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| Title: The Valley of Fear |
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| Author: Arthur Conan Doyle |
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| Release Date: February, 2003 [Etext #3776] |
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| [The actual date this file first posted = 09/03/01] |
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| Edition: 10 |
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| Language: English |
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| Project Gutenberg Etext The Valley of Fear, by Arthur Conan Doyle |
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| |
| The Valley Of Fear by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle |
| |
| |
| |
| PART 1 |
| The Tragedy of Birlstone |
| |
| |
| |
| Chapter 1 |
| The Warning |
| |
| "I am inclined to think -- " said I. |
| |
| "I should do so," Sherlock Holmes remarked impatiently. |
| |
| I believe that I am one of the most long-suffering of mortals; |
| but I'll admit that I was annoyed at the sardonic interruption. |
| |
| "Really, Holmes," said I severely, "you are a little trying at times." |
| |
| He was too much absorbed with his own thoughts to give any |
| immediate answer to my remonstrance. He leaned upon his |
| hand, with his untasted breakfast before him, and he stared at the |
| slip of paper which he had just drawn from its envelope. Then he |
| took the envelope itself, held it up to the light, and very carefully |
| studied both the exterior and the flap. |
| |
| "It is Porlock's writing," said he thoughtfully. "I can hardly |
| doubt that it is Porlock's writing, though I have seen it only |
| twice before. The Greek e with the peculiar top flourish is |
| distinctive. But if it is Porlock, then it must be something of the |
| very first importance." |
| |
| He was speaking to himself rather than to me; but my vexation |
| disappeared in the interest which the words awakened. |
| |
| "Who then is Porlock?" I asked. |
| |
| "Porlock, Watson, is a nom-de-plume, a mere identification |
| mark; but behind it lies a shifty and evasive personality. In a |
| former letter he frankly informed me that the name was not his |
| own, and defied me ever to trace him among the teeming millions |
| of this great city. Porlock is important, not for himself, but |
| for the great man with whom he is in touch. Picture to yourself |
| the pilot fish with the shark, the jackal with the lion -- anything |
| that is insignificant in companionship with what is formidable: |
| not only formidable, Watson, but sinister -- in the highest degree |
| sinister. That is where he comes within my purview. You have |
| heard me speak of Professor Moriarty?" |
| |
| "The famous scientific criminal, as famous among crooks as --" |
| |
| "My blushes, Watson!" Holmes murmured in a deprecating voice. |
| |
| "I was about to say, as he is unknown to the public." |
| |
| "A touch! A distinct touch!" cried Holmes. "You are developing |
| a certain unexpected vein of pawky humour, Watson, against |
| which I must learn to guard myself. But in calling Moriarty a |
| criminal you are uttering libel in the eyes of the law -- and |
| there lie the glory and the wonder of it! The greatest schemer |
| of all time, the organizer of every deviltry, the controlling |
| brain of the underworld, a brain which might have made or |
| marred the destiny of nations -- that's the man! But so aloof is he |
| from general suspicion, so immune from criticism, so admirable |
| in his management and self-effacement, that for those very words |
| that you have uttered he could hale you to a court and emerge |
| with your year's pension as a solatium for his wounded character. |
| Is he not the celebrated author of The Dynamics of an Asteroid, |
| a book which ascends to such rarefied heights of pure mathematics |
| that it is said that there was no man in the scientific |
| press capable of criticizing it? Is this a man to traduce? Foul- |
| mouthed doctor and slandered professor -- such would be your |
| respective roles! That's genius, Watson. But if I am spared by |
| lesser men, our day will surely come." |
| |
| "May I be there to see!" I exclaimed devoutly. "But you |
| were speaking of this man Porlock." |
| |
| "Ah, yes -- the so-called Porlock is a link in the chain some |
| little way from its great attachment. Porlock is not quite a sound |
| link -- between ourselves. He is the only flaw in that chain so far |
| as I have been able to test it." |
| |
| "But no chain is stronger than its weakest link." |
| |
| "Exactly, my dear Watson! Hence the extreme importance of Porlock. |
| Led on by some rudimentary aspirations towards right, and encouraged |
| by the judicious stimulation of an occasional ten-pound note sent to |
| him by devious methods, he has once or twice given me advance |
| information which has been of value -- that highest value which |
| anticipates and prevents rather than avenges crime. I cannot doubt |
| that, if we had the cipher, we should find that this communication |
| is of the nature that I indicate." |
| |
| Again Holmes flattened out the paper upon his unused plate. I rose |
| and, leaning over him, stared down at the curious inscription, |
| which ran as follows: |
| |
| 534 C2 13 127 36 31 4 17 21 41 |
| |
| DOUGLAS 109 293 5 37 BIRLSTONE |
| |
| 26 BIRLSTONE 9 47 171 |
| |
| "What do you make of it, Holmes?" |
| |
| "It is obviously an attempt to convey secret information." |
| |
| "But what is the use of a cipher message without the cipher?" |
| |
| "In this instance, none at all." |
| |
| "Why do you say 'in this instance'?" |
| |
| "Because there are many ciphers which I would read as easily |
| as I do the apocrypha of the agony column: such crude devices |
| amuse the intelligence without fatiguing it. But this is different. |
| It is clearly a reference to the words in a page of some book. |
| Until I am told which page and which book I am powerless." |
| |
| "But why 'Douglas' and 'Birlstone'?" |
| |
| "Clearly because those are words which were not contained in |
| the page in question." |
| |
| "Then why has he not indicated the book?" |
| |
| "Your native shrewdness, my dear Watson, that innate cunning |
| which is the delight of your friends, would surely prevent |
| you from inclosing cipher and message in the same envelope. |
| Should it miscarry, you are undone. As it is, both have to go |
| wrong before any harm comes from it. Our second post is now |
| overdue, and I shall be surprised if it does not bring us either a |
| further letter of explanation, or, as is more probable, the very |
| volume to which these figures refer." |
| |
| Holmes's calculation was fulfilled within a very few minutes |
| by the appearance of Billy, the page, with the very letter which |
| we were expecting. |
| |
| "The same writing," remarked Holmes, as he opened the |
| envelope, "and actually signed," he added in an exultant voice |
| as he unfolded the epistle. "Come, we are getting on, Watson." |
| His brow clouded, however, as he glanced over the contents. |
| |
| "Dear me, this is very disappointing! I fear, Watson, that all |
| our expectations come to nothing. I trust that the man Porlock |
| will come to no harm. |
| |
| "DEAR MR. HOLMES [he says]: |
| |
| "I will go no further in this matter. It is too dangerous -- he |
| |
| suspects me. I can see that he suspects me. He came to me |
| |
| quite unexpectedly after I had actually addressed this envelope |
| |
| with the intention of sending you the key to the cipher. |
| |
| I was able to cover it up. If he had seen it, it would have |
| |
| gone hard with me. But I read suspicion in his eyes. Please |
| |
| burn the cipher message, which can now be of no use to you. |
| |
| FRED PORLOCK." |
| |
| Holmes sat for some little time twisting this letter between his |
| fingers, and frowning, as he stared into the fire. |
| |
| "After all," he said at last, "there may be nothing in it. It |
| may be only his guilty conscience. Knowing himself to be a |
| traitor, he may have read the accusation in the other's eyes." |
| |
| "The other being, I presume, Professor Moriarty." |
| |
| "No less! When any of that party talk about 'He' you know whom |
| they mean. There is one predominant 'He' for all of them." |
| |
| "But what can he do?" |
| |
| "Hum! That's a large question. When you have one of the |
| first brains of Europe up against you, and all the powers of |
| darkness at his back, there are infinite possibilities. Anyhow, |
| Friend Porlock is evidently scared out of his senses -- kindly |
| compare the writing in the note to that upon its envelope; which |
| was done, he tells us, before this ill-omened visit. The one is |
| clear and firm. The other hardly legible." |
| |
| "Why did he write at all? Why did he not simply drop it?" |
| |
| "Because he feared I would make some inquiry after him in |
| that case, and possibly bring trouble on him." |
| |
| "No doubt," said I. "Of course." I had picked up the original |
| cipher message and was bending my brows over it. "It's pretty |
| maddening to think that an important secret may lie here on this |
| slip of paper, and that it is beyond human power to penetrate it." |
| |
| Sherlock Holmes had pushed away his untasted breakfast and |
| lit the unsavoury pipe which was the companion of his deepest |
| meditations. "I wonder!" said he, leaning back and staring at |
| the ceiling. "Perhaps there are points which have escaped your |
| Machiavellian intellect. Let us consider the problem in the light |
| of pure reason. This man's reference is to a book. That is our |
| point of departure." |
| |
| "A somewhat vague one." |
| |
| "Let us see then if we can narrow it down. As I focus my |
| mind upon it, it seems rather less impenetrable. What indications |
| have we as to this book?" |
| |
| "None." |
| |
| "Well, well, it is surely not quite so bad as that. The cipher |
| message begins with a large 534, does it not? We may take it as |
| a working hypothesis that 534 is the particular page to which the |
| cipher refers. So our book has already become a large book |
| which is surely something gained. What other indications have |
| we as to the nature of this large book? The next sign is C2. |
| What do you make of that, Watson?" |
| |
| "Chapter the second, no doubt." |
| |
| "Hardly that, Watson. You will, I am sure, agree with me |
| that if the page be given, the number of the chapter is immaterial. |
| Also that if page 534 finds us only in the second chapter, |
| the length of the first one must have been really intolerable." |
| |
| "Column!" I cried. |
| |
| "Brilliant, Watson. You are scintillating this morning. If it is |
| not column, then I am very much deceived. So now, you see, we |
| begin to visualize a large book printed in double columns |
| which are each of a considerable length, since one of the words |
| is numbered in the document as the two hundred and ninety- |
| third. Have we reached the limits of what reason can supply?" |
| |
| "I fear that we have." |
| |
| "Surely you do yourself an injustice. One more coruscation, |
| my dear Watson -- yet another brain-wave! Had the volume been |
| an unusual one, he would have sent it to me. Instead of that, he |
| had intended, before his plans were nipped, to send me the clue |
| in this envelope. He says so in his note. This would seem to |
| indicate that the book is one which he thought I would have no |
| difficulty in finding for myself. He had it -- and he imagined that |
| I would have it, too. In short, Watson, it is a very common book." |
| |
| "What you say certainly sounds plausible." |
| |
| "So we have contracted our field of search to a large book, |
| printed in double columns and in common use." |
| |
| "The Bible!" I cried triumphantly. |
| |
| "Good, Watson, good! But not, if I may say so, quite good enough! |
| Even if I accepted the compliment for myself I could hardly name |
| any volume which would be less likely to lie at the elbow of one |
| of Moriarty's associates. Besides, the editions of Holy Writ are |
| so numerous that he could hardly suppose that two copies would have |
| the same pagination. This is clearly a book which is standardized. |
| He knows for certain that his page 534 will exactly agree with my |
| page 534." |
| |
| "But very few books would correspond with that." |
| |
| "Exactly. Therein lies our salvation. Our search is narrowed down |
| to standardized books which anyone may be supposed to possess." |
| |
| "Bradshaw!" |
| |
| "There are difficulties, Watson. The vocabulary of Bradshaw is |
| nervous and terse, but limited. The selection of words would |
| hardly lend itself to the sending of general messages. We will |
| eliminate Bradshaw. The dictionary is, I fear, inadmissible for |
| the same reason. What then is left?" |
| |
| "An almanac!" |
| |
| "Excellent, Watson! I am very much mistaken if you have not |
| touched the spot. An almanac! Let us consider the claims of |
| Whitaker's Almanac. It is in common use. It has the requisite |
| number of pages. It is in double column. Though reserved in its |
| earlier vocabulary, it becomes, if I remember right, quite |
| garrulous towards the end." He picked the volume from his desk. |
| "Here is page 534, column two, a substantial block of print |
| dealing, I perceive, with the trade and resources of British India. |
| Jot down the words, Watson! Number thirteen is 'Mahratta.' |
| Not, I fear, a very auspicious beginning. Number one hundred |
| and twenty-seven is 'Government'; which at least makes sense, |
| though somewhat irrelevant to ourselves and Professor Moriarty. |
| Now let us try again. What does the Mahratta government do? |
| Alas! the next word is 'pig's-bristles.' We are undone, my good |
| Watson! It is finished!" |
| |
| He had spoken in jesting vein, but the twitching of his bushy |
| eyebrows bespoke his disappointment and irritation. I sat helpless |
| and unhappy, staring into the fire. A long silence was broken by |
| a sudden exclamation from Holmes, who dashed at a cupboard, from |
| which he emerged with a second yellow-covered volume in his hand. |
| |
| "We pay the price, Watson, for being too up-to-date!" he |
| cried. "We are before our time, and suffer the usual penalties. |
| Being the seventh of January, we have very properly laid in the |
| new almanac. It is more than likely that Porlock took his message |
| from the old one. No doubt he would have told us so had his |
| letter of explanation been written. Now let us see what page |
| 534 has in store for us. Number thirteen is 'There,' which is |
| much more promising. Number one hundred and twenty-seven is |
| 'is' -- 'There is'" -- Holmes's eyes were gleaming with excitement, |
| and his thin, nervous fingers twitched as he counted the |
| words -- "'danger.' Ha! Ha! Capital! Put that down, Watson. |
| 'There is danger -- may -- come -- very -- soon -- one.' Then we have |
| the name 'Douglas' -- 'rich -- country -- now -- at -- Birlstone -- |
| House -- Birlstone -- confidence -- is -- pressing.' There, Watson! |
| What do you think of pure reason and its fruit? If the greengrocer |
| had such a thing as a laurel wreath, I should send Billy round for |
| it." |
| |
| I was staring at the strange message which I had scrawled, |
| as he deciphered it, upon a sheet of foolscap on my knee. |
| |
| "What a queer, scrambling way of expressing his meaning!" said I. |
| |
| "On the contrary, he has done quite remarkably well," said Holmes. |
| "When you search a single column for words with which to express |
| your meaning, you can hardly expect to get everything you want. |
| You are bound to leave something to the intelligence of your |
| correspondent. The purport is perfectly clear. Some deviltry is |
| intended against one Douglas, whoever he may be, residing as stated, |
| a rich country gentleman. He is sure -- 'confidence' was as near as |
| he could get to 'confident' -- that it is pressing. There is our |
| result -- and a very workmanlike little bit of analysis it was!" |
| |
| Holmes had the impersonal joy of the true artist in his better |
| work, even as he mourned darkly when it fell below the high |
| level to which he aspired. He was still chuckling over his |
| success when Billy swung open the door and Inspector MacDonald |
| of Scotland Yard was ushered into the room. |
| |
| Those were the early days at the end of the '80's, when Alec |
| MacDonald was far from having attained the national fame |
| which he has now achieved. He was a young but trusted member |
| of the detective force, who had distinguished himself in several |
| cases which had been entrusted to him. His tall, bony figure gave |
| promise of exceptional physical strength, while his great cranium |
| and deep-set, lustrous eyes spoke no less clearly of the keen |
| intelligence which twinkled out from behind his bushy eyebrows. |
| He was a silent, precise man with a dour nature and a hard |
| Aberdonian accent. |
| |
| Twice already in his career had Holmes helped him to attain |
| success, his own sole reward being the intellectual joy of the |
| problem. For this reason the affection and respect of the |
| Scotchman for his amateur colleague were profound, and he showed |
| them by the frankness with which he consulted Holmes in every |
| difficulty. Mediocrity knows nothing higher than itself; but talent |
| instantly recognizes genius, and MacDonald had talent enough |
| for his profession to enable him to perceive that there was no |
| humiliation in seeking the assistance of one who already stood |
| alone in Europe, both in his gifts and in his experience. Holmes |
| was not prone to friendship, but he was tolerant of the big |
| Scotchman, and smiled at the sight of him. |
| |
| "You are an early bird, Mr. Mac," said he. "I wish you luck with |
| your worm. I fear this means that there is some mischief afoot." |
| |
| "If you said 'hope' instead of 'fear,' it would be nearer the |
| truth, I'm thinking, Mr. Holmes," the inspector answered, with a |
| knowing grin. "Well, maybe a wee nip would keep out the raw |
| morning chill. No, I won't smoke, I thank you. I'll have to be |
| pushing on my way; for the early hours of a case are the precious |
| ones, as no man knows better than your own self. But -- but --" |
| |
| The inspector had stopped suddenly, and was staring with a |
| look of absolute amazement at a paper upon the table. It was the |
| sheet upon which I had scrawled the enigmatic message. |
| |
| "Douglas!" he stammered. "Birlstone! What's this, Mr. Holmes? |
| Man, it's witchcraft! Where in the name of all that is wonderful |
| did you get those names?" |
| |
| "It is a cipher that Dr. Watson and I have had occasion to |
| solve. But why -- what's amiss with the names?" |
| |
| The inspector looked from one to the other of us in dazed astonishment. |
| "Just this," said he, "that Mr. Douglas of Birlstone Manor House was |
| horribly murdered last night!" |
| |
| |
| |
| Chapter 2 |
| Sherlock Holmes Discourses |
| |
| It was one of those dramatic moments for which my friend existed. |
| It would be an overstatement to say that he was shocked or even |
| excited by the amazing announcement. Without having a tinge of |
| cruelty in his singular composition, he was undoubtedly callous |
| from long over-stimulation. Yet, if his emotions were dulled, |
| his intellectual perceptions were exceedingly active. There was |
| no trace then of the horror which I had myself felt at this curt |
| declaration; but his face showed rather the quiet and interested |
| composure of the chemist who sees the crystals falling into position |
| from his oversaturated solution. |
| |
| "Remarkable!" said he. "Remarkable!" |
| |
| "You don't seem surprised." |
| |
| "Interested, Mr. Mac, but hardly surprised. Why should I be |
| surprised? I receive an anonymous communication from a quarter |
| which I know to be important, warning me that danger threatens |
| a certain person. Within an hour I learn that this danger has |
| actually materialized and that the person is dead. I am interested; |
| but, as you observe, I am not surprised." |
| |
| In a few short sentences he explained to the inspector the facts |
| about the letter and the cipher. MacDonald sat with his chin on |
| his hands and his great sandy eyebrows bunched into a yellow |
| tangle. |
| |
| "I was going down to Birlstone this morning," said he. "I |
| had come to ask you if you cared to come with me -- you and |
| your friend here. But from what you say we might perhaps be |
| doing better work in London." |
| |
| "I rather think not," said Holmes. |
| |
| "Hang it all, Mr. Holmes!" cried the inspector. "The papers |
| will be full of the Birlstone mystery in a day or two; but where's |
| the mystery if there is a man in London who prophesied the |
| crime before ever it occurred? We have only to lay our hands on |
| that man, and the rest will follow." |
| |
| "No doubt, Mr. Mac. But how do you propose to lay your |
| hands on the so-called Porlock?" |
| |
| MacDonald turned over the letter which Holmes had handed |
| him. "Posted in Camberwell -- that doesn't help us much. Name, |
| you say, is assumed. Not much to go on, certainly. Didn't you |
| say that you have sent him money?" |
| |
| "Twice." |
| |
| "And how?" |
| |
| "In notes to Camberwell post-office." |
| |
| "Did you ever trouble to see who called for them?" |
| |
| "No." |
| |
| The inspector looked surprised and a little shocked. "Why not?" |
| |
| "Because I always keep faith. I had promised when he first |
| wrote that I would not try to trace him." |
| |
| "You think there is someone behind him?" |
| |
| "I know there is." |
| |
| "This professor that I've heard you mention?" |
| |
| "Exactly!" |
| |
| Inspector MacDonald smiled, and his eyelid quivered as he |
| glanced towards me. "I won't conceal from you, Mr. Holmes, |
| that we think in the C. I. D. that you have a wee bit of a bee in |
| your bonnet over this professor. I made some inquiries myself |
| about the matter. He seems to be a very respectable, learned, and |
| talented sort of man." |
| |
| "I'm glad you've got so far as to recognize the talent." |
| |
| "Man, you can't but recognize it! After I heard your view I |
| made it my business to see him. I had a chat with him on |
| eclipses. How the talk got that way I canna think; but he had out |
| a reflector lantern and a globe, and made it all clear in a minute. |
| He lent me a book; but I don't mind saying that it was a bit |
| above my head, though I had a good Aberdeen upbringing. He'd |
| have made a grand meenister with his thin face and gray hair and |
| solemn-like way of talking. When he put his hand on my shoulder |
| as we were parting, it was like a father's blessing before you |
| go out into the cold, cruel world." |
| |
| Holmes chuckled and rubbed his hands. "Great!" he said. |
| "Great! Tell me, Friend MacDonald, this pleasing and touching |
| interview was, I suppose, in the professor's study?" |
| |
| "That's so." |
| |
| "A fine room, is it not?" |
| |
| "Very fine -- very handsome indeed, Mr. Holmes." |
| |
| "You sat in front of his writing desk?" |
| |
| "Just so." |
| |
| "Sun in your eyes and his face in the shadow?" |
| |
| "Well, it was evening; but I mind that the lamp was turned on |
| my face." |
| |
| "It would be. Did you happen to observe a picture over the |
| professor's head?" |
| |
| "I don't miss much, Mr. Holmes. Maybe I learned that from |
| you. Yes, I saw the picture -- a young woman with her head on |
| her hands, peeping at you sideways." |
| |
| "That painting was by Jean Baptiste Greuze." |
| |
| The inspector endeavoured to look interested. |
| |
| "Jean Baptiste Greuze," Holmes continued, joining his finger |
| tips and leaning well back in his chair, "was a French artist who |
| flourished between the years 1750 and 1800. I allude, of course |
| to his working career. Modern criticism has more than indorsed |
| the high opinion formed of him by his contemporaries." |
| |
| The inspector's eyes grew abstracted. "Hadn't we better --" |
| he said. |
| |
| "We are doing so," Holmes interrupted. "All that I am |
