour. The stream brings down the clay.\"\n\n\"How deep is it?\"\n\n\"About two feet at each side and three in the middle.\"\n\n\"So we can put aside all idea of the man having been drowned in\ncrossing.\"\n\n\"No, a child could not be drowned in it.\"\n\nWe walked across the drawbridge, and were admitted by a quaint, gnarled,\ndried-up person, who was the butler, Ames. The poor old fellow was white\nand quivering from the shock. The village sergeant, a tall, formal,\nmelancholy man, still held his vigil in the room of Fate. The doctor had\ndeparted.\n\n\"Anything fresh, Sergeant Wilson?\" asked White Mason.\n\n\"No, sir.\"\n\n\"Then you can go home. You've had enough. We can send for you if we\nwant you. The butler had better wait outside. Tell him to warn Mr. Cecil\nBarker, Mrs. Douglas, and the housekeeper that we may want a word with\nthem presently. Now, gentlemen, perhaps you will allow me to give you\nthe views I have formed first, and then you will be able to arrive at\nyour own.\"\n\nHe impressed me, this country specialist. He had a solid grip of fact\nand a cool, clear, common-sense brain, which should take him some way\nin his profession. Holmes listened to him intently, with no sign of that\nimpatience which the official exponent too often produced.\n\n\"Is it suicide, or is it murder--that's our first question, gentlemen,\nis it not? If it were suicide, then we have to believe that this man\nbegan by taking off his wedding ring and concealing it; that he then\ncame down here in his dressing gown, trampled mud into a corner behind\nthe curtain in order to give the idea someone had waited for him, opened\nthe window, put blood on the--\"\n\n\"We can surely dismiss that,\" said MacDonald.\n\n\"So I think. Suicide is out of the question. Then a murder has been\ndone. What we have to determine is, whether it was done by someone\noutside or inside the house.\"\n\n\"Well, let's hear the argument.\"\n\n\"There are considerable difficulties both ways, and yet one or the other\nit must be. We will suppose first that some person or persons inside\nthe house did the crime. They got this man down here at a time when\neverything was still and yet no one was asleep. They then did the\ndeed with the queerest and noisiest weapon in the world so as to tell\neveryone what had happened--a weapon that was never seen in the house\nbefore. That does not seem a very likely start, does it?\"\n\n\"No, it does not.\"\n\n\"Well, then, everyone is agreed that after the alarm was given only a\nminute at the most had passed before the whole household--not Mr. Cecil\nBarker alone, though he claims to have been the first, but Ames and all\nof them were on the spot. Do you tell me that in that time the guilty\nperson managed to make footmarks in the corner, open the window, mark\nthe sill with blood, take the wedding ring off the dead man's finger,\nand all the rest of it? It's impossible!\"\n\n\"You put it very clearly,\" said Holmes. \"I am inclined to agree with\nyou.\"\n\n\"Well, then, we are driven back to the theory that it was done by\nsomeone from outside. We are still faced with some big difficulties;\nbut anyhow they have ceased to be impossibilities. The man got into the\nhouse between four-thirty and six; that is to say, between dusk and the\ntime when the bridge was raised. There had been some visitors, and the\ndoor was open; so there was nothing to prevent him. He may have been\na common burglar, or he may have had some private grudge against Mr.\nDouglas. Since Mr. Douglas has spent most of his life in America, and\nthis shotgun seems to be an American weapon, it would seem that the\nprivate grudge is the more likely theory. He slipped into this room\nbecause it was the first he came to, and he hid behind the curtain.\nThere he remained until past eleven at night. At that time Mr. Douglas\nentered the room. It was a short interview, if there were any interview\nat all; for Mrs. Douglas declares that her husband had not left her more\nthan a few minutes when she heard the shot.\"\n\n\"The candle shows that,\" said Holmes.\n\n\"Exactly. The candle, which was a new one, is not burned more than half\nan inch. He must have placed it on the table before he was attacked;\notherwise, of course, it would have fallen when he fell. This shows\nthat he was not attacked the instant that he entered the room. When Mr.\nBarker arrived the candle was lit and the lamp was out.\"\n\n\"That's all clear enough.\"\n\n\"Well, now, we can reconstruct things on those lines. Mr. Douglas\nenters the room. He puts down the candle. A man appears from behind the\ncurtain. He is armed with this gun. He demands the wedding ring--Heaven\nonly knows why, but so it must have been. Mr. Douglas gave it up. Then\neither in cold blood or in the course of a struggle--Douglas may have\ngripped the hammer that was found upon the mat--he shot Douglas in\nthis horrible way. He dropped his gun and also it would seem this queer\ncard--V.V. 341, whatever that may mean--and he made his escape through\nthe window and across the moat at the very moment when Cecil Barker was\ndiscovering the crime. How's that, Mr. Holmes?\"\n\n\"Very interesting, but just a little unconvincing.\"\n\n\"Man, it would be absolute nonsense if it wasn't that anything else is\neven worse!\" cried MacDonald. \"Somebody killed the man, and whoever it\nwas I could clearly prove to you that he should have done it some other\nway. What does he mean by allowing his retreat to be cut off like that?\nWhat does he mean by using a shotgun when silence was his one chance of\nescape? Come, Mr. Holmes, it's up to you to give us a lead, since you\nsay Mr. White Mason's theory is unconvincing.\"\n\nHolmes had sat intently observant during this long discussion, missing\nno word that was said, with his keen eyes darting to right and to left,\nand his forehead wrinkled with speculation.\n\n\"I should like a few more facts before I get so far as a theory, Mr.\nMac,\" said he, kneeling down beside the body. \"Dear me! these injuries\nare really appalling. Can we have the butler in for a moment?... Ames,\nI understand that you have often seen this very unusual mark--a branded\ntriangle inside a circle--upon Mr. Douglas's forearm?\"\n\n\"Frequently, sir.\"\n\n\"You never heard any speculation as to what it meant?\"\n\n\"No, sir.\"\n\n\"It must have caused great pain when it was inflicted. It is undoubtedly\na burn. Now, I observe, Ames, that there is a small piece of plaster at\nthe angle of Mr. Douglas's jaw. Did you observe that in life?\"\n\n\"Yes, sir, he cut himself in shaving yesterday morning.\"\n\n\"Did you ever know him to cut himself in shaving before?\"\n\n\"Not for a very long time, sir.\"\n\n\"Suggestive!\" said Holmes. \"It may, of course, be a mere coincidence, or\nit may point to some nervousness which would indicate that he had reason\nto apprehend danger. Had you noticed anything unusual in his conduct,\nyesterday, Ames?\"\n\n\"It struck me that he was a little restless and excited, sir.\"\n\n\"Ha! The attack may not have been entirely unexpected. We do seem to\nmake a little progress, do we not? Perhaps you would rather do the\nquestioning, Mr. Mac?\"\n\n\"No, Mr. Holmes, it's in better hands than mine.\"\n\n\"Well, then, we will pass to this card--V.V. 341. It is rough cardboard.\nHave you any of the sort in the house?\"\n\n\"I don't think so.\"\n\nHolmes walked across to the desk and dabbed a little ink from each\nbottle on to the blotting paper. \"It was not printed in this room,\" he\nsaid; \"this is black ink and the other purplish. It was done by a thick\npen, and these are fine. No, it was done elsewhere, I should say. Can\nyou make anything of the inscription, Ames?\"\n\n\"No, sir, nothing.\"\n\n\"What do you think, Mr. Mac?\"\n\n\"It gives me the impression of a secret society of some sort; the same\nwith his badge upon the forearm.\"\n\n\"That's my idea, too,\" said White Mason.\n\n\"Well, we can adopt it as a working hypothesis and then see how far our\ndifficulties disappear. An agent from such a society makes his way into\nthe house, waits for Mr. Douglas, blows his head nearly off with this\nweapon, and escapes by wading the moat, after leaving a card beside the\ndead man, which will, when mentioned in the papers, tell other members\nof the society that vengeance has been done. That all hangs together.\nBut why this gun, of all weapons?\"\n\n\"Exactly.\"\n\n\"And why the missing ring?\"\n\n\"Quite so.\"\n\n\"And why no arrest? It's past two now. I take it for granted that since\ndawn every constable within forty miles has been looking out for a wet\nstranger?\"\n\n\"That is so, Mr. Holmes.\"\n\n\"Well, unless he has a burrow close by or a change of clothes ready,\nthey can hardly miss him. And yet they HAVE missed him up to now!\"\nHolmes had gone to the window and was examining with his lens the blood\nmark on the sill. \"It is clearly the tread of a shoe. It is remarkably\nbroad; a splay-foot, one would say. Curious, because, so far as one can\ntrace any footmark in this mud-stained corner, one would say it was a\nmore shapely sole. However, they are certainly very indistinct. What's\nthis under the side table?\"\n\n\"Mr. Douglas's dumb-bells,\" said Ames.\n\n\"Dumb-bell--there's only one. Where's the other?\"\n\n\"I don't know, Mr. Holmes. There may have been only one. I have not\nnoticed them for months.\"\n\n\"One dumb-bell--\" Holmes said seriously; but his remarks were\ninterrupted by a sharp knock at the door.\n\nA tall, sunburned, capable-looking, clean-shaved man looked in at us. I\nhad no difficulty in guessing that it was the Cecil Barker of whom I had\nheard. His masterful eyes travelled quickly with a questioning glance\nfrom face to face.\n\n\"Sorry to interrupt your consultation,\" said he, \"but you should hear\nthe latest news.\"\n\n\"An arrest?\"\n\n\"No such luck. But they've found his bicycle. The fellow left his\nbicycle behind him. Come and have a look. It is within a hundred yards\nof the hall door.\"\n\nWe found three or four grooms and idlers standing in the drive\ninspecting a bicycle which had been drawn out from a clump of evergreens\nin which it had been concealed. It was a well used Rudge-Whitworth,\nsplashed as from a considerable journey. There was a saddlebag with\nspanner and oilcan, but no clue as to the owner.\n\n\"It would be a grand help to the police,\" said the inspector, \"if these\nthings were numbered and registered. But we must be thankful for what\nwe've got. If we can't find where he went to, at least we are likely to\nget where he came from. But what in the name of all that is wonderful\nmade the fellow leave it behind? And how in the world has he got away\nwithout it? We don't seem to get a gleam of light in the case, Mr.\nHolmes.\"\n\n\"Don't we?\" my friend answered thoughtfully. \"I wonder!\"\n\n\n\n\nChapter 5--The People of the Drama\n\n\n\n\"Have you seen all you want of the study?\" asked White Mason as we\nreentered the house.\n\n\"For the time,\" said the inspector, and Holmes nodded.\n\n\"Then perhaps you would now like to hear the evidence of some of the\npeople in the house. We could use the dining room, Ames. Please come\nyourself first and tell us what you know.\"\n\nThe butler's account was a simple and a clear one, and he gave a\nconvincing impression of sincerity. He had been engaged five years\nbefore, when Douglas first came to Birlstone. He understood that Mr.\nDouglas was a rich gentleman who had made his money in America. He had\nbeen a kind and considerate employer--not quite what Ames was used\nto, perhaps; but one can't have everything. He never saw any signs of\napprehension in Mr. Douglas: on the contrary, he was the most fearless\nman he had ever known. He ordered the drawbridge to be pulled up every\nnight because it was the ancient custom of the old house, and he liked\nto keep the old ways up.\n\nMr. Douglas seldom went to London or left the village; but on the day\nbefore the crime he had been shopping at Tunbridge Wells. He (Ames) had\nobserved some restlessness and excitement on the part of Mr. Douglas\nthat day; for he had seemed impatient and irritable, which was unusual\nwith him. He had not gone to bed that night; but was in the pantry at\nthe back of the house, putting away the silver, when he heard the bell\nring violently. He heard no shot; but it was hardly possible he would,\nas the pantry and kitchens were at the very back of the house and there\nwere several closed doors and a long passage between. The housekeeper\nhad come out of her room, attracted by the violent ringing of the bell.\nThey had gone to the front of the house together.\n\nAs they reached the bottom of the stairs he had seen Mrs. Douglas coming\ndown it. No, she was not hurrying; it did not seem to him that she was\nparticularly agitated. Just as she reached the bottom of the stair Mr.\nBarker had rushed out of the study. He had stopped Mrs. Douglas and\nbegged her to go back.\n\n\"For God's sake, go back to your room!\" he cried. \"Poor Jack is dead!\nYou can do nothing. For God's sake, go back!\"\n\nAfter some persuasion upon the stairs Mrs. Douglas had gone back.\nShe did not scream. She made no outcry whatever. Mrs. Allen, the\nhousekeeper, had taken her upstairs and stayed with her in the bedroom.\nAmes and Mr. Barker had then returned to the study, where they had found\neverything exactly as the police had seen it. The candle was not lit at\nthat time; but the lamp was burning. They had looked out of the window;\nbut the night was very dark and nothing could be seen or heard. They had\nthen rushed out into the hall, where Ames had turned the windlass which\nlowered the drawbridge. Mr. Barker had then hurried off to get the\npolice.\n\nSuch, in its essentials, was the evidence of the butler.\n\nThe account of Mrs. Allen, the housekeeper, was, so far as it went, a\ncorroboration of that of her fellow servant. The housekeeper's room was\nrather nearer to the front of the house than the pantry in which Ames\nhad been working. She was preparing to go to bed when the loud ringing\nof the bell had attracted her attention. She was a little hard of\nhearing. Perhaps that was why she had not heard the shot; but in any\ncase the study was a long way off. She remembered hearing some sound\nwhich she imagined to be the slamming of a door. That was a good deal\nearlier--half an hour at least before the ringing of the bell. When Mr.\nAmes ran to the front she went with him. She saw Mr. Barker, very pale\nand excited, come out of the study. He intercepted Mrs. Douglas, who was\ncoming down the stairs. He entreated her to go back, and she answered\nhim, but what she said could not be heard.\n\n\"Take her up! Stay with her!\" he had said to Mrs. Allen.\n\nShe had therefore taken her to the bedroom, and endeavoured to soothe\nher. She was greatly excited, trembling all over, but made no other\nattempt to go downstairs. She just sat in her dressing gown by her\nbedroom fire, with her head sunk in her hands. Mrs. Allen stayed with\nher most of the night. As to the other servants, they had all gone\nto bed, and the alarm did not reach them until just before the police\narrived. They slept at the extreme back of the house, and could not\npossibly have heard anything.\n\nSo far the housekeeper could add nothing on cross-examination save\nlamentations and expressions of amazement.\n\nCecil Barker succeeded Mrs. Allen as a witness. As to the occurrences of\nthe night before, he had very little to add to what he had already told\nthe police. Personally, he was convinced that the murderer had escaped\nby the window. The bloodstain was conclusive, in his opinion, on that\npoint. Besides, as the bridge was up, there was no other possible way of\nescaping. He could not explain what had become of the assassin or why he\nhad not taken his bicycle, if it were indeed his. He could not possibly\nhave been drowned in the moat, which was at no place more than three\nfeet deep.\n\nIn his own mind he had a very definite theory about the murder. Douglas\nwas a reticent man, and there were some chapters in his life of which he\nnever spoke. He had emigrated to America when he was a very young man.\nHe had prospered well, and Barker had first met him in California, where\nthey had become partners in a successful mining claim at a place called\nBenito Canyon. They had done very well; but Douglas had suddenly sold\nout and started for England. He was a widower at that time. Barker had\nafterwards realized his money and come to live in London. Thus they had\nrenewed their friendship.\n\nDouglas had given him the impression that some danger was hanging\nover his head, and he had always looked upon his sudden departure from\nCalifornia, and also his renting a house in so quiet a place in England,\nas being connected with this peril. He imagined that some secret\nsociety, some implacable organization, was on Douglas's track, which\nwould never rest until it killed him. Some remarks of his had given him\nthis idea; though he had never told him what the society was, nor how\nhe had come to offend it. He could only suppose that the legend upon the\nplacard had some reference to this secret society.\n\n\"How long were you with Douglas in California?\" asked Inspector\nMacDonald.\n\n\"Five years altogether.\"\n\n\"He was a bachelor, you say?\"\n\n\"A widower.\"\n\n\"Have you ever heard where his first wife came from?\"\n\n\"No, I remember his saying that she was of German extraction, and I have\nseen her portrait. She was a very beautiful woman. She died of typhoid\nthe year before I met him.\"\n\n\"You don't associate his past with any particular part of America?\"\n\n\"I have heard him talk of Chicago. He knew that city well and had worked\nthere. I have heard him talk of the coal and iron districts. He had\ntravelled a good deal in his time.\"\n\n\"Was he a politician? Had this secret society to do with politics?\"\n\n\"No, he cared nothing about politics.\"\n\n\"You have no reason to think it was criminal?\"\n\n\"On the contrary, I never met a straighter man in my life.\"\n\n\"Was there anything curious about his life in California?\"\n\n\"He liked best to stay and to work at our claim in the mountains. He\nwould never go where other men were if he could help it. That's why I\nfirst thought that someone was after him. Then when he left so suddenly\nfor Europe I made sure that it was so. I believe that he had a warning\nof some sort. Within a week of his leaving half a dozen men were\ninquiring for him.\"\n\n\"What sort of men?\"\n\n\"Well, they were a mighty hard-looking crowd. They came up to the claim\nand wanted to know where he was. I told them that he was gone to Europe\nand that I did not know where to find him. They meant him no good--it\nwas easy to see that.\"\n\n\"Were these men Americans--Californians?\"\n\n\"Well, I don't know about Californians. They were Americans, all right.\nBut they were not miners. I don't know what they were, and was very glad\nto see their backs.\"\n\n\"That was six years ago?\"\n\n\"Nearer seven.\"\n\n\"And then you were together five years in California, so that this\nbusiness dates back not less than eleven years at the least?\"\n\n\"That is so.\"\n\n\"It must be a very serious feud that would be kept up with such\nearnestness for as long as that. It would be no light thing that would\ngive rise to it.\"\n\n\"I think it shadowed his whole life. It was never quite out of his\nmind.\"\n\n\"But if a man had a danger hanging over him, and knew what it was, don't\nyou think he would turn to the police for protection?\"\n\n\"Maybe it was some danger that he could not be protected against.\nThere's one thing you should know. He always went about armed. His\nrevolver was never out of his pocket. But, by bad luck, he was in his\ndressing gown and had left it in the bedroom last night. Once the bridge\nwas up, I guess he thought he was safe.\"\n\n\"I should like these dates a little clearer,\" said MacDonald. \"It is\nquite six years since Douglas left California. You followed him next\nyear, did you not?\"\n\n\"That is so.\"\n\n\"And he had been married five years. You must have returned about the\ntime of his marriage.\"\n\n\"About a month before. I was his best man.\"\n\n\"Did you know Mrs. Douglas before her marriage?\"\n\n\"No, I did not. I had been away from England for ten years.\"\n\n\"But you have seen a good deal of her since.\"\n\nBarker looked sternly at the detective. \"I have seen a good deal of HIM\nsince,\" he answered. \"If I have seen her, it is because you cannot\nvisit a man without knowing his wife. If you imagine there is any\nconnection--\"\n\n\"I imagine nothing, Mr. Barker. I am bound to make every inquiry which\ncan bear upon the case. But I mean no offense.\"\n\n\"Some inquiries are offensive,\" Barker answered angrily.\n\n\"It's only the facts that we want. It is in your interest and everyone's\ninterest that they should be cleared up. Did Mr. Douglas entirely\napprove your friendship with his wife?\"\n\nBarker grew paler, and his great, strong hands were clasped convulsively\ntogether. \"You have no right to ask such questions!\" he cried. \"What has\nthis to do with the matter you are investigating?\"\n\n\"I must repeat the question.\"\n\n\"Well, I refuse to answer.\"\n\n\"You can refuse to answer; but you must be aware that your refusal is in\nitself an answer, for you would not refuse if you had not something to\nconceal.\"\n\nBarker stood for a moment with his face set grimly and his strong black\neyebrows drawn low in intense thought. Then he looked up with a smile.\n\"Well, I guess you gentlemen are only doing your clear duty after all,\nand I have no right to stand in the way of it. I'd only ask you not to\nworry Mrs. Douglas over this matter; for she has enough upon her just\nnow. I may tell you that poor Douglas had just one fault in the world,\nand that was his jealousy. He was fond of me--no man could be fonder of\na friend. And he was devoted to his wife. He loved me to come here, and\nwas forever sending for me. And yet if his wife and I talked together or\nthere seemed any sympathy between us, a kind of wave of jealousy would\npass over him, and he would be off the handle and saying the wildest\nthings in a moment. More than once I've sworn off coming for that\nreason, and then he would write me such penitent, imploring letters that\nI just had to. But you can take it from me, gentlemen, if it was my last\nword, that no man ever had a more loving, faithful wife--and I can say\nalso no friend could be more loyal than I!\"\n\nIt was spoken with fervour and feeling, and yet Inspector MacDonald\ncould not dismiss the subject.\n\n\"You are aware,\" said he, \"that the dead man's wedding ring has been\ntaken from his finger?\"\n\n\"So it appears,\" said Barker.\n\n\"What do you mean by 'appears'? You know it as a fact.\"\n\nThe man seemed confused and undecided. \"When I said 'appears' I meant\nthat it was conceivable that he had himself taken off the ring.\"\n\n\"The mere fact that the ring should be absent, whoever may have removed\nit, would suggest to anyone's mind, would it not, that the marriage and\nthe tragedy were connected?\"\n\nBarker shrugged his broad shoulders. \"I can't profess to say what it\nmeans,\" he answered. \"But if you mean to hint that it could reflect in\nany way upon this lady's honour\"--his eyes blazed for an instant, and\nthen with an evident effort he got a grip upon his own emotions--\"well,\nyou are on the wrong track, that's all.\"\n\n\"I don't know that I've anything else to ask you at present,\" said\nMacDonald, coldly.\n\n\"There was one small point,\" remarked Sherlock Holmes. \"When you entered\nthe room there was only a candle lighted on the table, was there not?\"\n\n\"Yes, that was so.\"\n\n\"By its light you saw that some terrible incident had occurred?\"\n\n\"Exactly.\"\n\n\"You at once rang for help?\"\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\n\"And it arrived very speedily?\"\n\n\"Within a minute or so.\"\n\n\"And yet when they arrived they found that the candle was out and that\nthe lamp had been lighted. That seems very remarkable.\"\n\nAgain Barker showed some signs of indecision. \"I don't see that it was\nremarkable, Mr. Holmes,\" he answered after a pause. \"The candle threw a\nvery bad light. My first thought was to get a better one. The lamp was\non the table; so I lit it.\"\n\n\"And blew out the candle?\"\n\n\"Exactly.\"\n\nHolmes asked no further question, and Barker, with a deliberate look\nfrom one to the other of us, which had, as it seemed to me, something of\ndefiance in it, turned and left the room.\n\nInspector MacDonald had sent up a note to the effect that he would wait\nupon Mrs. Douglas in her room; but she had replied that she would meet\nus in the dining room. She entered now, a tall and beautiful woman\nof thirty, reserved and self-possessed to a remarkable degree, very\ndifferent from the tragic and distracted figure I had pictured. It is\ntrue that her face was pale and drawn, like that of one who has endured\na great shock; but her manner was composed, and the finely moulded hand\nwhich she rested upon the edge of the table was as steady as my own.\nHer sad, appealing eyes travelled from one to the other of us with a\ncuriously inquisitive expression. That questioning gaze transformed\nitself suddenly into abrupt speech.\n\n\"Have you found anything out yet?\" she asked.\n\nWas it my imagination that there was an undertone of fear rather than of\nhope in the question?\n\n\"We have taken every possible step, Mrs. Douglas,\" said the inspector.\n\"You may rest assured that nothing will be neglected.\"\n\n\"Spare no money,\" she said in a dead, even tone. \"It is my desire that\nevery possible effort should be made.\"\n\n\"Perhaps you can tell us something which may throw some light upon the\nmatter.\"\n\n\"I fear not; but all I know is at your service.\"\n\n\"We have heard from Mr. Cecil Barker that you did not actually see--that\nyou were never in the room where the tragedy occurred?\"\n\n\"No, he turned me back upon the stairs. He begged me to return to my\nroom.\"\n\n\"Quite so. You had heard the shot, and you had at once come down.\"\n\n\"I put on my dressing gown and then came down.\"\n\n\"How long was it after hearing the shot that you were stopped on the\nstair by Mr. Barker?\"\n\n\"It may have been a couple of minutes. It is so hard to reckon time at\nsuch a moment. He implored me not to go on. He assured me that I could\ndo nothing. Then Mrs. Allen, the housekeeper, led me upstairs again. It\nwas all like some dreadful dream.\"\n\n\"Can you give us any idea how long your husband had been downstairs\nbefore you heard the shot?\"\n\n\"No, I cannot say. He went from his dressing room, and I did not hear\nhim go. He did the round of the house every night, for he was nervous of\nfire. It is the only thing that I have ever known him nervous of.\"\n\n\"That is just the point which I want to come to, Mrs. Douglas. You have\nknown your husband only in England, have you not?\"\n\n\"Yes, we have been married five years.\"\n\n\"Have you heard him speak of anything which occurred in America and\nmight bring some danger upon him?\"\n\nMrs. Douglas thought earnestly before she answered. \"Yes,\" she said at\nlast, \"I have always felt that there was a danger hanging over him. He\nrefused to discuss it with me. It was not from want of confidence in\nme--there was the most complete love and confidence between us--but\nit was out of his desire to keep all alarm away from me. He thought I\nshould brood over it if I knew all, and so he was silent.\"\n\n\"How did you know it, then?\"\n\nMrs. Douglas's face lit with a quick smile. \"Can a husband ever carry\nabout a secret all his life and a woman who loves him have no suspicion\nof it? I knew it by his refusal to talk about some episodes in his\nAmerican life. I knew it by certain precautions he took. I knew it by\ncertain words he let fall. I knew it by the way he looked at unexpected\nstrangers. I was perfectly certain that he had some powerful enemies,\nthat he believed they were on his track, and that he was always on\nhis guard against them. I was so sure of it that for years I have been\nterrified if ever he came home later than was expected.\"\n\n\"Might I ask,\" asked Holmes, \"what the words were which attracted your\nattention?\"\n\n\"The Valley of Fear,\" the lady answered. \"That was an expression he has\nused when I questioned him. 'I have been in the Valley of Fear. I am not\nout of it yet.'--'Are we never to get out of the Valley of Fear?' I have\nasked him when I have seen him more serious than usual. 'Sometimes I\nthink that we never shall,' he has answered.\"\n\n\"Surely you asked him what he meant by the Valley of Fear?\"\n\n\"I did; but his face would become very grave and he would shake his\nhead. 'It is bad enough that one of us should have been in its shadow,'\nhe said. 'Please God it shall never fall upon you!' It was some real\nvalley in which he had lived and in which something terrible had\noccurred to him, of that I am certain; but I can tell you no more.\"\n\n\"And he never mentioned any names?\"\n\n\"Yes, he was delirious with fever once when he had his hunting accident\nthree years ago. Then I remember that there was a name that came\ncontinually to his lips. He spoke it with anger and a sort of horror.\nMcGinty was the name--Bodymaster McGinty. I asked him when he recovered\nwho Bodymaster McGinty was, and whose body he was master of. 'Never of\nmine, thank God!' he answered with a laugh, and that was all I could get\nfrom him. But there is a connection between Bodymaster McGinty and the\nValley of Fear.\"\n\n\"There is one other point,\" said Inspector MacDonald. \"You met Mr.\nDouglas in a boarding house in London, did you not, and became engaged\nto him there? Was there any romance, anything secret or mysterious,\nabout the wedding?\"\n\n\"There was romance. There is always romance. There was nothing\nmysterious.\"\n\n\"He had no rival?\"\n\n\"No, I was quite free.\"\n\n\"You have heard, no doubt, that his wedding ring has been taken. Does\nthat suggest anything to you? Suppose that some enemy of his old life\nhad tracked him down and committed this crime, what possible reason\ncould he have for taking his wedding ring?\"\n\nFor an instant I could have sworn that the faintest shadow of a smile\nflickered over the woman's lips.\n\n\"I really cannot tell,\" she answered. \"It is certainly a most\nextraordinary thing.\"\n\n\"Well, we will not detain you any longer, and we are sorry to have put\nyou to this trouble at such a time,\" said the inspector. \"There are some\nother points, no doubt; but we can refer to you as they arise.\"\n\nShe rose, and I was again conscious of that quick, questioning glance\nwith which she had just surveyed us. \"What impression has my evidence\nmade upon you?\" The question might as well have been spoken. Then, with\na bow, she swept from the room.\n\n\"She's a beautiful woman--a very beautiful woman,\" said MacDonald\nthoughtfully, after the door had closed behind her. \"This man Barker\nhas certainly been down here a good deal. He is a man who might be\nattractive to a woman. He admits that the dead man was jealous, and\nmaybe he knew best himself what cause he had for jealousy. Then there's\nthat wedding ring. You can't get past that. The man who tears a wedding\nring off a dead man's--What do you say to it, Mr. Holmes?\"\n\nMy friend had sat with his head upon his hands, sunk in the deepest\nthought. Now he rose and rang the bell. \"Ames,\" he said, when the butler\nentered, \"where is Mr. Cecil Barker now?\"\n\n\"I'll see, sir.\"\n\nHe came back in a moment to say that Barker was in the garden.\n\n\"Can you remember, Ames, what Mr. Barker had on his feet last night when\nyou joined him in the study?\"\n\n\"Yes, Mr. Holmes. He had a pair of bedroom slippers. I brought him his\nboots when he went for the police.\"\n\n\"Where are the slippers now?\"\n\n\"They are still under the chair in the hall.\"\n\n\"Very good, Ames. It is, of course, important for us to know which\ntracks may be Mr. Barker's and which from outside.\"\n\n\"Yes, sir. I may say that I noticed that the slippers were stained with\nblood--so indeed were my own.\"\n\n\"That is natural enough, considering the condition of the room. Very\ngood, Ames. We will ring if we want you.\"\n\nA few minutes later we were in the study. Holmes had brought with him\nthe carpet slippers from the hall. As Ames had observed, the soles of\nboth were dark with blood.\n\n\"Strange!\" murmured Holmes, as he stood in the light of the window and\nexamined them minutely. \"Very strange indeed!\"\n\nStooping with one of his quick feline pounces, he placed the slipper\nupon the blood mark on the sill. It exactly corresponded. He smiled in\nsilence at his colleagues.\n\nThe inspector was transfigured with excitement. His native accent\nrattled like a stick upon railings.\n\n\"Man,\" he cried, \"there's not a doubt of it! Barker has just marked the\nwindow himself. It's a good deal broader than any bootmark. I mind that\nyou said it was a splay-foot, and here's the explanation. But what's the\ngame, Mr. Holmes--what's the game?\"\n\n\"Ay, what's the game?\" my friend repeated thoughtfully.\n\nWhite Mason chuckled and rubbed his fat hands together in his\nprofessional satisfaction. \"I said it was a snorter!\" he cried. \"And a\nreal snorter it is!\"\n\n\n\n\nChapter 6--A Dawning Light\n\n\n\nThe three detectives had many matters of detail into which to inquire;\nso I returned alone to our modest quarters at the village inn. But\nbefore doing so I took a stroll in the curious old-world garden which\nflanked the house. Rows of very ancient yew trees cut into strange\ndesigns girded it round. Inside was a beautiful stretch of lawn with an\nold sundial in the middle, the whole effect so soothing and restful that\nit was welcome to my somewhat jangled nerves.\n\nIn that deeply peaceful atmosphere one could forget, or remember only\nas some fantastic nightmare, that darkened study with the sprawling,\nbloodstained figure on the floor. And yet, as I strolled round it and\ntried to steep my soul in its gentle balm, a strange incident occurred,\nwhich brought me back to the tragedy and left a sinister impression in\nmy mind.\n\nI have said that a decoration of yew trees circled the garden. At the\nend farthest from the house they thickened into a continuous hedge.\nOn the other side of this hedge, concealed from the eyes of anyone\napproaching from the direction of the house, there was a stone seat.\nAs I approached the spot I was aware of voices, some remark in the deep\ntones of a man, answered by a little ripple of feminine laughter.\n\nAn instant later I had come round the end of the hedge and my eyes\nlit upon Mrs. Douglas and the man Barker before they were aware of my\npresence. Her appearance gave me a shock. In the dining-room she had\nbeen demure and discreet. Now all pretense of grief had passed away from\nher. Her eyes shone with the joy of living, and her face still quivered\nwith amusement at some remark of her companion. He sat forward, his\nhands clasped and his forearms on his knees, with an answering smile\nupon his bold, handsome face. In an instant--but it was just one instant\ntoo late--they resumed their solemn masks as my figure came into view.\nA hurried word or two passed between them, and then Barker rose and came\ntowards me.\n\n\"Excuse me, sir,\" said he, \"but am I addressing Dr. Watson?\"\n\nI bowed with a coldness which showed, I dare say, very plainly the\nimpression which had been produced upon my mind.\n\n\"We thought that it was probably you, as your friendship with Mr.\nSherlock Holmes is so well known. Would you mind coming over and\nspeaking to Mrs. Douglas for one instant?\"\n\nI followed him with a dour face. Very clearly I could see in my mind's\neye that shattered figure on the floor. Here within a few hours of the\ntragedy were his wife and his nearest friend laughing together behind a\nbush in the garden which had been his. I greeted the lady with reserve.\nI had grieved with her grief in the dining room. Now I met her appealing\ngaze with an unresponsive eye.\n\n\"I fear that you think me callous and hard-hearted,\" said she.\n\nI shrugged my shoulders. \"It is no business of mine,\" said I.\n\n\"Perhaps some day you will do me justice. If you only realized--\"\n\n\"There is no need why Dr. Watson should realize,\" said Barker quickly.\n\"As he has himself said, it is no possible business of his.\"\n\n\"Exactly,\" said I, \"and so I will beg leave to resume my walk.\"\n\n\"One moment, Dr. Watson,\" cried the woman in a pleading voice. \"There is\none question which you can answer with more authority than anyone else\nin the world, and it may make a very great difference to me. You know\nMr. Holmes and his relations with the police better than anyone\nelse can. Supposing that a matter were brought confidentially to his\nknowledge, is it absolutely necessary that he should pass it on to the\ndetectives?\"\n\n\"Yes, that's it,\" said Barker eagerly. \"Is he on his own or is he\nentirely in with them?\"\n\n\"I really don't know that I should be justified in discussing such a\npoint.\"\n\n\"I beg--I implore that you will, Dr. Watson! I assure you that you will\nbe helping us--helping me greatly if you will guide us on that point.\"\n\nThere was such a ring of sincerity in the woman's voice that for the\ninstant I forgot all about her levity and was moved only to do her will.\n\n\"Mr. Holmes is an independent investigator,\" I said. \"He is his own\nmaster, and would act as his own judgment directed. At the same time, he\nwould naturally feel loyalty towards the officials who were working on\nthe same case, and he would not conceal from them anything which would\nhelp them in bringing a criminal to justice. Beyond this I can say\nnothing, and I would refer you to Mr. Holmes himself if you wanted\nfuller information.\"\n\nSo saying I raised my hat and went upon my way, leaving them still\nseated behind that concealing hedge. I looked back as I rounded the far\nend of it, and saw that they were still talking very earnestly together,\nand, as they were gazing after me, it was clear that it was our\ninterview that was the subject of their debate.\n\n\"I wish none of their confidences,\" said Holmes, when I reported to him\nwhat had occurred. He had spent the whole afternoon at the Manor House\nin consultation with his two colleagues, and returned about five with\na ravenous appetite for a high tea which I had ordered for him. \"No\nconfidences, Watson; for they are mighty awkward if it comes to an\narrest for conspiracy and murder.\"\n\n\"You think it will come to that?\"\n\nHe was in his most cheerful and debonair humour. \"My dear Watson, when\nI have exterminated that fourth egg I shall be ready to put you in touch\nwith the whole situation. I don't say that we have fathomed it--far from\nit--but when we have traced the missing dumb-bell--\"\n\n\"The dumb-bell!\"\n\n\"Dear me, Watson, is it possible that you have not penetrated the fact\nthat the case hangs upon the missing dumb-bell? Well, well, you need not\nbe downcast; for between ourselves I don't think that either Inspector\nMac or the excellent local practitioner has grasped the overwhelming\nimportance of this incident. One dumb-bell, Watson! Consider an athlete\nwith one dumb-bell! Picture to yourself the unilateral development, the\nimminent danger of a spinal curvature. Shocking, Watson, shocking!\"\n\nHe sat with his mouth full of toast and his eyes sparkling with\nmischief, watching my intellectual entanglement. The mere sight of his\nexcellent appetite was an assurance of success; for I had very clear\nrecollections of days and nights without a thought of food, when his\nbaffled mind had chafed before some problem while his thin, eager\nfeatures became more attenuated with the asceticism of complete mental\nconcentration. Finally he lit his pipe, and sitting in the inglenook\nof the old village inn he talked slowly and at random about his case,\nrather as one who thinks aloud than as one who makes a considered\nstatement.\n\n\"A lie, Watson--a great, big, thumping, obtrusive, uncompromising\nlie--that's what meets us on the threshold! There is our starting\npoint. The whole story told by Barker is a lie. But Barker's story is\ncorroborated by Mrs. Douglas. Therefore she is lying also. They are both\nlying, and in a conspiracy. So now we have the clear problem. Why are\nthey lying, and what is the truth which they are trying so hard to\nconceal? Let us try, Watson, you and I, if we can get behind the lie and\nreconstruct the truth.\n\n\"How do I know that they are lying? Because it is a clumsy fabrication\nwhich simply could not be true. Consider! According to the story given\nto us, the assassin had less than a minute after the murder had been\ncommitted to take that ring, which was under another ring, from the dead\nman's finger, to replace the other ring--a thing which he would surely\nnever have done--and to put that singular card beside his victim. I say\nthat this was obviously impossible.\n\n\"You may argue--but I have too much respect for your judgment, Watson,\nto think that you will do so--that the ring may have been taken before\nthe man was killed. The fact that the candle had been lit only a short\ntime shows that there had been no lengthy interview. Was Douglas, from\nwhat we hear of his fearless character, a man who would be likely to\ngive up his wedding ring at such short notice, or could we conceive of\nhis giving it up at all? No, no, Watson, the assassin was alone with\nthe dead man for some time with the lamp lit. Of that I have no doubt at\nall.\n\n\"But the gunshot was apparently the cause of death. Therefore the shot\nmust have been fired some time earlier than we are told. But there\ncould be no mistake about such a matter as that. We are in the presence,\ntherefore, of a deliberate conspiracy upon the part of the two people\nwho heard the gunshot--of the man Barker and of the woman Douglas.\nWhen on the top of this I am able to show that the blood mark on the\nwindowsill was deliberately placed there by Barker, in order to give\na false clue to the police, you will admit that the case grows dark\nagainst him.\n\n\"Now we have to ask ourselves at what hour the murder actually did\noccur. Up to half-past ten the servants were moving about the house; so\nit was certainly not before that time. At a quarter to eleven they\nhad all gone to their rooms with the exception of Ames, who was in\nthe pantry. I have been trying some experiments after you left us this\nafternoon, and I find that no noise which MacDonald can make in the\nstudy can penetrate to me in the pantry when the doors are all shut.\n\n\"It is otherwise, however, from the housekeeper's room. It is not so far\ndown the corridor, and from it I could vaguely hear a voice when it was\nvery loudly raised. The sound from a shotgun is to some extent muffled\nwhen the discharge is at very close range, as it undoubtedly was in this\ninstance. It would not be very loud, and yet in the silence of the night\nit should have easily penetrated to Mrs. Allen's room. She is, as she\nhas told us, somewhat deaf; but none the less she mentioned in her\nevidence that she did hear something like a door slamming half an hour\nbefore the alarm was given. Half an hour before the alarm was given\nwould be a quarter to eleven. I have no doubt that what she heard was\nthe report of the gun, and that this was the real instant of the murder.\n\n\"If this is so, we have now to determine what Barker and Mrs. Douglas,\npresuming that they are not the actual murderers, could have been doing\nfrom quarter to eleven, when the sound of the shot brought them down,\nuntil quarter past eleven, when they rang the bell and summoned the\nservants. What were they doing, and why did they not instantly give\nthe alarm? That is the question which faces us, and when it has been\nanswered we shall surely have gone some way to solve our problem.\"\n\n\"I am convinced myself,\" said I, \"that there is an understanding between\nthose two people. She must be a heartless creature to sit laughing at\nsome jest within a few hours of her husband's murder.\"\n\n\"Exactly. She does not shine as a wife even in her own account of what\noccurred. I am not a whole-souled admirer of womankind, as you are\naware, Watson, but my experience of life has taught me that there are\nfew wives, having any regard for their husbands, who would let any man's\nspoken word stand between them and that husband's dead body. Should I\never marry, Watson, I should hope to inspire my wife with some feeling\nwhich would prevent her from being walked off by a housekeeper when my\ncorpse was lying within a few yards of her. It was badly stage-managed;\nfor even the rawest investigators must be struck by the absence of the\nusual feminine ululation. If there had been nothing else, this incident\nalone would have suggested a prearranged conspiracy to my mind.\"\n\n\"You think then, definitely, that Barker and Mrs. Douglas are guilty of\nthe murder?\"\n\n\"There is an appalling directness about your questions, Watson,\" said\nHolmes, shaking his pipe at me. \"They come at me like bullets. If you\nput it that Mrs. Douglas and Barker know the truth about the murder, and\nare conspiring to conceal it, then I can give you a whole-souled answer.\nI am sure they do. But your more deadly proposition is not so clear. Let\nus for a moment consider the difficulties which stand in the way.\n\n\"We will suppose that this couple are united by the bonds of a guilty\nlove, and that they have determined to get rid of the man who stands\nbetween them. It is a large supposition; for discreet inquiry among\nservants and others has failed to corroborate it in any way. On the\ncontrary, there is a good deal of evidence that the Douglases were very\nattached to each other.\"\n\n\"That, I am sure, cannot be true,\" said I, thinking of the beautiful\nsmiling face in the garden.\n\n\"Well at least they gave that impression. However, we will suppose that\nthey are an extraordinarily astute couple, who deceive everyone upon\nthis point, and conspire to murder the husband. He happens to be a man\nover whose head some danger hangs--\"\n\n\"We have only their word for that.\"\n\nHolmes looked thoughtful. \"I see, Watson. You are sketching out a theory\nby which everything they say from the beginning is false. According\nto your idea, there was never any hidden menace, or secret society, or\nValley of Fear, or Boss MacSomebody, or anything else. Well, that is a\ngood sweeping generalization. Let us see what that brings us to. They\ninvent this theory to account for the crime. They then play up to the\nidea by leaving this bicycle in the park as proof of the existence of\nsome outsider. The stain on the windowsill conveys the same idea. So\ndoes the card on the body, which might have been prepared in the house.\nThat all fits into your hypothesis, Watson. But now we come on the\nnasty, angular, uncompromising bits which won't slip into their places.\nWhy a cut-off shotgun of all weapons--and an American one at that? How\ncould they be so sure that the sound of it would not bring someone on to\nthem? It's a mere chance as it is that Mrs. Allen did not start out to\ninquire for the slamming door. Why did your guilty couple do all this,\nWatson?\"\n\n\"I confess that I can't explain it.\"\n\n\"Then again, if a woman and her lover conspire to murder a husband,\nare they going to advertise their guilt by ostentatiously removing his\nwedding ring after his death? Does that strike you as very probable,\nWatson?\"\n\n\"No, it does not.\"\n\n\"And once again, if the thought of leaving a bicycle concealed outside\nhad occurred to you, would it really have seemed worth doing when the\ndullest detective would naturally say this is an obvious blind, as the\nbicycle is the first thing which the fugitive needed in order to make\nhis escape.\"\n\n\"I can conceive of no explanation.\"\n\n\"And yet there should be no combination of events for which the wit of\nman cannot conceive an explanation. Simply as a mental exercise, without\nany assertion that it is true, let me indicate a possible line of\nthought. It is, I admit, mere imagination; but how often is imagination\nthe mother of truth?\n\n\"We will suppose that there was a guilty secret, a really shameful\nsecret in the life of this man Douglas. This leads to his murder by\nsomeone who is, we will suppose, an avenger, someone from outside.\nThis avenger, for some reason which I confess I am still at a loss\nto explain, took the dead man's wedding ring. The vendetta might\nconceivably date back to the man's first marriage, and the ring be taken\nfor some such reason.\n\n\"Before this avenger got away, Barker and the wife had reached the room.\nThe assassin convinced them that any attempt to arrest him would lead\nto the publication of some hideous scandal. They were converted to\nthis idea, and preferred to let him go. For this purpose they probably\nlowered the bridge, which can be done quite noiselessly, and then raised\nit again. He made his escape, and for some reason thought that he could\ndo so more safely on foot than on the bicycle. He therefore left his\nmachine where it would not be discovered until he had got safely away.\nSo far we are within the bounds of possibility, are we not?\"\n\n\"Well, it is possible, no doubt,\" said I, with some reserve.\n\n\"We have to remember, Watson, that whatever occurred is certainly\nsomething very extraordinary. Well, now, to continue our supposititious\ncase, the couple--not necessarily a guilty couple--realize after the\nmurderer is gone that they have placed themselves in a position in\nwhich it may be difficult for them to prove that they did not themselves\neither do the deed or connive at it. They rapidly and rather clumsily\nmet the situation. The mark was put by Barker's bloodstained slipper\nupon the windowsill to suggest how the fugitive got away. They obviously\nwere the two who must have heard the sound of the gun; so they gave the\nalarm exactly as they would have done, but a good half hour after the\nevent.\"\n\n\"And how do you propose to prove all this?\"\n\n\"Well, if there were an outsider, he may be traced and taken. That would\nbe the most effective of all proofs. But if not--well, the resources of\nscience are far from being exhausted. I think that an evening alone in\nthat study would help me much.\"\n\n\"An evening alone!\"\n\n\"I propose to go up there presently. I have arranged it with the\nestimable Ames, who is by no means wholehearted about Barker. I shall\nsit in that room and see if its atmosphere brings me inspiration. I'm\na believer in the genius loci. You smile, Friend Watson. Well, we shall\nsee. By the way, you have that big umbrella of yours, have you not?\"\n\n\"It is here.\"\n\n\"Well, I'll borrow that if I may.\"\n\n\"Certainly--but what a wretched weapon! If there is danger--\"\n\n\"Nothing serious, my dear Watson, or I should certainly ask for your\nassistance. But I'll take the umbrella. At present I am only awaiting\nthe return of our colleagues from Tunbridge Wells, where they are at\npresent engaged in trying for a likely owner to the bicycle.\"\n\nIt was nightfall before Inspector MacDonald and White Mason came back\nfrom their expedition, and they arrived exultant, reporting a great\nadvance in our investigation.\n\n\"Man, I'll admeet that I had my doubts if there was ever an outsider,\"\nsaid MacDonald, \"but that's all past now. We've had the bicycle\nidentified, and we have a description of our man; so that's a long step\non our journey.\"\n\n\"It sounds to me like the beginning of the end,\" said Holmes. \"I'm sure\nI congratulate you both with all my heart.\"\n\n\"Well, I started from the fact that Mr. Douglas had seemed disturbed\nsince the day before, when he had been at Tunbridge Wells. It was at\nTunbridge Wells then that he had become conscious of some danger. It was\nclear, therefore, that if a man had come over with a bicycle it was\nfrom Tunbridge Wells that he might be expected to have come. We took the\nbicycle over with us and showed it at the hotels. It was identified at\nonce by the manager of the Eagle Commercial as belonging to a man named\nHargrave, who had taken a room there two days before. This bicycle and\na small valise were his whole belongings. He had registered his name\nas coming from London, but had given no address. The valise was London\nmade, and the contents were British; but the man himself was undoubtedly\nan American.\"\n\n\"Well, well,\" said Holmes gleefully, \"you have indeed done some solid\nwork while I have been sitting spinning theories with my friend! It's a\nlesson in being practical, Mr. Mac.\"\n\n\"Ay, it's just that, Mr. Holmes,\" said the inspector with satisfaction.\n\n\"But this may all fit in with your theories,\" I remarked.\n\n\"That may or may not be. But let us hear the end, Mr. Mac. Was there\nnothing to identify this man?\"\n\n\"So little that it was evident that he had carefully guarded himself\nagainst identification. There were no papers or letters, and no marking\nupon the clothes. A cycle map of the county lay on his bedroom table. He\nhad left the hotel after breakfast yesterday morning on his bicycle, and\nno more was heard of him until our inquiries.\"\n\n\"That's what puzzles me, Mr. Holmes,\" said White Mason. \"If the fellow\ndid not want the hue and cry raised over him, one would imagine that he\nwould have returned and remained at the hotel as an inoffensive tourist.\nAs it is, he must know that he will be reported to the police by the\nhotel manager and that his disappearance will be connected with the\nmurder.\"\n\n\"So one would imagine. Still, he has been justified of his wisdom up\nto date, at any rate, since he has not been taken. But his\ndescription--what of that?\"\n\nMacDonald referred to his notebook. \"Here we have it so far as they\ncould give it. They don't seem to have taken any very particular stock\nof him; but still the porter, the clerk, and the chambermaid are all\nagreed that this about covers the points. He was a man about five foot\nnine in height, fifty or so years of age, his hair slightly grizzled, a\ngrayish moustache, a curved nose, and a face which all of them described\nas fierce and forbidding.\"\n\n\"Well, bar the expression, that might almost be a description of Douglas\nhimself,\" said Holmes. \"He is just over fifty, with grizzled hair and\nmoustache, and about the same height. Did you get anything else?\"\n\n\"He was dressed in a heavy gray suit with a reefer jacket, and he wore a\nshort yellow overcoat and a soft cap.\"\n\n\"What about the shotgun?\"\n\n\"It is less than two feet long. It could very well have fitted into\nhis valise. He could have carried it inside his overcoat without\ndifficulty.\"\n\n\"And how do you consider that all this bears upon the general case?\"\n\n\"Well, Mr. Holmes,\" said MacDonald, \"when we have got our man--and you\nmay be sure that I had his description on the wires within five minutes\nof hearing it--we shall be better able to judge. But, even as it stands,\nwe have surely gone a long way. We know that an American calling himself\nHargrave came to Tunbridge Wells two days ago with bicycle and valise.\nIn the latter was a sawed-off shotgun; so he came with the deliberate\npurpose of crime. Yesterday morning he set off for this place on his\nbicycle, with his gun concealed in his overcoat. No one saw him arrive,\nso far as we can learn; but he need not pass through the village\nto reach the park gates, and there are many cyclists upon the road.\nPresumably he at once concealed his cycle among the laurels where it\nwas found, and possibly lurked there himself, with his eye on the house,\nwaiting for Mr. Douglas to come out. The shotgun is a strange weapon to\nuse inside a house; but he had intended to use it outside, and there it\nhas very obvious advantages, as it would be impossible to miss with it,\nand the sound of shots is so common in an English sporting neighbourhood\nthat no particular notice would be taken.\"\n\n\"That is all very clear,\" said Holmes.\n\n\"Well, Mr. Douglas did not appear. What was he to do next? He left his\nbicycle and approached the house in the twilight. He found the bridge\ndown and no one about. He took his chance, intending, no doubt, to make\nsome excuse if he met anyone. He met no one. He slipped into the first\nroom that he saw, and concealed himself behind the curtain. Thence he\ncould see the drawbridge go up, and he knew that his only escape was\nthrough the moat. He waited until quarter-past eleven, when Mr. Douglas\nupon his usual nightly round came into the room. He shot him and\nescaped, as arranged. He was aware that the bicycle would be described\nby the hotel people and be a clue against him; so he left it there and\nmade his way by some other means to London or to some safe hiding place\nwhich he had already arranged. How is that, Mr. Holmes?\"\n\n\"Well, Mr. Mac, it is very good and very clear so far as it goes. That\nis your end of the story. My end is that the crime was committed half an\nhour earlier than reported; that Mrs. Douglas and Barker are both in\na conspiracy to conceal something; that they aided the murderer's\nescape--or at least that they reached the room before he escaped--and\nthat they fabricated evidence of his escape through the window, whereas\nin all probability they had themselves let him go by lowering the\nbridge. That's my reading of the first half.\"\n\nThe two detectives shook their heads.\n\n\"Well, Mr. Holmes, if this is true, we only tumble out of one mystery\ninto another,\" said the London inspector.\n\n\"And in some ways a worse one,\" added White Mason. \"The lady has never\nbeen in America in all her life. What possible connection could she have\nwith an American assassin which would cause her to shelter him?\"\n\n\"I freely admit the difficulties,\" said Holmes. \"I propose to make a\nlittle investigation of my own to-night, and it is just possible that it\nmay contribute something to the common cause.\"\n\n\"Can we help you, Mr. Holmes?\"\n\n\"No, no! Darkness and Dr. Watson's umbrella--my wants are simple. And\nAmes, the faithful Ames, no doubt he will stretch a point for me. All my\nlines of thought lead me back invariably to the one basic question--why\nshould an athletic man develop his frame upon so unnatural an instrument\nas a single dumb-bell?\"\n\nIt was late that night when Holmes returned from his solitary excursion.\nWe slept in a double-bedded room, which was the best that the little\ncountry inn could do for us. I was already asleep when I was partly\nawakened by his entrance.\n\n\"Well, Holmes,\" I murmured, \"have you found anything out?\"\n\nHe stood beside me in silence, his candle in his hand. Then the tall,\nlean figure inclined towards me. \"I say, Watson,\" he whispered, \"would\nyou be afraid to sleep in the same room with a lunatic, a man with\nsoftening of the brain, an idiot whose mind has lost its grip?\"\n\n\"Not in the least,\" I answered in astonishment.\n\n\"Ah, that's lucky,\" he said, and not another word would he utter that\nnight.\n\n\n\n\nChapter 7--The Solution\n\n\n\nNext morning, after breakfast, we found Inspector MacDonald and White\nMason seated in close consultation in the small parlour of the local\npolice sergeant. On the table in front of them were piled a number of\nletters and telegrams, which they were carefully sorting and docketing.\nThree had been placed on one side.\n\n\"Still on the track of the elusive bicyclist?\" Holmes asked cheerfully.\n\"What is the latest news of the ruffian?\"\n\nMacDonald pointed ruefully to his heap of correspondence.\n\n\"He is at present reported from Leicester, Nottingham, Southampton,\nDerby, East Ham, Richmond, and fourteen other places. In three of\nthem--East Ham, Leicester, and Liverpool--there is a clear case against\nhim, and he has actually been arrested. The country seems to be full of\nthe fugitives with yellow coats.\"\n\n\"Dear me!\" said Holmes sympathetically. \"Now, Mr. Mac and you, Mr. White\nMason, I wish to give you a very earnest piece of advice. When I went\ninto this case with you I bargained, as you will no doubt remember, that\nI should not present you with half-proved theories, but that I should\nretain and work out my own ideas until I had satisfied myself that they\nwere correct. For this reason I am not at the present moment telling you\nall that is in my mind. On the other hand, I said that I would play the\ngame fairly by you, and I do not think it is a fair game to allow you\nfor one unnecessary moment to waste your energies upon a profitless\ntask. Therefore I am here to advise you this morning, and my advice to\nyou is summed up in three words--abandon the case.\"\n\nMacDonald and White Mason stared in amazement at their celebrated\ncolleague.\n\n\"You consider it hopeless!\" cried the inspector.\n\n\"I consider your case to be hopeless. I do not consider that it is\nhopeless to arrive at the truth.\"\n\n\"But this cyclist. He is not an invention. We have his description, his\nvalise, his bicycle. The fellow must be somewhere. Why should we not get\nhim?\"\n\n\"Yes, yes, no doubt he is somewhere, and no doubt we shall get him; but\nI would not have you waste your energies in East Ham or Liverpool. I am\nsure that we can find some shorter cut to a result.\"\n\n\"You are holding something back. It's hardly fair of you, Mr. Holmes.\"\nThe inspector was annoyed.\n\n\"You know my methods of work, Mr. Mac. But I will hold it back for the\nshortest time possible. I only wish to verify my details in one way,\nwhich can very readily be done, and then I make my bow and return to\nLondon, leaving my results entirely at your service. I owe you too much\nto act otherwise; for in all my experience I cannot recall any more\nsingular and interesting study.\"\n\n\"This is clean beyond me, Mr. Holmes. We saw you when we returned from\nTunbridge Wells last night, and you were in general agreement with our\nresults. What has happened since then to give you a completely new idea\nof the case?\"\n\n\"Well, since you ask me, I spent, as I told you that I would, some hours\nlast night at the Manor House.\"\n\n\"Well, what happened?\"\n\n\"Ah, I can only give you a very general answer to that for the moment.\nBy the way, I have been reading a short but clear and interesting\naccount of the old building, purchasable at the modest sum of one penny\nfrom the local tobacconist.\"\n\nHere Holmes drew a small tract, embellished with a rude engraving of the\nancient Manor House, from his waistcoat pocket.\n\n\"It immensely adds to the zest of an investigation, my dear Mr. Mac,\nwhen one is in conscious sympathy with the historical atmosphere of\none's surroundings. Don't look so impatient; for I assure you that even\nso bald an account as this raises some sort of picture of the past in\none's mind. Permit me to give you a sample. 'Erected in the fifth year\nof the reign of James I, and standing upon the site of a much older\nbuilding, the Manor House of Birlstone presents one of the finest\nsurviving examples of the moated Jacobean residence--'\"\n\n\"You are making fools of us, Mr. Holmes!\"\n\n\"Tut, tut, Mr. Mac!--the first sign of temper I have detected in you.\nWell, I won't read it verbatim, since you feel so strongly upon the\nsubject. But when I tell you that there is some account of the taking\nof the place by a parliamentary colonel in 1644, of the concealment of\nCharles for several days in the course of the Civil War, and finally\nof a visit there by the second George, you will admit that there are\nvarious associations of interest connected with this ancient house.\"\n\n\"I don't doubt it, Mr. Holmes; but that is no business of ours.\"\n\n\"Is it not? Is it not? Breadth of view, my dear Mr. Mac, is one of the\nessentials of our profession. The interplay of ideas and the oblique\nuses of knowledge are often of extraordinary interest. You will excuse\nthese remarks from one who, though a mere connoisseur of crime, is still\nrather older and perhaps more experienced than yourself.\"\n\n\"I'm the first to admit that,\" said the detective heartily. \"You get to\nyour point, I admit; but you have such a deuced round-the-corner way of\ndoing it.