| saying has a very direct and vital bearing upon what you have |
| called the Birlstone Mystery. In fact, it may in a sense be called |
| the very centre of it." |
| |
| MacDonald smiled feebly, and looked appealingly to me. |
| "Your thoughts move a bit too quick for me, Mr. Holmes. You |
| leave out a link or two, and I can't get over the gap. What in the |
| whole wide world can be the connection between this dead |
| painting man and the affair at Birlstone?" |
| |
| "All knowledge comes useful to the detective," remarked |
| Holmes. "Even the trivial fact that in the year 1865 a picture by |
| Greuze entitled La Jeune Fille a l'Agneau fetched one million |
| two hundred thousand francs -- more than forty thousand pounds -- |
| at the Portalis sale may start a train of reflection in your mind." |
| |
| It was clear that it did. The inspector looked honestly interested. |
| |
| "I may remind you," Holmes continued, "that the professor's |
| salary can be ascertained in several trustworthy books of reference. |
| It is seven hundred a year." |
| |
| "Then how could he buy --" |
| |
| "Quite so! How could he?" |
| |
| "Ay, that's remarkable," said the inspector thoughtfully. "Talk |
| away, Mr. Holmes. I'm just loving it. It's fine!" |
| |
| Holmes smiled. He was always warmed by genuine admiration -- |
| the characteristic of the real artist. "What about Birlstone?" he |
| asked. |
| |
| "We've time yet," said the inspector, glancing at his watch. |
| "I've a cab at the door, and it won't take us twenty minutes to |
| Victoria. But about this picture: I thought you told me once, Mr. |
| Holmes, that you had never met Professor Moriarty." |
| |
| "No, I never have." |
| |
| "Then how do you know about his rooms?" |
| |
| "Ah, that's another matter. I have been three times in his |
| rooms, twice waiting for him under different pretexts and leaving |
| before he came. Once -- well, I can hardly tell about the once to |
| an official detective. It was on the last occasion that I took the |
| liberty of running over his papers -- with the most unexpected |
| results." |
| |
| "You found something compromising?" |
| |
| "Absolutely nothing. That was what amazed me. However, |
| you have now seen the point of the picture. It shows him to be a |
| very wealthy man. How did he acquire wealth? He is unmarried. |
| His younger brother is a station master in the west of England. |
| His chair is worth seven hundred a year. And he owns a Greuze." |
| |
| "Well?" |
| |
| "Surely the inference is plain." |
| |
| "You mean that he has a great income and that he must earn it |
| in an illegal fashion?" |
| |
| "Exactly. Of course I have other reasons for thinking so -- |
| dozens of exiguous threads which lead vaguely up towards the |
| centre of the web where the poisonous, motionless creature is |
| lurking. I only mention the Greuze because it brings the matter |
| within the range of your own observation." |
| |
| "Well, Mr. Holmes, I admit that what you say is interesting: |
| it's more than interesting -- it's just wonderful. But let us have it |
| a little clearer if you can. Is it forgery, coining, burglary -- where |
| does the money come from?" |
| |
| "Have you ever read of Jonathan Wild?" |
| |
| "Well, the name has a familiar sound. Someone in a novel, |
| was he not? I don't take much stock of detectives in novels -- |
| chaps that do things and never let you see how they do them. |
| That's just inspiration: not business." |
| |
| "Jonathan Wild wasn't a detective, and he wasn't in a novel. |
| He was a master criminal, and he lived last century -- 1750 or |
| thereabouts." |
| |
| "Then he's no use to me. I'm a practical man." |
| |
| "Mr. Mac, the most practical thing that you ever did in your |
| life would be to shut yourself up for three months and read |
| twelve hours a day at the annals of crime. Everything comes in |
| circles -- even Professor Moriarty. Jonathan Wild was the hidden |
| force of the London criminals, to whom he sold his brains and |
| his organization on a fifteen per cent commission. The old |
| wheel turns, and the same spoke comes up. It's all been done |
| before, and will be again. I'll tell you one or two things about |
| Moriarty which may interest you." |
| |
| "You'll interest me, right enough." |
| |
| "I happen to know who is the first link in his chain -- a chain |
| with this Napoleon-gone-wrong at one end, and a hundred broken |
| fighting men, pickpockets, blackmailers, and card sharpers at the |
| other, with every sort of crime in between. His chief of staff is |
| Colonel Sebastian Moran, as aloof and guarded and inaccessible |
| to the law as himself. What do you think he pays him?" |
| |
| "I'd like to hear." |
| |
| "Six thousand a year. That's paying for brains, you see -- the |
| American business principle. I learned that detail quite by chance. |
| It's more than the Prime Minister gets. That gives you an idea of |
| Moriarty's gains and of the scale on which he works. Another |
| point: I made it my business to hunt down some of Moriarty's |
| checks lately -- just common innocent checks that he pays his |
| household bills with. They were drawn on six different banks. |
| Does that make any impression on your mind?" |
| |
| "Queer, certainly! But what do you gather from it?" |
| |
| "That he wanted no gossip about his wealth. No single man |
| should know what he had. I have no doubt that he has twenty |
| banking accounts; the bulk of his fortune abroad in the Deutsche |
| Bank or the Credit Lyonnais as likely as not. Sometime when |
| you have a year or two to spare I commend to you the study of |
| Professor Moriarty." |
| |
| Inspector MacDonald had grown steadily more impressed as |
| the conversation proceeded. He had lost himself in his interest. |
| Now his practical Scotch intelligence brought him back with a |
| snap to the matter in hand. |
| |
| "He can keep, anyhow," said he. "You've got us side-tracked |
| with your interesting anecdotes, Mr. Holmes. What really counts |
| is your remark that there is some connection between the professor |
| and the crime. That you get from the warning received through the |
| man Porlock. Can we for our present practical needs get any further |
| than that?" |
| |
| "We may form some conception as to the motives of the crime. |
| It is, as I gather from your original remarks, an inexplicable, |
| or at least an unexplained, murder. Now, presuming that the |
| source of the crime is as we suspect it to be, there might be two |
| different motives. In the first place, I may tell you that Moriarty |
| rules with a rod of iron over his people. His discipline is |
| tremendous. There is only one punishment in his code. It is |
| death. Now we might suppose that this murdered man -- this |
| Douglas whose approaching fate was known by one of the |
| arch-criminal's subordinates -- had in some way betrayed the chief. |
| His punishment followed, and would be known to all -- if only to |
| put the fear of death into them." |
| |
| "Well, that is one suggestion, Mr. Holmes." |
| |
| "The other is that it has been engineered by Moriarty in the |
| ordinary course of business. Was there any robbery?" |
| |
| "I have not heard." |
| |
| "If so, it would, of course, be against the first hypothesis and |
| in favour of the second. Moriarty may have been engaged to |
| engineer it on a promise of part spoils, or he may have been paid |
| so much down to manage it. Either is possible. But whichever it |
| may be, or if it is some third combination, it is down at Birlstone |
| that we must seek the solution. I know our man too well to |
| suppose that he has left anything up here which may lead us to |
| him." |
| |
| "Then to Birlstone we must go!" cried MacDonald, jumping |
| from his chair. "My word! it's later than I thought. I can give |
| you, gentlemen, five minutes for preparation, and that is all." |
| |
| "And ample for us both," said Holmes, as he sprang up and |
| hastened to change from his dressing gown to his coat. "While |
| we are on our way, Mr. Mac, I will ask you to be good enough |
| to tell me all about it." |
| |
| "All about it" proved to be disappointingly little, and yet |
| there was enough to assure us that the case before us might well |
| be worthy of the expert's closest attention. He brightened and |
| rubbed his thin hands together as he listened to the meagre but |
| remarkable details. A long series of sterile weeks lay behind us, |
| and here at last there was a fitting object for those remarkable |
| powers which, like all special gifts, become irksome to their |
| owner when they are not in use. That razor brain blunted and |
| rusted with inaction. |
| |
| Sherlock Holmes's eyes glistened, his pale cheeks took a |
| warmer hue, and his whole eager face shone with an inward light |
| when the call for work reached him. Leaning forward in the cab, |
| he listened intently to MacDonald's short sketch of the problem |
| which awaited us in Sussex. The inspector was himself dependent, |
| as he explained to us, upon a scribbled account forwarded to him |
| by the milk train in the early hours of the morning. White |
| Mason, the local officer, was a personal friend, and hence |
| MacDonald had been notified much more promptly than is usual |
| at Scotland Yard when provincials need their assistance. It is a |
| very cold scent upon which the Metropolitan expert is generally |
| asked to run. |
| |
| |
| "DEAR INSPECTOR MACDONALD [said the letter which he read to us]: |
| |
| "Official requisition for your services is in separate |
| |
| envelope. This is for your private eye. Wire me what train in |
| |
| the morning you can get for Birlstone, and I will meet it -- |
| |
| or have it met if I am too occupied. This case is a snorter. |
| |
| Don't waste a moment in getting started. If you can bring |
| |
| Mr. Holmes, please do so; for he will find something after |
| |
| his own heart. We would think the whole thing had been |
| |
| fixed up for theatrical effect if there wasn't a dead man in |
| |
| the middle of it. My word! it is a snorter." |
| |
| |
| "Your friend seems to be no fool," remarked Holmes. |
| |
| "No, sir, White Mason is a very live man, if I am any judge." |
| |
| "Well, have you anything more?" |
| |
| "Only that he will give us every detail when we meet." |
| |
| "Then how did you get at Mr. Douglas and the fact that he |
| had been horribly murdered?" |
| |
| "That was in the enclosed official report. It didn't say |
| 'horrible': that's not a recognized official term. It gave the name |
| John Douglas. It mentioned that his injuries had been in the head, |
| from the discharge of a shotgun. It also mentioned the hour of |
| the alarm, which was close on to midnight last night. It added |
| that the case was undoubtedly one of murder, but that no arrest |
| had been made, and that the case was one which presented some |
| very perplexing and extraordinary features. That's absolutely all |
| we have at present, Mr. Holmes." |
| |
| "Then, with your permission, we will leave it at that, Mr. |
| Mac. The temptation to form premature theories upon insufficient |
| data is the bane of our profession. I can see only two things |
| for certain at present -- a great brain in London, and a dead man |
| in Sussex. It's the chain between that we are going to trace." |
| |
| |
| |
| Chapter 3 |
| The Tragedy of Birlstone |
| |
| Now for a moment I will ask leave to remove my own insignificant |
| personality and to describe events which occurred before we |
| arrived upon the scene by the light of knowledge which came to |
| us afterwards. Only in this way can I make the reader appreciate |
| the people concerned and the strange setting in which their fate |
| was cast. |
| |
| The village of Birlstone is a small and very ancient cluster of |
| half-timbered cottages on the northern border of the county of |
| Sussex. For centuries it had remained unchanged; but within the |
| last few years its picturesque appearance and situation have |
| attracted a number of well-to-do residents, whose villas peep out |
| from the woods around. These woods are locally supposed to be |
| the extreme fringe of the great Weald forest, which thins away |
| until it reaches the northern chalk downs. A number of small |
| shops have come into being to meet the wants of the increased |
| population; so there seems some prospect that Birlstone may |
| soon grow from an ancient village into a modern town. It is the |
| centre for a considerable area of country, since Tunbridge Wells, |
| the nearest place of importance, is ten or twelve miles to the |
| eastward, over the borders of Kent. |
| |
| About half a mile from the town, standing in an old park |
| famous for its huge beech trees, is the ancient Manor House of |
| Birlstone. Part of this venerable building dates back to the time |
| of the first crusade, when Hugo de Capus built a fortalice in the |
| centre of the estate, which had been granted to him by the Red |
| King. This was destroyed by fire in 1543, and some of its |
| smoke-blackened corner stones were used when, in Jacobean |
| times, a brick country house rose upon the ruins of the feudal |
| castle. |
| |
| The Manor House, with its many gables and its small diamond- |
| paned windows, was still much as the builder had left it in the |
| early seventeenth century. Of the double moats which had guarded |
| its more warlike predecessor, the outer had been allowed to dry |
| up, and served the humble function of a kitchen garden. The |
| inner one was still there, and lay forty feet in breadth, though |
| now only a few feet in depth, round the whole house. A small |
| stream fed it and continued beyond it, so that the sheet of water, |
| though turbid, was never ditch-like or unhealthy. The ground |
| floor windows were within a foot of the surface of the water. |
| |
| The only approach to the house was over a drawbridge, the |
| chains and windlass of which had long been rusted and broken. |
| The latest tenants of the Manor House had, however, with |
| characteristic energy, set this right, and the drawbridge was not |
| only capable of being raised, but actually was raised every |
| evening and lowered every morning. By thus renewing the custom |
| of the old feudal days the Manor House was converted into |
| an island during the night -- a fact which had a very direct |
| bearing upon the mystery which was soon to engage the attention |
| of all England. |
| |
| The house had been untenanted for some years and was |
| threatening to moulder into a picturesque decay when the |
| Douglases took possession of it. This family consisted of only |
| two individuals -- John Douglas and his wife. Douglas was a |
| remarkable man, both in character and in person. In age he may |
| have been about fifty, with a strong-jawed, rugged face, a |
| grizzling moustache, peculiarly keen gray eyes, and a wiry, |
| vigorous figure which had lost nothing of the strength and |
| activity of youth. He was cheery and genial to all, but somewhat |
| offhand in his manners, giving the impression that he had seen |
| life in social strata on some far lower horizon than the county |
| society of Sussex. |
| |
| Yet, though looked at with some curiosity and reserve by his |
| more cultivated neighbours, he soon acquired a great popularity |
| among the villagers, subscribing handsomely to all local objects, |
| and attending their smoking concerts and other functions, where, |
| having a remarkably rich tenor voice, he was always ready to |
| oblige with an excellent song. He appeared to have plenty of |
| money, which was said to have been gained in the California |
| gold fields, and it was clear from his own talk and that of his |
| wife that he had spent a part of his life in America. |
| |
| The good impression which had been produced by his generosity |
| and by his democratic manners was increased by a reputation |
| gained for utter indifference to danger. Though a wretched |
| rider, he turned out at every meet, and took the most amazing |
| falls in his determination to hold his own with the best. When |
| the vicarage caught fire he distinguished himself also by the |
| fearlessness with which he reentered the building to save property, |
| after the local fire brigade had given it up as impossible. |
| Thus it came about that John Douglas of the Manor House had |
| within five years won himself quite a reputation in Birlstone. |
| |
| His wife, too, was popular with those who had made her |
| acquaintance; though, after the English fashion, the callers upon |
| a stranger who settled in the county without introductions were |
| few and far between. This mattered the less to her, as she was |
| retiring by disposition, and very much absorbed, to all appearance, |
| in her husband and her domestic duties. It was known that |
| she was an English lady who had met Mr. Douglas in London, |
| he being at that time a widower. She was a beautiful woman, |
| tall, dark, and slender, some twenty years younger than her |
| husband, a disparity which seemed in no wise to mar the |
| contentment of their family life. |
| |
| It was remarked sometimes, however, by those who knew |
| them best, that the confidence between the two did not appear to |
| be complete, since the wife was either very reticent about her |
| husband's past life, or else, as seemed more likely, was imperfectly |
| informed about it. It had also been noted and commented upon by a |
| few observant people that there were signs sometimes of some |
| nerve-strain upon the part of Mrs. Douglas, and that she would |
| display acute uneasiness if her absent husband should ever be |
| particularly late in his return. On a quiet countryside, where |
| all gossip is welcome, this weakness of the lady of the Manor |
| House did not pass without remark, and it bulked larger upon |
| people's memory when the events arose which gave it a very |
| special significance. |
| |
| There was yet another individual whose residence under that |
| roof was, it is true, only an intermittent one, but whose presence |
| at the time of the strange happenings which will now be narrated |
| brought his name prominently before the public. This was Cecil |
| James Barker, of Hales Lodge, Hampstead. |
| |
| Cecil Barker's tall, loose-jointed figure was a familiar one in |
| the main street of Birlstone village; for he was a frequent and |
| welcome visitor at the Manor House. He was the more noticed as |
| being the only friend of the past unknown life of Mr. Douglas |
| who was ever seen in his new English surroundings. Barker was |
| himself an undoubted Englishman; but by his remarks it was |
| clear that he had first known Douglas in America and had there |
| lived on intimate terms with him. He appeared to be a man of |
| considerable wealth, and was reputed to be a bachelor. |
| |
| In age he was rather younger than Douglas -- forty-five at the |
| most -- a tall, straight, broad-chested fellow with a clean-shaved, |
| prize-fighter face, thick, strong, black eyebrows, and a pair of |
| masterful black eyes which might, even without the aid of his |
| very capable hands, clear a way for him through a hostile crowd. |
| He neither rode nor shot, but spent his days in wandering round |
| the old village with his pipe in his mouth, or in driving with his |
| host, or in his absence with his hostess, over the beautiful |
| countryside. "An easy-going, free-handed gentleman," said Ames, |
| the butler. "But, my word! I had rather not be the man that |
| crossed him!" He was cordial and intimate with Douglas, and he |
| was no less friendly with his wife -- a friendship which more than |
| once seemed to cause some irritation to the husband, so that even |
| the servants were able to perceive his annoyance. Such was the |
| third person who was one of the family when the catastrophe |
| occurred. |
| |
| As to the other denizens of the old building, it will suffice out |
| of a large household to mention the prim, respectable, and |
| capable Ames, and Mrs. Allen, a buxom and cheerful person, |
| who relieved the lady of some of her household cares. The other |
| six servants in the house bear no relation to the events of the |
| night of January 6th. |
| |
| It was at eleven forty-five that the first alarm reached the small |
| local police station, in charge of Sergeant Wilson of the Sussex |
| Constabulary. Cecil Barker, much excited, had rushed up to the |
| door and pealed furiously upon the bell. A terrible tragedy had |
| occurred at the Manor House, and John Douglas had been murdered. |
| That was the breathless burden of his message. He had hurried back |
| to the house, followed within a few minutes by the police sergeant, |
| who arrived at the scene of the crime a little after twelve o'clock, |
| after taking prompt steps to warn the county authorities that |
| something serious was afoot. |
| |
| On reaching the Manor House, the sergeant had found the |
| drawbridge down, the windows lighted up, and the whole household |
| in a state of wild confusion and alarm. The white-faced servants |
| were huddling together in the hall, with the frightened butler |
| wringing his hands in the doorway. Only Cecil Barker seemed to |
| be master of himself and his emotions; he had opened the door |
| which was nearest to the entrance and he had beckoned to the |
| sergeant to follow him. At that moment there arrived Dr. Wood, |
| a brisk and capable general practitioner from the village. The |
| three men entered the fatal room together, while the horror- |
| stricken butler followed at their heels, closing the door behind |
| him to shut out the terrible scene from the maid servants. |
| |
| The dead man lay on his back, sprawling with outstretched |
| limbs in the centre of the room. He was clad only in a pink |
| dressing gown, which covered his night clothes. There were |
| carpet slippers on his bare feet. The doctor knelt beside him and |
| held down the hand lamp which had stood on the table. One |
| glance at the victim was enough to show the healer that his |
| presence could be dispensed with. The man had been horribly |
| injured. Lying across his chest was a curious weapon, a shotgun |
| with the barrel sawed off a foot in front of the triggers. It was |
| clear that this had been fired at close range and that he had |
| received the whole charge in the face, blowing his head almost |
| to pieces. The triggers had been wired together, so as to make |
| the simultaneous discharge more destructive. |
| |
| The country policeman was unnerved and troubled by the |
| tremendous responsibility which had come so suddenly upon |
| him. "We will touch nothing until my superiors arrive," he said |
| in a hushed voice, staring in horror at the dreadful head. |
| |
| "Nothing has been touched up to now," said Cecil Barker. |
| "I'll answer for that. You see it all exactly as I found it." |
| |
| "When was that?" The sergeant had drawn out his notebook. |
| |
| "It was just half-past eleven. I had not begun to undress, and I |
| was sitting by the fire in my bedroom when I heard the report. It |
| was not very loud -- it seemed to be muffled. I rushed down -- I |
| don't suppose it was thirty seconds before I was in the room." |
| |
| "Was the door open?" |
| |
| "Yes, it was open. Poor Douglas was lying as you see him. |
| His bedroom candle was burning on the table. It was I who lit |
| the lamp some minutes afterward." |
| |
| "Did you see no one?" |
| |
| "No. I heard Mrs. Douglas coming down the stair behind me, |
| and I rushed out to prevent her from seeing this dreadful sight. |
| Mrs. Allen, the housekeeper, came and took her away. Ames |
| had arrived, and we ran back into the room once more." |
| |
| "But surely I have heard that the drawbridge is kept up all |
| night." |
| |
| "Yes, it was up until I lowered it." |
| |
| "Then how could any murderer have got away? It is out of the |
| question! Mr. Douglas must have shot himself." |
| |
| "That was our first idea. But see!" Barker drew aside the |
| curtain, and showed that the long, diamond-paned window was |
| open to its full extent. "And look at this!" He held the lamp |
| down and illuminated a smudge of blood like the mark of a |