\"\n\n\"Well, well, I'll drop past history and get down to present-day facts. I\ncalled last night, as I have already said, at the Manor House. I did not\nsee either Barker or Mrs. Douglas. I saw no necessity to disturb them;\nbut I was pleased to hear that the lady was not visibly pining and that\nshe had partaken of an excellent dinner. My visit was specially made\nto the good Mr. Ames, with whom I exchanged some amiabilities, which\nculminated in his allowing me, without reference to anyone else, to sit\nalone for a time in the study.\"\n\n\"What! With that?\" I ejaculated.\n\n\"No, no, everything is now in order. You gave permission for that, Mr.\nMac, as I am informed. The room was in its normal state, and in it I\npassed an instructive quarter of an hour.\"\n\n\"What were you doing?\"\n\n\"Well, not to make a mystery of so simple a matter, I was looking for\nthe missing dumb-bell. It has always bulked rather large in my estimate\nof the case. I ended by finding it.\"\n\n\"Where?\"\n\n\"Ah, there we come to the edge of the unexplored. Let me go a little\nfurther, a very little further, and I will promise that you shall share\neverything that I know.\"\n\n\"Well, we're bound to take you on your own terms,\" said the inspector;\n\"but when it comes to telling us to abandon the case--why in the name of\ngoodness should we abandon the case?\"\n\n\"For the simple reason, my dear Mr. Mac, that you have not got the first\nidea what it is that you are investigating.\"\n\n\"We are investigating the murder of Mr. John Douglas of Birlstone\nManor.\"\n\n\"Yes, yes, so you are. But don't trouble to trace the mysterious\ngentleman upon the bicycle. I assure you that it won't help you.\"\n\n\"Then what do you suggest that we do?\"\n\n\"I will tell you exactly what to do, if you will do it.\"\n\n\"Well, I'm bound to say I've always found you had reason behind all your\nqueer ways. I'll do what you advise.\"\n\n\"And you, Mr. White Mason?\"\n\nThe country detective looked helplessly from one to the other. Holmes\nand his methods were new to him. \"Well, if it is good enough for the\ninspector, it is good enough for me,\" he said at last.\n\n\"Capital!\" said Holmes. \"Well, then, I should recommend a nice, cheery\ncountry walk for both of you. They tell me that the views from Birlstone\nRidge over the Weald are very remarkable. No doubt lunch could be got at\nsome suitable hostelry; though my ignorance of the country prevents me\nfrom recommending one. In the evening, tired but happy--\"\n\n\"Man, this is getting past a joke!\" cried MacDonald, rising angrily from\nhis chair.\n\n\"Well, well, spend the day as you like,\" said Holmes, patting him\ncheerfully upon the shoulder. \"Do what you like and go where you will,\nbut meet me here before dusk without fail--without fail, Mr. Mac.\"\n\n\"That sounds more like sanity.\"\n\n\"All of it was excellent advice; but I don't insist, so long as you are\nhere when I need you. But now, before we part, I want you to write a\nnote to Mr. Barker.\"\n\n\"Well?\"\n\n\"I'll dictate it, if you like. Ready?\n\n\"Dear Sir:\n\n\"It has struck me that it is our duty to drain the moat, in the hope\nthat we may find some--\"\n\n\"It's impossible,\" said the inspector. \"I've made inquiry.\"\n\n\"Tut, tut! My dear sir, please do what I ask you.\"\n\n\"Well, go on.\"\n\n\"--in the hope that we may find something which may bear upon our\ninvestigation. I have made arrangements, and the workmen will be at work\nearly to-morrow morning diverting the stream--\"\n\n\"Impossible!\"\n\n\"--diverting the stream; so I thought it best to explain matters\nbeforehand.\n\n\"Now sign that, and send it by hand about four o'clock. At that hour we\nshall meet again in this room. Until then we may each do what we like;\nfor I can assure you that this inquiry has come to a definite pause.\"\n\nEvening was drawing in when we reassembled. Holmes was very serious in\nhis manner, myself curious, and the detectives obviously critical and\nannoyed.\n\n\"Well, gentlemen,\" said my friend gravely, \"I am asking you now to\nput everything to the test with me, and you will judge for yourselves\nwhether the observations I have made justify the conclusions to which\nI have come. It is a chill evening, and I do not know how long our\nexpedition may last; so I beg that you will wear your warmest coats.\nIt is of the first importance that we should be in our places before it\ngrows dark; so with your permission we shall get started at once.\"\n\nWe passed along the outer bounds of the Manor House park until we came\nto a place where there was a gap in the rails which fenced it. Through\nthis we slipped, and then in the gathering gloom we followed Holmes\nuntil we had reached a shrubbery which lies nearly opposite to the main\ndoor and the drawbridge. The latter had not been raised. Holmes crouched\ndown behind the screen of laurels, and we all three followed his\nexample.\n\n\"Well, what are we to do now?\" asked MacDonald with some gruffness.\n\n\"Possess our souls in patience and make as little noise as possible,\"\nHolmes answered.\n\n\"What are we here for at all? I really think that you might treat us\nwith more frankness.\"\n\nHolmes laughed. \"Watson insists that I am the dramatist in real life,\"\nsaid he. \"Some touch of the artist wells up within me, and calls\ninsistently for a well-staged performance. Surely our profession, Mr.\nMac, would be a drab and sordid one if we did not sometimes set the\nscene so as to glorify our results. The blunt accusation, the brutal tap\nupon the shoulder--what can one make of such a denouement? But the quick\ninference, the subtle trap, the clever forecast of coming events, the\ntriumphant vindication of bold theories--are these not the pride and the\njustification of our life's work? At the present moment you thrill with\nthe glamour of the situation and the anticipation of the hunt. Where\nwould be that thrill if I had been as definite as a timetable? I only\nask a little patience, Mr. Mac, and all will be clear to you.\"\n\n\"Well, I hope the pride and justification and the rest of it will come\nbefore we all get our death of cold,\" said the London detective with\ncomic resignation.\n\nWe all had good reason to join in the aspiration; for our vigil was a\nlong and bitter one. Slowly the shadows darkened over the long, sombre\nface of the old house. A cold, damp reek from the moat chilled us to\nthe bones and set our teeth chattering. There was a single lamp over the\ngateway and a steady globe of light in the fatal study. Everything else\nwas dark and still.\n\n\"How long is this to last?\" asked the inspector finally. \"And what is it\nwe are watching for?\"\n\n\"I have no more notion than you how long it is to last,\" Holmes answered\nwith some asperity. \"If criminals would always schedule their movements\nlike railway trains, it would certainly be more convenient for all of\nus. As to what it is we--Well, THAT'S what we are watching for!\"\n\nAs he spoke the bright, yellow light in the study was obscured by\nsomebody passing to and fro before it. The laurels among which we lay\nwere immediately opposite the window and not more than a hundred feet\nfrom it. Presently it was thrown open with a whining of hinges, and we\ncould dimly see the dark outline of a man's head and shoulders looking\nout into the gloom. For some minutes he peered forth in furtive,\nstealthy fashion, as one who wishes to be assured that he is unobserved.\nThen he leaned forward, and in the intense silence we were aware of the\nsoft lapping of agitated water. He seemed to be stirring up the moat\nwith something which he held in his hand. Then suddenly he hauled\nsomething in as a fisherman lands a fish--some large, round object which\nobscured the light as it was dragged through the open casement.\n\n\"Now!\" cried Holmes. \"Now!\"\n\nWe were all upon our feet, staggering after him with our stiffened\nlimbs, while he ran swiftly across the bridge and rang violently at the\nbell. There was the rasping of bolts from the other side, and the amazed\nAmes stood in the entrance. Holmes brushed him aside without a word and,\nfollowed by all of us, rushed into the room which had been occupied by\nthe man whom we had been watching.\n\nThe oil lamp on the table represented the glow which we had seen from\noutside. It was now in the hand of Cecil Barker, who held it towards us\nas we entered. Its light shone upon his strong, resolute, clean-shaved\nface and his menacing eyes.\n\n\"What the devil is the meaning of all this?\" he cried. \"What are you\nafter, anyhow?\"\n\nHolmes took a swift glance round, and then pounced upon a sodden bundle\ntied together with cord which lay where it had been thrust under the\nwriting table.\n\n\"This is what we are after, Mr. Barker--this bundle, weighted with a\ndumb-bell, which you have just raised from the bottom of the moat.\"\n\nBarker stared at Holmes with amazement in his face. \"How in thunder came\nyou to know anything about it?\" he asked.\n\n\"Simply that I put it there.\"\n\n\"You put it there! You!\"\n\n\"Perhaps I should have said 'replaced it there,'\" said Holmes. \"You will\nremember, Inspector MacDonald, that I was somewhat struck by the absence\nof a dumb-bell. I drew your attention to it; but with the pressure of\nother events you had hardly the time to give it the consideration which\nwould have enabled you to draw deductions from it. When water is near\nand a weight is missing it is not a very far-fetched supposition that\nsomething has been sunk in the water. The idea was at least worth\ntesting; so with the help of Ames, who admitted me to the room, and the\ncrook of Dr. Watson's umbrella, I was able last night to fish up and\ninspect this bundle.\n\n\"It was of the first importance, however, that we should be able to\nprove who placed it there. This we accomplished by the very obvious\ndevice of announcing that the moat would be dried to-morrow, which had,\nof course, the effect that whoever had hidden the bundle would most\ncertainly withdraw it the moment that darkness enabled him to do so. We\nhave no less than four witnesses as to who it was who took advantage\nof the opportunity, and so, Mr. Barker, I think the word lies now with\nyou.\"\n\nSherlock Holmes put the sopping bundle upon the table beside the lamp\nand undid the cord which bound it. From within he extracted a dumb-bell,\nwhich he tossed down to its fellow in the corner. Next he drew forth a\npair of boots. \"American, as you perceive,\" he remarked, pointing to\nthe toes. Then he laid upon the table a long, deadly, sheathed knife.\nFinally he unravelled a bundle of clothing, comprising a complete set of\nunderclothes, socks, a gray tweed suit, and a short yellow overcoat.\n\n\"The clothes are commonplace,\" remarked Holmes, \"save only the overcoat,\nwhich is full of suggestive touches.\" He held it tenderly towards the\nlight. \"Here, as you perceive, is the inner pocket prolonged into the\nlining in such fashion as to give ample space for the truncated fowling\npiece. The tailor's tab is on the neck--'Neal, Outfitter, Vermissa,\nU.S.A.' I have spent an instructive afternoon in the rector's library,\nand have enlarged my knowledge by adding the fact that Vermissa is a\nflourishing little town at the head of one of the best known coal and\niron valleys in the United States. I have some recollection, Mr. Barker,\nthat you associated the coal districts with Mr. Douglas's first wife,\nand it would surely not be too far-fetched an inference that the V.V.\nupon the card by the dead body might stand for Vermissa Valley, or that\nthis very valley which sends forth emissaries of murder may be that\nValley of Fear of which we have heard. So much is fairly clear. And\nnow, Mr. Barker, I seem to be standing rather in the way of your\nexplanation.\"\n\nIt was a sight to see Cecil Barker's expressive face during this\nexposition of the great detective. Anger, amazement, consternation, and\nindecision swept over it in turn. Finally he took refuge in a somewhat\nacrid irony.\n\n\"You know such a lot, Mr. Holmes, perhaps you had better tell us some\nmore,\" he sneered.\n\n\"I have no doubt that I could tell you a great deal more, Mr. Barker;\nbut it would come with a better grace from you.\"\n\n\"Oh, you think so, do you? Well, all I can say is that if there's any\nsecret here it is not my secret, and I am not the man to give it away.\"\n\n\"Well, if you take that line, Mr. Barker,\" said the inspector quietly,\n\"we must just keep you in sight until we have the warrant and can hold\nyou.\"\n\n\"You can do what you damn please about that,\" said Barker defiantly.\n\nThe proceedings seemed to have come to a definite end so far as he was\nconcerned; for one had only to look at that granite face to realize that\nno peine forte et dure would ever force him to plead against his will.\nThe deadlock was broken, however, by a woman's voice. Mrs. Douglas had\nbeen standing listening at the half opened door, and now she entered the\nroom.\n\n\"You have done enough for now, Cecil,\" said she. \"Whatever comes of it\nin the future, you have done enough.\"\n\n\"Enough and more than enough,\" remarked Sherlock Holmes gravely. \"I have\nevery sympathy with you, madam, and should strongly urge you to have\nsome confidence in the common sense of our jurisdiction and to take the\npolice voluntarily into your complete confidence. It may be that I am\nmyself at fault for not following up the hint which you conveyed to me\nthrough my friend, Dr. Watson; but, at that time I had every reason to\nbelieve that you were directly concerned in the crime. Now I am\nassured that this is not so. At the same time, there is much that is\nunexplained, and I should strongly recommend that you ask Mr. Douglas to\ntell us his own story.\"\n\nMrs. Douglas gave a cry of astonishment at Holmes's words. The\ndetectives and I must have echoed it, when we were aware of a man who\nseemed to have emerged from the wall, who advanced now from the gloom\nof the corner in which he had appeared. Mrs. Douglas turned, and in\nan instant her arms were round him. Barker had seized his outstretched\nhand.\n\n\"It's best this way, Jack,\" his wife repeated; \"I am sure that it is\nbest.\"\n\n\"Indeed, yes, Mr. Douglas,\" said Sherlock Holmes, \"I am sure that you\nwill find it best.\"\n\nThe man stood blinking at us with the dazed look of one who comes from\nthe dark into the light. It was a remarkable face, bold gray eyes, a\nstrong, short-clipped, grizzled moustache, a square, projecting chin,\nand a humorous mouth. He took a good look at us all, and then to my\namazement he advanced to me and handed me a bundle of paper.\n\n\"I've heard of you,\" said he in a voice which was not quite English and\nnot quite American, but was altogether mellow and pleasing. \"You are the\nhistorian of this bunch. Well, Dr. Watson, you've never had such a story\nas that pass through your hands before, and I'll lay my last dollar on\nthat. Tell it your own way; but there are the facts, and you can't miss\nthe public so long as you have those. I've been cooped up two days, and\nI've spent the daylight hours--as much daylight as I could get in that\nrat trap--in putting the thing into words. You're welcome to them--you\nand your public. There's the story of the Valley of Fear.\"\n\n\"That's the past, Mr. Douglas,\" said Sherlock Holmes quietly. \"What we\ndesire now is to hear your story of the present.\"\n\n\"You'll have it, sir,\" said Douglas. \"May I smoke as I talk? Well, thank\nyou, Mr. Holmes. You're a smoker yourself, if I remember right, and\nyou'll guess what it is to be sitting for two days with tobacco in your\npocket and afraid that the smell will give you away.\" He leaned against\nthe mantelpiece and sucked at the cigar which Holmes had handed him.\n\"I've heard of you, Mr. Holmes. I never guessed that I should meet you.\nBut before you are through with that,\" he nodded at my papers, \"you will\nsay I've brought you something fresh.\"\n\nInspector MacDonald had been staring at the newcomer with the greatest\namazement. \"Well, this fairly beats me!\" he cried at last. \"If you\nare Mr. John Douglas of Birlstone Manor, then whose death have we been\ninvestigating for these two days, and where in the world have you\nsprung from now? You seemed to me to come out of the floor like a\njack-in-a-box.\"\n\n\"Ah, Mr. Mac,\" said Holmes, shaking a reproving forefinger, \"you\nwould not read that excellent local compilation which described the\nconcealment of King Charles. People did not hide in those days without\nexcellent hiding places, and the hiding place that has once been used\nmay be again. I had persuaded myself that we should find Mr. Douglas\nunder this roof.\"\n\n\"And how long have you been playing this trick upon us, Mr. Holmes?\"\nsaid the inspector angrily. \"How long have you allowed us to waste\nourselves upon a search that you knew to be an absurd one?\"\n\n\"Not one instant, my dear Mr. Mac. Only last night did I form my views\nof the case. As they could not be put to the proof until this evening, I\ninvited you and your colleague to take a holiday for the day. Pray what\nmore could I do? When I found the suit of clothes in the moat, it at\nonce became apparent to me that the body we had found could not have\nbeen the body of Mr. John Douglas at all, but must be that of the\nbicyclist from Tunbridge Wells. No other conclusion was possible.\nTherefore I had to determine where Mr. John Douglas himself could be,\nand the balance of probability was that with the connivance of his wife\nand his friend he was concealed in a house which had such conveniences\nfor a fugitive, and awaiting quieter times when he could make his final\nescape.\"\n\n\"Well, you figured it out about right,\" said Douglas approvingly. \"I\nthought I'd dodge your British law; for I was not sure how I stood under\nit, and also I saw my chance to throw these hounds once for all off my\ntrack. Mind you, from first to last I have done nothing to be ashamed\nof, and nothing that I would not do again; but you'll judge that for\nyourselves when I tell you my story. Never mind warning me, Inspector:\nI'm ready to stand pat upon the truth.\n\n\"I'm not going to begin at the beginning. That's all there,\" he\nindicated my bundle of papers, \"and a mighty queer yarn you'll find it.\nIt all comes down to this: That there are some men that have good cause\nto hate me and would give their last dollar to know that they had got\nme. So long as I am alive and they are alive, there is no safety in\nthis world for me. They hunted me from Chicago to California, then they\nchased me out of America; but when I married and settled down in this\nquiet spot I thought my last years were going to be peaceable.\n\n\"I never explained to my wife how things were. Why should I pull her\ninto it? She would never have a quiet moment again; but would always be\nimagining trouble. I fancy she knew something, for I may have dropped a\nword here or a word there; but until yesterday, after you gentlemen had\nseen her, she never knew the rights of the matter. She told you all she\nknew, and so did Barker here; for on the night when this thing happened\nthere was mighty little time for explanations. She knows everything now,\nand I would have been a wiser man if I had told her sooner. But it was a\nhard question, dear,\" he took her hand for an instant in his own, \"and I\nacted for the best.\n\n\"Well, gentlemen, the day before these happenings I was over in\nTunbridge Wells, and I got a glimpse of a man in the street. It was only\na glimpse; but I have a quick eye for these things, and I never doubted\nwho it was. It was the worst enemy I had among them all--one who has\nbeen after me like a hungry wolf after a caribou all these years. I\nknew there was trouble coming, and I came home and made ready for it. I\nguessed I'd fight through it all right on my own, my luck was a proverb\nin the States about '76. I never doubted that it would be with me still.\n\n\"I was on my guard all that next day, and never went out into the park.\nIt's as well, or he'd have had the drop on me with that buckshot gun of\nhis before ever I could draw on him. After the bridge was up--my mind\nwas always more restful when that bridge was up in the evenings--I put\nthe thing clear out of my head. I never dreamed of his getting into the\nhouse and waiting for me. But when I made my round in my dressing\ngown, as was my habit, I had no sooner entered the study than I scented\ndanger. I guess when a man has had dangers in his life--and I've had\nmore than most in my time--there is a kind of sixth sense that waves\nthe red flag. I saw the signal clear enough, and yet I couldn't tell you\nwhy. Next instant I spotted a boot under the window curtain, and then I\nsaw why plain enough.\n\n\"I'd just the one candle that was in my hand; but there was a good light\nfrom the hall lamp through the open door. I put down the candle and\njumped for a hammer that I'd left on the mantel. At the same moment he\nsprang at me. I saw the glint of a knife, and I lashed at him with the\nhammer. I got him somewhere; for the knife tinkled down on the floor. He\ndodged round the table as quick as an eel, and a moment later he'd got\nhis gun from under his coat. I heard him cock it; but I had got hold of\nit before he could fire. I had it by the barrel, and we wrestled for it\nall ends up for a minute or more. It was death to the man that lost his\ngrip.\n\n\"He never lost his grip; but he got it butt downward for a moment too\nlong. Maybe it was I that pulled the trigger. Maybe we just jolted it\noff between us. Anyhow, he got both barrels in the face, and there I\nwas, staring down at all that was left of Ted Baldwin. I'd recognized\nhim in the township, and again when he sprang for me; but his own mother\nwouldn't recognize him as I saw him then. I'm used to rough work; but I\nfairly turned sick at the sight of him.\n\n\"I was hanging on the side of the table when Barker came hurrying down.\nI heard my wife coming, and I ran to the door and stopped her. It was no\nsight for a woman. I promised I'd come to her soon. I said a word or two\nto Barker--he took it all in at a glance--and we waited for the rest to\ncome along. But there was no sign of them. Then we understood that they\ncould hear nothing, and that all that had happened was known only to\nourselves.\n\n\"It was at that instant that the idea came to me. I was fairly dazzled\nby the brilliance of it. The man's sleeve had slipped up and there was\nthe branded mark of the lodge upon his forearm. See here!\"\n\nThe man whom we had known as Douglas turned up his own coat and cuff\nto show a brown triangle within a circle exactly like that which we had\nseen upon the dead man.\n\n\"It was the sight of that which started me on it. I seemed to see it all\nclear at a glance. There were his height and hair and figure, about the\nsame as my own. No one could swear to his face, poor devil! I brought\ndown this suit of clothes, and in a quarter of an hour Barker and I had\nput my dressing gown on him and he lay as you found him. We tied all his\nthings into a bundle, and I weighted them with the only weight I could\nfind and put them through the window. The card he had meant to lay upon\nmy body was lying beside his own.\n\n\"My rings were put on his finger; but when it came to the wedding ring,\"\nhe held out his muscular hand, \"you can see for yourselves that I had\nstruck the limit. I have not moved it since the day I was married, and\nit would have taken a file to get it off. I don't know, anyhow, that I\nshould have cared to part with it; but if I had wanted to I couldn't.\nSo we just had to leave that detail to take care of itself. On the other\nhand, I brought a bit of plaster down and put it where I am wearing one\nmyself at this instant. You slipped up there, Mr. Holmes, clever as\nyou are; for if you had chanced to take off that plaster you would have\nfound no cut underneath it.\n\n\"Well, that was the situation. If I could lie low for a while and then\nget away where I could be joined by my 'widow' we should have a chance\nat last of living in peace for the rest of our lives. These devils would\ngive me no rest so long as I was above ground; but if they saw in the\npapers that Baldwin had got his man, there would be an end of all my\ntroubles. I hadn't much time to make it all clear to Barker and to my\nwife; but they understood enough to be able to help me. I knew all about\nthis hiding place, so did Ames; but it never entered his head to connect\nit with the matter. I retired into it, and it was up to Barker to do the\nrest.\n\n\"I guess you can fill in for yourselves what he did. He opened the\nwindow and made the mark on the sill to give an idea of how the murderer\nescaped. It was a tall order, that; but as the bridge was up there was\nno other way. Then, when everything was fixed, he rang the bell for all\nhe was worth. What happened afterward you know. And so, gentlemen, you\ncan do what you please; but I've told you the truth and the whole truth,\nso help me God! What I ask you now is how do I stand by the English\nlaw?\"\n\nThere was a silence which was broken by Sherlock Holmes.\n\n\"The English law is in the main a just law. You will get no worse than\nyour deserts from that, Mr. Douglas. But I would ask you how did this\nman know that you lived here, or how to get into your house, or where to\nhide to get you?\"\n\n\"I know nothing of this.\"\n\nHolmes's face was very white and grave. \"The story is not over yet, I\nfear,\" said he. \"You may find worse dangers than the English law, or\neven than your enemies from America. I see trouble before you, Mr.\nDouglas. You'll take my advice and still be on your guard.\"\n\nAnd now, my long-suffering readers, I will ask you to come away with me\nfor a time, far from the Sussex Manor House of Birlstone, and far also\nfrom the year of grace in which we made our eventful journey which ended\nwith the strange story of the man who had been known as John Douglas.\nI wish you to journey back some twenty years in time, and westward some\nthousands of miles in space, that I may lay before you a singular and\nterrible narrative--so singular and so terrible that you may find it\nhard to believe that even as I tell it, even so did it occur.\n\nDo not think that I intrude one story before another is finished. As\nyou read on you will find that this is not so. And when I have detailed\nthose distant events and you have solved this mystery of the past, we\nshall meet once more in those rooms on Baker Street, where this, like so\nmany other wonderful happenings, will find its end.\n\n\n\n\n\nPart 2--The Scowrers\n\n\n\n\nChapter 1--The Man\n\n\n\nIt was the fourth of February in the year 1875. It had been a severe\nwinter, and the snow lay deep in the gorges of the Gilmerton Mountains.\nThe steam ploughs had, however, kept the railroad open, and the evening\ntrain which connects the long line of coal-mining and iron-working\nsettlements was slowly groaning its way up the steep gradients which\nlead from Stagville on the plain to Vermissa, the central township which\nlies at the head of Vermissa Valley. From this point the track sweeps\ndownward to Bartons Crossing, Helmdale, and the purely agricultural\ncounty of Merton. It was a single track railroad; but at every\nsiding--and they were numerous--long lines of trucks piled with coal and\niron ore told of the hidden wealth which had brought a rude population\nand a bustling life to this most desolate corner of the United States of\nAmerica.\n\nFor desolate it was! Little could the first pioneer who had traversed\nit have ever imagined that the fairest prairies and the most lush water\npastures were valueless compared to this gloomy land of black crag and\ntangled forest. Above the dark and often scarcely penetrable woods upon\ntheir flanks, the high, bare crowns of the mountains, white snow, and\njagged rock towered upon each flank, leaving a long, winding, tortuous\nvalley in the centre. Up this the little train was slowly crawling.\n\nThe oil lamps had just been lit in the leading passenger car, a long,\nbare carriage in which some twenty or thirty people were seated. The\ngreater number of these were workmen returning from their day's toil in\nthe lower part of the valley. At least a dozen, by their grimed faces\nand the safety lanterns which they carried, proclaimed themselves\nminers. These sat smoking in a group and conversed in low voices,\nglancing occasionally at two men on the opposite side of the car, whose\nuniforms and badges showed them to be policemen.\n\nSeveral women of the labouring class and one or two travellers who might\nhave been small local storekeepers made up the rest of the company, with\nthe exception of one young man in a corner by himself. It is with this\nman that we are concerned. Take a good look at him; for he is worth it.\n\nHe is a fresh-complexioned, middle-sized young man, not far, one would\nguess, from his thirtieth year. He has large, shrewd, humorous gray eyes\nwhich twinkle inquiringly from time to time as he looks round through\nhis spectacles at the people about him. It is easy to see that he is of\na sociable and possibly simple disposition, anxious to be friendly to\nall men. Anyone could pick him at once as gregarious in his habits and\ncommunicative in his nature, with a quick wit and a ready smile. And yet\nthe man who studied him more closely might discern a certain firmness\nof jaw and grim tightness about the lips which would warn him that there\nwere depths beyond, and that this pleasant, brown-haired young Irishman\nmight conceivably leave his mark for good or evil upon any society to\nwhich he was introduced.\n\nHaving made one or two tentative remarks to the nearest miner, and\nreceiving only short, gruff replies, the traveller resigned himself to\nuncongenial silence, staring moodily out of the window at the fading\nlandscape.\n\nIt was not a cheering prospect. Through the growing gloom there pulsed\nthe red glow of the furnaces on the sides of the hills. Great heaps of\nslag and dumps of cinders loomed up on each side, with the high shafts\nof the collieries towering above them. Huddled groups of mean, wooden\nhouses, the windows of which were beginning to outline themselves in\nlight, were scattered here and there along the line, and the frequent\nhalting places were crowded with their swarthy inhabitants.\n\nThe iron and coal valleys of the Vermissa district were no resorts for\nthe leisured or the cultured. Everywhere there were stern signs of the\ncrudest battle of life, the rude work to be done, and the rude, strong\nworkers who did it.\n\nThe young traveller gazed out into this dismal country with a face of\nmingled repulsion and interest, which showed that the scene was new to\nhim. At intervals he drew from his pocket a bulky letter to which he\nreferred, and on the margins of which he scribbled some notes. Once from\nthe back of his waist he produced something which one would hardly have\nexpected to find in the possession of so mild-mannered a man. It was\na navy revolver of the largest size. As he turned it slantwise to the\nlight, the glint upon the rims of the copper shells within the drum\nshowed that it was fully loaded. He quickly restored it to his secret\npocket, but not before it had been observed by a working man who had\nseated himself upon the adjoining bench.\n\n\"Hullo, mate!\" said he. \"You seem heeled and ready.\"\n\nThe young man smiled with an air of embarrassment.\n\n\"Yes,\" said he, \"we need them sometimes in the place I come from.\"\n\n\"And where may that be?\"\n\n\"I'm last from Chicago.\"\n\n\"A stranger in these parts?\"\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\n\"You may find you need it here,\" said the workman.\n\n\"Ah! is that so?\" The young man seemed interested.\n\n\"Have you heard nothing of doings hereabouts?\"\n\n\"Nothing out of the way.\"\n\n\"Why, I thought the country was full of it. You'll hear quick enough.\nWhat made you come here?\"\n\n\"I heard there was always work for a willing man.\"\n\n\"Are you a member of the union?\"\n\n\"Sure.\"\n\n\"Then you'll get your job, I guess. Have you any friends?\"\n\n\"Not yet; but I have the means of making them.\"\n\n\"How's that, then?\"\n\n\"I am one of the Eminent Order of Freemen. There's no town without a\nlodge, and where there is a lodge I'll find my friends.\"\n\nThe remark had a singular effect upon his companion. He glanced round\nsuspiciously at the others in the car. The miners were still whispering\namong themselves. The two police officers were dozing. He came across,\nseated himself close to the young traveller, and held out his hand.\n\n\"Put it there,\" he said.\n\nA hand-grip passed between the two.\n\n\"I see you speak the truth,\" said the workman. \"But it's well to make\ncertain.\" He raised his right hand to his right eyebrow. The traveller\nat once raised his left hand to his left eyebrow.\n\n\"Dark nights are unpleasant,\" said the workman.\n\n\"Yes, for strangers to travel,\" the other answered.\n\n\"That's good enough. I'm Brother Scanlan, Lodge 341, Vermissa Valley.\nGlad to see you in these parts.\"\n\n\"Thank you. I'm Brother John McMurdo, Lodge 29, Chicago. Bodymaster J.H.\nScott. But I am in luck to meet a brother so early.\"\n\n\"Well, there are plenty of us about. You won't find the order more\nflourishing anywhere in the States than right here in Vermissa Valley.\nBut we could do with some lads like you. I can't understand a spry man\nof the union finding no work to do in Chicago.\"\n\n\"I found plenty of work to do,\" said McMurdo.\n\n\"Then why did you leave?\"\n\nMcMurdo nodded towards the policemen and smiled. \"I guess those chaps\nwould be glad to know,\" he said.\n\nScanlan groaned sympathetically. \"In trouble?\" he asked in a whisper.\n\n\"Deep.\"\n\n\"A penitentiary job?\"\n\n\"And the rest.\"\n\n\"Not a killing!\"\n\n\"It's early days to talk of such things,\" said McMurdo with the air of\na man who had been surprised into saying more than he intended. \"I've\nmy own good reasons for leaving Chicago, and let that be enough for you.\nWho are you that you should take it on yourself to ask such things?\"\nHis gray eyes gleamed with sudden and dangerous anger from behind his\nglasses.\n\n\"All right, mate, no offense meant. The boys will think none the worse\nof you, whatever you may have done. Where are you bound for now?\"\n\n\"Vermissa.\"\n\n\"That's the third halt down the line. Where are you staying?\"\n\nMcMurdo took out an envelope and held it close to the murky oil lamp.\n\"Here is the address--Jacob Shafter, Sheridan Street. It's a boarding\nhouse that was recommended by a man I knew in Chicago.\"\n\n\"Well, I don't know it; but Vermissa is out of my beat. I live at\nHobson's Patch, and that's here where we are drawing up. But, say,\nthere's one bit of advice I'll give you before we part: If you're\nin trouble in Vermissa, go straight to the Union House and see Boss\nMcGinty. He is the Bodymaster of Vermissa Lodge, and nothing can happen\nin these parts unless Black Jack McGinty wants it. So long, mate! Maybe\nwe'll meet in lodge one of these evenings. But mind my words: If you are\nin trouble, go to Boss McGinty.\"\n\nScanlan descended, and McMurdo was left once again to his thoughts.\nNight had now fallen, and the flames of the frequent furnaces were\nroaring and leaping in the darkness. Against their lurid background\ndark figures were bending and straining, twisting and turning, with the\nmotion of winch or of windlass, to the rhythm of an eternal clank and\nroar.\n\n\"I guess hell must look something like that,\" said a voice.\n\nMcMurdo turned and saw that one of the policemen had shifted in his seat\nand was staring out into the fiery waste.\n\n\"For that matter,\" said the other policeman, \"I allow that hell must BE\nsomething like that. If there are worse devils down yonder than some we\ncould name, it's more than I'd expect. I guess you are new to this part,\nyoung man?\"\n\n\"Well, what if I am?\" McMurdo answered in a surly voice.\n\n\"Just this, mister, that I should advise you to be careful in choosing\nyour friends. I don't think I'd begin with Mike Scanlan or his gang if I\nwere you.\"\n\n\"What the hell is it to you who are my friends?\" roared McMurdo in a\nvoice which brought every head in the carriage round to witness the\naltercation. \"Did I ask you for your advice, or did you think me such\na sucker that I couldn't move without it? You speak when you are spoken\nto, and by the Lord you'd have to wait a long time if it was me!\" He\nthrust out his face and grinned at the patrolmen like a snarling dog.\n\nThe two policemen, heavy, good-natured men, were taken aback by the\nextraordinary vehemence with which their friendly advances had been\nrejected.\n\n\"No offense, stranger,\" said one. \"It was a warning for your own good,\nseeing that you are, by your own showing, new to the place.\"\n\n\"I'm new to the place; but I'm not new to you and your kind!\" cried\nMcMurdo in cold fury. \"I guess you're the same in all places, shoving\nyour advice in when nobody asks for it.\"\n\n\"Maybe we'll see more of you before very long,\" said one of the\npatrolmen with a grin. \"You're a real hand-picked one, if I am a judge.\"\n\n\"I was thinking the same,\" remarked the other. \"I guess we may meet\nagain.\"\n\n\"I'm not afraid of you, and don't you think it!\" cried McMurdo. \"My\nname's Jack McMurdo--see? If you want me, you'll find me at Jacob\nShafter's on Sheridan Street, Vermissa; so I'm not hiding from you, am\nI? Day or night I dare to look the like of you in the face--don't make\nany mistake about that!\"\n\nThere was a murmur of sympathy and admiration from the miners at the\ndauntless demeanour of the newcomer, while the two policemen shrugged\ntheir shoulders and renewed a conversation between themselves.\n\nA few minutes later the train ran into the ill-lit station, and there\nwas a general clearing; for Vermissa was by far the largest town on the\nline. McMurdo picked up his leather gripsack and was about to start off\ninto the darkness, when one of the miners accosted him.\n\n\"By Gar, mate! you know how to speak to the cops,\" he said in a voice of\nawe. \"It was grand to hear you. Let me carry your grip and show you the\nroad. I'm passing Shafter's on the way to my own shack.\"\n\nThere was a chorus of friendly \"Good-nights\" from the other miners\nas they passed from the platform. Before ever he had set foot in it,\nMcMurdo the turbulent had become a character in Vermissa.\n\nThe country had been a place of terror; but the town was in its way\neven more depressing. Down that long valley there was at least a certain\ngloomy grandeur in the huge fires and the clouds of drifting smoke,\nwhile the strength and industry of man found fitting monuments in the\nhills which he had spilled by the side of his monstrous excavations.\nBut the town showed a dead level of mean ugliness and squalor. The broad\nstreet was churned up by the traffic into a horrible rutted paste of\nmuddy snow. The sidewalks were narrow and uneven. The numerous gas-lamps\nserved only to show more clearly a long line of wooden houses, each with\nits veranda facing the street, unkempt and dirty.\n\nAs they approached the centre of the town the scene was brightened by a\nrow of well-lit stores, and even more by a cluster of saloons and gaming\nhouses, in which the miners spent their hard-earned but generous wages.\n\n\"That's the Union House,\" said the guide, pointing to one saloon which\nrose almost to the dignity of being a hotel. \"Jack McGinty is the boss\nthere.\"\n\n\"What sort of a man is he?\" McMurdo asked.\n\n\"What! have you never heard of the boss?\"\n\n\"How could I have heard of him when you know that I am a stranger in\nthese parts?\"\n\n\"Well, I thought his name was known clear across the country. It's been\nin the papers often enough.\"\n\n\"What for?\"\n\n\"Well,\" the miner lowered his voice--\"over the affairs.\"\n\n\"What affairs?\"\n\n\"Good Lord, mister! you are queer, if I must say it without offense.\nThere's only one set of affairs that you'll hear of in these parts, and\nthat's the affairs of the Scowrers.\"\n\n\"Why, I seem to have read of the Scowrers in Chicago. A gang of\nmurderers, are they not?\"\n\n\"Hush, on your life!\" cried the miner, standing still in alarm, and\ngazing in amazement at his companion. \"Man, you won't live long in these\nparts if you speak in the open street like that. Many a man has had the\nlife beaten out of him for less.\"\n\n\"Well, I know nothing about them. It's only what I have read.\"\n\n\"And I'm not saying that you have not read the truth.\" The man looked\nnervously round him as he spoke, peering into the shadows as if he\nfeared to see some lurking danger. \"If killing is murder, then God knows\nthere is murder and to spare. But don't you dare to breathe the name\nof Jack McGinty in connection with it, stranger; for every whisper\ngoes back to him, and he is not one that is likely to let it pass. Now,\nthat's the house you're after, that one standing back from the street.\nYou'll find old Jacob Shafter that runs it as honest a man as lives in\nthis township.\"\n\n\"I thank you,\" said McMurdo, and shaking hands with his new acquaintance\nhe plodded, gripsack in hand, up the path which led to the dwelling\nhouse, at the door of which he gave a resounding knock.\n\nIt was opened at once by someone very different from what he had\nexpected. It was a woman, young and singularly beautiful. She was of the\nGerman type, blonde and fair-haired, with the piquant contrast of a\npair of beautiful dark eyes with which she surveyed the stranger with\nsurprise and a pleasing embarrassment which brought a wave of colour\nover her pale face. Framed in the bright light of the open doorway, it\nseemed to McMurdo that he had never seen a more beautiful picture;\nthe more attractive for its contrast with the sordid and gloomy\nsurroundings. A lovely violet growing upon one of those black slag-heaps\nof the mines would not have seemed more surprising. So entranced was\nhe that he stood staring without a word, and it was she who broke the\nsilence.\n\n\"I thought it was father,\" said she with a pleasing little touch of a\nGerman accent. \"Did you come to see him? He is down town. I expect him\nback every minute.\"\n\nMcMurdo continued to gaze at her in open admiration until her eyes\ndropped in confusion before this masterful visitor.\n\n\"No, miss,\" he said at last, \"I'm in no hurry to see him. But your house\nwas recommended to me for board. I thought it might suit me--and now I\nknow it will.\"\n\n\"You are quick to make up your mind,\" said she with a smile.\n\n\"Anyone but a blind man could do as much,\" the other answered.\n\nShe laughed at the compliment. \"Come right in, sir,\" she said. \"I'm Miss\nEttie Shafter, Mr. Shafter's daughter. My mother's dead, and I run the\nhouse. You can sit down by the stove in the front room until father\ncomes along--Ah, here he is! So you can fix things with him right away.\"\n\nA heavy, elderly man came plodding up the path. In a few words McMurdo\nexplained his business. A man of the name of Murphy had given him the\naddress in Chicago. He in turn had had it from someone else. Old Shafter\nwas quite ready. The stranger made no bones about terms, agreed at once\nto every condition, and was apparently fairly flush of money. For seven\ndollars a week paid in advance he was to have board and lodging.\n\nSo it was that McMurdo, the self-confessed fugitive from justice, took\nup his abode under the roof of the Shafters, the first step which was\nto lead to so long and dark a train of events, ending in a far distant\nland.\n\n\n\n\nChapter 2--The Bodymaster\n\n\n\nMcMurdo was a man who made his mark quickly. Wherever he was the folk\naround soon knew it. Within a week he had become infinitely the most\nimportant person at Shafter's. There were ten or a dozen boarders there;\nbut they were honest foremen or commonplace clerks from the stores, of a\nvery different calibre from the young Irishman. Of an evening when they\ngathered together his joke was always the readiest, his conversation the\nbrightest, and his song the best. He was a born boon companion, with a\nmagnetism which drew good humour from all around him.\n\nAnd yet he showed again and again, as he had shown in the railway\ncarriage, a capacity for sudden, fierce anger, which compelled the\nrespect and even the fear of those who met him. For the law, too, and\nall who were connected with it, he exhibited a bitter contempt which\ndelighted some and alarmed others of his fellow boarders.\n\nFrom the first he made it evident, by his open admiration, that the\ndaughter of the house had won his heart from the instant that he had set\neyes upon her beauty and her grace. He was no backward suitor. On\nthe second day he told her that he loved her, and from then onward he\nrepeated the same story with an absolute disregard of what she might say\nto discourage him.\n\n\"Someone else?\" he would cry. \"Well, the worse luck for someone else!\nLet him look out for himself! Am I to lose my life's chance and all my\nheart's desire for someone else? You can keep on saying no, Ettie: the\nday will come when you will say yes, and I'm young enough to wait.\"\n\nHe was a dangerous suitor, with his glib Irish tongue, and his pretty,\ncoaxing ways. There was about him also that glamour of experience and\nof mystery which attracts a woman's interest, and finally her love. He\ncould talk of the sweet valleys of County Monaghan from which he came,\nof the lovely, distant island, the low hills and green meadows of which\nseemed the more beautiful when imagination viewed them from this place\nof grime and snow.\n\nThen he was versed in the life of the cities of the North, of Detroit,\nand the lumber camps of Michigan, and finally of Chicago, where he had\nworked in a planing mill. And afterwards came the hint of romance, the\nfeeling that strange things had happened to him in that great city,\nso strange and so intimate that they might not be spoken of. He spoke\nwistfully of a sudden leaving, a breaking of old ties, a flight into\na strange world, ending in this dreary valley, and Ettie listened, her\ndark eyes gleaming with pity and with sympathy--those two qualities\nwhich may turn so rapidly and so naturally to love.\n\n\nMcMurdo had obtained a temporary job as bookkeeper for he was a\nwell-educated man. This kept him out most of the day, and he had not\nfound occasion yet to report himself to the head of the lodge of the\nEminent Order of Freemen. He was reminded of his omission, however, by\na visit one evening from Mike Scanlan, the fellow member whom he had met\nin the train. Scanlan, the small, sharp-faced, nervous, black-eyed man,\nseemed glad to see him once more. After a glass or two of whisky he\nbroached the object of his visit.\n\n\"Say, McMurdo,\" said he, \"I remembered your address, so I made bold\nto call. I'm surprised that you've not reported to the Bodymaster. Why\nhaven't you seen Boss McGinty yet?\"\n\n\"Well, I had to find a job. I have been busy.\"\n\n\"You must find time for him if you have none for anything else. Good\nLord, man! you're a fool not to have been down to the Union House and\nregistered your name the first morning after you came here! If you run\nagainst him--well, you mustn't, that's all!\"\n\nMcMurdo showed mild surprise. \"I've been a member of the lodge for over\ntwo years, Scanlan, but I never heard that duties were so pressing as\nall that.\"\n\n\"Maybe not in Chicago.\"\n\n\"Well, it's the same society here.\"\n\n\"Is it?\"\n\nScanlan looked at him long and fixedly. There was something sinister in\nhis eyes.\n\n\"Isn't it?\"\n\n\"You'll tell me that in a month's time. I hear you had a talk with the\npatrolmen after I left the train.\"\n\n\"How did you know that?\"\n\n\"Oh, it got about--things do get about for good and for bad in this\ndistrict.\"\n\n\"Well, yes. I told the hounds what I thought of them.\"\n\n\"By the Lord, you'll be a man after McGinty's heart!\"\n\n\"What, does he hate the police too?\"\n\nScanlan burst out laughing. \"You go and see him, my lad,\" said he as\nhe took his leave. \"It's not the police but you that he'll hate if you\ndon't! Now, take a friend's advice and go at once!\"\n\n\nIt chanced that on the same evening McMurdo had another more pressing\ninterview which urged him in the same direction. It may have been that\nhis attentions to Ettie had been more evident than before, or that they\nhad gradually obtruded themselves into the slow mind of his good German\nhost; but, whatever the cause, the boarding-house keeper beckoned the\nyoung man into his private room and started on the subject without any\ncircumlocution.\n\n\"It seems to me, mister,\" said he, \"that you are gettin' set on my\nEttie. Ain't that so, or am I wrong?\"\n\n\"Yes, that is so,\" the young man answered.\n\n\"Vell, I vant to tell you right now that it ain't no manner of use.\nThere's someone slipped in afore you.\"\n\n\"She told me so.\"\n\n\"Vell, you can lay that she told you truth. But did she tell you who it\nvas?\"\n\n\"No, I asked her; but she wouldn't tell.\"\n\n\"I dare say not, the leetle baggage! Perhaps she did not vish to\nfrighten you avay.\"\n\n\"Frighten!\" McMurdo was on fire in a moment.\n\n\"Ah, yes, my friend! You need not be ashamed to be frightened of him. It\nis Teddy Baldwin.\"\n\n\"And who the devil is he?\"\n\n\"He is a boss of Scowrers.\"\n\n\"Scowrers! I've heard of them before. It's Scowrers here and Scowrers\nthere, and always in a whisper! What are you all afraid of? Who are the\nScowrers?\"\n\nThe boarding-house keeper instinctively sank his voice, as everyone did\nwho talked about that terrible society. \"The Scowrers,\" said he, \"are\nthe Eminent Order of Freemen!\"\n\nThe young man stared. \"Why, I am a member of that order myself.\"\n\n\"You! I vould never have had you in my house if I had known it--not if\nyou vere to pay me a hundred dollar a veek.\"\n\n\"What's wrong with the order? It's for charity and good fellowship. The\nrules say so.\"\n\n\"Maybe in some places. Not here!\"\n\n\"What is it here?\"\n\n\"It's a murder society, that's vat it is.\"\n\nMcMurdo laughed incredulously. \"How can you prove that?\" he asked.\n\n\"Prove it! Are there not fifty murders to prove it? Vat about Milman and\nVan Shorst, and the Nicholson family, and old Mr. Hyam, and little\nBilly James, and the others? Prove it! Is there a man or a voman in this\nvalley vat does not know it?\"\n\n\"See here!\" said McMurdo earnestly. \"I want you to take back what you've\nsaid, or else make it good. One or the other you must do before I quit\nthis room. Put yourself in my place. Here am I, a stranger in the town.\nI belong to a society that I know only as an innocent one. You'll\nfind it through the length and breadth of the States, but always as an\ninnocent one. Now, when I am counting upon joining it here, you tell me\nthat it is the same as a murder society called the Scowrers. I guess you\nowe me either an apology or else an explanation, Mr. Shafter.\"\n\n\"I can but tell you vat the whole vorld knows, mister. The bosses of the\none are the bosses of the other. If you offend the one, it is the other\nvat vill strike you. We have proved it too often.\"\n\n\"That's just gossip--I want proof!\" said McMurdo.\n\n\"If you live here long you vill get your proof. But I forget that you\nare yourself one of them. You vill soon be as bad as the rest. But you\nvill find other lodgings, mister. I cannot have you here. Is it not bad\nenough that one of these people come courting my Ettie, and that I dare\nnot turn him down, but that I should have another for my boarder? Yes,\nindeed, you shall not sleep here after to-night!\"\n\n\nMcMurdo found himself under sentence of banishment both from his\ncomfortable quarters and from the girl whom he loved. He found her alone\nin the sitting-room that same evening, and he poured his troubles into\nher ear.\n\n\"Sure, your father is after giving me notice,\" he said. \"It's little I\nwould care if it was just my room, but indeed, Ettie, though it's only\na week that I've known you, you are the very breath of life to me, and I\ncan't live without you!\"\n\n\"Oh, hush, Mr. McMurdo, don't speak so!\" said the girl. \"I have told\nyou, have I not, that you are too late? There is another, and if I have\nnot promised to marry him at once, at least I can promise no one else.\"\n\n\"Suppose I had been first, Ettie, would I have had a chance?\"\n\nThe girl sank her face into her hands. \"I wish to heaven that you had\nbeen first!\" she sobbed.\n\nMcMurdo was down on his knees before her in an instant. \"For God's sake,\nEttie, let it stand at that!\" he cried. \"Will you ruin your life and\nmy own for the sake of this promise? Follow your heart, acushla! 'Tis a\nsafer guide than any promise before you knew what it was that you were\nsaying.\"\n\nHe had seized Ettie's white hand between his own strong brown ones.\n\n\"Say that you will be mine, and we will face it out together!\"\n\n\"Not here?\"\n\n\"Yes, here.\"\n\n\"No, no, Jack!\" His arms were round her now. \"It could not be here.\nCould you take me away?\"\n\nA struggle passed for a moment over McMurdo's face; but it ended by\nsetting like granite. \"No, here,\" he said. \"I'll hold you against the\nworld, Ettie, right here where we are!\"\n\n\"Why should we not leave together?\"\n\n\"No, Ettie, I can't leave here.\"\n\n\"But why?\"\n\n\"I'd never hold my head up again if I felt that I had been driven out.\nBesides, what is there to be afraid of? Are we not free folks in a free\ncountry? If you love me, and I you, who will dare to come between?\"\n\n\"You don't know, Jack. You've been here too short a time. You don't know\nthis Baldwin. You don't know McGinty and his Scowrers.\"\n\n\"No, I don't know them, and I don't fear them, and I don't believe\nin them!\" said McMurdo. \"I've lived among rough men, my darling, and\ninstead of fearing them it has always ended that they have feared\nme--always, Ettie. It's mad on the face of it! If these men, as your\nfather says, have done crime after crime in the valley, and if everyone\nknows them by name, how comes it that none are brought to justice? You\nanswer me that, Ettie!\"\n\n\"Because no witness dares to appear against them. He would not live a\nmonth if he did. Also because they have always their own men to swear\nthat the accused one was far from the scene of the crime. But surely,\nJack, you must have read all this. I had understood that every paper in\nthe United States was writing about it.\"\n\n\"Well, I have read something, it is true; but I had thought it was a\nstory. Maybe these men have some reason in what they do. Maybe they are\nwronged and have no other way to help themselves.\"\n\n\"Oh, Jack, don't let me hear you speak so! That is how he speaks--the\nother one!\"\n\n\"Baldwin--he speaks like that, does he?\"\n\n\"And that is why I loathe him so. Oh, Jack, now I can tell you the\ntruth. I loathe him with all my heart; but I fear him also. I fear him\nfor myself; but above all I fear him for father. I know that some great\nsorrow would come upon us if I dared to say what I really felt. That is\nwhy I have put him off with half-promises. It was in real truth our only\nhope. But if you would fly with me, Jack, we could take father with us\nand live forever far from the power of these wicked men.\"\n\nAgain there was the struggle upon McMurdo's face, and again it set like\ngranite. \"No harm shall come to you, Ettie--nor to your father either.\nAs to wicked men, I expect you may find that I am as bad as the worst of\nthem before we're through.\"\n\n\"No, no, Jack! I would trust you anywhere.\"\n\nMcMurdo laughed bitterly. \"Good Lord! how little you know of me! Your\ninnocent soul, my darling, could not even guess what is passing in mine.\nBut, hullo, who's the visitor?\"\n\nThe door had opened suddenly, and a young fellow came swaggering in with\nthe air of one who is the master. He was a handsome, dashing young\nman of about the same age and build as McMurdo himself. Under his\nbroad-brimmed black felt hat, which he had not troubled to remove, a\nhandsome face with fierce, domineering eyes and a curved hawk-bill of a\nnose looked savagely at the pair who sat by the stove.\n\nEttie had jumped to her feet full of confusion and alarm. \"I'm glad to\nsee you, Mr. Baldwin,\" said she. \"You're earlier than I had thought.\nCome and sit down.\"\n\nBaldwin stood with his hands on his hips looking at McMurdo. \"Who is\nthis?\" he asked curtly.\n\n\"It's a friend of mine, Mr. Baldwin, a new boarder here. Mr. McMurdo,\nmay I introduce you to Mr. Baldwin?\"\n\nThe young men nodded in surly fashion to each other.\n\n\"Maybe Miss Ettie has told you how it is with us?\" said Baldwin.\n\n\"I didn't understand that there was any relation between you.\"\n\n\"Didn't you? Well, you can understand it now. You can take it from me\nthat this young lady is mine, and you'll find it a very fine evening for\na walk.\"\n\n\"Thank you, I am in no humour for a walk.\"\n\n\"Aren't you?\" The man's savage eyes were blazing with anger. \"Maybe you\nare in a humour for a fight, Mr. Boarder!\"\n\n\"That I am!\" cried McMurdo, springing to his feet. \"You never said a\nmore welcome word.\"\n\n\"For God's sake, Jack! Oh, for God's sake!\" cried poor, distracted\nEttie. \"Oh, Jack, Jack, he will hurt you!\"\n\n\"Oh, it's Jack, is it?\" said Baldwin with an oath. \"You've come to that\nalready, have you?\"\n\n\"Oh, Ted, be reasonable--be kind! For my sake, Ted, if ever you loved\nme, be big-hearted and forgiving!\"\n\n\"I think, Ettie, that if you were to leave us alone we could get this\nthing settled,\" said McMurdo quietly. \"Or maybe, Mr. Baldwin, you will\ntake a turn down the street with me. It's a fine evening, and there's\nsome open ground beyond the next block.\"\n\n\"I'll get even with you without needing to dirty my hands,\" said his\nenemy. \"You'll wish you had never set foot in this house before I am\nthrough with you!\"\n\n\"No time like the present,\" cried McMurdo.\n\n\"I'll choose my own time, mister. You can leave the time to me. See\nhere!\" He suddenly rolled up his sleeve and showed upon his forearm a\npeculiar sign which appeared to have been branded there. It was a circle\nwith a triangle within it. \"D'you know what that means?\"\n\n\"I neither know nor care!\"\n\n\"Well, you will know, I'll promise you that. You won't be much older,\neither. Perhaps Miss Ettie can tell you something about it. As to you,\nEttie, you'll come back to me on your knees--d'ye hear, girl?--on\nyour knees--and then I'll tell you what your punishment may be. You've\nsowed--and by the Lord, I'll see that you reap!\" He glanced at them both\nin fury. Then he turned upon his heel, and an instant later the outer\ndoor had banged behind him.\n\nFor a few moments McMurdo and the girl stood in silence. Then she threw\nher arms around him.\n\n\"Oh, Jack, how brave you were! But it is no use, you must fly!\nTo-night--Jack--to-night! It's your only hope. He will have your life.\nI read it in his horrible eyes. What chance have you against a dozen of\nthem, with Boss McGinty and all the power of the lodge behind them?\"\n\nMcMurdo disengaged her hands, kissed her, and gently pushed her back\ninto a chair. \"There, acushla, there! Don't be disturbed or fear for me.\nI'm a Freeman myself. I'm after telling your father about it. Maybe I am\nno better than the others; so don't make a saint of me. Perhaps you hate\nme too, now that I've told you as much?\"\n\n\"Hate you, Jack? While life lasts I could never do that! I've heard that\nthere is no harm in being a Freeman anywhere but here; so why should\nI think the worse of you for that? But if you are a Freeman, Jack, why\nshould you not go down and make a friend of Boss McGinty? Oh, hurry,\nJack, hurry! Get your word in first, or the hounds will be on your\ntrail.\"\n\n\"I was thinking the same thing,\" said McMurdo. \"I'll go right now and\nfix it. You can tell your father that I'll sleep here to-night and find\nsome other quarters in the morning.\"\n\nThe bar of McGinty's saloon was crowded as usual; for it was the\nfavourite loafing place of all the rougher elements of the town. The man\nwas popular; for he had a rough, jovial disposition which formed a\nmask, covering a great deal which lay behind it. But apart from this\npopularity, the fear in which he was held throughout the township, and\nindeed down the whole thirty miles of the valley and past the mountains\non each side of it, was enough in itself to fill his bar; for none could\nafford to neglect his good will.\n\nBesides those secret powers which it was universally believed that he\nexercised in so pitiless a fashion, he was a high public official, a\nmunicipal councillor, and a commissioner of roads, elected to the\noffice through the votes of the ruffians who in turn expected to receive\nfavours at his hands. Assessments and taxes were enormous; the public\nworks were notoriously neglected, the accounts were slurred over by\nbribed auditors, and the decent citizen was terrorized into paying\npublic blackmail, and holding his tongue lest some worse thing befall\nhim.\n\nThus it was that, year by year, Boss McGinty's diamond pins became more\nobtrusive, his gold chains more weighty across a more gorgeous vest, and\nhis saloon stretched farther and farther, until it threatened to absorb\none whole side of the Market Square.\n\nMcMurdo pushed open the swinging door of the saloon and made his way\namid the crowd of men within, through an atmosphere blurred with tobacco\nsmoke and heavy with the smell of spirits. The place was brilliantly\nlighted, and the huge, heavily gilt mirrors upon every wall reflected\nand multiplied the garish illumination. There were several bartenders\nin their shirt sleeves, hard at work mixing drinks for the loungers who\nfringed the broad, brass-trimmed counter.\n\nAt the far end, with his body resting upon the bar and a cigar stuck\nat an acute angle from the corner of his mouth, stood a tall, strong,\nheavily built man who could be none other than the famous McGinty\nhimself. He was a black-maned giant, bearded to the cheek-bones, and\nwith a shock of raven hair which fell to his collar. His complexion was\nas swarthy as that of an Italian, and his eyes were of a strange dead\nblack, which, combined with a slight squint, gave them a particularly\nsinister appearance.\n\nAll else in the man--his noble proportions, his fine features, and his\nfrank bearing--fitted in with that jovial, man-to-man manner which he\naffected. Here, one would say, is a bluff, honest fellow, whose heart\nwould be sound however rude his outspoken words might seem. It was only\nwhen those dead, dark eyes, deep and remorseless, were turned upon a man\nthat he shrank within himself, feeling that he was face to face with\nan infinite possibility of latent evil, with a strength and courage and\ncunning behind it which made it a thousand times more deadly.\n\nHaving had a good look at his man, McMurdo elbowed his way forward with\nhis usual careless audacity, and pushed himself through the little\ngroup of courtiers who were fawning upon the powerful boss, laughing\nuproariously at the smallest of his jokes. The young stranger's bold\ngray eyes looked back fearlessly through their glasses at the deadly\nblack ones which turned sharply upon him.\n\n\"Well, young man, I can't call your face to mind.\"\n\n\"I'm new here, Mr. McGinty.\"\n\n\"You are not so new that you can't give a gentleman his proper title.\"\n\n\"He's Councillor McGinty, young man,\" said a voice from the group.\n\n\"I'm sorry, Councillor. I'm strange to the ways of the place. But I was\nadvised to see you.\"\n\n\"Well, you see me. This is all there is. What d'you think of me?\"\n\n\"Well, it's early days. If your heart is as big as your body, and\nyour soul as fine as your face, then I'd ask for nothing better,\" said\nMcMurdo.\n\n\"By Gar! you've got an Irish tongue in your head anyhow,\" cried the\nsaloon-keeper, not quite certain whether to humour this audacious\nvisitor or to stand upon his dignity.\n\n\"So you are good enough to pass my appearance?\"\n\n\"Sure,\" said McMurdo.