| boot-sole upon the wooden sill. "Someone has stood there in |
| getting out." |
| |
| "You mean that someone waded across the moat?" |
| |
| "Exactly!" |
| |
| "Then if you were in the room within half a minute of the |
| crime, he must have been in the water at that very moment." |
| |
| "I have not a doubt of it. I wish to heaven that I had rushed to |
| the window! But the curtain screened it, as you can see, and so it |
| never occurred to me. Then I heard the step of Mrs. Douglas, |
| and I could not let her enter the room. It would have been too |
| horrible." |
| |
| "Horrible enough!" said the doctor, looking at the shattered |
| head and the terrible marks which surrounded it. "I've never |
| seen such injuries since the Birlstone railway smash." |
| |
| "But, I say," remarked the police sergeant, whose slow, |
| bucolic common sense was still pondering the open window. |
| "It's all very well your saying that a man escaped by wading this |
| moat, but what I ask you is, how did he ever get into the house |
| at all if the bridge was up?" |
| |
| "Ah, that's the question," said Barker. |
| |
| "At what o'clock was it raised?" |
| |
| "It was nearly six o'clock," said Ames, the butler. |
| |
| "I've heard," said the sergeant, "that it was usually raised at |
| sunset. That would be nearer half-past four than six at this time |
| of year." |
| |
| "Mrs. Douglas had visitors to tea," said Ames. "I couldn't |
| raise it until they went. Then I wound it up myself." |
| |
| "Then it comes to this," said the sergeant: "If anyone came |
| from outside -- if they did -- they must have got in across the |
| bridge before six and been in hiding ever since, until Mr. |
| Douglas came into the room after eleven." |
| |
| "That is so! Mr. Douglas went round the house every night |
| the last thing before he turned in to see that the lights were right. |
| That brought him in here. The man was waiting and shot him. |
| Then he got away through the window and left his gun behind |
| him. That's how I read it; for nothing else will fit the facts." |
| |
| The sergeant picked up a card which lay beside the dead man |
| on the floor. The initials V. V. and under them the number 341 |
| were rudely scrawled in ink upon it. |
| |
| "What's this?" he asked, holding it up. |
| |
| Barker looked at it with curiosity. "I never noticed it before," |
| he said. "The murderer must have left it behind him." |
| |
| "V. V. -- 341. I can make no sense of that." |
| |
| The sergeant kept turning it over in his big fingers. "What's |
| V. V.? Somebody's initials, maybe. What have you got there, |
| Dr. Wood?" |
| |
| It was a good-sized hammer which had been lying on the rug |
| in front of the fireplace -- a substantial, workmanlike hammer. |
| Cecil Barker pointed to a box of brass-headed nails upon the |
| mantelpiece. |
| |
| "Mr. Douglas was altering the pictures yesterday," he said. |
| "I saw him myself, standing upon that chair and fixing the big |
| picture above it. That accounts for the hammer." |
| |
| "We'd best put it back on the rug where we found it," said |
| the sergeant, scratching his puzzled head in his perplexity. "It |
| will want the best brains in the force to get to the bottom of this |
| thing. It will be a London job before it is finished." He raised |
| the hand lamp and walked slowly round the room. "Hullo!" he |
| cried, excitedly, drawing the window curtain to one side. "What |
| o'clock were those curtains drawn?" |
| |
| "When the lamps were lit," said the butler. "It would be |
| shortly after four." |
| |
| "Someone had been hiding here, sure enough." He held down |
| the light, and the marks of muddy boots were very visible in the |
| corner. "I'm bound to say this bears out your theory, Mr. |
| Barker. It looks as if the man got into the house after four when |
| the curtains were drawn and before six when the bridge was |
| raised. He slipped into this room, because it was the first that he |
| saw. There was no other place where he could hide, so he |
| popped in behind this curtain. That all seems clear enough. It is |
| likely that his main idea was to burgle the house; but Mr. |
| Douglas chanced to come upon him, so he murdered him and |
| escaped." |
| |
| "That's how I read it," said Barker. "But, I say, aren't we |
| wasting precious time? Couldn't we start out and scour the |
| country before the fellow gets away?" |
| |
| The sergeant considered for a moment. |
| |
| "There are no trains before six in the morning; so he can't get |
| away by rail. If he goes by road with his legs all dripping, it's |
| odds that someone will notice him. Anyhow, I can't leave here |
| myself until I am relieved. But I think none of you should go |
| until we see more clearly how we all stand." |
| |
| The doctor had taken the lamp and was narrowly scrutinizing |
| the body. "What's this mark?" he asked. "Could this have any |
| connection with the crime?" |
| |
| The dead man's right arm was thrust out from his dressing |
| gown, and exposed as high as the elbow. About halfway up the |
| forearm was a curious brown design, a triangle inside a circle, |
| standing out in vivid relief upon the lard-coloured skin. |
| |
| "It's not tattooed," said the doctor, peering through his glasses. |
| "I never saw anything like it. The man has been branded at |
| some time as they brand cattle. What is the meaning of this?" |
| |
| "I don't profess to know the meaning of it," said Cecil |
| Barker; "but I have seen the mark on Douglas many times this |
| last ten years." |
| |
| "And so have I," said the butler. "Many a time when the |
| master has rolled up his sleeves I have noticed that very mark. |
| I've often wondered what it could be." |
| |
| "Then it has nothing to do with the crime, anyhow," said the |
| sergeant. "But it's a rum thing all the same. Everything about |
| this case is rum. Well, what is it now?" |
| |
| The butler had given an exclamation of astonishment and was |
| pointing at the dead man's outstretched hand. |
| |
| "They've taken his wedding ring!" he gasped. |
| |
| "What!" |
| |
| "Yes, indeed. Master always wore his plain gold wedding ring |
| on the little finger of his left hand. That ring with the rough |
| nugget on it was above it, and the twisted snake ring on the third |
| finger. There's the nugget and there's the snake, but the wedding |
| ring is gone." |
| |
| "He's right," said Barker. |
| |
| "Do you tell me," said the sergeant, "that the wedding ring |
| was below the other?" |
| |
| "Always!" |
| |
| "Then the murderer, or whoever it was, first took off this ring |
| you call the nugget ring, then the wedding ring, and afterwards |
| put the nugget ring back again." |
| |
| "That is so!" |
| |
| The worthy country policeman shook his head. "Seems to me |
| the sooner we get London on to this case the better," said he. |
| "White Mason is a smart man. No local job has ever been too |
| much for White Mason. It won't be long now before he is here |
| to help us. But I expect we'll have to look to London before we |
| are through. Anyhow, I'm not ashamed to say that it is a deal too |
| thick for the likes of me." |
| |
| |
| |
| Chapter 4 |
| Darkness |
| |
| At three in the morning the chief Sussex detective, obeying |
| the urgent call from Sergeant Wilson of Birlstone, arrived from |
| headquarters in a light dog-cart behind a breathless trotter. By |
| the five-forty train in the morning he had sent his message to |
| Scotland Yard, and he was at the Birlstone station at twelve |
| o'clock to welcome us. White Mason was a quiet, comfortable- |
| looking person in a loose tweed suit, with a clean-shaved, ruddy |
| face, a stoutish body, and powerful bandy legs adorned with |
| gaiters, looking like a small farmer, a retired gamekeeper, or |
| anything upon earth except a very favourable specimen of the |
| provincial criminal officer. |
| |
| "A real downright snorter, Mr. MacDonald!" he kept repeating. |
| "We'll have the pressmen down like flies when they understand it. |
| I'm hoping we will get our work done before they get poking their |
| noses into it and messing up all the trails. There has been |
| nothing like this that I can remember. There are some bits |
| that will come home to you, Mr. Holmes, or I am mistaken. And |
| you also, Dr. Watson; for the medicos will have a word to say |
| before we finish. Your room is at the Westville Arms. There's |
| no other place; but I hear that it is clean and good. The man will |
| carry your bags. This way, gentlemen, if you please." |
| |
| He was a very bustling and genial person, this Sussex detective. |
| In ten minutes we had all found our quarters. In ten more we were |
| seated in the parlour of the inn and being treated to a rapid |
| sketch of those events which have been outlined in the previous |
| chapter. MacDonald made an occasional note, while Holmes sat |
| absorbed, with the expression of surprised and reverent admiration |
| with which the botanist surveys the rare and precious bloom. |
| |
| "Remarkable!" he said, when the story was unfolded, "most |
| remarkable! I can hardly recall any case where the features have |
| been more peculiar." |
| |
| "I thought you would say so, Mr. Holmes," said White |
| Mason in great delight. "We're well up with the times in |
| Sussex. I've told you now how matters were, up to the time |
| when I took over from Sergeant Wilson between three and four |
| this morning. My word! I made the old mare go! But I need not |
| have been in such a hurry, as it turned out; for there was nothing |
| immediate that I could do. Sergeant Wilson had all the facts. I |
| checked them and considered them and maybe added a few of |
| my own." |
| |
| "What were they?" asked Holmes eagerly. |
| |
| "Well, I first had the hammer examined. There was Dr. |
| Wood there to help me. We found no signs of violence upon it. I |
| was hoping that if Mr. Douglas defended himself with the hammer, |
| he might have left his mark upon the murderer before he dropped |
| it on the mat. But there was no stain." |
| |
| "That, of course, proves nothing at all," remarked Inspector |
| MacDonald. "There has been many a hammer murder and no |
| trace on the hammer." |
| |
| "Quite so. It doesn't prove it wasn't used. But there might |
| have been stains, and that would have helped us. As a matter of |
| fact there were none. Then I examined the gun. They were |
| buckshot cartridges, and, as Sergeant Wilson pointed out, the |
| triggers were wired together so that, if you pulled on the hinder |
| one, both barrels were discharged. Whoever fixed that up had |
| made up his mind that he was going to take no chances of |
| missing his man. The sawed gun was not more than two foot |
| long -- one could carry it easily under one's coat. There was no |
| complete maker's name; but the printed letters P-E-N were on the |
| fluting between the barrels, and the rest of the name had been cut |
| off by the saw." |
| |
| "A big P with a flourish above it, E and N smaller?" asked |
| Holmes. |
| |
| "Exactly." |
| |
| "Pennsylvania Small Arms Company -- well-known American |
| firm," said Holmes. |
| |
| White Mason gazed at my friend as the little village |
| practitioner looks at the Harley Street specialist who by |
| a word can solve the difficulties that perplex him. |
| |
| "That is very helpful, Mr. Holmes. No doubt you are right. |
| Wonderful! Wonderful! Do you carry the names of all the gun |
| makers in the world in your memory?" |
| |
| Holmes dismissed the subject with a wave. |
| |
| "No doubt it is an American shotgun," White Mason continued. |
| "I seem to have read that a sawed-off shotgun is a weapon |
| used in some parts of America. Apart from the name upon the |
| barrel, the idea had occurred to me. There is some evidence |
| then, that this man who entered the house and killed its master |
| was an American." |
| |
| MacDonald shook his head. "Man, you are surely travelling |
| overfast," said he. "I have heard no evidence yet that any |
| stranger was ever in the house at all." |
| |
| "The open window, the blood on the sill, the queer card, the |
| marks of boots in the corner, the gun!" |
| |
| "Nothing there that could not have been arranged. Mr. Douglas |
| was an American, or had lived long in America. So had Mr. |
| Barker. You don't need to import an American from outside in |
| order to account for American doings." |
| |
| "Ames, the butler --" |
| |
| "What about him? Is he reliable?" |
| |
| "Ten years with Sir Charles Chandos -- as solid as a rock. He |
| has been with Douglas ever since he took the Manor House five |
| years ago. He has never seen a gun of this sort in the house." |
| |
| "The gun was made to conceal. That's why the barrels were |
| sawed. It would fit into any box. How could he swear there was |
| no such gun in the house?" |
| |
| "Well, anyhow, he had never seen one." |
| |
| MacDonald shook his obstinate Scotch head. "I'm not |
| convinced yet that there was ever anyone in the house," said he. |
| "I'm asking you to conseedar" (his accent became more |
| Aberdonian as he lost himself in his argument) "I'm asking you |
| to conseedar what it involves if you suppose that this gun was |
| ever brought into the house, and that all these strange things |
| were done by a person from outside. Oh, man, it's just |
| inconceivable! It's clean against common sense! I put it to you, |
| Mr. Holmes, judging it by what we have heard." |
| |
| "Well, state your case, Mr. Mac," said Holmes in his most |
| judicial style. |
| |
| "The man is not a burglar, supposing that he ever existed. |
| The ring business and the card point to premeditated murder for |
| some private reason. Very good. Here is a man who slips into a |
| house with the deliberate intention of committing murder. He |
| knows, if he knows anything, that he will have a deeficulty in |
| making his escape, as the house is surrounded with water. What |
| weapon would he choose? You would say the most silent in the |
| world. Then he could hope when the deed was done to slip |
| quickly from the window, to wade the moat, and to get away at |
| his leisure. That's understandable. But is it understandable that |
| he should go out of his way to bring with him the most noisy |
| weapon he could select, knowing well that it will fetch every |
| human being in the house to the spot as quick as they can run, |
| and that it is all odds that he will be seen before he can get |
| across the moat? Is that credible, Mr. Holmes?" |
| |
| "Well, you put the case strongly," my friend replied |
| thoughtfully. "It certainly needs a good deal of justification. |
| May I ask, Mr. White Mason, whether you examined the farther side |
| of the moat at once to see if there were any signs of the man |
| having climbed out from the water?" |
| |
| "There were no signs, Mr. Holmes. But it is a stone ledge, |
| and one could hardly expect them." |
| |
| "No tracks or marks?" |
| |
| "None." |
| |
| "Ha! Would there be any objection, Mr. White Mason, to |
| our going down to the house at once? There may possibly be some |
| small point which might be suggestive." |
| |
| "I was going to propose it, Mr. Holmes; but I thought it well |
| to put you in touch with all the facts before we go. I suppose if |
| anything should strike you --" White Mason looked doubtfully |
| at the amateur. |
| |
| "I have worked with Mr. Holmes before," said Inspector |
| MacDonald. "He plays the game." |
| |
| "My own idea of the game, at any rate," said Holmes, with a |
| smile. "I go into a case to help the ends of justice and the work |
| of the police. If I have ever separated myself from the official |
| force, it is because they have first separated themselves from me. |
| I have no wish ever to score at their expense. At the same time, |
| Mr. White Mason, I claim the right to work in my own way and |
| give my results at my own time -- complete rather than in stages." |
| |
| "I am sure we are honoured by your presence and to show |
| you all we know," said White Mason cordially. "Come along, |
| Dr. Watson, and when the time comes we'll all hope for a place |
| in your book." |
| |
| We walked down the quaint village street with a row of |
| pollarded elms on each side of it. Just beyond were two ancient |
| stone pillars, weather-stained and lichen-blotched bearing upon |
| their summits a shapeless something which had once been the |
| rampant lion of Capus of Birlstone. A short walk along the |
| winding drive with such sward and oaks around it as one only |
| sees in rural England, then a sudden turn, and the long, low |
| Jacobean house of dingy, liver-coloured brick lay before us, with |
| an old-fashioned garden of cut yews on each side of it. As we |
| approached it, there was the wooden drawbridge and the beautiful |
| broad moat as still and luminous as quicksilver in the cold, |
| winter sunshine. |
| |
| Three centuries had flowed past the old Manor House, centuries |
| of births and of homecomings, of country dances and of the meetings |
| of fox hunters. Strange that now in its old age this dark business |
| should have cast its shadow upon the venerable walls! And yet |
| those strange, peaked roofs and quaint, overhung gables were a |
| fitting covering to grim and terrible intrigue. As I looked |
| at the deep-set windows and the long sweep of the dull-coloured, |
| water-lapped front, I felt that no more fitting scene could be set |
| for such a tragedy. |
| |
| "That's the window," said White Mason, "that one on the |
| immediate right of the drawbridge. It's open just as it was found |
| last night." |
| |
| "It looks rather narrow for a man to pass." |
| |
| "Well, it wasn't a fat man, anyhow. We don't need your |
| deductions, Mr. Holmes, to tell us that. But you or I could |
| squeeze through all right." |
| |
| Holmes walked to the edge of the moat and looked across. |
| Then he examined the stone ledge and the grass border beyond |
| it. |
| |
| "I've had a good look, Mr. Holmes," said White Mason. |
| "There is nothing there, no sign that anyone has landed -- but |
| why should he leave any sign?" |
| |
| "Exactly. Why should he? Is the water always turbid?" |
| |
| "Generally about this colour. The stream brings down the |
| clay." |
| |
| "How deep is it?" |
| |
| "About two feet at each side and three in the middle." |
| |
| "So we can put aside all idea of the man having been drowned |
| in crossing." |
| |
| "No, a child could not be drowned in it." |
| |
| We walked across the drawbridge, and were admitted by a |
| quaint, gnarled, dried-up person, who was the butler, Ames. The |
| poor old fellow was white and quivering from the shock. The |
| village sergeant, a tall, formal, melancholy man, still held his |
| vigil in the room of Fate. The doctor had departed. |
| |
| "Anything fresh, Sergeant Wilson?" asked White Mason. |
| |
| "No, sir." |
| |
| "Then you can go home. You've had enough. We can send |
| for you if we want you. The butler had better wait outside. Tell |
| him to warn Mr. Cecil Barker, Mrs. Douglas, and the housekeeper |
| that we may want a word with them presently. Now, gentlemen, |
| perhaps you will allow me to give you the views I have formed |
| first, and then you will be able to arrive at your own." |
| |
| He impressed me, this country specialist. He had a solid grip |
| of fact and a cool, clear, common-sense brain, which should take |
| him some way in his profession. Holmes listened to him intently, |
| with no sign of that impatience which the official exponent too |
| often produced. |
| |
| "Is it suicide, or is it murder -- that's our first question, |
| gentlemen, is it not? If it were suicide, then we have to believe |
| that this man began by taking off his wedding ring and concealing |
| it; that he then came down here in his dressing gown, trampled mud |
| into a corner behind the curtain in order to give the idea someone |
| had waited for him, opened the window, put blood on the --" |
| |
| "We can surely dismiss that," said MacDonald. |
| |
| "So I think. Suicide is out of the question. Then a murder has |
| been done. What we have to determine is, whether it was done |
| by someone outside or inside the house." |
| |
| "Well, let's hear the argument." |
| |
| "There are considerable difficulties both ways, and yet one or |
| the other it must be. We will suppose first that some person or |
| persons inside the house did the crime. They got this man down |
| here at a time when everything was still and yet no one was |
| asleep. They then did the deed with the queerest and noisiest |
| weapon in the world so as to tell everyone what had happened -- a |
| weapon that was never seen in the house before. That does not |
| seem a very likely start, does it?" |
| |
| "No, it does not." |
| |
| "Well, then, everyone is agreed that after the alarm was given |
| only a minute at the most had passed before the whole household -- |
| not Mr. Cecil Barker alone, though he claims to have been the |
| first, but Ames and all of them were on the spot. Do you tell me |
| that in that time the guilty person managed to make footmarks in |
| the corner, open the window, mark the sill with blood, take the |
| wedding ring off the dead man's finger, and all the rest of it? It's |
| impossible!" |
| |
| "You put it very clearly," said Holmes. "I am inclined to |
| agree with you." |
| |
| "Well, then, we are driven back to the theory that it was done |
| by someone from outside. We are still faced with some big |
| difficulties; but anyhow they have ceased to be impossibilities. |
| The man got into the house between four-thirty and six; that is to |
| say, between dusk and the time when the bridge was raised. |
| There had been some visitors, and the door was open; so there |
| was nothing to prevent him. He may have been a common |
| burglar, or he may have had some private grudge against Mr. |
| Douglas. Since Mr. Douglas has spent most of his life in America, |
| and this shotgun seems to be an American weapon, it would |
| seem that the private grudge is the more likely theory. He |
| slipped into this room because it was the first he came to, and he |
| hid behind the curtain. There he remained until past eleven at |
| night. At that time Mr. Douglas entered the room. It was a short |
| interview, if there were any interview at all; for Mrs. Douglas |
| declares that her husband had not left her more than a few |
| minutes when she heard the shot." |
| |
| "The candle shows that," said Holmes. |
| |
| "Exactly. The candle, which was a new one, is not burned |
| more than half an inch. He must have placed it on the table |
| before he was attacked; otherwise, of course, it would have |
| fallen when he fell. This shows that he was not attacked the |
| instant that he entered the room. When Mr. Barker arrived the |
| candle was lit and the lamp was out." |
| |
| "That's all clear enough." |
| |
| "Well, now, we can reconstruct things on those lines. Mr. |
| Douglas enters the room. He puts down the candle. A man |
| appears from behind the curtain. He is armed with this gun. He |
| demands the wedding ring -- Heaven only knows why, but so it |
| must have been. Mr. Douglas gave it up. Then either in cold |
| blood or in the course of a struggle -- Douglas may have gripped |
| the hammer that was found upon the mat -- he shot Douglas in |
| this horrible way. He dropped his gun and also it would seem |
| this queer card -- V. V. 341, whatever that may mean -- and he |
| made his escape through the window and across the moat at the |
| very moment when Cecil Barker was discovering the crime. |
| How's that, Mr. Holmes?" |
| |
| "Very interesting, but just a little unconvincing." |
| |
| "Man, it would be absolute nonsense if it wasn't that anything |
| else is even worse!" cried MacDonald. "Somebody killed the |
| man, and whoever it was I could clearly prove to you that he |
| should have done it some other way. What does he mean by |
| allowing his retreat to be cut off like that? What does he mean by |
| using a shotgun when silence was his one chance of escape? |
| Come, Mr. Holmes, it's up to you to give us a lead, since you |
| say Mr. White Mason's theory is unconvincing." |
| |
| Holmes had sat intently observant during this long discussion, |
| missing no word that was said, with his keen eyes darting to |
| right and to left, and his forehead wrinkled with speculation. |
| |
| "I should like a few more facts before I get so far as a theory, |
| Mr. Mac," said he, kneeling down beside the body. "Dear me! |
| these injuries are really appalling. Can we have the butler in for |
| a moment? . . . Ames, I understand that you have often seen this |
| very unusual mark -- a branded triangle inside a circle -- upon Mr. |
| Douglas's forearm?" |
| |
| "Frequently, sir." |
| |
| "You never heard any speculation as to what it meant?" |
| |
| "No, sir." |
| |
| "It must have caused great pain when it was inflicted. It is |
| undoubtedly a burn. Now, I observe, Ames, that there is a small |
| piece of plaster at the angle of Mr. Douglas's jaw. Did you |
| observe that in life?" |
| |
| "Yes, sir, he cut himself in shaving yesterday morning." |
| |
| "Did you ever know him to cut himself in shaving before?" |
| |
| "Not for a very long time, sir." |
| |
| "Suggestive!" said Holmes. "It may, of course, be a mere |
| coincidence, or it may point to some nervousness which would |
| indicate that he had reason to apprehend danger. Had you |
| noticed anything unusual in his conduct, yesterday, Ames?" |
| |
| "It struck me that he was a little restless and excited, sir." |
| |
| "Ha! The attack may not have been entirely unexpected. We |
| do seem to make a little progress, do we not? Perhaps you would |
| rather do the questioning, Mr. Mac?" |
| |
| "No, Mr. Holmes, it's in better hands than mine." |
| |
| "Well, then, we will pass to this card -- V. V. 341. It is rough |
| cardboard. Have you any of the sort in the house?" |
| |
| "I don't think so." |
| |
| Holmes walked across to the desk and dabbed a little ink from |
| each bottle on to the blotting paper. "It was not printed in this |
| room," he said; "this is black ink and the other purplish. It was |
| done by a thick pen, and these are fine. No, it was done |
| elsewhere, I should say. Can you make anything of the inscription, |
| Ames?" |
| |
| "No, sir, nothing." |
| |
| "What do you think, Mr. Mac?" |
| |
| "It gives me the impression of a secret society of some sort; |
| the same with his badge upon the forearm." |
| |
| "That's my idea, too," said White Mason. |
| |
| "Well, we can adopt it as a working hypothesis and then see |
| how far our difficulties disappear. An agent from such a society |
| makes his way into the house, waits for Mr. Douglas, blows his |
| head nearly off with this weapon, and escapes by wading the |
| moat, after leaving a card beside the dead man, which will |
| when mentioned in the papers, tell other members of the society |
| that vengeance has been done. That all hangs together. But why |
| this gun, of all weapons?" |
| |
| "Exactly." |
| |
| "And why the missing ring?" |
| |
| "Quite so." |
| |
| "And why no arrest? It's past two now. I take it for granted |
| that since dawn every constable within forty miles has been |
| looking out for a wet stranger?" |
| |
| "That is so, Mr. Holmes." |
| |
| "Well, unless he has a burrow close by or a change of clothes |
| ready, they can hardly miss him. And yet they have missed him |
| up to now!" Holmes had gone to the window and was examining |
| with his lens the blood mark on the sill. "It is clearly the tread of |
| a shoe. It is remarkably broad; a splay-foot, one would say. |
| Curious, because, so far as one can trace any footmark in this |
| mud-stained corner, one would say it was a more shapely sole. |
| However, they are certainly very indistinct. What's this under |
| the side table?" |
| |
| "Mr. Douglas's dumb-bells," said Ames. |
| |
| "Dumb-bell -- there's only one. Where's the other?" |
| |
| "I don't know, Mr. Holmes. There may have been only one. I |
| have not noticed them for months." |
| |
| "One dumb-bell -- " Holmes said seriously; but his remarks |
| were interrupted by a sharp knock at the door. |
| |
| A tall, sunburned, capable-looking, clean-shaved man looked |
| in at us. I had no difficulty in guessing that it was the Cecil |
| Barker of whom I had heard. His masterful eyes travelled quickly |
| with a questioning glance from face to face. |
| |
| "Sorry to interrupt your consultation," said he, "but you |
| should hear the latest news." |
| |
| "An arrest?" |
| |
| "No such luck. But they've found his bicycle. The fellow left |
| his bicycle behind him. Come and have a look. It is within a |
| hundred yards of the hall door." |
| |
| We found three or four grooms and idlers standing in the drive |
| inspecting a bicycle which had been drawn out from a clump of |
| evergreens in which it had been concealed. It was a well used |
| Rudge-Whitworth, splashed as from a considerable journey. There |
| was a saddlebag with spanner and oilcan, but no clue as to the |
| owner. |
| |
| "It would be a grand help to the police," said the inspector, |
| "if these things were numbered and registered. But we must be |
| thankful for what we've got. If we can't find where he went to, |
| at least we are likely to get where he came from. But what in the |
| name of all that is wonderful made the fellow leave it behind? |
| And how in the world has he got away without it? We don't |
| seem to get a gleam of light in the case, Mr. Holmes." |
| |
| "Don't we?" my friend answered thoughtfully. "I wonder!" |
| |
| |
| |
| Chapter 5 |
| The People Of the Drama |
| |
| "Have you seen all you want of the study?" asked White Mason |
| as we reentered the house. |
| |
| "For the time," said the inspector, and Holmes nodded. |
| |
| "Then perhaps you would now like to hear the evidence of |
| some of the people in the house. We could use the dining-room, |
| Ames. Please come yourself first and tell us what you know." |
| |
| The butler's account was a simple and a clear one, and he |
| gave a convincing impression of sincerity. He had been engaged |
| five years before, when Douglas first came to Birlstone. He |
| understood that Mr. Douglas was a rich gentleman who had |
| made his money in America. He had been a kind and considerate |
| employer -- not quite what Ames was used to, perhaps; but one |
| can't have everything. He never saw any signs of apprehension |
| in Mr. Douglas: on the contrary, he was the most fearless man |
| he had ever known. He ordered the drawbridge to be pulled up |
| every night because it was the ancient custom of the old house, |
| and he liked to keep the old ways up. |
| |
| Mr. Douglas seldom went to London or left the village; but on |
| the day before the crime he had been shopping at Tunbridge |
| Wells. He (Ames) had observed some restlessness and excitement |
| on the part of Mr. Douglas that day; for he had seemed |
| impatient and irritable, which was unusual with him. He had not |
| gone to bed that night; but was in the pantry at the back of the |
| house, putting away the silver, when he heard the bell ring |
| violently. He heard no shot; but it was hardly possible he would, |
| as the pantry and kitchens were at the very back of the house and |
| there were several closed doors and a long passage between. The |
| housekeeper had come out of her room, attracted by the violent |
| ringing of the bell. They had gone to the front of the house |
| together. |
| |
| As they reached the bottom of the stair he had seen Mrs. |
| Douglas coming down it. No, she was not hurrying; it did not |
| seem to him that she was particularly agitated. Just as she |
| reached the bottom of the stair Mr. Barker had rushed out of the |
| study. He had stopped Mrs. Douglas and begged her to go back. |
| |
| "For God's sake, go back to your room!" he cried. "Poor |
| Jack is dead! You can do nothing. For God's sake, go back!" |
| |
| After some persuasion upon the stairs Mrs. Douglas had gone |
| back. She did not scream. She made no outcry whatever. Mrs. |
| Allen, the housekeeper, had taken her upstairs and stayed with |
| her in the bedroom. Ames and Mr. Barker had then returned to |
| the study, where they had found everything exactly as the police |
| had seen it. The candle was not lit at that time; but the lamp was |
| burning. They had looked out of the window; but the night was |
| very dark and nothing could be seen or heard. They had then |
| rushed out into the hall, where Ames had turned the windlass |
| which lowered the drawbridge. Mr. Barker had then hurried off |
| to get the police. |
| |
| Such, in its essentials, was the evidence of the butler. |
| |
| The account of Mrs. Allen, the housekeeper, was, so far as it |
| went, a corroboration of that of her fellow servant. The |
| housekeeper's room was rather nearer to the front of the house |
| than the pantry in which Ames had been working. She was preparing |
| to go to bed when the loud ringing of the bell had attracted her |
| attention. She was a little hard of hearing. Perhaps that was why |
| she had not heard the shot; but in any case the study was a long |
| way off. She remembered hearing some sound which she imagined to |
| be the slamming of a door. That was a good deal earlier -- half |
| an hour at least before the ringing of the bell. When Mr. Ames |
| ran to the front she went with him. She saw Mr. Barker, very |
| pale and excited, come out of the study. He intercepted Mrs. |
| Douglas, who was coming down the stairs. He entreated her to go |
| back, and she answered him, but what she said could not be heard. |
| |
| "Take her up! Stay with her!" he had said to Mrs. Allen. |
| |
| She had therefore taken her to the bedroom, and endeavoured |
| to soothe her. She was greatly excited, trembling all over, but |
| made no other attempt to go downstairs. She just sat in her |
| dressing gown by her bedroom fire, with her head sunk in her |
| hands. Mrs. Allen stayed with her most of the night. As to the |
| other servants, they had all gone to bed, and the alarm did not |
| reach them until just before the police arrived. They slept at the |
| extreme back of the house, and could not possibly have heard |
| anything. |
| |
| So far the housekeeper could add nothing on cross-examination |
| save lamentations and expressions of amazement. |
| |
| Cecil Barker succeeded Mrs. Allen as a witness. As to the |
| occurrences of the night before, he had very little to add to what |
| he had already told the police. Personally, he was convinced that |
| the murderer had escaped by the window. The bloodstain was |
| conclusive, in his opinion, on that point. Besides, as the bridge |
| was up, there was no other possible way of escaping. He could |
| not explain what had become of the assassin or why he had not |
| taken his bicycle, if it were indeed his. He could not possibly |
| have been drowned in the moat, which was at no place more |
| than three feet deep. |
| |
| In his own mind he had a very definite theory about the |
| murder. Douglas was a reticent man, and there were some |
| chapters in his life of which he never spoke. He had emigrated to |
| America when he was a very young man. He had prospered |
| well, and Barker had first met him in California, where they had |
| become partners in a successful mining claim at a place called |
| Benito Canyon. They had done very well; but Douglas had |
| suddenly sold out and started for England. He was a widower at |
| that time. Barker had afterwards realized his money and come to |
| live in London. Thus they had renewed their friendship. |
| |
| Douglas had given him the impression that some danger was |
| hanging over his head, and he had always looked upon his |
| sudden departure from California, and also his renting a house in |
| so quiet a place in England, as being connected with this peril. |
| He imagined that some secret society, some implacable organization, |
| was on Douglas's track, which would never rest until it killed him. |
| Some remarks of his had given him this idea; though he had never |
| told him what the society was, nor how he had come to offend it. |
| He could only suppose that the legend upon the placard had some |
| reference to this secret society. |
| |
| "How long were you with Douglas in California?" asked |
| Inspector MacDonald. |
| |
| "Five years altogether." |
| |
| "He was a bachelor, you say?" |
| |
| "A widower." |
| |
| "Have you ever heard where his first wife came from?" |
| |
| "No, I remember his saying that she was of German extraction, |
| and I have seen her portrait. She was a very beautiful woman. |
| She died of typhoid the year before I met him." |
| |
| "You don't associate his past with any particular part of |
| America?" |
| |
| "I have heard him talk of Chicago. He knew that city well and |
| had worked there. I have heard him talk of the coal and iron |
| districts. He had travelled a good deal in his time." |
| |
| "Was he a politician? Had this secret society to do with |
| politics?" |
| |
| "No, he cared nothing about politics." |
| |
| "You have no reason to think it was criminal?" |
| |
| "On the contrary, I never met a straighter man in my life." |
| |
| "Was there anything curious about his life in California?" |
| |
| "He liked best to stay and to work at our claim in the |
| mountains. He would never go where other men were if he could |
| help it. That's why I first thought that someone was after him. |
| Then when he left so suddenly for Europe I made sure that it was |
| so. I believe that he had a warning of some sort. Within a week |
| of his leaving half a dozen men were inquiring for him." |
| |
| "What sort of men?" |
| |
| "Well, they were a mighty hard-looking crowd. They came |
| up to the claim and wanted to know where he was. I told them |
| that he was gone to Europe and that I did not know where to find |
| him. They meant him no good -- it was easy to see that." |
| |
| "Were these men Americans -- Californians?" |
| |
| "Well, I don't know about Californians. They were Americans, |
| all right. But they were not miners. I don't know what they |
| were, and was very glad to see their backs." |
| |
| "That was six years ago?" |
| |
| "Nearer seven." |
| |
| "And then you were together five years in California, so that |
| this business dates back not less than eleven years at the least?" |
| |
| "That is so." |
| |
| "It must be a very serious feud that would be kept up with |
| such earnestness for as long as that. It would be no light thing |
| that would give rise to it." |
| |
| "I think it shadowed his whole life. It was never quite out of |
| his mind." |
| |
| "But if a man had a danger hanging over him, and knew what |
| it was, don't you think he would turn to the police for protection?" |
| |
| "Maybe it was some danger that he could not be protected |
| against. There's one thing you should know. He always went |
| about armed. His revolver was never out of his pocket. But, by |
| bad luck, he was in his dressing gown and had left it in the |
| bedroom last night. Once the bridge was up, I guess he thought |
| he was safe." |
| |
| "I should like these dates a little clearer," said MacDonald. |
| "It is quite six years since Douglas left California. You followed |
| him next year, did you not?" |
| |
| "That is so." |
| |
| "And he had been married five years. You must have returned |
| about the time of his marriage." |
| |
| "About a month before. I was his best man." |
| |
| "Did you know Mrs. Douglas before her marriage?" |
| |
| "No, I did not. I had been away from England for ten years." |
| |
| "But you have seen a good deal of her since." |
| |
| Barker looked sternly at the detective. "I have seen a good |
| deal of him since," he answered. "If I have seen her, it is |
| because you cannot visit a man without knowing his wife. If you |
| imagine there is any connection --" |
| |
| "I imagine nothing, Mr. Barker. I am bound to make every |
| inquiry which can bear upon the case. But I mean no offense." |
| |
| "Some inquiries are offensive," Barker answered angrily. |
| |
| "It's only the facts that we want. It is in your interest and |
| everyone's interest that they should be cleared up. Did Mr. |
| Douglas entirely approve your friendship with his wife?" |
| |
| Barker grew paler, and his great, strong hands were clasped |
| convulsively together. "You have no right to ask such |
| questions!" he cried. "What has this to do with the matter you |
| are investigating?" |
| |
| "I must repeat the question." |
| |
| "Well, I refuse to answer." |
| |
| "You can refuse to answer; but you must be aware that your |
| refusal is in itself an answer, for you would not refuse if you had |
| not something to conceal." |
| |
| Barker stood for a moment with his face set grimly and his |
| strong black eyebrows drawn low in intense thought. Then he |
| looked up with a smile. "Well, I guess you gentlemen are only |
| doing your clear duty after all, and I have no right to stand in the |
| way of it. I'd only ask you not to worry Mrs. Douglas over this |
| matter; for she has enough upon her just now. I may tell you that |
| poor Douglas had just one fault in the world, and that was his |
| jealousy. He was fond of me -- no man could be fonder of a |
| friend. And he was devoted to his wife. He loved me to come |
| here, and was forever sending for me. And yet if his wife and I |
| talked together or there seemed any sympathy between us, a kind |
| of wave of jealousy would pass over him, and he would be off |
| the handle and saying the wildest things in a moment. More than |
| once I've sworn off coming for that reason, and then he would |
| write me such penitent, imploring letters that I just had to. But |
| you can take it from me, gentlemen, if it was my last word, that |
| no man ever had a more loving, faithful wife -- and I can say also |
| no friend could be more loyal than I!" |
| |
| It was spoken with fervour and feeling, and yet Inspector |
| MacDonald could not dismiss the subject. |
| |
| "You are aware," said he, "that the dead man's wedding ring |
| has been taken from his finger?" |
| |
| "So it appears," said Barker. |
| |
| "What do you mean by 'appears'? You know it as a fact." |
| |
| The man seemed confused and undecided. "When I said |
| 'appears' I meant that it was conceivable that he had himself |
| taken off the ring." |
| |
| "The mere fact that the ring should be absent, whoever may |
| have removed it, would suggest to anyone's mind, would it not, |
| that the marriage and the tragedy were connected?" |
| |
| Barker shrugged his broad shoulders. "I can't profess to say |
| what it means." he answered. "But if you mean to hint that it |
| could reflect in any way upon this lady's honour" -- his eyes |
| blazed for an instant, and then with an evident effort he got a |
| grip upon his own emotions -- "well, you are on the wrong track, |
| that's all." |
| |
| "I don't know that I've anything else to ask you at present," |
| said MacDonald, coldly. |
| |
| "There was one small point," remarked Sherlock Holmes. |
| "When you entered the room there was only a candle lighted on |
| the table, was there not?" |
| |
| "Yes, that was so." |
| |
| "By its light you saw that some terrible incident had occurred?" |
| |
| "Exactly." |
| |
| "You at once rang for help?" |
| |
| "Yes." |
| |
| "And it arrived very speedily?" |
| |
| "Within a minute or so." |
| |
| "And yet when they arrived they found that the candle was |
| out and that the lamp had been lighted. That seems very |
| remarkable." |
| |
| Again Barker showed some signs of indecision. "I don't see |
| that it was remarkable, Mr. Holmes," he answered after a pause. |
| "The candle threw a very bad light. My first thought was to get |
| a better one. The lamp was on the table; so I lit it." |
| |
| "And blew out the candle?" |
| |
| "Exactly." |
| |
| Holmes asked no further question, and Barker, with a deliberate |
| look from one to the other of us, which had, as it seemed to me, |
| something of defiance in it, turned and left the room. |
| |
| Inspector MacDonald had sent up a note to the effect that he |
| would wait upon Mrs. Douglas in her room; but she had replied |
| that she would meet us in the dining room. She entered now, a |
| tall and beautiful woman of thirty, reserved and self-possessed to |
| a remarkable degree, very different from the tragic and distracted |
| figure I had pictured. It is true that her face was pale and drawn, |
| like that of one who has endured a great shock; but her manner |
| was composed, and the finely moulded hand which she rested |
| upon the edge of the table was as steady as my own. Her sad, |
| appealing eyes travelled from one to the other of us with a |
| curiously inquisitive expression. That questioning gaze |
| transformed itself suddenly into abrupt speech. |
| |
| "Have you found anything out yet?" she asked. |
| |
| Was it my imagination that there was an undertone of fear |
| rather than of hope in the question? |
| |
| "We have taken every possible step, Mrs. Douglas," said the |
| inspector. "You may rest assured that nothing will be neglected." |
| |
| "Spare no money," she said in a dead, even tone. "It is my |
| desire that every possible effort should be made." |
| |
| "Perhaps you can tell us something which may throw some |
| light upon the matter." |
| |
| "I fear not; but all I know is at your service." |
| |
| "We have heard from Mr. Cecil Barker that you did not |
| actually see -- that you were never in the room where the tragedy |
| occurred?" |
| |
| "No, he turned me back upon the stairs. He begged me to |
| return to my room." |
| |
| "Quite so. You had heard the shot, and you had at once come |
| down." |
| |
| "I put on my dressing gown and then came down." |
| |
| "How long was it after hearing the shot that you were stopped |
| on the stair by Mr. Barker?" |
| |
| "It may have been a couple of minutes. It is so hard to reckon |
| time at such a moment. He implored me not to go on. He |
| assured me that I could do nothing. Then Mrs. Allen, the |
| housekeeper, led me upstairs again. It was all like some dreadful |
| dream." |
| |
| "Can you give us any idea how long your husband had been |
| downstairs before you heard the shot?" |
| |
| "No, I cannot say. He went from his dressing room, and I did |
| not hear him go. He did the round of the house every night, for |
| he was nervous of fire. It is the only thing that I have ever |
| known him nervous of." |
| |
| "That is just the point which I want to come to, Mrs. Douglas. |
| You have known your husband only in England, have you not?" |
| |
| "Yes, we have been married five years." |
| |
| "Have you heard him speak of anything which occurred in |
| America and might bring some danger upon him?" |
| |
| Mrs. Douglas thought earnestly before she answered. "Yes." |
| she said at last, "I have always felt that there was a danger |
| hanging over him. He refused to discuss it with me. It was not |
| from want of confidence in me -- there was the most complete |
| love and confidence between us -- but it was out of his desire to |
| keep all alarm away from me. He thought I should brood over it |
| if I knew all, and so he was silent." |
| |
| "How did you know it, then?" |
| |
| Mrs. Douglas's face lit with a quick smile. "Can a husband |
| ever carry about a secret all his life and a woman who loves him |
| have no suspicion of it? I knew it by his refusal to talk about |
| some episodes in his American life. I knew it by certain precautions |
| he took. I knew it by certain words he let fall. I knew it by the |
| way he looked at unexpected strangers. I was perfectly certain that |
| he had some powerful enemies, that he believed they were on his |
| track, and that he was always on his guard against them. I was so |
| sure of it that for years I have been terrified if ever he came |
| home later than was expected." |
| |
| "Might I ask," asked Holmes, "what the words were which |
| attracted your attention?" |
| |
| "The Valley of Fear," the lady answered. "That was an |
| expression he has used when I questioned him. 'I have been in |
| the Valley of Fear. I am not out of it yet.' -- 'Are we never to get |
| out of the Valley of Fear?' I have asked him when I have seen |
| him more serious than usual. 'Sometimes I think that we never |
| shall,' he has answered." |