\n\n\"And you were told to see me?\"\n\n\"I was.\"\n\n\"And who told you?\"\n\n\"Brother Scanlan of Lodge 341, Vermissa. I drink your health Councillor,\nand to our better acquaintance.\" He raised a glass with which he had\nbeen served to his lips and elevated his little finger as he drank it.\n\nMcGinty, who had been watching him narrowly, raised his thick black\neyebrows. \"Oh, it's like that, is it?\" said he. \"I'll have to look a bit\ncloser into this, Mister--\"\n\n\"McMurdo.\"\n\n\"A bit closer, Mr. McMurdo; for we don't take folk on trust in these\nparts, nor believe all we're told neither. Come in here for a moment,\nbehind the bar.\"\n\nThere was a small room there, lined with barrels. McGinty carefully\nclosed the door, and then seated himself on one of them, biting\nthoughtfully on his cigar and surveying his companion with those\ndisquieting eyes. For a couple of minutes he sat in complete silence.\nMcMurdo bore the inspection cheerfully, one hand in his coat pocket,\nthe other twisting his brown moustache. Suddenly McGinty stooped and\nproduced a wicked-looking revolver.\n\n\"See here, my joker,\" said he, \"if I thought you were playing any game\non us, it would be short work for you.\"\n\n\"This is a strange welcome,\" McMurdo answered with some dignity, \"for\nthe Bodymaster of a lodge of Freemen to give to a stranger brother.\"\n\n\"Ay, but it's just that same that you have to prove,\" said McGinty, \"and\nGod help you if you fail! Where were you made?\"\n\n\"Lodge 29, Chicago.\"\n\n\"When?\"\n\n\"June 24, 1872.\"\n\n\"What Bodymaster?\"\n\n\"James H. Scott.\"\n\n\"Who is your district ruler?\"\n\n\"Bartholomew Wilson.\"\n\n\"Hum! You seem glib enough in your tests. What are you doing here?\"\n\n\"Working, the same as you--but a poorer job.\"\n\n\"You have your back answer quick enough.\"\n\n\"Yes, I was always quick of speech.\"\n\n\"Are you quick of action?\"\n\n\"I have had that name among those that knew me best.\"\n\n\"Well, we may try you sooner than you think. Have you heard anything of\nthe lodge in these parts?\"\n\n\"I've heard that it takes a man to be a brother.\"\n\n\"True for you, Mr. McMurdo. Why did you leave Chicago?\"\n\n\"I'm damned if I tell you that!\"\n\nMcGinty opened his eyes. He was not used to being answered in such\nfashion, and it amused him. \"Why won't you tell me?\"\n\n\"Because no brother may tell another a lie.\"\n\n\"Then the truth is too bad to tell?\"\n\n\"You can put it that way if you like.\"\n\n\"See here, mister, you can't expect me, as Bodymaster, to pass into the\nlodge a man for whose past he can't answer.\"\n\nMcMurdo looked puzzled. Then he took a worn newspaper cutting from an\ninner pocket.\n\n\"You wouldn't squeal on a fellow?\" said he.\n\n\"I'll wipe my hand across your face if you say such words to me!\" cried\nMcGinty hotly.\n\n\"You are right, Councillor,\" said McMurdo meekly. \"I should apologize.\nI spoke without thought. Well, I know that I am safe in your hands. Look\nat that clipping.\"\n\nMcGinty glanced his eyes over the account of the shooting of one Jonas\nPinto, in the Lake Saloon, Market Street, Chicago, in the New Year week\nof 1874.\n\n\"Your work?\" he asked, as he handed back the paper.\n\nMcMurdo nodded.\n\n\"Why did you shoot him?\"\n\n\"I was helping Uncle Sam to make dollars. Maybe mine were not as good\ngold as his, but they looked as well and were cheaper to make. This man\nPinto helped me to shove the queer--\"\n\n\"To do what?\"\n\n\"Well, it means to pass the dollars out into circulation. Then he said\nhe would split. Maybe he did split. I didn't wait to see. I just killed\nhim and lighted out for the coal country.\"\n\n\"Why the coal country?\"\n\n\"'Cause I'd read in the papers that they weren't too particular in those\nparts.\"\n\nMcGinty laughed. \"You were first a coiner and then a murderer, and you\ncame to these parts because you thought you'd be welcome.\"\n\n\"That's about the size of it,\" McMurdo answered.\n\n\"Well, I guess you'll go far. Say, can you make those dollars yet?\"\n\nMcMurdo took half a dozen from his pocket. \"Those never passed the\nPhiladelphia mint,\" said he.\n\n\"You don't say!\" McGinty held them to the light in his enormous hand,\nwhich was hairy as a gorilla's. \"I can see no difference. Gar! you'll be\na mighty useful brother, I'm thinking! We can do with a bad man or two\namong us, Friend McMurdo: for there are times when we have to take our\nown part. We'd soon be against the wall if we didn't shove back at those\nthat were pushing us.\"\n\n\"Well, I guess I'll do my share of shoving with the rest of the boys.\"\n\n\"You seem to have a good nerve. You didn't squirm when I shoved this gun\nat you.\"\n\n\"It was not me that was in danger.\"\n\n\"Who then?\"\n\n\"It was you, Councillor.\" McMurdo drew a cocked pistol from the side\npocket of his peajacket. \"I was covering you all the time. I guess my\nshot would have been as quick as yours.\"\n\n\"By Gar!\" McGinty flushed an angry red and then burst into a roar of\nlaughter. \"Say, we've had no such holy terror come to hand this many a\nyear. I reckon the lodge will learn to be proud of you.... Well, what\nthe hell do you want? And can't I speak alone with a gentleman for five\nminutes but you must butt in on us?\"\n\nThe bartender stood abashed. \"I'm sorry, Councillor, but it's Ted\nBaldwin. He says he must see you this very minute.\"\n\nThe message was unnecessary; for the set, cruel face of the man himself\nwas looking over the servant's shoulder. He pushed the bartender out and\nclosed the door on him.\n\n\"So,\" said he with a furious glance at McMurdo, \"you got here first, did\nyou? I've a word to say to you, Councillor, about this man.\"\n\n\"Then say it here and now before my face,\" cried McMurdo.\n\n\"I'll say it at my own time, in my own way.\"\n\n\"Tut! Tut!\" said McGinty, getting off his barrel. \"This will never do.\nWe have a new brother here, Baldwin, and it's not for us to greet him in\nsuch fashion. Hold out your hand, man, and make it up!\"\n\n\"Never!\" cried Baldwin in a fury.\n\n\"I've offered to fight him if he thinks I have wronged him,\" said\nMcMurdo. \"I'll fight him with fists, or, if that won't satisfy him,\nI'll fight him any other way he chooses. Now, I'll leave it to you,\nCouncillor, to judge between us as a Bodymaster should.\"\n\n\"What is it, then?\"\n\n\"A young lady. She's free to choose for herself.\"\n\n\"Is she?\" cried Baldwin.\n\n\"As between two brothers of the lodge I should say that she was,\" said\nthe Boss.\n\n\"Oh, that's your ruling, is it?\"\n\n\"Yes, it is, Ted Baldwin,\" said McGinty, with a wicked stare. \"Is it you\nthat would dispute it?\"\n\n\"You would throw over one that has stood by you this five years in\nfavour of a man that you never saw before in your life? You're not\nBodymaster for life, Jack McGinty, and by God! when next it comes to a\nvote--\"\n\nThe Councillor sprang at him like a tiger. His hand closed round the\nother's neck, and he hurled him back across one of the barrels. In his\nmad fury he would have squeezed the life out of him if McMurdo had not\ninterfered.\n\n\"Easy, Councillor! For heaven's sake, go easy!\" he cried, as he dragged\nhim back.\n\nMcGinty released his hold, and Baldwin, cowed and shaken gasping for\nbreath, and shivering in every limb, as one who has looked over the very\nedge of death, sat up on the barrel over which he had been hurled.\n\n\"You've been asking for it this many a day, Ted Baldwin--now you've got\nit!\" cried McGinty, his huge chest rising and falling. \"Maybe you think\nif I was voted down from Bodymaster you would find yourself in my shoes.\nIt's for the lodge to say that. But so long as I am the chief I'll have\nno man lift his voice against me or my rulings.\"\n\n\"I have nothing against you,\" mumbled Baldwin, feeling his throat.\n\n\"Well, then,\" cried the other, relapsing in a moment into a bluff\njoviality, \"we are all good friends again and there's an end of the\nmatter.\"\n\nHe took a bottle of champagne down from the shelf and twisted out the\ncork.\n\n\"See now,\" he continued, as he filled three high glasses. \"Let us drink\nthe quarrelling toast of the lodge. After that, as you know, there can\nbe no bad blood between us. Now, then the left hand on the apple of my\nthroat. I say to you, Ted Baldwin, what is the offense, sir?\"\n\n\"The clouds are heavy,\" answered Baldwin\n\n\"But they will forever brighten.\"\n\n\"And this I swear!\"\n\nThe men drank their glasses, and the same ceremony was performed between\nBaldwin and McMurdo\n\n\"There!\" cried McGinty, rubbing his hands. \"That's the end of the black\nblood. You come under lodge discipline if it goes further, and that's\na heavy hand in these parts, as Brother Baldwin knows--and as you will\ndamn soon find out, Brother McMurdo, if you ask for trouble!\"\n\n\"Faith, I'd be slow to do that,\" said McMurdo. He held out his hand to\nBaldwin. \"I'm quick to quarrel and quick to forgive. It's my hot Irish\nblood, they tell me. But it's over for me, and I bear no grudge.\"\n\nBaldwin had to take the proffered hand; for the baleful eye of the\nterrible Boss was upon him. But his sullen face showed how little the\nwords of the other had moved him.\n\nMcGinty clapped them both on the shoulders. \"Tut! These girls! These\ngirls!\" he cried. \"To think that the same petticoats should come between\ntwo of my boys! It's the devil's own luck! Well, it's the colleen inside\nof them that must settle the question; for it's outside the jurisdiction\nof a Bodymaster--and the Lord be praised for that! We have enough on us,\nwithout the women as well. You'll have to be affiliated to Lodge 341,\nBrother McMurdo. We have our own ways and methods, different from\nChicago. Saturday night is our meeting, and if you come then, we'll make\nyou free forever of the Vermissa Valley.\"\n\n\n\n\nChapter 3--Lodge 341, Vermissa\n\n\n\nOn the day following the evening which had contained so many exciting\nevents, McMurdo moved his lodgings from old Jacob Shafter's and took up\nhis quarters at the Widow MacNamara's on the extreme outskirts of the\ntown. Scanlan, his original acquaintance aboard the train, had occasion\nshortly afterwards to move into Vermissa, and the two lodged together.\nThere was no other boarder, and the hostess was an easy-going old\nIrishwoman who left them to themselves; so that they had a freedom for\nspeech and action welcome to men who had secrets in common.\n\nShafter had relented to the extent of letting McMurdo come to his meals\nthere when he liked; so that his intercourse with Ettie was by no means\nbroken. On the contrary, it drew closer and more intimate as the weeks\nwent by.\n\nIn his bedroom at his new abode McMurdo felt it safe to take out the\ncoining moulds, and under many a pledge of secrecy a number of brothers\nfrom the lodge were allowed to come in and see them, each carrying away\nin his pocket some examples of the false money, so cunningly struck that\nthere was never the slightest difficulty or danger in passing it. Why,\nwith such a wonderful art at his command, McMurdo should condescend to\nwork at all was a perpetual mystery to his companions; though he made it\nclear to anyone who asked him that if he lived without any visible means\nit would very quickly bring the police upon his track.\n\nOne policeman was indeed after him already; but the incident, as luck\nwould have it, did the adventurer a great deal more good than harm.\nAfter the first introduction there were few evenings when he did not\nfind his way to McGinty's saloon, there to make closer acquaintance with\n\"the boys,\" which was the jovial title by which the dangerous gang who\ninfested the place were known to one another. His dashing manner and\nfearlessness of speech made him a favourite with them all; while the\nrapid and scientific way in which he polished off his antagonist in\nan \"all in\" bar-room scrap earned the respect of that rough community.\nAnother incident, however, raised him even higher in their estimation.\n\nJust at the crowded hour one night, the door opened and a man entered\nwith the quiet blue uniform and peaked cap of the mine police. This was\na special body raised by the railways and colliery owners to supplement\nthe efforts of the ordinary civil police, who were perfectly helpless\nin the face of the organized ruffianism which terrorized the district.\nThere was a hush as he entered, and many a curious glance was cast at\nhim; but the relations between policemen and criminals are peculiar\nin some parts of the States, and McGinty himself, standing behind his\ncounter, showed no surprise when the policeman enrolled himself among\nhis customers.\n\n\"A straight whisky; for the night is bitter,\" said the police officer.\n\"I don't think we have met before, Councillor?\"\n\n\"You'll be the new captain?\" said McGinty.\n\n\"That's so. We're looking to you, Councillor, and to the other leading\ncitizens, to help us in upholding law and order in this township.\nCaptain Marvin is my name.\"\n\n\"We'd do better without you, Captain Marvin,\" said McGinty coldly; \"for\nwe have our own police of the township, and no need for any imported\ngoods. What are you but the paid tool of the capitalists, hired by them\nto club or shoot your poorer fellow citizen?\"\n\n\"Well, well, we won't argue about that,\" said the police officer\ngood-humouredly. \"I expect we all do our duty same as we see it; but we\ncan't all see it the same.\" He had drunk off his glass and had turned to\ngo, when his eyes fell upon the face of Jack McMurdo, who was scowling\nat his elbow. \"Hullo! Hullo!\" he cried, looking him up and down. \"Here's\nan old acquaintance!\"\n\nMcMurdo shrank away from him. \"I was never a friend to you nor any other\ncursed copper in my life,\" said he.\n\n\"An acquaintance isn't always a friend,\" said the police captain,\ngrinning. \"You're Jack McMurdo of Chicago, right enough, and don't you\ndeny it!\"\n\nMcMurdo shrugged his shoulders. \"I'm not denying it,\" said he. \"D'ye\nthink I'm ashamed of my own name?\"\n\n\"You've got good cause to be, anyhow.\"\n\n\"What the devil d'you mean by that?\" he roared with his fists clenched.\n\n\"No, no, Jack, bluster won't do with me. I was an officer in Chicago\nbefore ever I came to this darned coal bunker, and I know a Chicago\ncrook when I see one.\"\n\nMcMurdo's face fell. \"Don't tell me that you're Marvin of the Chicago\nCentral!\" he cried.\n\n\"Just the same old Teddy Marvin, at your service. We haven't forgotten\nthe shooting of Jonas Pinto up there.\"\n\n\"I never shot him.\"\n\n\"Did you not? That's good impartial evidence, ain't it? Well, his death\ncame in uncommon handy for you, or they would have had you for shoving\nthe queer. Well, we can let that be bygones; for, between you and\nme--and perhaps I'm going further than my duty in saying it--they could\nget no clear case against you, and Chicago's open to you to-morrow.\"\n\n\"I'm very well where I am.\"\n\n\"Well, I've given you the pointer, and you're a sulky dog not to thank\nme for it.\"\n\n\"Well, I suppose you mean well, and I do thank you,\" said McMurdo in no\nvery gracious manner.\n\n\"It's mum with me so long as I see you living on the straight,\" said\nthe captain. \"But, by the Lord! if you get off after this, it's another\nstory! So good-night to you--and good-night, Councillor.\"\n\nHe left the bar-room; but not before he had created a local hero.\nMcMurdo's deeds in far Chicago had been whispered before. He had put off\nall questions with a smile, as one who did not wish to have greatness\nthrust upon him. But now the thing was officially confirmed. The bar\nloafers crowded round him and shook him heartily by the hand. He was\nfree of the community from that time on. He could drink hard and show\nlittle trace of it; but that evening, had his mate Scanlan not been at\nhand to lead him home, the feted hero would surely have spent his night\nunder the bar.\n\nOn a Saturday night McMurdo was introduced to the lodge. He had thought\nto pass in without ceremony as being an initiate of Chicago; but there\nwere particular rites in Vermissa of which they were proud, and these\nhad to be undergone by every postulant. The assembly met in a large\nroom reserved for such purposes at the Union House. Some sixty members\nassembled at Vermissa; but that by no means represented the full\nstrength of the organization, for there were several other lodges in\nthe valley, and others across the mountains on each side, who exchanged\nmembers when any serious business was afoot, so that a crime might be\ndone by men who were strangers to the locality. Altogether there were\nnot less than five hundred scattered over the coal district.\n\nIn the bare assembly room the men were gathered round a long table. At\nthe side was a second one laden with bottles and glasses, on which some\nmembers of the company were already turning their eyes. McGinty sat at\nthe head with a flat black velvet cap upon his shock of tangled black\nhair, and a coloured purple stole round his neck, so that he seemed to\nbe a priest presiding over some diabolical ritual. To right and left\nof him were the higher lodge officials, the cruel, handsome face of Ted\nBaldwin among them. Each of these wore some scarf or medallion as emblem\nof his office.\n\nThey were, for the most part, men of mature age; but the rest of the\ncompany consisted of young fellows from eighteen to twenty-five, the\nready and capable agents who carried out the commands of their seniors.\nAmong the older men were many whose features showed the tigerish,\nlawless souls within; but looking at the rank and file it was difficult\nto believe that these eager and open-faced young fellows were in very\ntruth a dangerous gang of murderers, whose minds had suffered such\ncomplete moral perversion that they took a horrible pride in their\nproficiency at the business, and looked with deepest respect at the man\nwho had the reputation of making what they called \"a clean job.\"\n\nTo their contorted natures it had become a spirited and chivalrous thing\nto volunteer for service against some man who had never injured them,\nand whom in many cases they had never seen in their lives. The crime\ncommitted, they quarrelled as to who had actually struck the fatal\nblow, and amused one another and the company by describing the cries and\ncontortions of the murdered man.\n\nAt first they had shown some secrecy in their arrangements; but at\nthe time which this narrative describes their proceedings were\nextraordinarily open, for the repeated failure of the law had proved to\nthem that, on the one hand, no one would dare to witness against them,\nand on the other they had an unlimited number of stanch witnesses upon\nwhom they could call, and a well-filled treasure chest from which they\ncould draw the funds to engage the best legal talent in the state. In\nten long years of outrage there had been no single conviction, and\nthe only danger that ever threatened the Scowrers lay in the victim\nhimself--who, however outnumbered and taken by surprise, might and\noccasionally did leave his mark upon his assailants.\n\nMcMurdo had been warned that some ordeal lay before him; but no one\nwould tell him in what it consisted. He was led now into an outer room\nby two solemn brothers. Through the plank partition he could hear the\nmurmur of many voices from the assembly within. Once or twice he caught\nthe sound of his own name, and he knew that they were discussing his\ncandidacy. Then there entered an inner guard with a green and gold sash\nacross his chest.\n\n\"The Bodymaster orders that he shall be trussed, blinded, and entered,\"\nsaid he.\n\nThe three of them removed his coat, turned up the sleeve of his right\narm, and finally passed a rope round above the elbows and made it fast.\nThey next placed a thick black cap right over his head and the upper\npart of his face, so that he could see nothing. He was then led into the\nassembly hall.\n\nIt was pitch dark and very oppressive under his hood. He heard the\nrustle and murmur of the people round him, and then the voice of McGinty\nsounded dull and distant through the covering of his ears.\n\n\"John McMurdo,\" said the voice, \"are you already a member of the Ancient\nOrder of Freemen?\"\n\nHe bowed in assent.\n\n\"Is your lodge No. 29, Chicago?\"\n\nHe bowed again.\n\n\"Dark nights are unpleasant,\" said the voice.\n\n\"Yes, for strangers to travel,\" he answered.\n\n\"The clouds are heavy.\"\n\n\"Yes, a storm is approaching.\"\n\n\"Are the brethren satisfied?\" asked the Bodymaster.\n\nThere was a general murmur of assent.\n\n\"We know, Brother, by your sign and by your countersign that you are\nindeed one of us,\" said McGinty. \"We would have you know, however, that\nin this county and in other counties of these parts we have certain\nrites, and also certain duties of our own which call for good men. Are\nyou ready to be tested?\"\n\n\"I am.\"\n\n\"Are you of stout heart?\"\n\n\"I am.\"\n\n\"Take a stride forward to prove it.\"\n\nAs the words were said he felt two hard points in front of his eyes,\npressing upon them so that it appeared as if he could not move forward\nwithout a danger of losing them. None the less, he nerved himself to\nstep resolutely out, and as he did so the pressure melted away. There\nwas a low murmur of applause.\n\n\"He is of stout heart,\" said the voice. \"Can you bear pain?\"\n\n\"As well as another,\" he answered.\n\n\"Test him!\"\n\nIt was all he could do to keep himself from screaming out, for an\nagonizing pain shot through his forearm. He nearly fainted at the sudden\nshock of it; but he bit his lip and clenched his hands to hide his\nagony.\n\n\"I can take more than that,\" said he.\n\nThis time there was loud applause. A finer first appearance had never\nbeen made in the lodge. Hands clapped him on the back, and the hood\nwas plucked from his head. He stood blinking and smiling amid the\ncongratulations of the brothers.\n\n\"One last word, Brother McMurdo,\" said McGinty. \"You have already sworn\nthe oath of secrecy and fidelity, and you are aware that the punishment\nfor any breach of it is instant and inevitable death?\"\n\n\"I am,\" said McMurdo.\n\n\"And you accept the rule of the Bodymaster for the time being under all\ncircumstances?\"\n\n\"I do.\"\n\n\"Then in the name of Lodge 341, Vermissa, I welcome you to its\nprivileges and debates. You will put the liquor on the table, Brother\nScanlan, and we will drink to our worthy brother.\"\n\nMcMurdo's coat had been brought to him; but before putting it on he\nexamined his right arm, which still smarted heavily. There on the flesh\nof the forearm was a circle with a triangle within it, deep and red, as\nthe branding iron had left it. One or two of his neighbours pulled up\ntheir sleeves and showed their own lodge marks.\n\n\"We've all had it,\" said one; \"but not all as brave as you over it.\"\n\n\"Tut! It was nothing,\" said he; but it burned and ached all the same.\n\nWhen the drinks which followed the ceremony of initiation had all been\ndisposed of, the business of the lodge proceeded. McMurdo, accustomed\nonly to the prosaic performances of Chicago, listened with open ears and\nmore surprise than he ventured to show to what followed.\n\n\"The first business on the agenda paper,\" said McGinty, \"is to read the\nfollowing letter from Division Master Windle of Merton County Lodge 249.\nHe says:\n\n\"Dear Sir:\n\n\"There is a job to be done on Andrew Rae of Rae & Sturmash, coal owners\nnear this place. You will remember that your lodge owes us a return,\nhaving had the service of two brethren in the matter of the patrolman\nlast fall. You will send two good men, they will be taken charge of by\nTreasurer Higgins of this lodge, whose address you know. He will show\nthem when to act and where. Yours in freedom,\n\n\"J.W. WINDLE D.M.A.O.F.\"\n\n\"Windle has never refused us when we have had occasion to ask for the\nloan of a man or two, and it is not for us to refuse him.\" McGinty\npaused and looked round the room with his dull, malevolent eyes. \"Who\nwill volunteer for the job?\"\n\nSeveral young fellows held up their hands. The Bodymaster looked at them\nwith an approving smile.\n\n\"You'll do, Tiger Cormac. If you handle it as well as you did the last,\nyou won't be wrong. And you, Wilson.\"\n\n\"I've no pistol,\" said the volunteer, a mere boy in his teens.\n\n\"It's your first, is it not? Well, you have to be blooded some time. It\nwill be a great start for you. As to the pistol, you'll find it waiting\nfor you, or I'm mistaken. If you report yourselves on Monday, it will be\ntime enough. You'll get a great welcome when you return.\"\n\n\"Any reward this time?\" asked Cormac, a thick-set, dark-faced,\nbrutal-looking young man, whose ferocity had earned him the nickname of\n\"Tiger.\"\n\n\"Never mind the reward. You just do it for the honour of the thing.\nMaybe when it is done there will be a few odd dollars at the bottom of\nthe box.\"\n\n\"What has the man done?\" asked young Wilson.\n\n\"Sure, it's not for the likes of you to ask what the man has done. He\nhas been judged over there. That's no business of ours. All we have to\ndo is to carry it out for them, same as they would for us. Speaking of\nthat, two brothers from the Merton lodge are coming over to us next week\nto do some business in this quarter.\"\n\n\"Who are they?\" asked someone.\n\n\"Faith, it is wiser not to ask. If you know nothing, you can testify\nnothing, and no trouble can come of it. But they are men who will make a\nclean job when they are about it.\"\n\n\"And time, too!\" cried Ted Baldwin. \"Folk are gettin' out of hand in\nthese parts. It was only last week that three of our men were turned\noff by Foreman Blaker. It's been owing him a long time, and he'll get it\nfull and proper.\"\n\n\"Get what?\" McMurdo whispered to his neighbour.\n\n\"The business end of a buckshot cartridge!\" cried the man with a loud\nlaugh. \"What think you of our ways, Brother?\"\n\nMcMurdo's criminal soul seemed to have already absorbed the spirit of\nthe vile association of which he was now a member. \"I like it well,\"\nsaid he. \"'Tis a proper place for a lad of mettle.\"\n\nSeveral of those who sat around heard his words and applauded them.\n\n\"What's that?\" cried the black-maned Bodymaster from the end of the\ntable.\n\n\"'Tis our new brother, sir, who finds our ways to his taste.\"\n\nMcMurdo rose to his feet for an instant. \"I would say, Eminent\nBodymaster, that if a man should be wanted I should take it as an honour\nto be chosen to help the lodge.\"\n\nThere was great applause at this. It was felt that a new sun was pushing\nits rim above the horizon. To some of the elders it seemed that the\nprogress was a little too rapid.\n\n\"I would move,\" said the secretary, Harraway, a vulture-faced old\ngraybeard who sat near the chairman, \"that Brother McMurdo should wait\nuntil it is the good pleasure of the lodge to employ him.\"\n\n\"Sure, that was what I meant; I'm in your hands,\" said McMurdo.\n\n\"Your time will come, Brother,\" said the chairman. \"We have marked you\ndown as a willing man, and we believe that you will do good work in\nthese parts. There is a small matter to-night in which you may take a\nhand if it so please you.\"\n\n\"I will wait for something that is worth while.\"\n\n\"You can come to-night, anyhow, and it will help you to know what\nwe stand for in this community. I will make the announcement later.\nMeanwhile,\" he glanced at his agenda paper, \"I have one or two more\npoints to bring before the meeting. First of all, I will ask the\ntreasurer as to our bank balance. There is the pension to Jim Carnaway's\nwidow. He was struck down doing the work of the lodge, and it is for us\nto see that she is not the loser.\"\n\n\"Jim was shot last month when they tried to kill Chester Wilcox of\nMarley Creek,\" McMurdo's neighbour informed him.\n\n\"The funds are good at the moment,\" said the treasurer, with the\nbankbook in front of him. \"The firms have been generous of late. Max\nLinder & Co. paid five hundred to be left alone. Walker Brothers sent in\na hundred; but I took it on myself to return it and ask for five. If I\ndo not hear by Wednesday, their winding gear may get out of order. We\nhad to burn their breaker last year before they became reasonable. Then\nthe West Section Coaling Company has paid its annual contribution. We\nhave enough on hand to meet any obligations.\"\n\n\"What about Archie Swindon?\" asked a brother.\n\n\"He has sold out and left the district. The old devil left a note for us\nto say that he had rather be a free crossing sweeper in New York than a\nlarge mine owner under the power of a ring of blackmailers. By Gar! it\nwas as well that he made a break for it before the note reached us! I\nguess he won't show his face in this valley again.\"\n\nAn elderly, clean-shaved man with a kindly face and a good brow rose\nfrom the end of the table which faced the chairman. \"Mr. Treasurer,\" he\nasked, \"may I ask who has bought the property of this man that we have\ndriven out of the district?\"\n\n\"Yes, Brother Morris. It has been bought by the State & Merton County\nRailroad Company.\"\n\n\"And who bought the mines of Todman and of Lee that came into the market\nin the same way last year?\"\n\n\"The same company, Brother Morris.\"\n\n\"And who bought the ironworks of Manson and of Shuman and of Van Deher\nand of Atwood, which have all been given up of late?\"\n\n\"They were all bought by the West Gilmerton General Mining Company.\"\n\n\"I don't see, Brother Morris,\" said the chairman, \"that it matters to us\nwho buys them, since they can't carry them out of the district.\"\n\n\"With all respect to you, Eminent Bodymaster, I think it may matter very\nmuch to us. This process has been going on now for ten long years.\nWe are gradually driving all the small men out of trade. What is the\nresult? We find in their places great companies like the Railroad or the\nGeneral Iron, who have their directors in New York or Philadelphia, and\ncare nothing for our threats. We can take it out of their local bosses;\nbut it only means that others will be sent in their stead. And we are\nmaking it dangerous for ourselves. The small men could not harm us. They\nhad not the money nor the power. So long as we did not squeeze them too\ndry, they would stay on under our power. But if these big companies find\nthat we stand between them and their profits, they will spare no pains\nand no expense to hunt us down and bring us to court.\"\n\nThere was a hush at these ominous words, and every face darkened as\ngloomy looks were exchanged. So omnipotent and unchallenged had they\nbeen that the very thought that there was possible retribution in the\nbackground had been banished from their minds. And yet the idea struck a\nchill to the most reckless of them.\n\n\"It is my advice,\" the speaker continued, \"that we go easier upon the\nsmall men. On the day that they have all been driven out the power of\nthis society will have been broken.\"\n\nUnwelcome truths are not popular. There were angry cries as the speaker\nresumed his seat. McGinty rose with gloom upon his brow.\n\n\"Brother Morris,\" said he, \"you were always a croaker. So long as the\nmembers of this lodge stand together there is no power in the United\nStates that can touch them. Sure, have we not tried it often enough in\nthe lawcourts? I expect the big companies will find it easier to pay\nthan to fight, same as the little companies do. And now, Brethren,\"\nMcGinty took off his black velvet cap and his stole as he spoke, \"this\nlodge has finished its business for the evening, save for one small\nmatter which may be mentioned when we are parting. The time has now come\nfor fraternal refreshment and for harmony.\"\n\nStrange indeed is human nature. Here were these men, to whom murder was\nfamiliar, who again and again had struck down the father of the family,\nsome man against whom they had no personal feeling, without one thought\nof compunction or of compassion for his weeping wife or helpless\nchildren, and yet the tender or pathetic in music could move them to\ntears. McMurdo had a fine tenor voice, and if he had failed to gain the\ngood will of the lodge before, it could no longer have been withheld\nafter he had thrilled them with \"I'm Sitting on the Stile, Mary,\" and\n\"On the Banks of Allan Water.\"\n\nIn his very first night the new recruit had made himself one of the most\npopular of the brethren, marked already for advancement and high office.\nThere were other qualities needed, however, besides those of good\nfellowship, to make a worthy Freeman, and of these he was given an\nexample before the evening was over. The whisky bottle had passed round\nmany times, and the men were flushed and ripe for mischief when their\nBodymaster rose once more to address them.\n\n\"Boys,\" said he, \"there's one man in this town that wants trimming up,\nand it's for you to see that he gets it. I'm speaking of James Stanger\nof the Herald. You've seen how he's been opening his mouth against us\nagain?\"\n\nThere was a murmur of assent, with many a muttered oath. McGinty took a\nslip of paper from his waistcoat pocket.\n\n\"LAW AND ORDER!\"\n\nThat's how he heads it.\n\n\"REIGN OF TERROR IN THE COAL AND IRON DISTRICT\n\n\"Twelve years have now elapsed since the first assassinations which\nproved the existence of a criminal organization in our midst. From that\nday these outrages have never ceased, until now they have reached a\npitch which makes us the opprobrium of the civilized world. Is it for\nsuch results as this that our great country welcomes to its bosom the\nalien who flies from the despotisms of Europe? Is it that they shall\nthemselves become tyrants over the very men who have given them shelter,\nand that a state of terrorism and lawlessness should be established\nunder the very shadow of the sacred folds of the starry Flag of Freedom\nwhich would raise horror in our minds if we read of it as existing\nunder the most effete monarchy of the East? The men are known. The\norganization is patent and public. How long are we to endure it? Can we\nforever live--\n\n\"Sure, I've read enough of the slush!\" cried the chairman, tossing the\npaper down upon the table. \"That's what he says of us. The question I'm\nasking you is what shall we say to him?\"\n\n\"Kill him!\" cried a dozen fierce voices.\n\n\"I protest against that,\" said Brother Morris, the man of the good brow\nand shaved face. \"I tell you, Brethren, that our hand is too heavy in\nthis valley, and that there will come a point where in self-defense\nevery man will unite to crush us out. James Stanger is an old man. He\nis respected in the township and the district. His paper stands for all\nthat is solid in the valley. If that man is struck down, there will be a\nstir through this state that will only end with our destruction.\"\n\n\"And how would they bring about our destruction, Mr. Standback?\" cried\nMcGinty. \"Is it by the police? Sure, half of them are in our pay and\nhalf of them afraid of us. Or is it by the law courts and the judge?\nHaven't we tried that before now, and what ever came of it?\"\n\n\"There is a Judge Lynch that might try the case,\" said Brother Morris.\n\nA general shout of anger greeted the suggestion.\n\n\"I have but to raise my finger,\" cried McGinty, \"and I could put two\nhundred men into this town that would clear it out from end to end.\"\nThen suddenly raising his voice and bending his huge black brows into\na terrible frown, \"See here, Brother Morris, I have my eye on you, and\nhave had for some time! You've no heart yourself, and you try to take\nthe heart out of others. It will be an ill day for you, Brother Morris,\nwhen your own name comes on our agenda paper, and I'm thinking that it's\njust there that I ought to place it.\"\n\nMorris had turned deadly pale, and his knees seemed to give way under\nhim as he fell back into his chair. He raised his glass in his trembling\nhand and drank before he could answer. \"I apologize, Eminent Bodymaster,\nto you and to every brother in this lodge if I have said more than I\nshould. I am a faithful member--you all know that--and it is my fear\nlest evil come to the lodge which makes me speak in anxious words. But I\nhave greater trust in your judgment than in my own, Eminent Bodymaster,\nand I promise you that I will not offend again.\"\n\nThe Bodymaster's scowl relaxed as he listened to the humble words. \"Very\ngood, Brother Morris. It's myself that would be sorry if it were needful\nto give you a lesson. But so long as I am in this chair we shall be a\nunited lodge in word and in deed. And now, boys,\" he continued, looking\nround at the company, \"I'll say this much, that if Stanger got his full\ndeserts there would be more trouble than we need ask for. These editors\nhang together, and every journal in the state would be crying out for\npolice and troops. But I guess you can give him a pretty severe warning.\nWill you fix it, Brother Baldwin?\"\n\n\"Sure!\" said the young man eagerly.\n\n\"How many will you take?\"\n\n\"Half a dozen, and two to guard the door. You'll come, Gower, and you,\nMansel, and you, Scanlan, and the two Willabys.\"\n\n\"I promised the new brother he should go,\" said the chairman.\n\nTed Baldwin looked at McMurdo with eyes which showed that he had not\nforgotten nor forgiven. \"Well, he can come if he wants,\" he said in a\nsurly voice. \"That's enough. The sooner we get to work the better.\"\n\nThe company broke up with shouts and yells and snatches of drunken\nsong. The bar was still crowded with revellers, and many of the brethren\nremained there. The little band who had been told off for duty passed\nout into the street, proceeding in twos and threes along the sidewalk\nso as not to provoke attention. It was a bitterly cold night, with a\nhalf-moon shining brilliantly in a frosty, star-spangled sky. The men\nstopped and gathered in a yard which faced a high building. The words,\n\"Vermissa Herald\" were printed in gold lettering between the brightly\nlit windows. From within came the clanking of the printing press.\n\n\"Here, you,\" said Baldwin to McMurdo, \"you can stand below at the door\nand see that the road is kept open for us. Arthur Willaby can stay with\nyou. You others come with me. Have no fears, boys; for we have a dozen\nwitnesses that we are in the Union Bar at this very moment.\"\n\nIt was nearly midnight, and the street was deserted save for one or two\nrevellers upon their way home. The party crossed the road, and, pushing\nopen the door of the newspaper office, Baldwin and his men rushed in and\nup the stair which faced them. McMurdo and another remained below.\nFrom the room above came a shout, a cry for help, and then the sound of\ntrampling feet and of falling chairs. An instant later a gray-haired man\nrushed out on the landing.\n\nHe was seized before he could get farther, and his spectacles came\ntinkling down to McMurdo's feet. There was a thud and a groan. He was on\nhis face, and half a dozen sticks were clattering together as they fell\nupon him. He writhed, and his long, thin limbs quivered under the\nblows. The others ceased at last; but Baldwin, his cruel face set in\nan infernal smile, was hacking at the man's head, which he vainly\nendeavoured to defend with his arms. His white hair was dabbled with\npatches of blood. Baldwin was still stooping over his victim, putting in\na short, vicious blow whenever he could see a part exposed, when McMurdo\ndashed up the stair and pushed him back.\n\n\"You'll kill the man,\" said he. \"Drop it!\"\n\nBaldwin looked at him in amazement. \"Curse you!\" he cried. \"Who are you\nto interfere--you that are new to the lodge? Stand back!\" He raised his\nstick; but McMurdo had whipped his pistol out of his pocket.\n\n\"Stand back yourself!\" he cried. \"I'll blow your face in if you lay a\nhand on me. As to the lodge, wasn't it the order of the Bodymaster that\nthe man was not to be killed--and what are you doing but killing him?\"\n\n\"It's truth he says,\" remarked one of the men.\n\n\"By Gar! you'd best hurry yourselves!\" cried the man below. \"The windows\nare all lighting up, and you'll have the whole town here inside of five\nminutes.\"\n\nThere was indeed the sound of shouting in the street, and a little group\nof compositors and pressmen was forming in the hall below and nerving\nitself to action. Leaving the limp and motionless body of the editor\nat the head of the stair, the criminals rushed down and made their way\nswiftly along the street. Having reached the Union House, some of them\nmixed with the crowd in McGinty's saloon, whispering across the bar to\nthe Boss that the job had been well carried through. Others, and among\nthem McMurdo, broke away into side streets, and so by devious paths to\ntheir own homes.\n\n\n\n\nChapter 4--The Valley of Fear\n\n\n\nWhen McMurdo awoke next morning he had good reason to remember his\ninitiation into the lodge. His head ached with the effect of the drink,\nand his arm, where he had been branded, was hot and swollen. Having his\nown peculiar source of income, he was irregular in his attendance at his\nwork; so he had a late breakfast, and remained at home for the morning\nwriting a long letter to a friend. Afterwards he read the Daily Herald.\nIn a special column put in at the last moment he read:\n\nOUTRAGE AT THE HERALD OFFICE--EDITOR SERIOUSLY INJURED.\n\nIt was a short account of the facts with which he was himself more\nfamiliar than the writer could have been. It ended with the statement:\n\nThe matter is now in the hands of the police; but it can hardly be hoped\nthat their exertions will be attended by any better results than in\nthe past. Some of the men were recognized, and there is hope that a\nconviction may be obtained. The source of the outrage was, it need\nhardly be said, that infamous society which has held this community in\nbondage for so long a period, and against which the Herald has taken so\nuncompromising a stand. Mr. Stanger's many friends will rejoice to hear\nthat, though he has been cruelly and brutally beaten, and though he has\nsustained severe injuries about the head, there is no immediate danger\nto his life.\n\nBelow it stated that a guard of police, armed with Winchester rifles,\nhad been requisitioned for the defense of the office.\n\nMcMurdo had laid down the paper, and was lighting his pipe with a hand\nwhich was shaky from the excesses of the previous evening, when there\nwas a knock outside, and his landlady brought to him a note which had\njust been handed in by a lad. It was unsigned, and ran thus:\n\nI should wish to speak to you, but would rather not do so in your house.\nYou will find me beside the flagstaff upon Miller Hill. If you will come\nthere now, I have something which it is important for you to hear and\nfor me to say.\n\nMcMurdo read the note twice with the utmost surprise; for he could not\nimagine what it meant or who was the author of it. Had it been in a\nfeminine hand, he might have imagined that it was the beginning of one\nof those adventures which had been familiar enough in his past life. But\nit was the writing of a man, and of a well educated one, too. Finally,\nafter some hesitation, he determined to see the matter through.\n\nMiller Hill is an ill-kept public park in the very centre of the town.\nIn summer it is a favourite resort of the people, but in winter it is\ndesolate enough. From the top of it one has a view not only of the whole\nstraggling, grimy town, but of the winding valley beneath, with its\nscattered mines and factories blackening the snow on each side of it,\nand of the wooded and white-capped ranges flanking it.\n\nMcMurdo strolled up the winding path hedged in with evergreens until he\nreached the deserted restaurant which forms the centre of summer gaiety.\nBeside it was a bare flagstaff, and underneath it a man, his hat drawn\ndown and the collar of his overcoat turned up. When he turned his face\nMcMurdo saw that it was Brother Morris, he who had incurred the anger of\nthe Bodymaster the night before. The lodge sign was given and exchanged\nas they met.\n\n\"I wanted to have a word with you, Mr. McMurdo,\" said the older man,\nspeaking with a hesitation which showed that he was on delicate ground.\n\"It was kind of you to come.\"\n\n\"Why did you not put your name to the note?\"\n\n\"One has to be cautious, mister. One never knows in times like these how\na thing may come back to one. One never knows either who to trust or who\nnot to trust.\"\n\n\"Surely one may trust brothers of the lodge.\"\n\n\"No, no, not always,\" cried Morris with vehemence. \"Whatever we say,\neven what we think, seems to go back to that man McGinty.\"\n\n\"Look here!\" said McMurdo sternly. \"It was only last night, as you know\nwell, that I swore good faith to our Bodymaster. Would you be asking me\nto break my oath?\"\n\n\"If that is the view you take,\" said Morris sadly, \"I can only say that\nI am sorry I gave you the trouble to come and meet me. Things have come\nto a bad pass when two free citizens cannot speak their thoughts to each\nother.\"\n\nMcMurdo, who had been watching his companion very narrowly, relaxed\nsomewhat in his bearing. \"Sure I spoke for myself only,\" said he. \"I am\na newcomer, as you know, and I am strange to it all. It is not for me to\nopen my mouth, Mr. Morris, and if you think well to say anything to me I\nam here to hear it.\"\n\n\"And to take it back to Boss McGinty!\" said Morris bitterly.\n\n\"Indeed, then, you do me injustice there,\" cried McMurdo. \"For myself I\nam loyal to the lodge, and so I tell you straight; but I would be a poor\ncreature if I were to repeat to any other what you might say to me in\nconfidence. It will go no further than me; though I warn you that you\nmay get neither help nor sympathy.\"\n\n\"I have given up looking for either the one or the other,\" said Morris.\n\"I may be putting my very life in your hands by what I say; but, bad as\nyou are--and it seemed to me last night that you were shaping to be as\nbad as the worst--still you are new to it, and your conscience cannot\nyet be as hardened as theirs. That was why I thought to speak with you.\"\n\n\"Well, what have you to say?\"\n\n\"If you give me away, may a curse be on you!\"\n\n\"Sure, I said I would not.\"\n\n\"I would ask you, then, when you joined the Freeman's society in Chicago\nand swore vows of charity and fidelity, did ever it cross your mind that\nyou might find it would lead you to crime?\"\n\n\"If you call it crime,\" McMurdo answered.\n\n\"Call it crime!\" cried Morris, his voice vibrating with passion. \"You\nhave seen little of it if you can call it anything else. Was it crime\nlast night when a man old enough to be your father was beaten till the\nblood dripped from his white hairs? Was that crime--or what else would\nyou call it?\"\n\n\"There are some would say it was war,\" said McMurdo, \"a war of two\nclasses with all in, so that each struck as best it could.\"\n\n\"Well, did you think of such a thing when you joined the Freeman's\nsociety at Chicago?\"\n\n\"No, I'm bound to say I did not.\"\n\n\"Nor did I when I joined it at Philadelphia. It was just a benefit club\nand a meeting place for one's fellows. Then I heard of this place--curse\nthe hour that the name first fell upon my ears!--and I came to better\nmyself! My God! to better myself! My wife and three children came with\nme. I started a drygoods store on Market Square, and I prospered well.\nThe word had gone round that I was a Freeman, and I was forced to join\nthe local lodge, same as you did last night. I've the badge of shame on\nmy forearm and something worse branded on my heart. I found that I was\nunder the orders of a black villain and caught in a meshwork of crime.\nWhat could I do? Every word I said to make things better was taken as\ntreason, same as it was last night. I can't get away; for all I have in\nthe world is in my store. If I leave the society, I know well that it\nmeans murder to me, and God knows what to my wife and children. Oh, man,\nit is awful--awful!\" He put his hands to his face, and his body shook\nwith convulsive sobs.\n\nMcMurdo shrugged his shoulders. \"You were too soft for the job,\" said\nhe. \"You are the wrong sort for such work.\"\n\n\"I had a conscience and a religion; but they made me a criminal among\nthem. I was chosen for a job. If I backed down I knew well what would\ncome to me. Maybe I'm a coward. Maybe it's the thought of my poor little\nwoman and the children that makes me one. Anyhow I went. I guess it will\nhaunt me forever.\n\n\"It was a lonely house, twenty miles from here, over the range yonder.\nI was told off for the door, same as you were last night. They could\nnot trust me with the job. The others went in. When they came out\ntheir hands were crimson to the wrists. As we turned away a child was\nscreaming out of the house behind us. It was a boy of five who had seen\nhis father murdered. I nearly fainted with the horror of it, and yet I\nhad to keep a bold and smiling face; for well I knew that if I did not\nit would be out of my house that they would come next with their bloody\nhands and it would be my little Fred that would be screaming for his\nfather.\n\n\"But I was a criminal then, part sharer in a murder, lost forever in\nthis world, and lost also in the next. I am a good Catholic; but the\npriest would have no word with me when he heard I was a Scowrer, and I\nam excommunicated from my faith. That's how it stands with me. And I see\nyou going down the same road, and I ask you what the end is to be. Are\nyou ready to be a cold-blooded murderer also, or can we do anything to\nstop it?\"\n\n\"What would you do?\" asked McMurdo abruptly. \"You would not inform?\"\n\n\"God forbid!\" cried Morris. \"Sure, the very thought would cost me my\nlife.\"\n\n\"That's well,\" said McMurdo. \"I'm thinking that you are a weak man and\nthat you make too much of the matter.\"\n\n\"Too much! Wait till you have lived here longer. Look down the valley!\nSee the cloud of a hundred chimneys that overshadows it! I tell you that\nthe cloud of murder hangs thicker and lower than that over the heads of\nthe people. It is the Valley of Fear, the Valley of Death. The terror is\nin the hearts of the people from the dusk to the dawn. Wait, young man,\nand you will learn for yourself.\"\n\n\"Well, I'll let you know what I think when I have seen more,\" said\nMcMurdo carelessly. \"What is very clear is that you are not the man for\nthe place, and that the sooner you sell out--if you only get a dime a\ndollar for what the business is worth--the better it will be for you.\nWhat you have said is safe with me; but, by Gar! if I thought you were\nan informer--\"\n\n\"No, no!\" cried Morris piteously.\n\n\"Well, let it rest at that. I'll bear what you have said in mind,\nand maybe some day I'll come back to it. I expect you meant kindly by\nspeaking to me like this. Now I'll be getting home.\"\n\n\"One word before you go,\" said Morris. \"We may have been seen together.\nThey may want to know what we have spoken about.\"\n\n\"Ah! that's well thought of.\"\n\n\"I offer you a clerkship in my store.\"\n\n\"And I refuse it. That's our business. Well, so long, Brother Morris,\nand may you find things go better with you in the future.\"\n\nThat same afternoon, as McMurdo sat smoking, lost in thought beside the\nstove of his sitting-room, the door swung open and its framework was\nfilled with the huge figure of Boss McGinty. He passed the sign, and\nthen seating himself opposite to the young man he looked at him steadily\nfor some time, a look which was as steadily returned.\n\n\"I'm not much of a visitor, Brother McMurdo,\" he said at last. \"I guess\nI am too busy over the folk that visit me. But I thought I'd stretch a\npoint and drop down to see you in your own house.\"\n\n\"I'm proud to see you here, Councillor,\" McMurdo answered heartily,\nbringing his whisky bottle out of the cupboard. \"It's an honour that I\nhad not expected.\"\n\n\"How's the arm?\" asked the Boss.\n\nMcMurdo made a wry face. \"Well, I'm not forgetting it,\" he said; \"but\nit's worth it.\"\n\n\"Yes, it's worth it,\" the other answered, \"to those that are loyal and\ngo through with it and are a help to the lodge. What were you speaking\nto Brother Morris about on Miller Hill this morning?\"\n\nThe question came so suddenly that it was well that he had his answer\nprepared. He burst into a hearty laugh. \"Morris didn't know I could earn\na living here at home. He shan't know either; for he has got too much\nconscience for the likes of me. But he's a good-hearted old chap. It was\nhis idea that I was at a loose end, and that he would do me a good turn\nby offering me a clerkship in a drygoods store.\"\n\n\"Oh, that was it?\"\n\n\"Yes, that was it.\"\n\n\"And you refused it?\"\n\n\"Sure. Couldn't I earn ten times as much in my own bedroom with four\nhours' work?\"\n\n\"That's so. But I wouldn't get about too much with Morris.\"\n\n\"Why not?\"\n\n\"Well, I guess because I tell you not. That's enough for most folk in\nthese parts.\"\n\n\"It may be enough for most folk; but it ain't enough for me,\nCouncillor,\" said McMurdo boldly. \"If you are a judge of men, you'll\nknow that.\"\n\nThe swarthy giant glared at him, and his hairy paw closed for an instant\nround the glass as though he would hurl it at the head of his companion.\nThen he laughed in his loud, boisterous, insincere fashion.\n\n\"You're a queer card, for sure,\" said he. \"Well, if you want reasons,\nI'll give them. Did Morris say nothing to you against the lodge?\"\n\n\"No.\"\n\n\"Nor against me?\"\n\n\"No.\"\n\n\"Well, that's because he daren't trust you. But in his heart he is not\na loyal brother. We know that well. So we watch him and we wait for\nthe time to admonish him. I'm thinking that the time is drawing near.\nThere's no room for scabby sheep in our pen. But if you keep company\nwith a disloyal man, we might think that you were disloyal, too. See?\"\n\n\"There's no chance of my keeping company with him; for I dislike the\nman,\" McMurdo answered. \"As to being disloyal, if it was any man but you\nhe would not use the word to me twice.\"\n\n\"Well, that's enough,\" said McGinty, draining off his glass. \"I came\ndown to give you a word in season, and you've had it.\"\n\n\"I'd like to know,\" said McMurdo, \"how you ever came to learn that I had\nspoken with Morris at all?\"\n\nMcGinty laughed. \"It's my business to know what goes on in this\ntownship,\" said he. \"I guess you'd best reckon on my hearing all that\npasses. Well, time's up, and I'll just say--\"\n\nBut his leavetaking was cut short in a very unexpected fashion. With a\nsudden crash the door flew open, and three frowning, intent faces glared\nin at them from under the peaks of police caps. McMurdo sprang to his\nfeet and half drew his revolver; but his arm stopped midway as he became\nconscious that two Winchester rifles were levelled at his head. A man\nin uniform advanced into the room, a six-shooter in his hand. It was\nCaptain Marvin, once of Chicago, and now of the Mine Constabulary. He\nshook his head with a half-smile at McMurdo.\n\n\"I thought you'd be getting into trouble, Mr. Crooked McMurdo of\nChicago,\" said he. \"Can't keep out of it, can you? Take your hat and\ncome along with us.\"\n\n\"I guess you'll pay for this, Captain Marvin,\" said McGinty. \"Who are\nyou, I'd like to know, to break into a house in this fashion and molest\nhonest, law-abiding men?\"\n\n\"You're standing out in this deal, Councillor McGinty,\" said the police\ncaptain. \"We are not out after you, but after this man McMurdo. It is\nfor you to help, not to hinder us in our duty.\"\n\n\"He is a friend of mine, and I'll answer for his conduct,\" said the\nBoss.\n\n\"By all accounts, Mr. McGinty, you may have to answer for your own\nconduct some of these days,\" the captain answered. \"This man McMurdo\nwas a crook before ever he came here, and he's a crook still. Cover him,\nPatrolman, while I disarm him.\"\n\n\"There's my pistol,\" said McMurdo coolly. \"Maybe, Captain Marvin, if you\nand I were alone and face to face you would not take me so easily.\"\n\n\"Where's your warrant?\" asked McGinty. \"By Gar! a man might as well live\nin Russia as in Vermissa while folk like you are running the police.\nIt's a capitalist outrage, and you'll hear more of it, I reckon.\"\n\n\"You do what you think is your duty the best way you can, Councillor.\nWe'll look after ours.\"\n\n\"What am I accused of?\" asked McMurdo.\n\n\"Of being concerned in the beating of old Editor Stanger at the Herald\noffice. It wasn't your fault that it isn't a murder charge.\"\n\n\"Well, if that's all you have against him,\" cried McGinty with a laugh,\n\"you can save yourself a deal of trouble by dropping it right now. This\nman was with me in my saloon playing poker up to midnight, and I can\nbring a dozen to prove it.\"\n\n\"That's your affair, and I guess you can settle it in court to-morrow.\nMeanwhile, come on, McMurdo, and come quietly if you don't want a gun\nacross your head. You stand wide, Mr. McGinty; for I warn you I will\nstand no resistance when I am on duty!\"\n\nSo determined was the appearance of the captain that both McMurdo and\nhis boss were forced to accept the situation. The latter managed to have\na few whispered words with the prisoner before they parted.\n\n\"What about--\" he jerked his thumb upward to signify the coining plant.\n\n\"All right,\" whispered McMurdo, who had devised a safe hiding place\nunder the floor.\n\n\"I'll bid you good-bye,\" said the Boss, shaking hands. \"I'll see Reilly\nthe lawyer and take the defense upon myself. Take my word for it that\nthey won't be able to hold you.\"\n\n\"I wouldn't bet on that. Guard the prisoner, you two, and shoot him if\nhe tries any games. I'll search the house before I leave.\"\n\nHe did so; but apparently found no trace of the concealed plant. When he\nhad descended he and his men escorted McMurdo to headquarters. Darkness\nhad fallen, and a keen blizzard was blowing so that the streets were\nnearly deserted; but a few loiterers followed the group, and emboldened\nby invisibility shouted imprecations at the prisoner.\n\n\"Lynch the cursed Scowrer!\" they cried. \"Lynch him!\" They laughed and\njeered as he was pushed into the police station. After a short, formal\nexamination from the inspector in charge he was put into the common\ncell. Here he found Baldwin and three other criminals of the night\nbefore, all arrested that afternoon and waiting their trial next\nmorning.\n\nBut even within this inner fortress of the law the long arm of the\nFreemen was able to extend. Late at night there came a jailer with a\nstraw bundle for their bedding, out of which he extracted two bottles of\nwhisky, some glasses, and a pack of cards. They spent a hilarious night,\nwithout an anxious thought as to the ordeal of the morning.\n\nNor had they cause, as the result was to show. The magistrate could not\npossibly, on the evidence, have held them for a higher court. On the one\nhand the compositors and pressmen were forced to admit that the light\nwas uncertain, that they were themselves much perturbed, and that it was\ndifficult for them to swear to the identity of the assailants; although\nthey believed that the accused were among them. Cross examined by the\nclever attorney who had been engaged by McGinty, they were even more\nnebulous in their evidence.\n\nThe injured man had already deposed that he was so taken by surprise by\nthe suddenness of the attack that he could state nothing beyond the fact\nthat the first man who struck him wore a moustache. He added that he\nknew them to be Scowrers, since no one else in the community could\npossibly have any enmity to him, and he had long been threatened on\naccount of his outspoken editorials. On the other hand, it was clearly\nshown by the united and unfaltering evidence of six citizens, including\nthat high municipal official, Councillor McGinty, that the men had been\nat a card party at the Union House until an hour very much later than\nthe commission of the outrage.\n\nNeedless to say that they were discharged with something very near to an\napology from the bench for the inconvenience to which they had been put,\ntogether with an implied censure of Captain Marvin and the police for\ntheir officious zeal.\n\nThe verdict was greeted with loud applause by a court in which McMurdo\nsaw many familiar faces. Brothers of the lodge smiled and waved. But\nthere were others who sat with compressed lips and brooding eyes as the\nmen filed out of the dock. One of them, a little, dark-bearded, resolute\nfellow, put the thoughts of himself and comrades into words as the\nex-prisoners passed him.\n\n\"You damned murderers!\" he said. \"We'll fix you yet!\"\n\n\n\n\nChapter 5--The Darkest Hour\n\n\n\nIf anything had been needed to give an impetus to Jack McMurdo's\npopularity among his fellows it would have been his arrest and\nacquittal. That a man on the very night of joining the lodge should have\ndone something which brought him before the magistrate was a new record\nin the annals of the society. Already he had earned the reputation of a\ngood boon companion, a cheery reveller, and withal a man of high temper,\nwho would not take an insult even from the all-powerful Boss himself.\nBut in addition to this he impressed his comrades with the idea that\namong them all there was not one whose brain was so ready to devise a\nbloodthirsty scheme, or whose hand would be more capable of carrying\nit out. \"He'll be the boy for the clean job,\" said the oldsters to one\nanother, and waited their time until they could set him to his work.\n\nMcGinty had instruments enough already; but he recognized that this was\na supremely able one. He felt like a man holding a fierce bloodhound\nin leash. There were curs to do the smaller work; but some day he\nwould slip this creature upon its prey. A few members of the lodge, Ted\nBaldwin among them, resented the rapid rise of the stranger and hated\nhim for it; but they kept clear of him, for he was as ready to fight as\nto laugh.\n\nBut if he gained favour with his fellows, there was another quarter,\none which had become even more vital to him, in which he lost it. Ettie\nShafter's father would have nothing more to do with him, nor would he\nallow him to enter the house. Ettie herself was too deeply in love to\ngive him up altogether, and yet her own good sense warned her of what\nwould come from a marriage with a man who was regarded as a criminal.\n\nOne morning after a sleepless night she determined to see him, possibly\nfor the last time, and make one strong endeavour to draw him from those\nevil influences which were sucking him down. She went to his house, as\nhe had often begged her to do, and made her way into the room which he\nused as his sitting-room. He was seated at a table, with his back turned\nand a letter in front of him. A sudden spirit of girlish mischief came\nover her--she was still only nineteen. He had not heard her when she\npushed open the door. Now she tiptoed forward and laid her hand lightly\nupon his bended shoulders.\n\nIf she had expected to startle him, she certainly succeeded; but only in\nturn to be startled herself. With a tiger spring he turned on her, and\nhis right hand was feeling for her throat. At the same instant with the\nother hand he crumpled up the paper that lay before him. For an instant\nhe stood glaring. Then astonishment and joy took the place of the\nferocity which had convulsed his features--a ferocity which had sent\nher shrinking back in horror as from something which had never before\nintruded into her gentle life.\n\n\"It's you!\" said he, mopping his brow. \"And to think that you should\ncome to me, heart of my heart, and I should find nothing better to do\nthan to want to strangle you! Come then, darling,\" and he held out his\narms, \"let me make it up to you.\"\n\nBut she had not recovered from that sudden glimpse of guilty fear which\nshe had read in the man's face. All her woman's instinct told her that\nit was not the mere fright of a man who is startled. Guilt--that was\nit--guilt and fear!\n\n\"What's come over you, Jack?\" she cried. \"Why were you so scared of me?\nOh, Jack, if your conscience was at ease, you would not have looked at\nme like that!