| |
| "Surely you asked him what he meant by the Valley of |
| Fear?" |
| |
| "I did; but his face would become very grave and he would |
| shake his head. 'It is bad enough that one of us should have been |
| in its shadow,' he said. 'Please God it shall never fall upon you!' |
| It was some real valley in which he had lived and in which |
| something terrible had occurred to him, of that I am certain; but I |
| can tell you no more." |
| |
| "And he never mentioned any names?" |
| |
| "Yes, he was delirious with fever once when he had his |
| hunting accident three years ago. Then I remember that there |
| was a name that came continually to his lips. He spoke it with |
| anger and a sort of horror. McGinty was the name -- Bodymaster |
| McGinty. I asked him when he recovered who Bodymaster |
| McGinty was, and whose body he was master of. 'Never of |
| mine, thank God!' he answered with a laugh, and that was all I |
| could get from him. But there is a connection between Bodymaster |
| McGinty and the Valley of Fear." |
| |
| "There is one other point," said Inspector MacDonald. "You |
| met Mr. Douglas in a boarding house in London, did you not, |
| and became engaged to him there? Was there any romance, |
| anything secret or mysterious, about the wedding?" |
| |
| "There was romance. There is always romance. There was |
| nothing mysterious." |
| |
| "He had no rival?" |
| |
| "No, I was quite free." |
| |
| "You have heard, no doubt, that his wedding ring has been |
| taken. Does that suggest anything to you? Suppose that some |
| enemy of his old life had tracked him down and committed this |
| crime, what possible reason could he have for taking his |
| wedding ring?" |
| |
| For an instant I could have sworn that the faintest shadow of a |
| smile flickered over the woman's lips. |
| |
| "I really cannot tell," she answered. "It is certainly a most |
| extraordinary thing." |
| |
| "Well, we will not detain you any longer, and we are sorry to |
| have put you to this trouble at such a time," said the inspector. |
| "There are some other points, no doubt; but we can refer to you |
| as they arise." |
| |
| She rose, and I was again conscious of that quick, questioning |
| glance with which she had just surveyed us. "What impression |
| has my evidence made upon you?" The question might as well |
| have been spoken. Then, with a bow, she swept from the room. |
| |
| "She's a beautiful woman -- a very beautiful woman," said |
| MacDonald thoughtfully, after the door had closed behind her. |
| "This man Barker has certainly been down here a good deal. He |
| is a man who might be attractive to a woman. He admits that the |
| dead man was jealous, and maybe he knew best himself what |
| cause he had for jealousy. Then there's that wedding ring. You |
| can't get past that. The man who tears a wedding ring off a dead |
| man's -- What do you say to it, Mr. Holmes?" |
| |
| My friend had sat with his head upon his hands, sunk in the |
| deepest thought. Now he rose and rang the bell. "Ames," he |
| said, when the butler entered, "where is Mr. Cecil Barker |
| now?" |
| |
| "I'll see, sir." |
| |
| He came back in a moment to say that Barker was in the |
| garden. |
| |
| "Can you remember, Ames, what Mr. Barker had on his feet |
| last night when you joined him in the study?" |
| |
| "Yes, Mr. Holmes. He had a pair of bedroom slippers. I |
| brought him his boots when he went for the police." |
| |
| "Where are the slippers now?" |
| |
| "They are still under the chair in the hall." |
| |
| "Very good, Ames. It is, of course, important for us to know |
| which tracks may be Mr. Barker's and which from outside." |
| |
| "Yes, sir. I may say that I noticed that the slippers were |
| stained with blood -- so indeed were my own." |
| |
| "That is natural enough, considering the condition of the |
| room. Very good, Ames. We will ring if we want you." |
| |
| A few minutes later we were in the study. Holmes had brought |
| with him the carpet slippers from the hall. As Ames had observed, |
| the soles of both were dark with blood. |
| |
| "Strange!" murmured Holmes, as he stood in the light of the |
| window and examined them minutely. "Very strange indeed!" |
| |
| Stooping with one of his quick feline pounces, he placed the |
| slipper upon the blood mark on the sill. It exactly corresponded. |
| He smiled in silence at his colleagues. |
| |
| The inspector was transfigured with excitement. His native |
| accent rattled like a stick upon railings. |
| |
| "Man," he cried, "there's not a doubt of it! Barker has just |
| marked the window himself. It's a good deal broader than any |
| bootmark. I mind that you said it was a splay-foot, and here's |
| the explanation. But what's the game, Mr. Holmes -- what's the |
| game?" |
| |
| "Ay, what's the game?" my friend repeated thoughtfully. |
| |
| White Mason chuckled and rubbed his fat hands together in |
| his professional satisfaction. "I said it was a snorter!" he cried. |
| "And a real snorter it is!" |
| |
| |
| |
| Chapter 6 |
| A Dawning Light |
| |
| The three detectives had many matters of detail into which to |
| inquire; so I returned alone to our modest quarters at the village |
| inn. But before doing so I took a stroll in the curious old-world |
| garden which flanked the house. Rows of very ancient yew trees |
| cut into strange designs girded it round. Inside was a beautiful |
| stretch of lawn with an old sundial in the middle, the whole |
| effect so soothing and restful that it was welcome to my somewhat |
| jangled nerves. |
| |
| In that deeply peaceful atmosphere one could forget, or remember |
| only as some fantastic nightmare, that darkened study with the |
| sprawling, bloodstained figure on the floor. And yet, as I strolled |
| round it and tried to steep my soul in its gentle balm, a strange |
| incident occurred, which brought me back to the tragedy and left a |
| sinister impression in my mind. |
| |
| I have said that a decoration of yew trees circled the garden. |
| At the end farthest from the house they thickened into a continuous |
| hedge. On the other side of this hedge, concealed from the eyes of |
| anyone approaching from the direction of the house, there was a |
| stone seat. As I approached the spot I was aware of voices, some |
| remark in the deep tones of a man, answered by a little ripple of |
| feminine laughter. |
| |
| An instant later I had come round the end of the hedge and my |
| eyes lit upon Mrs. Douglas and the man Barker before they were |
| aware of my presence. Her appearance gave me a shock. In the |
| dining-room she had been demure and discreet. Now all pretense |
| of grief had passed away from her. Her eyes shone with the joy |
| of living, and her face still quivered with amusement at some |
| remark of her companion. He sat forward, his hands clasped and |
| his forearms on his knees, with an answering smile upon his |
| bold, handsome face. In an instant -- but it was just one instant |
| too late -- they resumed their solemn masks as my figure came |
| into view. A hurried word or two passed between them, and then |
| Barker rose and came towards me. |
| |
| "Excuse me, sir," said he, "but am I addressing Dr. Watson?" |
| |
| I bowed with a coldness which showed, I dare say, very |
| plainly the impression which had been produced upon my mind. |
| |
| "We thought that it was probably you, as your friendship with |
| Mr. Sherlock Holmes is so well known. Would you mind coming over |
| and speaking to Mrs. Douglas for one instant?" |
| |
| I followed him with a dour face. Very clearly I could see in |
| my mind's eye that shattered figure on the floor. Here within a |
| few hours of the tragedy were his wife and his nearest friend |
| laughing together behind a bush in the garden which had been his. |
| I greeted the lady with reserve. I had grieved with her grief in |
| the dining-room. Now I met her appealing gaze with an unresponsive |
| eye. |
| |
| "I fear that you think me callous and hard-hearted." said she. |
| |
| I shrugged my shoulders. "It is no business of mine," said I. |
| |
| "Perhaps some day you will do me justice. If you only |
| realized --" |
| |
| "There is no need why Dr. Watson should realize," said |
| Barker quickly. "As he has himself said, it is no possible |
| business of his." |
| |
| "Exactly," said I, "and so I will beg leave to resume my |
| walk." |
| |
| "One moment, Dr. Watson," cried the woman in a pleading |
| voice. "There is one question which you can answer with more |
| authority than anyone else in the world, and it may make a very |
| great difference to me. You know Mr. Holmes and his relations |
| with the police better than anyone else can. Supposing that a |
| matter were brought confidentially to his knowledge, is it |
| absolutely necessary that he should pass it on to the detectives?" |
| |
| "Yes, that's it," said Barker eagerly. "Is he on his own or is |
| he entirely in with them?" |
| |
| "I really don't know that I should be justified in discussing |
| such a point." |
| |
| "I beg -- I implore that you will, Dr. Watson! I assure you that |
| you will be helping us -- helping me greatly if you will guide us |
| on that point." |
| |
| There was such a ring of sincerity in the woman's voice that |
| for the instant I forgot all about her levity and was moved only to |
| do her will. |
| |
| "Mr. Holmes is an independent investigator," I said. "He is |
| his own master, and would act as his own judgment directed. At |
| the same time, he would naturally feel loyalty towards the |
| officials who were working on the same case, and he would not |
| conceal from them anything which would help them in bringing |
| a criminal to justice. Beyond this I can say nothing, and I would |
| refer you to Mr. Holmes himself if you wanted fuller information." |
| |
| So saying I raised my hat and went upon my way, leaving |
| them still seated behind that concealing hedge. I looked back as I |
| rounded the far end of it, and saw that they were still talking |
| very earnestly together, and, as they were gazing after me, it was |
| clear that it was our interview that was the subject of their |
| debate. |
| |
| "I wish none of their confidences," said Holmes, when I |
| reported to him what had occurred. He had spent the whole |
| afternoon at the Manor House in consultation with his two |
| colleagues, and returned about five with a ravenous appetite for a |
| high tea which I had ordered for him. "No confidences, Watson; |
| for they are mighty awkward if it comes to an arrest for |
| conspiracy and murder." |
| |
| "You think it will come to that?" |
| |
| He was in his most cheerful and debonair humour. "My dear |
| Watson, when I have exterminated that fourth egg I shall be |
| ready to put you in touch with the whole situation. I don't say |
| that we have fathomed it -- far from it -- but when we have traced |
| the missing dumb-bell --" |
| |
| "The dumb-bell!" |
| |
| "Dear me, Watson, is it possible that you have not penetrated |
| the fact that the case hangs upon the missing dumb-bell? Well, |
| well, you need not be downcast; for between ourselves I don't |
| think that either Inspector Mac or the excellent local practitioner |
| has grasped the overwhelming importance of this incident. One |
| dumb-bell, Watson! Consider an athlete with one dumb-bell! |
| Picture to yourself the unilateral development, the imminent |
| danger of a spinal curvature. Shocking, Watson, shocking!" |
| |
| He sat with his mouth full of toast and his eyes sparkling with |
| mischief, watching my intellectual entanglement. The mere sight |
| of his excellent appetite was an assurance of success, for I had |
| very clear recollections of days and nights without a thought of |
| food, when his baffled mind had chafed before some problem |
| while his thin, eager features became more attenuated with the |
| asceticism of complete mental concentration. Finally he lit his |
| pipe, and sitting in the inglenook of the old village inn he talked |
| slowly and at random about his case, rather as one who thinks |
| aloud than as one who makes a considered statement. |
| |
| "A lie, Watson -- a great, big, thumping, obtrusive, |
| uncompromising lie -- that's what meets us on the threshold! There |
| is our starting point. The whole story told by Barker is a lie. |
| But Barker's story is corroborated by Mrs. Douglas. Therefore she |
| is lying also. They are both lying, and in a conspiracy. So now we |
| have the clear problem. Why are they lying, and what is the truth |
| which they are trying so hard to conceal? Let us try, Watson, |
| you and I, if we can get behind the lie and reconstruct the truth. |
| |
| "How do I know that they are lying? Because it is a clumsy |
| fabrication which simply could not be true. Consider! According |
| to the story given to us, the assassin had less than a minute after |
| the murder had been committed to take that ring, which was under |
| another ring, from the dead man's finger, to replace the other |
| ring -- a thing which he would surely never have done -- and to |
| put that singular card beside his victim. I say that this was |
| obviously impossible. |
| |
| "You may argue -- but I have too much respect for your |
| judgment, Watson, to think that you will do so -- that the ring |
| may have been taken before the man was killed. The fact that the |
| candle had been lit only a short time shows that there had been |
| no lengthy interview. Was Douglas, from what we hear of his |
| fearless character, a man who would be likely to give up his |
| wedding ring at such short notice, or could we conceive of his |
| giving it up at all? No, no, Watson, the assassin was alone with |
| the dead man for some time with the lamp lit. Of that I have no |
| doubt at all. |
| |
| "But the gunshot was apparently the cause of death. Therefore |
| the shot must have been fired some time earlier than we are told. |
| But there could be no mistake about such a matter as that. We |
| are in the presence, therefore, of a deliberate conspiracy upon |
| the part of the two people who heard the gunshot -- of the man |
| Barker and of the woman Douglas. When on the top of this I am |
| able to show that the blood mark on the windowsill was deliberately |
| placed there by Barker, in order to give a false clue to the police, |
| you will admit that the case grows dark against him. |
| |
| "Now we have to ask ourselves at what hour the murder |
| actually did occur. Up to half-past ten the servants were moving |
| about the house; so it was certainly not before that time. At a |
| quarter to eleven they had all gone to their rooms with the |
| exception of Ames, who was in the pantry. I have been trying |
| some experiments after you left us this afternoon, and I find that |
| no noise which MacDonald can make in the study can penetrate |
| to me in the pantry when the doors are all shut. |
| |
| "It is otherwise, however, from the housekeeper's room. It is |
| not so far down the corridor, and from it I could vaguely hear a |
| voice when it was very loudly raised. The sound from a shotgun |
| is to some extent muffled when the discharge is at very close |
| range, as it undoubtedly was in this instance. It would not be |
| very loud, and yet in the silence of the night it should have easily |
| penetrated to Mrs. Allen's room. She is, as she has told us, |
| somewhat deaf; but none the less she mentioned in her evidence |
| that she did hear something like a door slamming half an hour |
| before the alarm was given. Half an hour before the alarm was |
| given would be a quarter to eleven. I have no doubt that what |
| she heard was the report of the gun, and that this was the real |
| instant of the murder. |
| |
| "If this is so, we have now to determine what Barker and |
| Mrs. Douglas, presuming that they are not the actual murderers, |
| could have been doing from quarter to eleven, when the sound of |
| the shot brought them down, until quarter past eleven, when they |
| rang the bell and summoned the servants. What were they doing, |
| and why did they not instantly give the alarm? That is the |
| question which faces us, and when it has been answered we shall |
| surely have gone some way to solve our problem." |
| |
| "I am convinced myself," said I, "that there is an understanding |
| between those two people. She must be a heartless creature to sit |
| laughing at some jest within a few hours of her husband's murder." |
| |
| "Exactly. She does not shine as a wife even in her own |
| account of what occurred. I am not a whole-souled admirer of |
| womankind, as you are aware, Watson, but my experience of |
| life has taught me that there are few wives, having any regard for |
| their husbands, who would let any man's spoken word stand |
| between them and that husband's dead body. Should I ever |
| marry, Watson, I should hope to inspire my wife with some |
| feeling which would prevent her from being walked off by a |
| housekeeper when my corpse was lying within a few yards of |
| her. It was badly stage-managed; for even the rawest investigators |
| must be struck by the absence of the usual feminine ululation. |
| If there had been nothing else, this incident alone would have |
| suggested a prearranged conspiracy to my mind." |
| |
| "You think then, definitely, that Barker and Mrs. Douglas are |
| guilty of the murder?" |
| |
| "There is an appalling directness about your questions, Watson," |
| said Holmes, shaking his pipe at me. "They come at me like bullets. |
| If you put it that Mrs. Douglas and Barker know the truth about |
| the murder, and are conspiring to conceal it, then I can give you |
| a whole-souled answer. I am sure they do. But your more deadly |
| proposition is not so clear. Let us for a moment consider the |
| difficulties which stand in the way. |
| |
| "We will suppose that this couple are united by the bonds of a |
| guilty love, and that they have determined to get rid of the man |
| who stands between them. It is a large supposition; for discreet |
| inquiry among servants and others has failed to corroborate it in |
| any way. On the contrary, there is a good deal of evidence that |
| the Douglases were very attached to each other." |
| |
| "That, I am sure, cannot he true." said I, thinking of the |
| beautiful smiling face in the garden. |
| |
| "Well at least they gave that impression. However, we will |
| suppose that they are an extraordinarily astute couple, who |
| deceive everyone upon this point, and conspire to murder the |
| husband. He happens to be a man over whose head some danger |
| hangs --" |
| |
| "We have only their word for that." |
| |
| Holmes looked thoughtful. "I see, Watson. You are sketching |
| out a theory by which everything they say from the beginning is |
| false. According to your idea, there was never any hidden menace, |
| or secret society, or Valley of Fear, or Boss MacSomebody, or |
| anything else. Well, that is a good sweeping generalization. |
| Let us see what that brings us to. They invent this theory to |
| account for the crime. They then play up to the idea by leaving |
| this bicycle in the park as proof of the existence of some |
| outsider. The stain on the windowsill conveys the same idea. So |
| does the card on the body, which might have been prepared in |
| the house. That all fits into your hypothesis, Watson. But now |
| we come on the nasty, angular, uncompromising bits which |
| won't slip into their places. Why a cut-off shotgun of all weapons |
| -- and an American one at that? How could they be so sure that the |
| sound of it would not bring someone on to them? It's a mere chance |
| as it is that Mrs. Allen did not start out to inquire for the |
| slamming door. Why did your guilty couple do all this, Watson?" |
| |
| "I confess that I can't explain it." |
| |
| "Then again, if a woman and her lover conspire to murder a |
| husband, are they going to advertise their guilt by ostentatiously |
| removing his wedding ring after his death? Does that strike you |
| as very probable, Watson?" |
| |
| "No, it does not." |
| |
| "And once again, if the thought of leaving a bicycle concealed |
| outside had occurred to you, would it really have seemed worth |
| doing when the dullest detective would naturally say this is an |
| obvious blind, as the bicycle is the first thing which the fugitive |
| needed in order to make his escape." |
| |
| "I can conceive of no explanation." |
| |
| "And yet there should be no combination of events for which |
| the wit of man cannot conceive an explanation. Simply as a |
| mental exercise, without any assertion that it is true, let me |
| indicate a possible line of thought. It is, I admit, mere |
| imagination; but how often is imagination the mother of truth? |
| |
| "We will suppose that there was a guilty secret, a really |
| shameful secret in the life of this man Douglas. This leads to his |
| murder by someone who is, we will suppose, an avenger, someone from |
| outside. This avenger, for some reason which I confess I am still |
| at a loss to explain, took the dead man's wedding ring. The vendetta |
| might conceivably date back to the man's first marriage, and the |
| ring be taken for some such reason. |
| |
| "Before this avenger got away, Barker and the wife had |
| reached the room. The assassin convinced them that any attempt |
| to arrest him would lead to the publication of some hideous |
| scandal. They were converted to this idea, and preferred to let |
| him go. For this purpose they probably lowered the bridge, |
| which can be done quite noiselessly, and then raised it again. He |
| made his escape, and for some reason thought that he could do |
| so more safely on foot than on the bicycle. He therefore left his |
| machine where it would not be discovered until he had got safely |
| away. So far we are within the bounds of possibility, are we |
| not?" |
| |
| "Well, it is possible, no doubt," said I, with some reserve. |
| |
| "We have to remember, Watson, that whatever occurred is |
| certainly something very extraordinary. Well, now, to continue |
| our supposititious case, the couple -- not necessarily a guilty |
| couple -- realize after the murderer is gone that they have placed |
| themselves in a position in which it may be difficult for them to |
| prove that they did not themselves either do the deed or connive |
| at it. They rapidly and rather clumsily met the situation. The |
| mark was put by Barker's bloodstained slipper upon the window- |
| sill to suggest how the fugitive got away. They obviously were |
| the two who must have heard the sound of the gun; so they gave |
| the alarm exactly as they would have done, but a good half hour |
| after the event." |
| |
| "And how do you propose to prove all this?" |
| |
| "Well, if there were an outsider, he may be traced and taken. |
| That would be the most effective of all proofs. But if not -- well, |
| the resources of science are far from being exhausted. I think |
| that an evening alone in that study would help me much." |
| |
| "An evening alone!" |
| |
| "I propose to go up there presently. I have arranged it with |
| the estimable Ames, who is by no means whole-hearted about |
| Barker. I shall sit in that room and see if its atmosphere brings |
| me inspiration. I'm a believer in the genius loci. You smile, |
| Friend Watson. Well, we shall see. By the way, you have that |
| big umbrella of yours, have you not?" |
| |
| "It is here." |
| |
| "Well, I'll borrow that if I may." |
| |
| "Certainly -- but what a wretched weapon! If there is |
| danger --" |
| |
| "Nothing serious, my dear Watson, or I should certainly ask |
| for your assistance. But I'll take the umbrella. At present I am |
| only awaiting the return of our colleagues from Tunbridge Wells, |
| where they are at present engaged in trying for a likely owner to |
| the bicycle." |
| |
| It was nightfall before Inspector MacDonald and White Mason |
| came back from their expedition, and they arrived exultant, |
| reporting a great advance in our investigation. |
| |
| "Man, I'll admeet that I had my doubts if there was ever an |
| outsider," said MacDonald, "but that's all past now. We've had |