\"\n\n\"Sure, I was thinking of other things, and when you came tripping so\nlightly on those fairy feet of yours--\"\n\n\"No, no, it was more than that, Jack.\" Then a sudden suspicion seized\nher. \"Let me see that letter you were writing.\"\n\n\"Ah, Ettie, I couldn't do that.\"\n\nHer suspicions became certainties. \"It's to another woman,\" she cried.\n\"I know it! Why else should you hold it from me? Was it to your wife\nthat you were writing? How am I to know that you are not a married\nman--you, a stranger, that nobody knows?\"\n\n\"I am not married, Ettie. See now, I swear it! You're the only one woman\non earth to me. By the cross of Christ I swear it!\"\n\nHe was so white with passionate earnestness that she could not but\nbelieve him.\n\n\"Well, then,\" she cried, \"why will you not show me the letter?\"\n\n\"I'll tell you, acushla,\" said he. \"I'm under oath not to show it, and\njust as I wouldn't break my word to you so I would keep it to those who\nhold my promise. It's the business of the lodge, and even to you it's\nsecret. And if I was scared when a hand fell on me, can't you understand\nit when it might have been the hand of a detective?\"\n\nShe felt that he was telling the truth. He gathered her into his arms\nand kissed away her fears and doubts.\n\n\"Sit here by me, then. It's a queer throne for such a queen; but it's\nthe best your poor lover can find. He'll do better for you some of these\ndays, I'm thinking. Now your mind is easy once again, is it not?\"\n\n\"How can it ever be at ease, Jack, when I know that you are a criminal\namong criminals, when I never know the day that I may hear you are in\ncourt for murder? 'McMurdo the Scowrer,' that's what one of our boarders\ncalled you yesterday. It went through my heart like a knife.\"\n\n\"Sure, hard words break no bones.\"\n\n\"But they were true.\"\n\n\"Well, dear, it's not so bad as you think. We are but poor men that are\ntrying in our own way to get our rights.\"\n\nEttie threw her arms round her lover's neck. \"Give it up, Jack! For my\nsake, for God's sake, give it up! It was to ask you that I came here\nto-day. Oh, Jack, see--I beg it of you on my bended knees! Kneeling here\nbefore you I implore you to give it up!\"\n\nHe raised her and soothed her with her head against his breast.\n\n\"Sure, my darlin', you don't know what it is you are asking. How could I\ngive it up when it would be to break my oath and to desert my comrades?\nIf you could see how things stand with me you could never ask it of me.\nBesides, if I wanted to, how could I do it? You don't suppose that the\nlodge would let a man go free with all its secrets?\"\n\n\"I've thought of that, Jack. I've planned it all. Father has saved some\nmoney. He is weary of this place where the fear of these people darkens\nour lives. He is ready to go. We would fly together to Philadelphia or\nNew York, where we would be safe from them.\"\n\nMcMurdo laughed. \"The lodge has a long arm. Do you think it could not\nstretch from here to Philadelphia or New York?\"\n\n\"Well, then, to the West, or to England, or to Germany, where father\ncame from--anywhere to get away from this Valley of Fear!\"\n\nMcMurdo thought of old Brother Morris. \"Sure, it is the second time I\nhave heard the valley so named,\" said he. \"The shadow does indeed seem\nto lie heavy on some of you.\"\n\n\"It darkens every moment of our lives. Do you suppose that Ted Baldwin\nhas ever forgiven us? If it were not that he fears you, what do you\nsuppose our chances would be? If you saw the look in those dark, hungry\neyes of his when they fall on me!\"\n\n\"By Gar! I'd teach him better manners if I caught him at it! But see\nhere, little girl. I can't leave here. I can't--take that from me once\nand for all. But if you will leave me to find my own way, I will try to\nprepare a way of getting honourably out of it.\"\n\n\"There is no honour in such a matter.\"\n\n\"Well, well, it's just how you look at it. But if you'll give me six\nmonths, I'll work it so that I can leave without being ashamed to look\nothers in the face.\"\n\nThe girl laughed with joy. \"Six months!\" she cried. \"Is it a promise?\"\n\n\"Well, it may be seven or eight. But within a year at the furthest we\nwill leave the valley behind us.\"\n\nIt was the most that Ettie could obtain, and yet it was something. There\nwas this distant light to illuminate the gloom of the immediate future.\nShe returned to her father's house more light-hearted than she had ever\nbeen since Jack McMurdo had come into her life.\n\nIt might be thought that as a member, all the doings of the society\nwould be told to him; but he was soon to discover that the organization\nwas wider and more complex than the simple lodge. Even Boss McGinty was\nignorant as to many things; for there was an official named the County\nDelegate, living at Hobson's Patch farther down the line, who had power\nover several different lodges which he wielded in a sudden and arbitrary\nway. Only once did McMurdo see him, a sly, little gray-haired rat of a\nman, with a slinking gait and a sidelong glance which was charged with\nmalice. Evans Pott was his name, and even the great Boss of Vermissa\nfelt towards him something of the repulsion and fear which the huge\nDanton may have felt for the puny but dangerous Robespierre.\n\nOne day Scanlan, who was McMurdo's fellow boarder, received a note from\nMcGinty inclosing one from Evans Pott, which informed him that he was\nsending over two good men, Lawler and Andrews, who had instructions\nto act in the neighbourhood; though it was best for the cause that no\nparticulars as to their objects should be given. Would the Bodymaster\nsee to it that suitable arrangements be made for their lodgings and\ncomfort until the time for action should arrive? McGinty added that it\nwas impossible for anyone to remain secret at the Union House, and that,\ntherefore, he would be obliged if McMurdo and Scanlan would put the\nstrangers up for a few days in their boarding house.\n\nThe same evening the two men arrived, each carrying his gripsack. Lawler\nwas an elderly man, shrewd, silent, and self-contained, clad in an old\nblack frock coat, which with his soft felt hat and ragged, grizzled\nbeard gave him a general resemblance to an itinerant preacher. His\ncompanion Andrews was little more than a boy, frank-faced and cheerful,\nwith the breezy manner of one who is out for a holiday and means to\nenjoy every minute of it. Both men were total abstainers, and behaved\nin all ways as exemplary members of the society, with the one simple\nexception that they were assassins who had often proved themselves to\nbe most capable instruments for this association of murder. Lawler had\nalready carried out fourteen commissions of the kind, and Andrews three.\n\nThey were, as McMurdo found, quite ready to converse about their deeds\nin the past, which they recounted with the half-bashful pride of men\nwho had done good and unselfish service for the community. They were\nreticent, however, as to the immediate job in hand.\n\n\"They chose us because neither I nor the boy here drink,\" Lawler\nexplained. \"They can count on us saying no more than we should. You must\nnot take it amiss, but it is the orders of the County Delegate that we\nobey.\"\n\n\"Sure, we are all in it together,\" said Scanlan, McMurdo's mate, as the\nfour sat together at supper.\n\n\"That's true enough, and we'll talk till the cows come home of the\nkilling of Charlie Williams or of Simon Bird, or any other job in the\npast. But till the work is done we say nothing.\"\n\n\"There are half a dozen about here that I have a word to say to,\" said\nMcMurdo, with an oath. \"I suppose it isn't Jack Knox of Ironhill that\nyou are after. I'd go some way to see him get his deserts.\"\n\n\"No, it's not him yet.\"\n\n\"Or Herman Strauss?\"\n\n\"No, nor him either.\"\n\n\"Well, if you won't tell us we can't make you; but I'd be glad to know.\"\n\nLawler smiled and shook his head. He was not to be drawn.\n\nIn spite of the reticence of their guests, Scanlan and McMurdo were\nquite determined to be present at what they called \"the fun.\" When,\ntherefore, at an early hour one morning McMurdo heard them creeping down\nthe stairs he awakened Scanlan, and the two hurried on their clothes.\nWhen they were dressed they found that the others had stolen out,\nleaving the door open behind them. It was not yet dawn, and by the light\nof the lamps they could see the two men some distance down the street.\nThey followed them warily, treading noiselessly in the deep snow.\n\nThe boarding house was near the edge of the town, and soon they were\nat the crossroads which is beyond its boundary. Here three men were\nwaiting, with whom Lawler and Andrews held a short, eager conversation.\nThen they all moved on together. It was clearly some notable job which\nneeded numbers. At this point there are several trails which lead to\nvarious mines. The strangers took that which led to the Crow Hill, a\nhuge business which was in strong hands which had been able, thanks to\ntheir energetic and fearless New England manager, Josiah H. Dunn, to\nkeep some order and discipline during the long reign of terror.\n\nDay was breaking now, and a line of workmen were slowly making their\nway, singly and in groups, along the blackened path.\n\nMcMurdo and Scanlan strolled on with the others, keeping in sight of the\nmen whom they followed. A thick mist lay over them, and from the heart\nof it there came the sudden scream of a steam whistle. It was the\nten-minute signal before the cages descended and the day's labour began.\n\nWhen they reached the open space round the mine shaft there were\na hundred miners waiting, stamping their feet and blowing on their\nfingers; for it was bitterly cold. The strangers stood in a little group\nunder the shadow of the engine house. Scanlan and McMurdo climbed a heap\nof slag from which the whole scene lay before them. They saw the mine\nengineer, a great bearded Scotchman named Menzies, come out of the\nengine house and blow his whistle for the cages to be lowered.\n\nAt the same instant a tall, loose-framed young man with a clean-shaved,\nearnest face advanced eagerly towards the pit head. As he came forward\nhis eyes fell upon the group, silent and motionless, under the engine\nhouse. The men had drawn down their hats and turned up their collars to\nscreen their faces. For a moment the presentiment of Death laid its cold\nhand upon the manager's heart. At the next he had shaken it off and saw\nonly his duty towards intrusive strangers.\n\n\"Who are you?\" he asked as he advanced. \"What are you loitering there\nfor?\"\n\nThere was no answer; but the lad Andrews stepped forward and shot him in\nthe stomach. The hundred waiting miners stood as motionless and helpless\nas if they were paralyzed. The manager clapped his two hands to the\nwound and doubled himself up. Then he staggered away; but another of the\nassassins fired, and he went down sidewise, kicking and clawing among\na heap of clinkers. Menzies, the Scotchman, gave a roar of rage at the\nsight and rushed with an iron spanner at the murderers; but was met by\ntwo balls in the face which dropped him dead at their very feet.\n\nThere was a surge forward of some of the miners, and an inarticulate\ncry of pity and of anger; but a couple of the strangers emptied their\nsix-shooters over the heads of the crowd, and they broke and scattered,\nsome of them rushing wildly back to their homes in Vermissa.\n\nWhen a few of the bravest had rallied, and there was a return to the\nmine, the murderous gang had vanished in the mists of morning, without\na single witness being able to swear to the identity of these men who in\nfront of a hundred spectators had wrought this double crime.\n\nScanlan and McMurdo made their way back; Scanlan somewhat subdued, for\nit was the first murder job that he had seen with his own eyes, and\nit appeared less funny than he had been led to believe. The horrible\nscreams of the dead manager's wife pursued them as they hurried to the\ntown. McMurdo was absorbed and silent; but he showed no sympathy for the\nweakening of his companion.\n\n\"Sure, it is like a war,\" he repeated. \"What is it but a war between us\nand them, and we hit back where we best can.\"\n\nThere was high revel in the lodge room at the Union House that night,\nnot only over the killing of the manager and engineer of the Crow Hill\nmine, which would bring this organization into line with the other\nblackmailed and terror-stricken companies of the district, but also\nover a distant triumph which had been wrought by the hands of the lodge\nitself.\n\nIt would appear that when the County Delegate had sent over five good\nmen to strike a blow in Vermissa, he had demanded that in return three\nVermissa men should be secretly selected and sent across to kill William\nHales of Stake Royal, one of the best known and most popular mine owners\nin the Gilmerton district, a man who was believed not to have an enemy\nin the world; for he was in all ways a model employer. He had insisted,\nhowever, upon efficiency in the work, and had, therefore, paid off\ncertain drunken and idle employees who were members of the all-powerful\nsociety. Coffin notices hung outside his door had not weakened his\nresolution, and so in a free, civilized country he found himself\ncondemned to death.\n\nThe execution had now been duly carried out. Ted Baldwin, who sprawled\nnow in the seat of honour beside the Bodymaster, had been chief of the\nparty. His flushed face and glazed, bloodshot eyes told of sleeplessness\nand drink. He and his two comrades had spent the night before among\nthe mountains. They were unkempt and weather-stained. But no heroes,\nreturning from a forlorn hope, could have had a warmer welcome from\ntheir comrades.\n\nThe story was told and retold amid cries of delight and shouts of\nlaughter. They had waited for their man as he drove home at nightfall,\ntaking their station at the top of a steep hill, where his horse must be\nat a walk. He was so furred to keep out the cold that he could not lay\nhis hand on his pistol. They had pulled him out and shot him again and\nagain. He had screamed for mercy. The screams were repeated for the\namusement of the lodge.\n\n\"Let's hear again how he squealed,\" they cried.\n\nNone of them knew the man; but there is eternal drama in a killing, and\nthey had shown the Scowrers of Gilmerton that the Vermissa men were to\nbe relied upon.\n\nThere had been one contretemps; for a man and his wife had driven up\nwhile they were still emptying their revolvers into the silent body.\nIt had been suggested that they should shoot them both; but they were\nharmless folk who were not connected with the mines, so they were\nsternly bidden to drive on and keep silent, lest a worse thing befall\nthem. And so the blood-mottled figure had been left as a warning to all\nsuch hard-hearted employers, and the three noble avengers had hurried\noff into the mountains where unbroken nature comes down to the very\nedge of the furnaces and the slag heaps. Here they were, safe and sound,\ntheir work well done, and the plaudits of their companions in their\nears.\n\nIt had been a great day for the Scowrers. The shadow had fallen even\ndarker over the valley. But as the wise general chooses the moment of\nvictory in which to redouble his efforts, so that his foes may have no\ntime to steady themselves after disaster, so Boss McGinty, looking out\nupon the scene of his operations with his brooding and malicious eyes,\nhad devised a new attack upon those who opposed him. That very night, as\nthe half-drunken company broke up, he touched McMurdo on the arm and led\nhim aside into that inner room where they had their first interview.\n\n\"See here, my lad,\" said he, \"I've got a job that's worthy of you at\nlast. You'll have the doing of it in your own hands.\"\n\n\"Proud I am to hear it,\" McMurdo answered.\n\n\"You can take two men with you--Manders and Reilly. They have been\nwarned for service. We'll never be right in this district until Chester\nWilcox has been settled, and you'll have the thanks of every lodge in\nthe coal fields if you can down him.\"\n\n\"I'll do my best, anyhow. Who is he, and where shall I find him?\"\n\nMcGinty took his eternal half-chewed, half-smoked cigar from the corner\nof his mouth, and proceeded to draw a rough diagram on a page torn from\nhis notebook.\n\n\"He's the chief foreman of the Iron Dike Company. He's a hard citizen,\nan old colour sergeant of the war, all scars and grizzle. We've had two\ntries at him; but had no luck, and Jim Carnaway lost his life over it.\nNow it's for you to take it over. That's the house--all alone at the\nIron Dike crossroad, same as you see here on the map--without another\nwithin earshot. It's no good by day. He's armed and shoots quick and\nstraight, with no questions asked. But at night--well, there he is with\nhis wife, three children, and a hired help. You can't pick or choose.\nIt's all or none. If you could get a bag of blasting powder at the front\ndoor with a slow match to it--\"\n\n\"What's the man done?\"\n\n\"Didn't I tell you he shot Jim Carnaway?\"\n\n\"Why did he shoot him?\"\n\n\"What in thunder has that to do with you? Carnaway was about his house\nat night, and he shot him. That's enough for me and you. You've got to\nsettle the thing right.\"\n\n\"There's these two women and the children. Do they go up too?\"\n\n\"They have to--else how can we get him?\"\n\n\"It seems hard on them; for they've done nothing.\"\n\n\"What sort of fool's talk is this? Do you back out?\"\n\n\"Easy, Councillor, easy! What have I ever said or done that you should\nthink I would be after standing back from an order of the Bodymaster of\nmy own lodge? If it's right or if it's wrong, it's for you to decide.\"\n\n\"You'll do it, then?\"\n\n\"Of course I will do it.\"\n\n\"When?\"\n\n\"Well, you had best give me a night or two that I may see the house and\nmake my plans. Then--\"\n\n\"Very good,\" said McGinty, shaking him by the hand. \"I leave it with\nyou. It will be a great day when you bring us the news. It's just the\nlast stroke that will bring them all to their knees.\"\n\nMcMurdo thought long and deeply over the commission which had been so\nsuddenly placed in his hands. The isolated house in which Chester Wilcox\nlived was about five miles off in an adjacent valley. That very night he\nstarted off all alone to prepare for the attempt. It was daylight before\nhe returned from his reconnaissance. Next day he interviewed his two\nsubordinates, Manders and Reilly, reckless youngsters who were as elated\nas if it were a deer-hunt.\n\nTwo nights later they met outside the town, all three armed, and one\nof them carrying a sack stuffed with the powder which was used in the\nquarries. It was two in the morning before they came to the lonely\nhouse. The night was a windy one, with broken clouds drifting swiftly\nacross the face of a three-quarter moon. They had been warned to be on\ntheir guard against bloodhounds; so they moved forward cautiously, with\ntheir pistols cocked in their hands. But there was no sound save the\nhowling of the wind, and no movement but the swaying branches above\nthem.\n\nMcMurdo listened at the door of the lonely house; but all was still\nwithin. Then he leaned the powder bag against it, ripped a hole in it\nwith his knife, and attached the fuse. When it was well alight he and\nhis two companions took to their heels, and were some distance off,\nsafe and snug in a sheltering ditch, before the shattering roar of the\nexplosion, with the low, deep rumble of the collapsing building, told\nthem that their work was done. No cleaner job had ever been carried out\nin the bloodstained annals of the society.\n\nBut alas that work so well organized and boldly carried out should all\nhave gone for nothing! Warned by the fate of the various victims, and\nknowing that he was marked down for destruction, Chester Wilcox had\nmoved himself and his family only the day before to some safer and less\nknown quarters, where a guard of police should watch over them. It was\nan empty house which had been torn down by the gunpowder, and the grim\nold colour sergeant of the war was still teaching discipline to the\nminers of Iron Dike.\n\n\"Leave him to me,\" said McMurdo. \"He's my man, and I'll get him sure if\nI have to wait a year for him.\"\n\nA vote of thanks and confidence was passed in full lodge, and so for\nthe time the matter ended. When a few weeks later it was reported in the\npapers that Wilcox had been shot at from an ambuscade, it was an open\nsecret that McMurdo was still at work upon his unfinished job.\n\nSuch were the methods of the Society of Freemen, and such were the deeds\nof the Scowrers by which they spread their rule of fear over the great\nand rich district which was for so long a period haunted by their\nterrible presence. Why should these pages be stained by further crimes?\nHave I not said enough to show the men and their methods?\n\nThese deeds are written in history, and there are records wherein one\nmay read the details of them. There one may learn of the shooting of\nPolicemen Hunt and Evans because they had ventured to arrest two members\nof the society--a double outrage planned at the Vermissa lodge and\ncarried out in cold blood upon two helpless and disarmed men. There also\none may read of the shooting of Mrs. Larbey when she was nursing her\nhusband, who had been beaten almost to death by orders of Boss McGinty.\nThe killing of the elder Jenkins, shortly followed by that of his\nbrother, the mutilation of James Murdoch, the blowing up of the\nStaphouse family, and the murder of the Stendals all followed hard upon\none another in the same terrible winter.\n\nDarkly the shadow lay upon the Valley of Fear. The spring had come with\nrunning brooks and blossoming trees. There was hope for all Nature bound\nso long in an iron grip; but nowhere was there any hope for the men and\nwomen who lived under the yoke of the terror. Never had the cloud above\nthem been so dark and hopeless as in the early summer of the year 1875.\n\n\n\n\nChapter 6--Danger\n\n\n\nIt was the height of the reign of terror. McMurdo, who had already\nbeen appointed Inner Deacon, with every prospect of some day succeeding\nMcGinty as Bodymaster, was now so necessary to the councils of his\ncomrades that nothing was done without his help and advice. The more\npopular he became, however, with the Freemen, the blacker were the\nscowls which greeted him as he passed along the streets of Vermissa. In\nspite of their terror the citizens were taking heart to band themselves\ntogether against their oppressors. Rumours had reached the lodge of\nsecret gatherings in the Herald office and of distribution of firearms\namong the law-abiding people. But McGinty and his men were undisturbed\nby such reports. They were numerous, resolute, and well armed. Their\nopponents were scattered and powerless. It would all end, as it had done\nin the past, in aimless talk and possibly in impotent arrests. So said\nMcGinty, McMurdo, and all the bolder spirits.\n\nIt was a Saturday evening in May. Saturday was always the lodge night,\nand McMurdo was leaving his house to attend it when Morris, the weaker\nbrother of the order, came to see him. His brow was creased with care,\nand his kindly face was drawn and haggard.\n\n\"Can I speak with you freely, Mr. McMurdo?\"\n\n\"Sure.\"\n\n\"I can't forget that I spoke my heart to you once, and that you kept it\nto yourself, even though the Boss himself came to ask you about it.\"\n\n\"What else could I do if you trusted me? It wasn't that I agreed with\nwhat you said.\"\n\n\"I know that well. But you are the one that I can speak to and be safe.\nI've a secret here,\" he put his hand to his breast, \"and it is just\nburning the life out of me. I wish it had come to any one of you but me.\nIf I tell it, it will mean murder, for sure. If I don't, it may bring\nthe end of us all. God help me, but I am near out of my wits over it!\"\n\nMcMurdo looked at the man earnestly. He was trembling in every limb. He\npoured some whisky into a glass and handed it to him. \"That's the physic\nfor the likes of you,\" said he. \"Now let me hear of it.\"\n\nMorris drank, and his white face took a tinge of colour. \"I can tell\nit to you all in one sentence,\" said he. \"There's a detective on our\ntrail.\"\n\nMcMurdo stared at him in astonishment. \"Why, man, you're crazy,\" he\nsaid. \"Isn't the place full of police and detectives and what harm did\nthey ever do us?\"\n\n\"No, no, it's no man of the district. As you say, we know them, and it\nis little that they can do. But you've heard of Pinkerton's?\"\n\n\"I've read of some folk of that name.\"\n\n\"Well, you can take it from me you've no show when they are on your\ntrail. It's not a take-it-or-miss-it government concern. It's a dead\nearnest business proposition that's out for results and keeps out\ntill by hook or crook it gets them. If a Pinkerton man is deep in this\nbusiness, we are all destroyed.\"\n\n\"We must kill him.\"\n\n\"Ah, it's the first thought that came to you! So it will be up at the\nlodge. Didn't I say to you that it would end in murder?\"\n\n\"Sure, what is murder? Isn't it common enough in these parts?\"\n\n\"It is, indeed; but it's not for me to point out the man that is to be\nmurdered. I'd never rest easy again. And yet it's our own necks that may\nbe at stake. In God's name what shall I do?\" He rocked to and fro in his\nagony of indecision.\n\nBut his words had moved McMurdo deeply. It was easy to see that he\nshared the other's opinion as to the danger, and the need for meeting\nit. He gripped Morris's shoulder and shook him in his earnestness.\n\n\"See here, man,\" he cried, and he almost screeched the words in his\nexcitement, \"you won't gain anything by sitting keening like an old wife\nat a wake. Let's have the facts. Who is the fellow? Where is he? How did\nyou hear of him? Why did you come to me?\"\n\n\"I came to you; for you are the one man that would advise me. I told you\nthat I had a store in the East before I came here. I left good friends\nbehind me, and one of them is in the telegraph service. Here's a letter\nthat I had from him yesterday. It's this part from the top of the page.\nYou can read it yourself.\"\n\nThis was what McMurdo read:\n\nHow are the Scowrers getting on in your parts? We read plenty of them\nin the papers. Between you and me I expect to hear news from you before\nlong. Five big corporations and the two railroads have taken the thing\nup in dead earnest. They mean it, and you can bet they'll get there!\nThey are right deep down into it. Pinkerton has taken hold under their\norders, and his best man, Birdy Edwards, is operating. The thing has got\nto be stopped right now.\n\n\"Now read the postscript.\"\n\nOf course, what I give you is what I learned in business; so it goes no\nfurther. It's a queer cipher that you handle by the yard every day and\ncan get no meaning from.\n\nMcMurdo sat in silence for some time, with the letter in his listless\nhands. The mist had lifted for a moment, and there was the abyss before\nhim.\n\n\"Does anyone else know of this?\" he asked.\n\n\"I have told no one else.\"\n\n\"But this man--your friend--has he any other person that he would be\nlikely to write to?\"\n\n\"Well, I dare say he knows one or two more.\"\n\n\"Of the lodge?\"\n\n\"It's likely enough.\"\n\n\"I was asking because it is likely that he may have given some\ndescription of this fellow Birdy Edwards--then we could get on his\ntrail.\"\n\n\"Well, it's possible. But I should not think he knew him. He is just\ntelling me the news that came to him by way of business. How would he\nknow this Pinkerton man?\"\n\nMcMurdo gave a violent start.\n\n\"By Gar!\" he cried, \"I've got him. What a fool I was not to know it.\nLord! but we're in luck! We will fix him before he can do any harm. See\nhere, Morris, will you leave this thing in my hands?\"\n\n\"Sure, if you will only take it off mine.\"\n\n\"I'll do that. You can stand right back and let me run it. Even your\nname need not be mentioned. I'll take it all on myself, as if it were to\nme that this letter has come. Will that content you?\"\n\n\"It's just what I would ask.\"\n\n\"Then leave it at that and keep your head shut. Now I'll get down to the\nlodge, and we'll soon make old man Pinkerton sorry for himself.\"\n\n\"You wouldn't kill this man?\"\n\n\"The less you know, Friend Morris, the easier your conscience will be,\nand the better you will sleep. Ask no questions, and let these things\nsettle themselves. I have hold of it now.\"\n\nMorris shook his head sadly as he left. \"I feel that his blood is on my\nhands,\" he groaned.\n\n\"Self-protection is no murder, anyhow,\" said McMurdo, smiling grimly.\n\"It's him or us. I guess this man would destroy us all if we left\nhim long in the valley. Why, Brother Morris, we'll have to elect you\nBodymaster yet; for you've surely saved the lodge.\"\n\nAnd yet it was clear from his actions that he thought more seriously\nof this new intrusion than his words would show. It may have been his\nguilty conscience, it may have been the reputation of the Pinkerton\norganization, it may have been the knowledge that great, rich\ncorporations had set themselves the task of clearing out the Scowrers;\nbut, whatever his reason, his actions were those of a man who is\npreparing for the worst. Every paper which would incriminate him was\ndestroyed before he left the house. After that he gave a long sigh of\nsatisfaction; for it seemed to him that he was safe. And yet the danger\nmust still have pressed somewhat upon him; for on his way to the lodge\nhe stopped at old man Shafter's. The house was forbidden him; but\nwhen he tapped at the window Ettie came out to him. The dancing Irish\ndeviltry had gone from her lover's eyes. She read his danger in his\nearnest face.\n\n\"Something has happened!\" she cried. \"Oh, Jack, you are in danger!\"\n\n\"Sure, it is not very bad, my sweetheart. And yet it may be wise that we\nmake a move before it is worse.\"\n\n\"Make a move?\"\n\n\"I promised you once that I would go some day. I think the time is\ncoming. I had news to-night, bad news, and I see trouble coming.\"\n\n\"The police?\"\n\n\"Well, a Pinkerton. But, sure, you wouldn't know what that is, acushla,\nnor what it may mean to the likes of me. I'm too deep in this thing, and\nI may have to get out of it quick. You said you would come with me if I\nwent.\"\n\n\"Oh, Jack, it would be the saving of you!\"\n\n\"I'm an honest man in some things, Ettie. I wouldn't hurt a hair of your\nbonny head for all that the world can give, nor ever pull you down one\ninch from the golden throne above the clouds where I always see you.\nWould you trust me?\"\n\nShe put her hand in his without a word. \"Well, then, listen to what I\nsay, and do as I order you, for indeed it's the only way for us. Things\nare going to happen in this valley. I feel it in my bones. There may be\nmany of us that will have to look out for ourselves. I'm one, anyhow. If\nI go, by day or night, it's you that must come with me!\"\n\n\"I'd come after you, Jack.\"\n\n\"No, no, you shall come WITH me. If this valley is closed to me and\nI can never come back, how can I leave you behind, and me perhaps in\nhiding from the police with never a chance of a message? It's with me\nyou must come. I know a good woman in the place I come from, and it's\nthere I'd leave you till we can get married. Will you come?\"\n\n\"Yes, Jack, I will come.\"\n\n\"God bless you for your trust in me! It's a fiend out of hell that I\nshould be if I abused it. Now, mark you, Ettie, it will be just a word\nto you, and when it reaches you, you will drop everything and come right\ndown to the waiting room at the depot and stay there till I come for\nyou.\"\n\n\"Day or night, I'll come at the word, Jack.