| the bicycle identified, and we have a description of our man; so |
| that's a long step on our journey." |
| |
| "It sounds to me like the beginning of the end," said Holmes. |
| "I'm sure I congratulate you both with all my heart." |
| |
| "Well, I started from the fact that Mr. Douglas had seemed |
| disturbed since the day before, when he had been at Tunbridge |
| Wells. It was at Tunbridge Wells then that he had become |
| conscious of some danger. It was clear, therefore, that if a man |
| had come over with a bicycle it was from Tunbridge Wells that |
| he might be expected to have come. We took the bicycle over |
| with us and showed it at the hotels. It was identified at once by |
| the manager of the Eagle Commercial as belonging to a man |
| named Hargrave, who had taken a room there two days before. |
| This bicycle and a small valise were his whole belongings. He |
| had registered his name as coming from London, but had given |
| no address. The valise was London made, and the contents were |
| British; but the man himself was undoubtedly an American." |
| |
| "Well, well," said Holmes gleefully, "you have indeed done |
| some solid work while I have been sitting spinning theories with |
| my friend! It's a lesson in being practical, Mr. Mac." |
| |
| "Ay, it's just that, Mr. Holmes," said the inspector with |
| satisfaction. |
| |
| "But this may all fit in with your theories," I remarked. |
| |
| "That may or may not be. But let us hear the end, Mr. Mac. |
| Was there nothing to identify this man?" |
| |
| "So little that it was evident that he had carefully guarded |
| himself against identification. There were no papers or letters, |
| and no marking upon the clothes. A cycle map of the county lay |
| on his bedroom table. He had left the hotel after breakfast |
| yesterday morning on his bicycle, and no more was heard of him |
| until our inquiries." |
| |
| "That's what puzzles me, Mr. Holmes," said White Mason. |
| "If the fellow did not want the hue and cry raised over him, one |
| would imagine that he would have returned and remained at the |
| hotel as an inoffensive tourist. As it is, he must know that he |
| will be reported to the police by the hotel manager and that his |
| disappearance will be connected with the murder." |
| |
| "So one would imagine. Still, he has been justified of his |
| wisdom up to date, at any rate, since he has not been taken. But |
| his description -- what of that?" |
| |
| MacDonald referred to his notebook. "Here we have it so far |
| as they could give it. They don't seem to have taken any very |
| particular stock of him; but still the porter, the clerk, and the |
| chambermaid are all agreed that this about covers the points. He |
| was a man about five foot nine in height, fifty or so years of age, |
| his hair slightly grizzled, a grayish moustache, a curved nose, |
| and a face which all of them described as fierce and forbidding." |
| |
| "Well, bar the expression, that might almost be a description |
| of Douglas himself," said Holmes. "He is just over fifty, with |
| grizzled hair and moustache, and about the same height. Did you |
| get anything else?" |
| |
| "He was dressed in a heavy gray suit with a reefer jacket, and |
| he wore a short yellow overcoat and a soft cap." |
| |
| "What about the shotgun?" |
| |
| "It is less than two feet long. It could very well have fitted |
| into his valise. He could have carried it inside his overcoat |
| without difficulty." |
| |
| "And how do you consider that all this bears upon the general |
| case?" |
| |
| "Well, Mr. Holmes," said MacDonald, "when we have got |
| our man -- and you may be sure that I had his description on the |
| wires within five minutes of hearing it -- we shall be better able |
| to judge. But, even as it stands, we have surely gone a long way. |
| We know that an American calling himself Hargrave came to |
| Tunbridge Wells two days ago with bicycle and valise. In the |
| latter was a sawed-off shotgun; so he came with the deliberate |
| purpose of crime. Yesterday morning he set off for this place on |
| his bicycle, with his gun concealed in his overcoat. No one saw |
| him arrive, so far as we can learn; but he need not pass through |
| the village to reach the park gates, and there are many cyclists |
| upon the road. Presumably he at once concealed his cycle among |
| the laurels where it was found, and possibly lurked there himself, |
| with his eye on the house, waiting for Mr. Douglas to come out. |
| The shotgun is a strange weapon to use inside a house; but he had |
| intended to use it outside, and there it has very obvious advantages, |
| as it would be impossible to miss with it, and the sound of shots |
| is so common in an English sporting neighbourhood that no particular |
| notice would be taken." |
| |
| "That is all very clear," said Holmes. |
| |
| "Well, Mr. Douglas did not appear. What was he to do next? |
| He left his bicycle and approached the house in the twilight. He |
| found the bridge down and no one about. He took his chance, |
| intending, no doubt, to make some excuse if he met anyone. He |
| met no one. He slipped into the first room that he saw, and |
| concealed himself behind the curtain. Thence he could see the |
| drawbridge go up, and he knew that his only escape was through |
| the moat. He waited until quarter-past eleven, when Mr. Douglas |
| upon his usual nightly round came into the room. He shot him |
| and escaped, as arranged. He was aware that the bicycle would |
| be described by the hotel people and be a clue against him; so he |
| left it there and made his way by some other means to London or |
| to some safe hiding place which he had already arranged. How is |
| that, Mr. Holmes?" |
| |
| "Well, Mr. Mac, it is very good and very clear so far as it |
| goes. That is your end of the story. My end is that the crime was |
| committed half an hour earlier than reported; that Mrs. Douglas |
| and Barker are both in a conspiracy to conceal something; that |
| they aided the murderer's escape -- or at least that they reached |
| the room before he escaped -- and that they fabricated evidence |
| of his escape through the window, whereas in all probability they |
| had themselves let him go by lowering the bridge. That's my |
| reading of the first half." |
| |
| The two detectives shook their heads. |
| |
| "Well, Mr. Holmes, if this is true, we only tumble out of one |
| mystery into another," said the London inspector. |
| |
| "And in some ways a worse one," added White Mason. "The |
| lady has never been in America in all her life. What possible |
| connection could she have with an American assassin which |
| would cause her to shelter him?" |
| |
| "I freely admit the difficulties," said Holmes. "I propose to |
| make a little investigation of my own to-night, and it is just |
| possible that it may contribute something to the common cause." |
| |
| "Can we help you, Mr. Holmes?" |
| |
| "No, no! Darkness and Dr. Watson's umbrella -- my wants are |
| simple. And Ames, the faithful Ames, no doubt he will stretch a |
| point for me. All my lines of thought lead me back invariably |
| to the one basic question -- why should an athletic man develop |
| his frame upon so unnatural an instrument as a single dumb-bell?" |
| |
| It was late that night when Holmes returned from his solitary |
| excursion. We slept in a double-bedded room, which was the |
| best that the little country inn could do for us. I was already |
| asleep when I was partly awakened by his entrance. |
| |
| "Well, Holmes," I murmured, "have you found anything |
| out?" |
| |
| He stood beside me in silence, his candle in his hand. Then |
| the tall, lean figure inclined towards me. "I say, Watson," he |
| whispered, "would you be afraid to sleep in the same room with |
| a lunatic, a man with softening of the brain, an idiot whose mind |
| has lost its grip?" |
| |
| "Not in the least," I answered in astonishment. |
| |
| "Ah, that's lucky," he said, and not another word would he |
| utter that night. |
| |
| |
| |
| Chapter 7 |
| The Solution |
| |
| Next morning, after breakfast, we found Inspector MacDonald |
| and White Mason seated in close consultation in the small parlour |
| of the local police sergeant. On the table in front of them |
| were piled a number of letters and telegrams, which they were |
| carefully sorting and docketing. Three had been placed on one |
| side. |
| |
| "Still on the track of the elusive bicyclist?" Holmes asked |
| cheerfully. "What is the latest news of the ruffian?" |
| |
| MacDonald pointed ruefully to his heap of correspondence. |
| |
| "He is at present reported from Leicester, Nottingham, |
| Southampton, Derby, East Ham, Richmond, and fourteen other places. |
| In three of them -- East Ham, Leicester, and Liverpool -- there is |
| a clear case against him, and he has actually been arrested. The |
| country seems to be full of the fugitives with yellow coats." |
| |
| "Dear me!" said Holmes sympathetically. "Now, Mr. Mac |
| and you, Mr. White Mason, I wish to give you a very earnest |
| piece of advice. When I went into this case with you I bargained, |
| as you will no doubt remember, that I should not present you |
| with half-proved theories, but that I should retain and work out |
| my own ideas until I had satisfied myself that they were correct. |
| For this reason I am not at the present moment telling you all |
| that is in my mind. On the other hand, I said that I would play |
| the game fairly by you, and I do not think it is a fair game to |
| allow you for one unnecessary moment to waste your energies |
| upon a profitless task. Therefore I am here to advise you this |
| morning, and my advice to you is summed up in three words -- |
| abandon the case." |
| |
| MacDonald and White Mason stared in amazement at their |
| celebrated colleague. |
| |
| "You consider it hopeless!" cried the inspector. |
| |
| "I consider your case to be hopeless. I do not consider that it |
| is hopeless to arrive at the truth." |
| |
| "But this cyclist. He is not an invention. We have his description, |
| his valise, his bicycle. The fellow must be somewhere. Why should we |
| not get him?" |
| |
| "Yes, yes, no doubt he is somewhere, and no doubt we shall |
| get him; but I would not have you waste your energies in East |
| Ham or Liverpool. I am sure that we can find some shorter cut to |
| a result." |
| |
| "You are holding something back. It's hardly fair of you, Mr. |
| Holmes." The inspector was annoyed. |
| |
| "You know my methods of work, Mr. Mac. But I will hold it |
| back for the shortest time possible. I only wish to verify my |
| details in one way, which can very readily be done, and then I |
| make my bow and return to London, leaving my results entirely |
| at your service. I owe you too much to act otherwise; for in all |
| my experience I cannot recall any more singular and interesting |
| study." |
| |
| "This is clean beyond me, Mr. Holmes. We saw you when |
| we returned from Tunbridge Wells last night, and you were in |
| general agreement with our results. What has happened since |
| then to give you a completely new idea of the case?" |
| |
| "Well, since you ask me, I spent, as I told you that I would, |
| some hours last night at the Manor House." |
| |
| "Well, what happened?" |
| |
| "Ah, I can only give you a very general answer to that for the |
| moment. By the way, I have been reading a short but clear and |
| interesting account of the old building, purchasable at the modest |
| sum of one penny from the local tobacconist." |
| |
| Here Holmes drew a small tract, embellished with a rude |
| engraving of the ancient Manor House, from his waistcoat pocket. |
| |
| "It immensely adds to the zest of an investigation, my dear |
| Mr. Mac, when one is in conscious sympathy with the historical |
| atmosphere of one's surroundings. Don't look so impatient; for I |
| assure you that even so bald an account as this raises some sort |
| of picture of the past in one's mind. Permit me to give you a |
| sample. 'Erected in the fifth year of the reign of James I, and |
| standing upon the site of a much older building, the Manor |
| House of Birlstone presents one of the finest surviving examples |
| of the moated Jacobean residence --' " |
| |
| "You are making fools of us, Mr. Holmes!" |
| |
| "Tut, tut, Mr. Mac! -- the first sign of temper I have detected |
| in you. Well, I won't read it verbatim, since you feel so strongly |
| upon the subject. But when I tell you that there is some account |
| of the taking of the place by a parliamentary colonel in 1644, of |
| the concealment of Charles for several days in the course of the |
| Civil War, and finally of a visit there by the second George, you |
| will admit that there are various associations of interest connected |
| with this ancient house." |
| |
| "I don't doubt it, Mr. Holmes; but that is no business of |
| ours." |
| |
| "Is it not? Is it not? Breadth of view, my dear Mr. Mac, is |
| one of the essentials of our profession. The interplay of ideas and |
| the oblique uses of knowledge are often of extraordinary interest. |
| You will excuse these remarks from one who, though a mere |
| connoisseur of crime, is still rather older and perhaps more |
| experienced than yourself." |
| |
| "I'm the first to admit that," said the detective heartily. "You |
| get to your point, I admit; but you have such a deuced round-the- |
| corner way of doing it." |
| |
| "Well, well, I'll drop past history and get down to present- |
| day facts. I called last night, as I have already said, at the |
| Manor House. I did not see either Barker or Mrs. Douglas. I saw |
| no necessity to disturb them; but I was pleased to hear that the |
| lady was not visibly pining and that she had partaken of an |
| excellent dinner. My visit was specially made to the good Mr. |
| Ames, with whom I exchanged some amiabilities, which culminated |
| in his allowing me, without reference to anyone else, to sit |
| alone for a time in the study." |
| |
| "What! With that?" I ejaculated. |
| |
| "No, no, everything is now in order. You gave permission for |
| that, Mr. Mac, as I am informed. The room was in its normal |
| state, and in it I passed an instructive quarter of an hour." |
| |
| "What were you doing?" |
| |
| "Well, not to make a mystery of so simple a matter, I was |
| looking for the missing dumb-bell. It has always bulked rather |
| large in my estimate of the case. I ended by finding it." |
| |
| "Where?" |
| |
| "Ah, there we come to the edge of the unexplored. Let me go |
| a little further, a very little further, and I will promise that you |
| shall share everything that I know." |
| |
| "Well, we're bound to take you on your own terms," said the |
| inspector; "but when it comes to telling us to abandon the |
| case -- why in the name of goodness should we abandon the |
| case?" |
| |
| "For the simple reason, my dear Mr. Mac, that you have not |
| got the first idea what it is that you are investigating." |
| |
| "We are investigating the murder of Mr. John Douglas of |
| Birlstone Manor." |
| |
| "Yes, yes, so you are. But don't trouble to trace the mysterious |
| gentleman upon the bicycle. I assure you that it won't help you." |
| |
| "Then what do you suggest that we do?" |
| |
| "I will tell you exactly what to do, if you will do it." |
| |
| "Well, I'm bound to say I've always found you had reason |
| behind all your queer ways. I'll do what you advise." |
| |
| "And you, Mr. White Mason?" |
| |
| The country detective looked helplessly from one to the other. |
| Holmes and his methods were new to him. "Well, if it is good |
| enough for the inspector, it is good enough for me," he said at |
| last. |
| |
| "Capital!" said Holmes. "Well, then, I should recommend a |
| nice, cheery country walk for both of you. They tell me that the |
| views from Birlstone Ridge over the Weald are very remarkable. |
| No doubt lunch could be got at some suitable hostelry; though |
| my ignorance of the country prevents me from recommending |
| one. In the evening, tired but happy --" |
| |
| "Man, this is getting past a joke!" cried MacDonald, rising |
| angrily from his chair. |
| |
| "Well, well, spend the day as you like," said Holmes, patting |
| him cheerfully upon the shoulder. "Do what you like and go |
| where you will, but meet me here before dusk without fail -- |
| without fail, Mr. Mac." |
| |
| "That sounds more like sanity." |
| |
| "All of it was excellent advice; but I don't insist, so long as |
| you are here when I need you. But now, before we part, I want |
| you to write a note to Mr. Barker." |
| |
| "Well?" |
| |
| "I'll dictate it, if you like. Ready? |
| |
| "Dear Sir: |
| |
| "It has struck me that it is our duty to drain the moat, in |
| |
| the hope that we may find some --" |
| |
| "It's impossible," said the inspector. "I've made inquiry." |
| |
| "Tut, tut! My dear sir, please do what I ask you." |
| |
| "Well, go on." |
| |
| "-- in the hope that we may find something which may bear |
| |
| upon our investigation. I have made arrangements, and the |
| |
| workmen will be at work early to-morrow morning diverting |
| |
| the stream --" |
| |
| "Impossible!" |
| |
| "-- diverting the stream; so I thought it best to explain |
| matters beforehand. |
| |
| "Now sign that, and send it by hand about four o'clock. At that |
| hour we shall meet again in this room. Until then we may each |
| do what we like; for I can assure you that this inquiry has come |
| to a definite pause." |
| |
| Evening was drawing in when we reassembled. Holmes was |
| very serious in his manner, myself curious, and the detectives |
| obviously critical and annoyed. |
| |
| "Well, gentlemen," said my friend gravely, "I am asking |
| you now to put everything to the test with me, and you will |
| judge for yourselves whether the observations I have made justify |
| the conclusions to which I have come. It is a chill evening, |
| and I do not know how long our expedition may last; so I beg |
| that you will wear your warmest coats. It is of the first |
| importance that we should be in our places before it grows dark; |
| so with your permission we shall get started at once." |
| |
| We passed along the outer bounds of the Manor House park |
| until we came to a place where there was a gap in the rails which |
| fenced it. Through this we slipped, and then in the gathering |
| gloom we followed Holmes until we had reached a shrubbery |
| which lies nearly opposite to the main door and the drawbridge. |
| The latter had not been raised. Holmes crouched down behind |
| the screen of laurels, and we all three followed his example. |
| |
| "Well, what are we to do now?" asked MacDonald with |
| some gruffness. |
| |
| "Possess our souls in patience and make as little noise as |
| possible," Holmes answered. |
| |
| "What are we here for at all? I really think that you might |
| treat us with more frankness." |
| |
| Holmes laughed. "Watson insists that I am the dramatist in |
| real life," said he. "Some touch of the artist wells up within me, |
| and calls insistently for a well-staged performance. Surely our |
| profession, Mr. Mac, would be a drab and sordid one if we did |
| not sometimes set the scene so as to glorify our results. The |
| blunt accusation, the brutal tap upon the shoulder -- what can one |
| make of such a denouement? But the quick inference, the subtle |
| trap, the clever forecast of coming events, the triumphant vindication |
| of bold theories -- are these not the pride and the justification of |
| our life's work? At the present moment you thrill with the glamour of |
| the situation and the anticipation of the hunt. Where would be that |
| thrill if I had been as definite as a timetable? I only ask a little |
| patience, Mr. Mac, and all will be clear to you." |
| |
| "Well, I hope the pride and justification and the rest of it will |
| come before we all get our death of cold," said the London |
| detective with comic resignation. |
| |
| We all had good reason to join in the aspiration; for our vigil |
| was a long and bitter one. Slowly the shadows darkened over the |
| long, sombre face of the old house. A cold, damp reek from the |
| moat chilled us to the bones and set our teeth chattering. There |
| was a single lamp over the gateway and a steady globe of light in |
| the fatal study. Everything else was dark and still. |
| |
| "How long is this to last?" asked the inspector finally. "And |
| what is it we are watching for?" |
| |
| "I have no more notion than you how long it is to last," |
| Holmes answered with some asperity. "If criminals would always |
| schedule their movements like railway trains, it would certainly |
| be more convenient for all of us. As to what it is we -- Well, |
| that's what we are watching for!" |
| |
| As he spoke the bright, yellow light in the study was obscured |
| by somebody passing to and fro before it. The laurels among |
| which we lay were immediately opposite the window and not |
| more than a hundred feet from it. Presently it was thrown open |
| with a whining of hinges, and we could dimly see the dark |
| outline of a man's head and shoulders looking out into the |
| gloom. For some minutes he peered forth in furtive, stealthy |
| fashion, as one who wishes to be assured that he is unobserved. |
| Then he leaned forward, and in the intense silence we were |
| aware of the soft lapping of agitated water. He seemed to be |
| stirring up the moat with something which he held in his hand. |
| Then suddenly he hauled something in as a fisherman lands a |
| fish -- some large, round object which obscured the light as it |
| was dragged through the open casement. |
| |
| "Now!" cried Holmes. "Now!" |
| |
| We were all upon our feet, staggering after him with our |
| stiffened limbs, while he ran swiftly across the bridge and rang |
| violently at the bell. There was the rasping of bolts from the |
| other side, and the amazed Ames stood in the entrance. Holmes |
| brushed him aside without a word and, followed by all of us, |
| rushed into the room which had been occupied by the man whom |
| we had been watching. |
| |
| The oil lamp on the table represented the glow which we had |
| seen from outside. It was now in the hand of Cecil Barker, who |
| held it towards us as we entered. Its light shone upon his strong, |
| resolute, clean-shaved face and his menacing eyes. |
| |
| "What the devil is the meaning of all this?" he cried. "What |
| are you after, anyhow?" |
| |
| Holmes took a swift glance round, and then pounced upon a |
| sodden bundle tied together with cord which lay where it had |
| been thrust under the writing table. |
| |
| "This is what we are after, Mr. Barker -- this bundle, weighted |
| with a dumb-bell, which you have just raised from the bottom of |
| the moat." |
| |
| Barker stared at Holmes with amazement in his face. "How in |
| thunder came you to know anything about it?" he asked. |
| |
| "Simply that I put it there." |
| |
| "You put it there! You!" |
| |
| "Perhaps I should have said 'replaced it there,'" said Holmes. |
| "You will remember, Inspector MacDonald, that I was somewhat |
| struck by the absence of a dumb-bell. I drew your attention |
| to it; but with the pressure of other events you had hardly the |
| time to give it the consideration which would have enabled you |
| to draw deductions from it. When water is near and a weight is |
| missing it is not a very far-fetched supposition that something |
| has been sunk in the water. The idea was at least worth testing; |
| so with the help of Ames, who admitted me to the room, and the |
| crook of Dr. Watson's umbrella, I was able last night to fish up |
| and inspect this bundle. |
| |
| "It was of the first importance, however, that we should be |
| able to prove who placed it there. This we accomplished by the |
| very obvious device of announcing that the moat would be dried |
| to-morrow, which had, of course, the effect that whoever had |
| hidden the bundle would most certainly withdraw it the moment |
| that darkness enabled him to do so. We have no less than four |
| witnesses as to who it was who took advantage of the opportunity, |