\"\n\nSomewhat eased in mind, now that his own preparations for escape had\nbeen begun, McMurdo went on to the lodge. It had already assembled, and\nonly by complicated signs and countersigns could he pass through the\nouter guard and inner guard who close-tiled it. A buzz of pleasure\nand welcome greeted him as he entered. The long room was crowded, and\nthrough the haze of tobacco smoke he saw the tangled black mane of the\nBodymaster, the cruel, unfriendly features of Baldwin, the vulture face\nof Harraway, the secretary, and a dozen more who were among the leaders\nof the lodge. He rejoiced that they should all be there to take counsel\nover his news.\n\n\"Indeed, it's glad we are to see you, Brother!\" cried the chairman.\n\"There's business here that wants a Solomon in judgment to set it\nright.\"\n\n\"It's Lander and Egan,\" explained his neighbour as he took his seat.\n\"They both claim the head money given by the lodge for the shooting\nof old man Crabbe over at Stylestown, and who's to say which fired the\nbullet?\"\n\nMcMurdo rose in his place and raised his hand. The expression of his\nface froze the attention of the audience. There was a dead hush of\nexpectation.\n\n\"Eminent Bodymaster,\" he said, in a solemn voice, \"I claim urgency!\"\n\n\"Brother McMurdo claims urgency,\" said McGinty. \"It's a claim that by\nthe rules of this lodge takes precedence. Now Brother, we attend you.\"\n\nMcMurdo took the letter from his pocket.\n\n\"Eminent Bodymaster and Brethren,\" he said, \"I am the bearer of ill news\nthis day; but it is better that it should be known and discussed, than\nthat a blow should fall upon us without warning which would destroy us\nall. I have information that the most powerful and richest organizations\nin this state have bound themselves together for our destruction, and\nthat at this very moment there is a Pinkerton detective, one Birdy\nEdwards, at work in the valley collecting the evidence which may put a\nrope round the necks of many of us, and send every man in this room into\na felon's cell. That is the situation for the discussion of which I have\nmade a claim of urgency.\"\n\nThere was a dead silence in the room. It was broken by the chairman.\n\n\"What is your evidence for this, Brother McMurdo?\" he asked.\n\n\"It is in this letter which has come into my hands,\" said McMurdo. He\nread the passage aloud. \"It is a matter of honour with me that I can\ngive no further particulars about the letter, nor put it into your\nhands; but I assure you that there is nothing else in it which can\naffect the interests of the lodge. I put the case before you as it has\nreached me.\"\n\n\"Let me say, Mr. Chairman,\" said one of the older brethren, \"that I have\nheard of Birdy Edwards, and that he has the name of being the best man\nin the Pinkerton service.\"\n\n\"Does anyone know him by sight?\" asked McGinty.\n\n\"Yes,\" said McMurdo, \"I do.\"\n\nThere was a murmur of astonishment through the hall.\n\n\"I believe we hold him in the hollow of our hands,\" he continued with an\nexulting smile upon his face. \"If we act quickly and wisely, we can cut\nthis thing short. If I have your confidence and your help, it is little\nthat we have to fear.\"\n\n\"What have we to fear, anyhow? What can he know of our affairs?\"\n\n\"You might say so if all were as stanch as you, Councillor. But this man\nhas all the millions of the capitalists at his back. Do you think there\nis no weaker brother among all our lodges that could not be bought? He\nwill get at our secrets--maybe has got them already. There's only one\nsure cure.\"\n\n\"That he never leaves the valley,\" said Baldwin.\n\nMcMurdo nodded. \"Good for you, Brother Baldwin,\" he said. \"You and I\nhave had our differences, but you have said the true word to-night.\"\n\n\"Where is he, then? Where shall we know him?\"\n\n\"Eminent Bodymaster,\" said McMurdo, earnestly, \"I would put it to you\nthat this is too vital a thing for us to discuss in open lodge. God\nforbid that I should throw a doubt on anyone here; but if so much as a\nword of gossip got to the ears of this man, there would be an end of\nany chance of our getting him. I would ask the lodge to choose a trusty\ncommittee, Mr. Chairman--yourself, if I might suggest it, and Brother\nBaldwin here, and five more. Then I can talk freely of what I know and\nof what I advise should be done.\"\n\nThe proposition was at once adopted, and the committee chosen. Besides\nthe chairman and Baldwin there were the vulture-faced secretary,\nHarraway, Tiger Cormac, the brutal young assassin, Carter, the\ntreasurer, and the brothers Willaby, fearless and desperate men who\nwould stick at nothing.\n\nThe usual revelry of the lodge was short and subdued: for there was a\ncloud upon the men's spirits, and many there for the first time began to\nsee the cloud of avenging Law drifting up in that serene sky under which\nthey had dwelt so long. The horrors they had dealt out to others\nhad been so much a part of their settled lives that the thought of\nretribution had become a remote one, and so seemed the more startling\nnow that it came so closely upon them. They broke up early and left\ntheir leaders to their council.\n\n\"Now, McMurdo!\" said McGinty when they were alone. The seven men sat\nfrozen in their seats.\n\n\"I said just now that I knew Birdy Edwards,\" McMurdo explained. \"I need\nnot tell you that he is not here under that name. He's a brave man, but\nnot a crazy one. He passes under the name of Steve Wilson, and he is\nlodging at Hobson's Patch.\"\n\n\"How do you know this?\"\n\n\"Because I fell into talk with him. I thought little of it at the time,\nnor would have given it a second thought but for this letter; but now\nI'm sure it's the man. I met him on the cars when I went down the\nline on Wednesday--a hard case if ever there was one. He said he was\na reporter. I believed it for the moment. Wanted to know all he could\nabout the Scowrers and what he called 'the outrages' for a New York\npaper. Asked me every kind of question so as to get something. You bet\nI was giving nothing away. 'I'd pay for it and pay well,' said he, 'if\nI could get some stuff that would suit my editor.' I said what I thought\nwould please him best, and he handed me a twenty-dollar bill for my\ninformation. 'There's ten times that for you,' said he, 'if you can find\nme all that I want.'\"\n\n\"What did you tell him, then?\"\n\n\"Any stuff I could make up.\"\n\n\"How do you know he wasn't a newspaper man?\"\n\n\"I'll tell you. He got out at Hobson's Patch, and so did I. I chanced\ninto the telegraph bureau, and he was leaving it.\n\n\"'See here,' said the operator after he'd gone out, 'I guess we should\ncharge double rates for this.'--'I guess you should,' said I. He had\nfilled the form with stuff that might have been Chinese, for all we\ncould make of it. 'He fires a sheet of this off every day,' said the\nclerk. 'Yes,' said I; 'it's special news for his paper, and he's scared\nthat the others should tap it.' That was what the operator thought and\nwhat I thought at the time; but I think differently now.\"\n\n\"By Gar! I believe you are right,\" said McGinty. \"But what do you allow\nthat we should do about it?\"\n\n\"Why not go right down now and fix him?\" someone suggested.\n\n\"Ay, the sooner the better.\"\n\n\"I'd start this next minute if I knew where we could find him,\" said\nMcMurdo. \"He's in Hobson's Patch; but I don't know the house. I've got a\nplan, though, if you'll only take my advice.\"\n\n\"Well, what is it?\"\n\n\"I'll go to the Patch to-morrow morning. I'll find him through the\noperator. He can locate him, I guess. Well, then I'll tell him that\nI'm a Freeman myself. I'll offer him all the secrets of the lodge for\na price. You bet he'll tumble to it. I'll tell him the papers are at my\nhouse, and that it's as much as my life would be worth to let him come\nwhile folk were about. He'll see that that's horse sense. Let him come\nat ten o'clock at night, and he shall see everything. That will fetch\nhim sure.\"\n\n\"Well?\"\n\n\"You can plan the rest for yourselves. Widow MacNamara's is a lonely\nhouse. She's as true as steel and as deaf as a post. There's only\nScanlan and me in the house. If I get his promise--and I'll let you know\nif I do--I'd have the whole seven of you come to me by nine o'clock.\nWe'll get him in. If ever he gets out alive--well, he can talk of Birdy\nEdwards's luck for the rest of his days!\"\n\n\"There's going to be a vacancy at Pinkerton's or I'm mistaken. Leave it\nat that, McMurdo. At nine to-morrow we'll be with you. You once get the\ndoor shut behind him, and you can leave the rest with us.\"\n\n\n\n\nChapter 7--The Trapping of Birdy Edwards\n\n\n\nAs McMurdo had said, the house in which he lived was a lonely one and\nvery well suited for such a crime as they had planned. It was on the\nextreme fringe of the town and stood well back from the road. In any\nother case the conspirators would have simply called out their man, as\nthey had many a time before, and emptied their pistols into his body;\nbut in this instance it was very necessary to find out how much he knew,\nhow he knew it, and what had been passed on to his employers.\n\nIt was possible that they were already too late and that the work had\nbeen done. If that was indeed so, they could at least have their revenge\nupon the man who had done it. But they were hopeful that nothing\nof great importance had yet come to the detective's knowledge, as\notherwise, they argued, he would not have troubled to write down and\nforward such trivial information as McMurdo claimed to have given him.\nHowever, all this they would learn from his own lips. Once in their\npower, they would find a way to make him speak. It was not the first\ntime that they had handled an unwilling witness.\n\nMcMurdo went to Hobson's Patch as agreed. The police seemed to take\nparticular interest in him that morning, and Captain Marvin--he who had\nclaimed the old acquaintance with him at Chicago--actually addressed him\nas he waited at the station. McMurdo turned away and refused to speak\nwith him. He was back from his mission in the afternoon, and saw McGinty\nat the Union House.\n\n\"He is coming,\" he said.\n\n\"Good!\" said McGinty. The giant was in his shirt sleeves, with chains\nand seals gleaming athwart his ample waistcoat and a diamond twinkling\nthrough the fringe of his bristling beard. Drink and politics had\nmade the Boss a very rich as well as powerful man. The more terrible,\ntherefore, seemed that glimpse of the prison or the gallows which had\nrisen before him the night before.\n\n\"Do you reckon he knows much?\" he asked anxiously.\n\nMcMurdo shook his head gloomily. \"He's been here some time--six weeks\nat the least. I guess he didn't come into these parts to look at\nthe prospect. If he has been working among us all that time with the\nrailroad money at his back, I should expect that he has got results, and\nthat he has passed them on.\"\n\n\"There's not a weak man in the lodge,\" cried McGinty. \"True as steel,\nevery man of them. And yet, by the Lord! there is that skunk Morris.\nWhat about him? If any man gives us away, it would be he. I've a mind to\nsend a couple of the boys round before evening to give him a beating up\nand see what they can get from him.\"\n\n\"Well, there would be no harm in that,\" McMurdo answered. \"I won't deny\nthat I have a liking for Morris and would be sorry to see him come to\nharm. He has spoken to me once or twice over lodge matters, and though\nhe may not see them the same as you or I, he never seemed the sort that\nsqueals. But still it is not for me to stand between him and you.\"\n\n\"I'll fix the old devil!\" said McGinty with an oath. \"I've had my eye on\nhim this year past.\"\n\n\"Well, you know best about that,\" McMurdo answered. \"But whatever you\ndo must be to-morrow; for we must lie low until the Pinkerton affair\nis settled up. We can't afford to set the police buzzing, to-day of all\ndays.\"\n\n\"True for you,\" said McGinty. \"And we'll learn from Birdy Edwards\nhimself where he got his news if we have to cut his heart out first. Did\nhe seem to scent a trap?\"\n\nMcMurdo laughed. \"I guess I took him on his weak point,\" he said. \"If he\ncould get on a good trail of the Scowrers, he's ready to follow it into\nhell. I took his money,\" McMurdo grinned as he produced a wad of dollar\nnotes, \"and as much more when he has seen all my papers.\"\n\n\"What papers?\"\n\n\"Well, there are no papers. But I filled him up about constitutions and\nbooks of rules and forms of membership. He expects to get right down to\nthe end of everything before he leaves.\"\n\n\"Faith, he's right there,\" said McGinty grimly. \"Didn't he ask you why\nyou didn't bring him the papers?\"\n\n\"As if I would carry such things, and me a suspected man, and Captain\nMarvin after speaking to me this very day at the depot!\"\n\n\"Ay, I heard of that,\" said McGinty. \"I guess the heavy end of this\nbusiness is coming on to you. We could put him down an old shaft when\nwe've done with him; but however we work it we can't get past the man\nliving at Hobson's Patch and you being there to-day.\"\n\nMcMurdo shrugged his shoulders. \"If we handle it right, they can never\nprove the killing,\" said he. \"No one can see him come to the house after\ndark, and I'll lay to it that no one will see him go. Now see here,\nCouncillor, I'll show you my plan and I'll ask you to fit the others\ninto it. You will all come in good time. Very well. He comes at ten. He\nis to tap three times, and me to open the door for him. Then I'll get\nbehind him and shut it. He's our man then.\"\n\n\"That's all easy and plain.\"\n\n\"Yes; but the next step wants considering. He's a hard proposition. He's\nheavily armed. I've fooled him proper, and yet he is likely to be on his\nguard. Suppose I show him right into a room with seven men in it\nwhere he expected to find me alone. There is going to be shooting, and\nsomebody is going to be hurt.\"\n\n\"That's so.\"\n\n\"And the noise is going to bring every damned copper in the township on\ntop of it.\"\n\n\"I guess you are right.\"\n\n\"This is how I should work it. You will all be in the big room--same as\nyou saw when you had a chat with me. I'll open the door for him, show\nhim into the parlour beside the door, and leave him there while I get\nthe papers. That will give me the chance of telling you how things are\nshaping. Then I will go back to him with some faked papers. As he is\nreading them I will jump for him and get my grip on his pistol arm.\nYou'll hear me call and in you will rush. The quicker the better; for\nhe is as strong a man as I, and I may have more than I can manage. But I\nallow that I can hold him till you come.\"\n\n\"It's a good plan,\" said McGinty. \"The lodge will owe you a debt for\nthis. I guess when I move out of the chair I can put a name to the man\nthat's coming after me.\"\n\n\"Sure, Councillor, I am little more than a recruit,\" said McMurdo; but\nhis face showed what he thought of the great man's compliment.\n\nWhen he had returned home he made his own preparations for the grim\nevening in front of him. First he cleaned, oiled, and loaded his Smith &\nWesson revolver. Then he surveyed the room in which the detective was\nto be trapped. It was a large apartment, with a long deal table in the\ncentre, and the big stove at one side. At each of the other sides were\nwindows. There were no shutters on these: only light curtains which drew\nacross. McMurdo examined these attentively. No doubt it must have struck\nhim that the apartment was very exposed for so secret a meeting. Yet its\ndistance from the road made it of less consequence. Finally he discussed\nthe matter with his fellow lodger. Scanlan, though a Scowrer, was an\ninoffensive little man who was too weak to stand against the opinion of\nhis comrades, but was secretly horrified by the deeds of blood at which\nhe had sometimes been forced to assist. McMurdo told him shortly what\nwas intended.\n\n\"And if I were you, Mike Scanlan, I would take a night off and keep\nclear of it. There will be bloody work here before morning.\"\n\n\"Well, indeed then, Mac,\" Scanlan answered. \"It's not the will but the\nnerve that is wanting in me. When I saw Manager Dunn go down at the\ncolliery yonder it was just more than I could stand. I'm not made for\nit, same as you or McGinty. If the lodge will think none the worse\nof me, I'll just do as you advise and leave you to yourselves for the\nevening.\"\n\nThe men came in good time as arranged. They were outwardly respectable\ncitizens, well clad and cleanly; but a judge of faces would have read\nlittle hope for Birdy Edwards in those hard mouths and remorseless eyes.\nThere was not a man in the room whose hands had not been reddened a\ndozen times before. They were as hardened to human murder as a butcher\nto sheep.\n\nForemost, of course, both in appearance and in guilt, was the formidable\nBoss. Harraway, the secretary, was a lean, bitter man with a long,\nscraggy neck and nervous, jerky limbs, a man of incorruptible fidelity\nwhere the finances of the order were concerned, and with no notion\nof justice or honesty to anyone beyond. The treasurer, Carter, was\na middle-aged man, with an impassive, rather sulky expression, and\na yellow parchment skin. He was a capable organizer, and the actual\ndetails of nearly every outrage had sprung from his plotting brain.\nThe two Willabys were men of action, tall, lithe young fellows with\ndetermined faces, while their companion, Tiger Cormac, a heavy, dark\nyouth, was feared even by his own comrades for the ferocity of his\ndisposition. These were the men who assembled that night under the roof\nof McMurdo for the killing of the Pinkerton detective.\n\nTheir host had placed whisky upon the table, and they had hastened\nto prime themselves for the work before them. Baldwin and Cormac were\nalready half-drunk, and the liquor had brought out all their ferocity.\nCormac placed his hands on the stove for an instant--it had been\nlighted, for the nights were still cold.\n\n\"That will do,\" said he, with an oath.\n\n\"Ay,\" said Baldwin, catching his meaning. \"If he is strapped to that, we\nwill have the truth out of him.\"\n\n\"We'll have the truth out of him, never fear,\" said McMurdo. He had\nnerves of steel, this man; for though the whole weight of the affair was\non him his manner was as cool and unconcerned as ever. The others marked\nit and applauded.\n\n\"You are the one to handle him,\" said the Boss approvingly. \"Not a\nwarning will he get till your hand is on his throat. It's a pity there\nare no shutters to your windows.\"\n\nMcMurdo went from one to the other and drew the curtains tighter. \"Sure\nno one can spy upon us now. It's close upon the hour.\"\n\n\"Maybe he won't come. Maybe he'll get a sniff of danger,\" said the\nsecretary.\n\n\"He'll come, never fear,\" McMurdo answered. \"He is as eager to come as\nyou can be to see him. Hark to that!\"\n\nThey all sat like wax figures, some with their glasses arrested halfway\nto their lips. Three loud knocks had sounded at the door.\n\n\"Hush!\" McMurdo raised his hand in caution. An exulting glance went\nround the circle, and hands were laid upon their weapons.\n\n\"Not a sound, for your lives!\" McMurdo whispered, as he went from the\nroom, closing the door carefully behind him.\n\nWith strained ears the murderers waited. They counted the steps of their\ncomrade down the passage. Then they heard him open the outer door. There\nwere a few words as of greeting. Then they were aware of a strange step\ninside and of an unfamiliar voice. An instant later came the slam of the\ndoor and the turning of the key in the lock. Their prey was safe within\nthe trap. Tiger Cormac laughed horribly, and Boss McGinty clapped his\ngreat hand across his mouth.\n\n\"Be quiet, you fool!\" he whispered. \"You'll be the undoing of us yet!\"\n\nThere was a mutter of conversation from the next room. It seemed\ninterminable. Then the door opened, and McMurdo appeared, his finger\nupon his lip.\n\nHe came to the end of the table and looked round at them. A subtle\nchange had come over him. His manner was as of one who has great work to\ndo. His face had set into granite firmness. His eyes shone with a fierce\nexcitement behind his spectacles. He had become a visible leader of men.\nThey stared at him with eager interest; but he said nothing. Still with\nthe same singular gaze he looked from man to man.\n\n\"Well!\" cried Boss McGinty at last. \"Is he here? Is Birdy Edwards here?\"\n\n\"Yes,\" McMurdo answered slowly. \"Birdy Edwards is here. I am Birdy\nEdwards!\"\n\nThere were ten seconds after that brief speech during which the room\nmight have been empty, so profound was the silence. The hissing of a\nkettle upon the stove rose sharp and strident to the ear. Seven white\nfaces, all turned upward to this man who dominated them, were set\nmotionless with utter terror. Then, with a sudden shivering of glass, a\nbristle of glistening rifle barrels broke through each window, while the\ncurtains were torn from their hangings.\n\nAt the sight Boss McGinty gave the roar of a wounded bear and plunged\nfor the half-opened door. A levelled revolver met him there with the\nstern blue eyes of Captain Marvin of the Mine Police gleaming behind the\nsights. The Boss recoiled and fell back into his chair.\n\n\"You're safer there, Councillor,\" said the man whom they had known as\nMcMurdo. \"And you, Baldwin, if you don't take your hand off your pistol,\nyou'll cheat the hangman yet. Pull it out, or by the Lord that made\nme--There, that will do. There are forty armed men round this house,\nand you can figure it out for yourself what chance you have. Take their\npistols, Marvin!\"\n\nThere was no possible resistance under the menace of those rifles. The\nmen were disarmed. Sulky, sheepish, and amazed, they still sat round the\ntable.\n\n\"I'd like to say a word to you before we separate,\" said the man who\nhad trapped them. \"I guess we may not meet again until you see me on the\nstand in the courthouse. I'll give you something to think over between\nnow and then. You know me now for what I am. At last I can put my cards\non the table. I am Birdy Edwards of Pinkerton's. I was chosen to break\nup your gang. I had a hard and dangerous game to play. Not a soul, not\none soul, not my nearest and dearest, knew that I was playing it. Only\nCaptain Marvin here and my employers knew that. But it's over to-night,\nthank God, and I am the winner!\"\n\nThe seven pale, rigid faces looked up at him. There was unappeasable\nhatred in their eyes. He read the relentless threat.\n\n\"Maybe you think that the game is not over yet. Well, I take my chance\nof that. Anyhow, some of you will take no further hand, and there are\nsixty more besides yourselves that will see a jail this night. I'll tell\nyou this, that when I was put upon this job I never believed there was\nsuch a society as yours. I thought it was paper talk, and that I would\nprove it so. They told me it was to do with the Freemen; so I went to\nChicago and was made one. Then I was surer than ever that it was just\npaper talk; for I found no harm in the society, but a deal of good.\n\n\"Still, I had to carry out my job, and I came to the coal valleys. When\nI reached this place I learned that I was wrong and that it wasn't a\ndime novel after all. So I stayed to look after it. I never killed a man\nin Chicago. I never minted a dollar in my life. Those I gave you were as\ngood as any others; but I never spent money better. But I knew the way\ninto your good wishes and so I pretended to you that the law was after\nme. It all worked just as I thought.\n\n\"So I joined your infernal lodge, and I took my share in your councils.\nMaybe they will say that I was as bad as you. They can say what they\nlike, so long as I get you. But what is the truth? The night I joined\nyou beat up old man Stanger. I could not warn him, for there was no\ntime; but I held your hand, Baldwin, when you would have killed him.\nIf ever I have suggested things, so as to keep my place among you, they\nwere things which I knew I could prevent. I could not save Dunn and\nMenzies, for I did not know enough; but I will see that their murderers\nare hanged. I gave Chester Wilcox warning, so that when I blew his house\nin he and his folk were in hiding. There was many a crime that I could\nnot stop; but if you look back and think how often your man came home\nthe other road, or was down in town when you went for him, or stayed\nindoors when you thought he would come out, you'll see my work.\"\n\n\"You blasted traitor!\" hissed McGinty through his closed teeth.\n\n\"Ay, John McGinty, you may call me that if it eases your smart. You and\nyour like have been the enemy of God and man in these parts. It took\na man to get between you and the poor devils of men and women that you\nheld under your grip. There was just one way of doing it, and I did it.\nYou call me a traitor; but I guess there's many a thousand will call me\na deliverer that went down into hell to save them. I've had three months\nof it. I wouldn't have three such months again if they let me loose\nin the treasury at Washington for it. I had to stay till I had it all,\nevery man and every secret right here in this hand. I'd have waited\na little longer if it hadn't come to my knowledge that my secret was\ncoming out. A letter had come into the town that would have set you wise\nto it all. Then I had to act and act quickly.\n\n\"I've nothing more to say to you, except that when my time comes I'll\ndie the easier when I think of the work I have done in this valley. Now,\nMarvin, I'll keep you no more. Take them in and get it over.\"\n\nThere is little more to tell. Scanlan had been given a sealed note to\nbe left at the address of Miss Ettie Shafter, a mission which he had\naccepted with a wink and a knowing smile. In the early hours of the\nmorning a beautiful woman and a much muffled man boarded a special train\nwhich had been sent by the railroad company, and made a swift, unbroken\njourney out of the land of danger. It was the last time that ever either\nEttie or her lover set foot in the Valley of Fear. Ten days later\nthey were married in Chicago, with old Jacob Shafter as witness of the\nwedding.\n\nThe trial of the Scowrers was held far from the place where their\nadherents might have terrified the guardians of the law. In vain they\nstruggled. In vain the money of the lodge--money squeezed by blackmail\nout of the whole countryside--was spent like water in the attempt to\nsave them. That cold, clear, unimpassioned statement from one who knew\nevery detail of their lives, their organization, and their crimes was\nunshaken by all the wiles of their defenders. At last after so many\nyears they were broken and scattered. The cloud was lifted forever from\nthe valley.\n\nMcGinty met his fate upon the scaffold, cringing and whining when the\nlast hour came. Eight of his chief followers shared his fate. Fifty-odd\nhad various degrees of imprisonment. The work of Birdy Edwards was\ncomplete.\n\nAnd yet, as he had guessed, the game was not over yet. There was another\nhand to be played, and yet another and another. Ted Baldwin, for one,\nhad escaped the scaffold; so had the Willabys; so had several others\nof the fiercest spirits of the gang. For ten years they were out of the\nworld, and then came a day when they were free once more--a day which\nEdwards, who knew his men, was very sure would be an end of his life of\npeace. They had sworn an oath on all that they thought holy to have his\nblood as a vengeance for their comrades. And well they strove to keep\ntheir vow!\n\nFrom Chicago he was chased, after two attempts so near success that\nit was sure that the third would get him. From Chicago he went under a\nchanged name to California, and it was there that the light went for a\ntime out of his life when Ettie Edwards died. Once again he was nearly\nkilled, and once again under the name of Douglas he worked in a lonely\ncanyon, where with an English partner named Barker he amassed a fortune.\nAt last there came a warning to him that the bloodhounds were on his\ntrack once more, and he cleared--only just in time--for England. And\nthence came the John Douglas who for a second time married a worthy\nmate, and lived for five years as a Sussex county gentleman, a life\nwhich ended with the strange happenings of which we have heard.\n\n\n\n\nEpilogue\n\n\n\nThe police trial had passed, in which the case of John Douglas was\nreferred to a higher court. So had the Quarter Sessions, at which he was\nacquitted as having acted in self-defense.\n\n\"Get him out of England at any cost,\" wrote Holmes to the wife. \"There\nare forces here which may be more dangerous than those he has escaped.\nThere is no safety for your husband in England.\"\n\nTwo months had gone by, and the case had to some extent passed from our\nminds. Then one morning there came an enigmatic note slipped into our\nletter box. \"Dear me, Mr. Holmes. Dear me!\" said this singular epistle.\nThere was neither superscription nor signature. I laughed at the quaint\nmessage; but Holmes showed unwonted seriousness.\n\n\"Deviltry, Watson!\" he remarked, and sat long with a clouded brow.\n\nLate last night Mrs. Hudson, our landlady, brought up a message that\na gentleman wished to see Mr. Holmes, and that the matter was of the\nutmost importance. Close at the heels of his messenger came Cecil\nBarker, our friend of the moated Manor House. His face was drawn and\nhaggard.\n\n\"I've had bad news--terrible news, Mr. Holmes,\" said he.\n\n\"I feared as much,\" said Holmes.\n\n\"You have not had a cable, have you?\"\n\n\"I have had a note from someone who has.\"\n\n\"It's poor Douglas. They tell me his name is Edwards; but he will always\nbe Jack Douglas of Benito Canyon to me. I told you that they started\ntogether for South Africa in the Palmyra three weeks ago.\"\n\n\"Exactly.\"\n\n\"The ship reached Cape Town last night. I received this cable from Mrs.\nDouglas this morning:\n\n\"'Jack has been lost overboard in gale off St. Helena. No one knows how\naccident occurred.'\n\n\"'IVY DOUGLAS.'\"\n\n\"Ha! It came like that, did it?\" said Holmes thoughtfully. \"Well, I've\nno doubt it was well stage-managed.\"\n\n\"You mean that you think there was no accident?\"\n\n\"None in the world.\"\n\n\"He was murdered?\"\n\n\"Surely!\"\n\n\"So I think also. These infernal Scowrers, this cursed vindictive nest\nof criminals--\"\n\n\"No, no, my good sir,\" said Holmes. \"There is a master hand here. It is\nno case of sawed-off shotguns and clumsy six-shooters. You can tell an\nold master by the sweep of his brush. I can tell a Moriarty when I see\none. This crime is from London, not from America.\"\n\n\"But for what motive?\"\n\n\"Because it is done by a man who cannot afford to fail, one whose whole\nunique position depends upon the fact that all he does must succeed. A\ngreat brain and a huge organization have been turned to the extinction\nof one man. It is crushing the nut with the triphammer--an absurd\nextravagance of energy--but the nut is very effectually crushed all the\nsame.\"\n\n\"How came this man to have anything to do with it?\"\n\n\"I can only say that the first word that ever came to us of the business\nwas from one of his lieutenants. These Americans were well advised.\nHaving an English job to do, they took into partnership, as any foreign\ncriminal could do, this great consultant in crime. From that moment\ntheir man was doomed. At first he would content himself by using his\nmachinery in order to find their victim. Then he would indicate how the\nmatter might be treated. Finally, when he read in the reports of the\nfailure of this agent, he would step in himself with a master touch. You\nheard me warn this man at Birlstone Manor House that the coming danger\nwas greater than the past. Was I right?\"\n\nBarker beat his head with his clenched fist in his impotent anger. \"Do\nnot tell me that we have to sit down under this? Do you say that no one\ncan ever get level with this king devil?\"\n\n\"No, I don't say that,\" said Holmes, and his eyes seemed to be looking\nfar into the future. \"I don't say that he can't be beat. But you must\ngive me time--you must give me time!\"\n\nWe all sat in silence for some minutes while those fateful eyes still\nstrained to pierce the veil."