| and so, Mr. Barker, I think the word lies now with you." |
| |
| Sherlock Holmes put the sopping bundle upon the table beside |
| the lamp and undid the cord which bound it. From within he |
| extracted a dumb-bell, which he tossed down to its fellow in the |
| corner. Next he drew forth a pair of boots. "American, as you |
| perceive," he remarked, pointing to the toes. Then he laid upon |
| the table a long, deadly, sheathed knife. Finally he unravelled a |
| bundle of clothing, comprising a complete set of underclothes, |
| socks, a gray tweed suit, and a short yellow overcoat. |
| |
| "The clothes are commonplace," remarked Holmes, "save |
| only the overcoat, which is full of suggestive touches." He held |
| it tenderly towards the light. "Here, as you perceive, is the inner |
| pocket prolonged into the lining in such fashion as to give ample |
| space for the truncated fowling piece. The tailor's tab is on the |
| neck -- 'Neal, Outfitter, Vermissa, U. S. A.' I have spent an |
| instructive afternoon in the rector's library, and have enlarged |
| my knowledge by adding the fact that Vermissa is a flourishing |
| little town at the head of one of the best known coal and iron |
| valleys in the United States. I have some recollection, Mr. |
| Barker, that you associated the coal districts with Mr. Douglas's |
| first wife, and it would surely not be too far-fetched an inference |
| that the V. V. upon the card by the dead body might stand for |
| Vermissa Valley, or that this very valley which sends forth |
| emissaries of murder may be that Valley of Fear of which we |
| have heard. So much is fairly clear. And now, Mr. Barker, I |
| seem to be standing rather in the way of your explanation." |
| |
| It was a sight to see Cecil Barker's expressive face during this |
| exposition of the great detective. Anger, amazement, consternation, |
| and indecision swept over it in turn. Finally he took refuge in a |
| somewhat acrid irony. |
| |
| "You know such a lot, Mr. Holmes, perhaps you had better |
| tell us some more," he sneered. |
| |
| "I have no doubt that I could tell you a great deal more, Mr. |
| Barker; but it would come with a better grace from you." |
| |
| "Oh, you think so, do you? Well, all I can say is that if |
| there's any secret here it is not my secret, and I am not the man |
| to give it away." |
| |
| "Well, if you take that line, Mr. Barker," said the inspector |
| quietly, "we must just keep you in sight until we have the |
| warrant and can hold you." |
| |
| "You can do what you damn please about that," said Barker |
| defiantly. |
| |
| The proceedings seemed to have come to a definite end so far |
| as he was concerned; for one had only to look at that granite face |
| to realize that no peine forte et dure would ever force him to |
| plead against his will. The deadlock was broken, however, by a |
| woman's voice. Mrs. Douglas had been standing listening at the |
| half opened door, and now she entered the room. |
| |
| "You have done enough for now, Cecil," said she. "Whatever |
| comes of it in the future, you have done enough." |
| |
| "Enough and more than enough," remarked Sherlock Holmes |
| gravely. "I have every sympathy with you, madam, and |
| should strongly urge you to have some confidence in the common |
| sense of our jurisdiction and to take the police voluntarily into |
| your complete confidence. It may be that I am myself at fault for |
| not following up the hint which you conveyed to me through my |
| friend, Dr. Watson; but, at that time I had every reason to |
| believe that you were directly concerned in the crime. Now I am |
| assured that this is not so. At the same time, there is much that is |
| unexplained, and I should strongly recommend that you ask Mr. |
| Douglas to tell us his own story." |
| |
| Mrs. Douglas gave a cry of astonishment at Holmes's words. |
| The detectives and I must have echoed it, when we were aware |
| of a man who seemed to have emerged from the wall, who |
| advanced now from the gloom of the corner in which he had |
| appeared. Mrs. Douglas turned, and in an instant her arms were |
| round him. Barker had seized his outstretched hand. |
| |
| "It's best this way, Jack," his wife repeated; "I am sure that |
| it is best." |
| |
| "Indeed, yes, Mr. Douglas," said Sherlock Holmes, "I am |
| sure that you will find it best." |
| |
| The man stood blinking at us with the dazed look of one who |
| comes from the dark into the light. It was a remarkable face, |
| bold gray eyes, a strong, short-clipped, grizzled moustache, a |
| square, projecting chin, and a humorous mouth. He took a good |
| look at us all, and then to my amazement he advanced to me and |
| handed me a bundle of paper. |
| |
| "I've heard of you," said he in a voice which was not quite |
| English and not quite American, but was altogether mellow and |
| pleasing. "You are the historian of this bunch. Well, Dr. Watson, |
| you've never had such a story as that pass through your hands |
| before, and I'll lay my last dollar on that. Tell it your own |
| way; but there are the facts, and you can't miss the public so |
| long as you have those. I've been cooped up two days, and I've |
| spent the daylight hours -- as much daylight as I could get in that |
| rat trap -- in putting the thing into words. You're welcome to |
| them -- you and your public. There's the story of the Valley of |
| Fear." |
| |
| "That's the past, Mr. Douglas," said Sherlock Holmes quietly. |
| "What we desire now is to hear your story of the present." |
| |
| "You'll have it, sir," said Douglas. "May I smoke as I talk? |
| Well, thank you, Mr. Holmes. You're a smoker yourself, if I |
| remember right, and you'll guess what it is to be sitting for two |
| days with tobacco in your pocket and afraid that the smell will |
| give you away." He leaned against the mantelpiece and sucked |
| at the cigar which Holmes had handed him. "I've heard of you, |
| Mr. Holmes. I never guessed that I should meet you. But before |
| you are through with that," he nodded at my papers, "you will |
| say I've brought you something fresh." |
| |
| Inspector MacDonald had been staring at the newcomer with |
| the greatest amazement. "Well, this fairly beats me!" he cried at |
| last. "If you are Mr. John Douglas of Birlstone Manor, then |
| whose death have we been investigating for these two days, and |
| where in the world have you sprung from now? You seemed to |
| me to come out of the floor like a jack-in-a-box." |
| |
| "Ah, Mr. Mac," said Holmes, shaking a reproving forefinger, |
| "you would not read that excellent local compilation which |
| described the concealment of King Charles. People did not hide |
| in those days without excellent hiding places, and the hiding |
| place that has once been used may be again. I had persuaded |
| myself that we should find Mr. Douglas under this roof." |
| |
| "And how long have you been playing this trick upon us, Mr. |
| Holmes?" said the inspector angrily. "How long have you |
| allowed us to waste ourselves upon a search that you knew to be |
| an absurd one?" |
| |
| "Not one instant, my dear Mr. Mac. Only last night did I |
| form my views of the case. As they could not be put to the proof |
| until this evening, I invited you and your colleague to take a |
| holiday for the day. Pray what more could I do? When I found |
| the suit of clothes in the moat, it at once became apparent to me |
| that the body we had found could not have been the body of Mr. |
| John Douglas at all, but must be that of the bicyclist from |
| Tunbridge Wells. No other conclusion was possible. Therefore I |
| had to determine where Mr. John Douglas himself could be, and |
| the balance of probability was that with the connivance of his |
| wife and his friend he was concealed in a house which had such |
| conveniences for a fugitive, and awaiting quieter times when he |
| could make his final escape." |
| |
| "Well, you figured it out about right," said Douglas approvingly. |
| "I thought I'd dodge your British law; for I was not sure how I |
| stood under it, and also I saw my chance to throw these hounds |
| once for all off my track. Mind you, from first to last I have |
| done nothing to be ashamed of, and nothing that I would not do |
| again; but you'll judge that for yourselves when I tell you my |
| story. Never mind warning me, Inspector: I'm ready to stand pat |
| upon the truth. |
| |
| "I'm not going to begin at the beginning. That's all there," he |
| indicated my bundle of papers, "and a mighty queer yarn you'll |
| find it. It all comes down to this: That there are some men that |
| have good cause to hate me and would give their last dollar to |
| know that they had got me. So long as I am alive and they are |
| alive, there is no safety in this world for me. They hunted me |
| from Chicago to California, then they chased me out of America; |
| but when I married and settled down in this quiet spot I thought |
| my last years were going to be peaceable. |
| |
| "I never explained to my wife how things were. Why should I |
| pull her into it? She would never have a quiet moment again; but |
| would always be imagining trouble. I fancy she knew something, |
| for I may have dropped a word here or a word there; but until |
| yesterday, after you gentlemen had seen her, she never knew the |
| rights of the matter. She told you all she knew, and so did |
| Barker here; for on the night when this thing happened there was |
| mighty little time for explanations. She knows everything now, |
| and I would have been a wiser man if I had told her sooner. But |
| it was a hard question, dear," he took her hand for an instant in |
| his own, "and I acted for the best. |
| |
| "Well, gentlemen, the day before these happenings I was over |
| in Tunbridge Wells, and I got a glimpse of a man in the street. It |
| was only a glimpse; but I have a quick eye for these things, and I |
| never doubted who it was. It was the worst enemy I had among |
| them all -- one who has been after me like a hungry wolf after a |
| caribou all these years. I knew there was trouble coming, and I |
| came home and made ready for it. I guessed I'd fight through it |
| all right on my own, my luck was a proverb in the States about |
| '76. I never doubted that it would be with me still. |
| |
| "I was on my guard all that next day, and never went out into |
| the park. It's as well, or he'd have had the drop on me with that |
| buckshot gun of his before ever I could draw on him. After the |
| bridge was up -- my mind was always more restful when that |
| bridge was up in the evenings -- I put the thing clear out of my |
| head. I never dreamed of his getting into the house and waiting |
| for me. But when I made my round in my dressing gown, as was |
| my habit, I had no sooner entered the study than I scented |
| danger. I guess when a man has had dangers in his life -- and I've |
| had more than most in my time -- there is a kind of sixth sense |
| that waves the red flag. I saw the signal clear enough, and yet I |
| couldn't tell you why. Next instant I spotted a boot under the |
| window curtain, and then I saw why plain enough. |
| |
| "I'd just the one candle that was in my hand; but there was a |
| good light from the hall lamp through the open door. I put down |
| the candle and jumped for a hammer that I'd left on the mantel. |
| At the same moment he sprang at me. I saw the glint of a knife, |
| and I lashed at him with the hammer. I got him somewhere; for |
| the knife tinkled down on the floor. He dodged round the table |
| as quick as an eel, and a moment later he'd got his gun from |
| under his coat. I heard him cock it; but I had got hold of it before |
| he could fire. I had it by the barrel, and we wrestled for it all |
| ends up for a minute or more. It was death to the man that lost |
| his grip. |
| |
| "He never lost his grip; but he got it butt downward for a |
| moment too long. Maybe it was I that pulled the trigger. Maybe |
| we just jolted it off between us. Anyhow, he got both barrels in |
| the face, and there I was, staring down at all that was left of Ted |
| Baldwin. I'd recognized him in the township, and again when he |
| sprang for me; but his own mother wouldn't recognize him as I |
| saw him then. I'm used to rough work; but I fairly turned sick at |
| the sight of him. |
| |
| "I was hanging on the side of the table when Barker came |
| hurrying down. I heard my wife coming, and I ran to the door |
| and stopped her. It was no sight for a woman. I promised I'd |
| come to her soon. I said a word or two to Barker -- he took it all |
| in at a glance -- and we waited for the rest to come along. But |
| there was no sign of them. Then we understood that they could |
| hear nothing, and that all that had happened was known only to |
| ourselves. |
| |
| "It was at that instant that the idea came to me. I was fairly |
| dazzled by the brilliance of it. The man's sleeve had slipped up |
| and there was the branded mark of the lodge upon his forearm. |
| See here!" |
| |
| The man whom we had known as Douglas turned up his own |
| coat and cuff to show a brown triangle within a circle exactly |
| like that which we had seen upon the dead man. |
| |
| "It was the sight of that which started me on it. I seemed to |
| see it all clear at a glance. There were his height and hair and |
| figure, about the same as my own. No one could swear to his |
| face, poor devil! I brought down this suit of clothes, and in a |
| quarter of an hour Barker and I had put my dressing gown on |
| him and he lay as you found him. We tied all his things into a |
| bundle, and I weighted them with the only weight I could find |
| and put them through the window. The card he had meant to lay |
| upon my body was lying beside his own. |
| |
| "My rings were put on his finger; but when it came to the |
| wedding ring," he held out his muscular hand, "you can see for |
| yourselves that I had struck the limit. I have not moved it since |
| the day I was married, and it would have taken a file to get it |
| off. I don't know, anyhow, that I should have cared to part with |
| it; but if I had wanted to I couldn't. So we just had to leave that |
| detail to take care of itself. On the other hand, I brought a bit of |
| plaster down and put it where I am wearing one myself at this |
| instant. You slipped up there, Mr. Holmes, clever as you are; for |
| if you had chanced to take off that plaster you would have found |
| no cut underneath it. |
| |
| "Well, that was the situation. If I could lie low for a while |
| and then get away where I could be joined by my 'widow' we |
| should have a chance at last of living in peace for the rest of our |
| lives. These devils would give me no rest so long as I was above |
| ground; but if they saw in the papers that Baldwin had got his |
| man, there would be an end of all my troubles. I hadn't much |
| time to make it all clear to Barker and to my wife; but they |
| understood enough to be able to help me. I knew all about this |
| hiding place, so did Ames; but it never entered his head to |
| connect it with the matter. I retired into it, and it was up to |
| Barker to do the rest. |
| |
| "I guess you can fill in for yourselves what he did. He opened |
| the window and made the mark on the sill to give an idea of how |
| the murderer escaped. It was a tall order, that; but as the bridge |
| was up there was no other way. Then, when everything was |
| fixed, he rang the bell for all he was worth. What happened |
| afterward you know. And so, gentlemen, you can do what you |
| please; but I've told you the truth and the whole truth, so help |
| me God! What I ask you now is how do I stand by the English |
| law?" |
| |
| There was a silence which was broken by Sherlock Holmes. |
| |
| "The English law is in the main a just law. You will get no |
| worse than your deserts from that, Mr. Douglas. But I would ask |
| you how did this man know that you lived here, or how to get |
| into your house, or where to hide to get you?" |
| |
| "I know nothing of this." |
| |
| Holmes's face was very white and grave. "The story is not |
| over yet, I fear," said he. "You may find worse dangers than |
| the English law, or even than your enemies from America. I see |
| trouble before you, Mr. Douglas. You'll take my advice and still |
| be on your guard." |
| |
| And now, my long-suffering readers, I will ask you to come |
| away with me for a time, far from the Sussex Manor House of |
| Birlstone, and far also from the year of grace in which we made |
| our eventful journey which ended with the strange story of the |
| man who had been known as John Douglas. I wish you to |
| journey back some twenty years in time, and westward some |
| thousands of miles in space, that I may lay before you a singular |
| and terrible narrative -- so singular and so terrible that you may |
| find it hard to believe that even as I tell it, even so did it occur. |
| |
| Do not think that I intrude one story before another is finished. |
| As you read on you will find that this is not so. And when I have |
| detailed those distant events and you have solved this mystery of |
| the past, we shall meet once more in those rooms on Baker |
| Street, where this, like so many other wonderful happenings, |
| will find its end. |
| |
| |
| |
| |
| PART 2 |
| The Scowrers |
| |
| |
| |
| Chapter 1 |
| The Man |
| |
| It was the fourth of February in the year 1875. It had been a |
| severe winter, and the snow lay deep in the gorges of the |
| Gilmerton Mountains. The steam ploughs had, however, kept the |
| railroad open, and the evening train which connects the long line |
| of coal-mining and iron-working settlements was slowly groaning |
| its way up the steep gradients which lead from Stagville on the |
| plain to Vermissa, the central township which lies at the head of |
| Vermissa Valley. From this point the track sweeps downward to |
| Bartons Crossing, Helmdale, and the purely agricultural county of |
| Merton. It was a single-track railroad; but at every siding -- |
| and they were numerous -- long lines of trucks piled with coal |
| and iron ore told of the hidden wealth which had brought a rude |
| population and a bustling life to this most desolate corner of the |
| United States of America. |
| |
| For desolate it was! Little could the first pioneer who had |
| traversed it have ever imagined that the fairest prairies and the |
| most lush water pastures were valueless compared to this gloomy |
| land of black crag and tangled forest. Above the dark and often |
| scarcely penetrable woods upon their flanks, the high, bare |
| crowns of the mountains, white snow, and jagged rock towered |
| upon each flank, leaving a long, winding, tortuous valley in the |
| centre. Up this the little train was slowly crawling. |
| |
| The oil lamps had just been lit in the leading passenger car, a |
| long, bare carriage in which some twenty or thirty people were |
| seated. The greater number of these were workmen returning |
| from their day's toil in the lower part of the valley. At least a |
| dozen, by their grimed faces and the safety lanterns which they |
| carried, proclaimed themselves miners. These sat smoking in a |
| group and conversed in low voices, glancing occasionally at two |
| men on the opposite side of the car, whose uniforms and badges |
| showed them to be policemen. |
| |
| Several women of the labouring class and one or two travellers |
| who might have been small local storekeepers made up the rest |
| of the company, with the exception of one young man in a |
| corner by himself. It is with this man that we are concerned. |
| Take a good look at him, for he is worth it. |
| |
| He is a fresh-complexioned, middle-sized young man, not far, |
| one would guess, from his thirtieth year. He has large, shrewd, |
| humorous gray eyes which twinkle inquiringly from time to time |
| as he looks round through his spectacles at the people about him. |
| It is easy to see that he is of a sociable and possibly simple |
| disposition, anxious to be friendly to all men. Anyone could pick |
| him at once as gregarious in his habits and communicative in his |
| nature, with a quick wit and a ready smile. And yet the man who |
| studied him more closely might discern a certain firmness of jaw |
| and grim tightness about the lips which would warn him that |
| there were depths beyond, and that this pleasant, brown-haired |
| young Irishman might conceivably leave his mark for good or |
| evil upon any society to which he was introduced. |
| |
| Having made one or two tentative remarks to the nearest |
| miner, and receiving only short, gruff replies, the traveller |
| resigned himself to uncongenial silence, staring moodily out |
| of the window at the fading landscape. |
| |
| It was not a cheering prospect. Through the growing gloom |
| there pulsed the red glow of the furnaces on the sides of the hills. |
| Great heaps of slag and dumps of cinders loomed up on each |
| side, with the high shafts of the collieries towering above them. |
| Huddled groups of mean, wooden houses, the windows of which |
| were beginning to outline themselves in light, were scattered |
| here and there along the line, and the frequent halting places |
| were crowded with their swarthy inhabitants. |
| |
| The iron and coal valleys of the Vermissa district were no |
| resorts for the leisured or the cultured. Everywhere there were |
| stern signs of the crudest battle of life, the rude work to be |
| done, and the rude, strong workers who did it. |
| |
| The young traveller gazed out into this dismal country with a |
| face of mingled repulsion and interest, which showed that the |
| scene was new to him. At intervals he drew from his pocket a |
| bulky letter to which he referred, and on the margins of which |
| he scribbled some notes. Once from the back of his waist he |
| produced something which one would hardly have expected to |
| find in the possession of so mild-mannered a man. It was a navy |
| revolver of the largest size. As he turned it slantwise to the |
| light, the glint upon the rims of the copper shells within the |
| drum showed that it was fully loaded. He quickly restored it to |
| his secret pocket, but not before it had been observed by a |
| working man who had seated himself upon the adjoining bench. |
| |
| "Hullo, mate!" said he. "You seem heeled and ready." |
| |
| The young man smiled with an air of embarrassment. |
| |
| "Yes," said he, "we need them sometimes in the place I |
| come from." |
| |
| "And where may that be?" |
| |
| "I'm last from Chicago." |
| |
| "A stranger in these parts?" |
| |
| "Yes." |
| |
| "You may find you need it here," said the workman. |
| |
| "Ah! is that so?" The young man seemed interested. |
| |
| "Have you heard nothing of doings hereabouts?" |
| |
| "Nothing out of the way." |
| |
| "Why, I thought the country was full of it. You'll hear quick |
| enough. What made you come here?" |
| |
| "I heard there was always work for a willing man." |
| |
| "Are you a member of the union?" |
| |
| "Sure." |
| |
| "Then you'll get your job, I guess. Have you any friends?" |
| |
| "Not yet; but I have the means of making them." |
| |
| "How's that, then?" |
| |
| "I am one of the Eminent Order of Freemen. There's no town |
| without a lodge, and where there is a lodge I'll find my friends." |
| |
| The remark had a singular effect upon his companion. He |
| glanced round suspiciously at the others in the car. The miners |
| were still whispering among themselves. The two police officers |
| were dozing. He came across, seated himself close to the young |
| traveller, and held out his hand. |
| |
| "Put it there," he said. |
| |
| A hand-grip passed between the two. |
| |
| "I see you speak the truth," said the workman. "But it's well |
| to make certain." He raised his right hand to his right eyebrow. |
| The traveller at once raised his left hand to his left eyebrow. |
| |
| "Dark nights are unpleasant," said the workman. |
| |
| "Yes, for strangers to travel," the other answered. |
| |
| "That's good enough. I'm Brother Scanlan, Lodge 341, |
| Vermissa Valley. Glad to see you in these parts." |
| |
| "Thank you. I'm Brother John McMurdo, Lodge 29, Chicago. |
| Bodymaster J. H. Scott. But I am in luck to meet a brother |
| so early." |
| |
| "Well, there are plenty of us about. You won't find the order |
| more flourishing anywhere in the States than right here in Vermissa |
| Valley. But we could do with some lads like you. I can't |
| understand a spry man of the union finding no work to do in |
| Chicago." |
| |
| "I found plenty of work to do," said McMurdo. |
| |
| "Then why did you leave?" |
| |
| McMurdo nodded towards the policemen and smiled. "I guess |
| those chaps would be glad to know," he said. |
| |
| Scanlan groaned sympathetically. "In trouble?" he asked in a |
| whisper. |
| |
| "Deep." |
| |
| "A penitentiary job?" |
| |
| "And the rest." |
| |
| "Not a killing!" |
| |
| "It's early days to talk of such things," said McMurdo with |
| the air of a man who had been surprised into saying more than he |
| intended. "I've my own good reasons for leaving Chicago, and |
| let that be enough for you. Who are you that you should take it |
| on yourself to ask such things?" His gray eyes gleamed with |
| sudden and dangerous anger from behind his glasses. |
| |
| "All right, mate, no offense meant. The boys will think none |
| the worse of you, whatever you may have done. Where are you |
| bound for now?" |
| |
| "Vermissa." |
| |
| "That's the third halt down the line. Where are you staying?" |
| |
| McMurdo took out an envelope and held it close to the murky |
| oil lamp. "Here is the address -- Jacob Shafter, Sheridan Street. |
| It's a boarding house that was recommended by a man I knew in |
| Chicago." |
| |
| "Well, I don't know it; but Vermissa is out of my beat. I live |
| at Hobson's Patch, and that's here where we are drawing up. |
| But, say, there's one bit of advice I'll give you before we part: If |
| you're in trouble in Vermissa, go straight to the Union House |
| and see Boss McGinty. He is the Bodymaster of Vermissa |
| Lodge, and nothing can happen in these parts unless Black Jack |
| McGinty wants it. So long, mate! Maybe we'll meet in lodge |
| one of these evenings. But mind my words: If you are in trouble, |
| go to Boss McGinty." |
| |
| Scanlan descended, and McMurdo was left once again to his |
| thoughts. Night had now fallen, and the flames of the frequent |
| furnaces were roaring and leaping in the darkness. Against their |
| lurid background dark figures were bending and straining, twisting |
| and turning, with the motion of winch or of windlass, to the |
| rhythm of an eternal clank and roar. |
| |
| "I guess hell must look something like that," said a voice. |
| |
| McMurdo turned and saw that one of the policemen had |
| shifted in his seat and was staring out into the fiery waste. |
| |
| "For that matter," said the other policeman, "I allow that hell |
| must be something like that. If there are worse devils down |
| yonder than some we could name, it's more than I'd expect. I |
| guess you are new to this part, young man?" |
| |
| "Well, what if I am?" McMurdo answered in a surly voice. |
| |
| "Just this, mister, that I should advise you to be careful in |
| choosing your friends. I don't think I'd begin with Mike Scanlan |
| or his gang if I were you." |
| |
| "What the hell is it to you who are my friends?" roared |
| McMurdo in a voice which brought every head in the carriage |
| round to witness the altercation. "Did I ask you for your advice, |
| or did you think me such a sucker that I couldn't move without |
| it? You speak when you are spoken to, and by the Lord you'd |
| have to wait a long time if it was me!" He thrust out his face and |
| grinned at the patrolmen like a snarling dog. |
| |
| The two policemen, heavy, good-natured men, were taken |
| aback by the extraordinary vehemence with which their friendly |
| advances had been rejected. |
| |
| "No offense, stranger," said one. "It was a warning for your |
| own good, seeing that you are, by your own showing, new to the |
| place." |
| |
| "I'm new to the place; but I'm not new to you and your |
| kind!" cried McMurdo in cold fury. "I guess you're the same in |
| all places, shoving your advice in when nobody asks for it." |
| |
| "Maybe we'll see more of you before very long," said one of |
| the patrolmen with a grin. "You're a real hand-picked one, if I |
| am a judge." |
| |
| "I was thinking the same," remarked the other. "I guess we |
| may meet again." |
| |
| "I'm not afraid of you, and don't you think it!" cried McMurdo. |
| "My name's Jack McMurdo -- see? If you want me, you'll find |
| me at Jacob Shafter's on Sheridan Street, Vermissa; so I'm not |
| hiding from you, am I? Day or night I dare to look the like of |
| you in the face -- don't make any mistake about that!" |
| |
| There was a murmur of sympathy and admiration from the |
| miners at the dauntless demeanour of the newcomer, while the |
| two policemen shrugged their shoulders and renewed a |
| conversation between themselves. |
| |
| A few minutes later the train ran into the ill-lit station, and |
| there was a general clearing; for Vermissa was by far the largest |
| town on the line. McMurdo picked up his leather gripsack and |
| was about to start off into the darkness, when one of the miners |
| accosted him. |
| |
| "By Gar, mate! you know how to speak to the cops," he said |
| in a voice of awe. "It was grand to hear you. Let me carry your |
| grip and show you the road. I'm passing Shafter's on the way to |
| my own shack." |
| |
| There was a chorus of friendly "Good-nights" from the other |
| miners as they passed from the platform. Before ever he had set |
| foot in it, McMurdo the turbulent had become a character in |
| Vermissa. |
| |
| The country had been a place of terror; but the town was in its |
| way even more depressing. Down that long valley there was at |
| least a certain gloomy grandeur in the huge fires and the clouds |
| of drifting smoke, while the strength and industry of man found |
| fitting monuments in the hills which he had spilled by the side of |
| his monstrous excavations. But the town showed a dead level of |
| mean ugliness and squalor. The broad street was churned up by |
| the traffic into a horrible rutted paste of muddy snow. The |
| sidewalks were narrow and uneven. The numerous gas-lamps |
| served only to show more clearly a long line of wooden houses, |
| each with its veranda facing the street, unkempt and dirty. |
| |
| As they approached the centre of the town the scene was |
| brightened by a row of well-lit stores, and even more by a cluster |
| of saloons and gaming houses, in which the miners spent their |
| hard-earned but generous wages. |
| |
| "That's the Union House," said the guide, pointing to one |
| saloon which rose almost to the dignity of being a hotel. "Jack |
| McGinty is the boss there." |
| |
| "What sort of a man is he?" McMurdo asked. |
| |
| "What! have you never heard of the boss?" |
| |
| "How could I have heard of him when you know that I am a |
| stranger in these parts?" |
| |
| "Well, I thought his name was known clear across the country. |
| It's been in the papers often enough." |
| |
| "What for?" |
| |
| "Well," the miner lowered his voice -- "over the affairs." |
| |
| "What affairs?" |
| |
| "Good Lord, mister! you are queer, if I must say it without |
| offense. There's only one set of affairs that you'll hear of in |
| these parts, and that's the affairs of the Scowrers." |
| |
| "Why, I seem to have read of the Scowrers in Chicago. A |
| gang of murderers, are they not?" |
| |
| "Hush, on your life!" cried the miner, standing still in alarm, |
| and gazing in amazement at his companion. "Man, you won't |
| live long in these parts if you speak in the open street like that. |
| Many a man has had the life beaten out of him for less." |
| |
| "Well, I know nothing about them. It's only what I have |
| read." |
| |
| "And I'm not saying that you have not read the truth." The |
| man looked nervously round him as he spoke, peering into the |
| shadows as if he feared to see some lurking danger. "If killing is |
| murder, then God knows there is murder and to spare. But don't |
| you dare to breathe the name of Jack McGinty in connection |
| with it, stranger; for every whisper goes back to him, and he is |
| not one that is likely to let it pass. Now, that's the house you're |
| after, that one standing back from the street. You'll find old |
| Jacob Shafter that runs it as honest a man as lives in this |
| township." |
| |
| "I thank you," said McMurdo, and shaking hands with his |
| new acquaintance he plodded, gripsack in hand, up the path |
| which led to the dwelling house, at the door of which he gave a |
| resounding knock. |
| |
| It was opened at once by someone very different from what he |
| had expected. It was a woman, young and singularly beautiful. |
| She was of the German type, blonde and fair-haired, with the |
| piquant contrast of a pair of beautiful dark eyes with which she |
| surveyed the stranger with surprise and a pleasing embarrassment |
| which brought a wave of colour over her pale face. Framed in |
| the bright light of the open doorway, it seemed to McMurdo that |
| he had never seen a more beautiful picture; the more attractive |
| for its contrast with the sordid and gloomy surroundings. A |
| lovely violet growing upon one of those black slag-heaps of the |
| mines would not have seemed more surprising. So entranced was |
| he that he stood staring without a word, and it was she who |
| broke the silence. |
| |
| "I thought it was father," said she with a pleasing little touch |
| of a German accent. "Did you come to see him? He is downtown. |
| I expect him back every minute." |
| |
| McMurdo continued to gaze at her in open admiration until |
| her eyes dropped in confusion before this masterful visitor. |
| |
| "No, miss," he said at last, "I'm in no hurry to see him. But |
| your house was recommended to me for board. I thought it might |
| suit me -- and now I know it will." |
| |
| "You are quick to make up your mind," said she with a |
| smile. |
| |
| "Anyone but a blind man could do as much," the other |
| answered. |
| |
| She laughed at the compliment. "Come right in, sir," she |
| said. "I'm Miss Ettie Shafter, Mr. Shafter's daughter. My mother's |
| dead, and I run the house. You can sit down by the stove in the |
| front room until father comes along -- Ah, here he is! So you can |
| fix things with him right away." |
| |
| A heavy, elderly man came plodding up the path. In a few |
| words McMurdo explained his business. A man of the name of |
| Murphy had given him the address in Chicago. He in turn had |
| had it from someone else. Old Shafter was quite ready. The |
| stranger made no bones about terms, agreed at once to every |
| condition, and was apparently fairly flush of money. For seven |
| dollars a week paid in advance he was to have board and |
| lodging. |
| |
| So it was that McMurdo, the self-confessed fugitive from |
| justice, took up his abode under the roof of the Shafters, the first |
| step which was to lead to so long and dark a train of events, |
| ending in a far distant land. |
| |
| |
| |
| Chapter 2 |
| The Bodymaster |
| |
| McMurdo was a man who made his mark quickly. Wherever he |
| was the folk around soon knew it. Within a week he had become |
| infinitely the most important person at Shafter's. There were ten |
| or a dozen boarders there; but they were honest foremen or |
| commonplace clerks from the stores, of a very different calibre |
| from the young Irishman. Of an evening when they gathered |
| together his joke was always the readiest, his conversation the |
| brightest, and his song the best. He was a born boon companion, |
| with a magnetism which drew good humour from all around |
| him. |
| |
| And yet he showed again and again, as he had shown in the |
| railway carriage, a capacity for sudden, fierce anger, which |
| compelled the respect and even the fear of those who met him. |
| For the law, too, and all who were connected with it, he |
| exhibited a bitter contempt which delighted some and alarmed |
| others of his fellow boarders. |
| |
| From the first he made it evident, by his open admiration, that |
| the daughter of the house had won his heart from the instant that |
| he had set eyes upon her beauty and her grace. He was no |
| backward suitor. On the second day he told her that he loved |
| her, and from then onward he repeated the same story with an |
| absolute disregard of what she might say to discourage him. |
| |
| "Someone else?" he would cry. "Well, the worse luck for |
| someone else! Let him look out for himself! Am I to lose my |
| life's chance and all my heart's desire for someone else? You |
| can keep on saying no, Ettie: the day will come when you will |
| say yes, and I'm young enough to wait." |
| |
| He was a dangerous suitor, with his glib Irish tongue, and his |
| pretty, coaxing ways. There was about him also that glamour of |
| experience and of mystery which attracts a woman's interest, and |
| finally her love. He could talk of the sweet valleys of County |
| Monaghan from which he came, of the lovely, distant island, the |
| low hills and green meadows of which seemed the more beautiful |
| when imagination viewed them from this place of grime and snow. |
| |
| Then he was versed in the life of the cities of the North, of |
| Detroit, and the lumber camps of Michigan, and finally of |
| Chicago, where he had worked in a planing mill. And afterwards |
| came the hint of romance, the feeling that strange things had |
| happened to him in that great city, so strange and so intimate that |
| they might not be spoken of. He spoke wistfully of a sudden |
| leaving, a breaking of old ties, a flight into a strange world, |
| ending in this dreary valley, and Ettie listened, her dark eyes |
| gleaming with pity and with sympathy -- those two qualities which |
| may turn so rapidly and so naturally to love. |
| |
| McMurdo had obtained a temporary job as bookkeeper; for he |
| was a well-educated man. This kept him out most of the day, and |
| he had not found occasion yet to report himself to the head of the |
| lodge of the Eminent Order of Freemen. He was reminded of his |
| omission, however, by a visit one evening from Mike Scanlan, |
| the fellow member whom he had met in the train. Scanlan, the |
| small, sharp-faced, nervous, black-eyed man, seemed glad to see |
| him once more. After a glass or two of whisky he broached the |
| object of his visit. |
| |
| "Say, McMurdo," said he, "I remembered your address, so l |
| made bold to call. I'm surprised that you've not reported to the |
| Bodymaster. Why haven't you seen Boss McGinty yet?" |
| |
| "Well, I had to find a job. I have been busy." |
| |
| "You must find time for him if you have none for anything |
| else. Good Lord, man! you're a fool not to have been down to |
| the Union House and registered your name the first morning after |
| you came here! If you run against him -- well, you mustn't, that's |
| all!" |
| |
| McMurdo showed mild surprise. "I've been a member of the |
| lodge for over two years, Scanlan, but I never heard that duties |
| were so pressing as all that." |
| |
| "Maybe not in Chicago." |
| |
| "Well, it's the same society here." |
| |
| "Is it?" |
| |
| Scanlan looked at him long and fixedly. There was something |
| sinister in his eyes. |
| |
| "Isn't it?" |
| |
| "You'll tell me that in a month's time. I hear you had a talk |
| with the patrolmen after I left the train." |
| |
| "How did you know that?" |
| |
| "Oh, it got about -- things do get about for good and for bad in |
| this district." |
| |
| "Well, yes. I told the hounds what I thought of them." |
| |
| "By the Lord, you'll be a man after McGinty's heart!" |
| |
| "What, does he hate the police too?" |
| |
| Scanlan burst out laughing. "You go and see him, my lad," |
| said he as he took his leave. "It's not the police but you that |
| he'll hate if you don't! Now, take a friend's advice and go at |
| once!" |
| |
| It chanced that on the same evening McMurdo had another |
| more pressing interview which urged him in the same direction. |
| It may have been that his attentions to Ettie had been more |
| evident than before, or that they had gradually obtruded |
| themselves into the slow mind of his good German host; but, |
| whatever the cause, the boarding-house keeper beckoned the young |
| man into his private room and started on the subject without any |
| circumlocution. |
| |
| "It seems to me, mister," said he, "that you are gettin' set on |
| my Ettie. Ain't that so, or am I wrong?" |
| |
| "Yes, that is so," the young man answered. |
| |
| "Vell, I vant to tell you right now that it ain't no manner of |
| use. There's someone slipped in afore you." |
| |
| "She told me so." |
| |
| "Vell, you can lay that she told you truth. But did she tell you |
| who it vas?" |
| |
| "No, I asked her; but she wouldn't tell." |
| |
| "I dare say not, the leetle baggage! Perhaps she did not vish |
| to frighten you avay." |
| |
| "Frighten!" McMurdo was on fire in a moment. |
| |
| "Ah, yes, my friend! You need not be ashamed to be frightened |
| of him. It is Teddy Baldwin." |
| |
| "And who the devil is he?" |
| |
| "He is a boss of Scowrers." |
| |
| "Scowrers! I've heard of them before. It's Scowrers here and |
| Scowrers there, and always in a whisper! What are you all afraid |
| of? Who are the Scowrers?" |
| |
| The boarding-house keeper instinctively sank his voice, as |
| everyone did who talked about that terrible society. "The |
| Scowrers," said he, "are the Eminent Order of Freemen!" |
| |
| The young man stared. "Why, I am a member of that order |
| myself." |
| |
| "You! I vould never have had you in my house if I had known |
| it -- not if you vere to pay me a hundred dollar a week." |
| |
| "What's wrong with the order? It's for charity and good |
| fellowship. The rules say so." |
| |
| "Maybe in some places. Not here!" |
| |
| "What is it here?" |
| |
| "It's a murder society, that's vat it is." |
| |
| McMurdo laughed incredulously. "How can you prove that?" |
| he asked. |
| |
| "Prove it! Are there not fifty murders to prove it? Vat about |
| Milman and Van Shorst, and the Nicholson family, and old Mr. |
| Hyam, and little Billy James, and the others? Prove it! Is there a |
| man or a voman in this valley vat does not know it?" |
| |
| "See here!" said McMurdo earnestly. "I want you to take |
| back what you've said, or else make it good. One or the other |
| you must do before I quit this room. Put yourself in my place. |
| Here am I, a stranger in the town. I belong to a society that I |
| know only as an innocent one. You'll find it through the length |
| and breadth of the States, but always as an innocent one. Now, |
| when I am counting upon joining it here, you tell me that it is the |
| same as a murder society called the Scowrers. I guess you owe |
| me either an apology or else an explanation, Mr. Shafter." |
| |
| "I can but tell you vat the whole vorld knows, mister. The |
| bosses of the one are the bosses of the other. If you offend the |
| one, it is the other vat vill strike you. We have proved it too |
| often." |
| |
| "That's just gossip -- I want proof!" said McMurdo. |
| |
| "If you live here long you vill get your proof. But I forget that |
| you are yourself one of them. You vill soon be as bad as the rest. |
| But you vill find other lodgings, mister. I cannot have you here. |
| Is it not bad enough that one of these people come courting my |
| Ettie, and that I dare not turn him down, but that I should have |
| another for my boarder? Yes, indeed, you shall not sleep here |
| after to-night!" |
| |
| McMurdo found himself under sentence of banishment both |
| from his comfortable quarters and from the girl whom he loved. |
| He found her alone in the sitting-room that same evening, and he |
| poured his troubles into her ear. |
| |
| "Sure, your father is after giving me notice," he said. "It's |
| little I would care if it was just my room, but indeed, Ettie, |
| though it's only a week that I've known you, you are the very |
| breath of life to me, and I can't live without you!" |
| |
| "Oh, hush, Mr. McMurdo, don't speak so!" said the girl. "I |
| have told you, have I not, that you are too late? There is another, |
| and if I have not promised to marry him at once, at least I can |
| promise no one else." |
| |
| "Suppose I had been first, Ettie, would I have had a chance?" |
| |
| The girl sank her face into her hands. "I wish to heaven that |
| you had been first!" she sobbed. |
| |
| McMurdo was down on his knees before her in an instant. |
| "For God's sake, Ettie, let it stand at that!" he cried. "Will you |
| ruin your life and my own for the sake of this promise? Follow |
| your heart, acushla! 'Tis a safer guide than any promise before |
| you knew what it was that you were saying." |
| |
| He had seized Ettie's white hand between his own strong |
| brown ones. |
| |
| "Say that you will be mine, and we will face it out together!" |
| |
| "Not here?" |
| |
| "Yes, here." |
| |
| "No, no, Jack!" His arms were round her now. "It could not |
| be here. Could you take me away?" |
| |
| A struggle passed for a moment over McMurdo's face; but it |
| ended by setting like granite. "No, here," he said. "I'll hold |
| you against the world, Ettie, right here where we are!" |
| |
| "Why should we not leave together?" |
| |
| "No, Ettie, I can't leave here." |
| |
| "But why?" |
| |
| "I'd never hold my head up again if I felt that I had been |
| driven out. Besides, what is there to be afraid of? Are we not |
| free folks in a free country? If you love me, and I you, who will |
| dare to come between?" |
| |
| "You don't know, Jack. You've been here too short a time. |
| You don't know this Baldwin. You don't know McGinty and his |
| Scowrers." |
| |
| "No, I don't know them, and I don't fear them, and I don't |
| believe in them!" said McMurdo. "I've lived among rough |
| men, my darling, and instead of fearing them it has always |
| ended that they have feared me -- always, Ettie. It's mad on the |
| face of it! If these men, as your father says, have done crime |
| after crime in the valley, and if everyone knows them by name, |
| how comes it that none are brought to justice? You answer me |
| that, Ettie!" |
| |
| "Because no witness dares to appear against them. He would |
| not live a month if he did. Also because they have always their |
| own men to swear that the accused one was far from the scene of |
| the crime. But surely, Jack, you must have read all this. I had |
| understood that every paper in the United States was writing |
| about it." |
| |
| "Well, I have read something, it is true; but I had thought it |
| was a story. Maybe these men have some reason in what they |
| do. Maybe they are wronged and have no other way to help |
| themselves." |
| |
| "Oh, Jack, don't let me hear you speak so! That is how he |
| speaks -- the other one!" |
| |
| "Baldwin -- he speaks like that, does he?" |
| |
| "And that is why I loathe him so. Oh, Jack, now I can tell |
| you the truth. I loathe him with all my heart; but I fear him also. |
| I fear him for myself; but above all I fear him for father. I know |
| that some great sorrow would come upon us if I dared to say |
| what I really felt. That is why I have put him off with half- |
| promises. It was in real truth our only hope. But if you would fly |
| with me, Jack, we could take father with us and live forever far |
| from the power of these wicked men." |
| |
| Again there was the struggle upon McMurdo's face, and again |
| it set like granite. "No harm shall come to you, Ettie -- nor to |
| your father either. As to wicked men, I expect you may find that |
| I am as bad as the worst of them before we're through." |
| |
| "No, no, Jack! I would trust you anywhere." |
| |
| McMurdo laughed bitterly. "Good Lord! how little you know |
| of me! Your innocent soul, my darling, could not even guess |
| what is passing in mine. But, hullo, who's the visitor?" |
| |
| The door had opened suddenly, and a young fellow came |
| swaggering in with the air of one who is the master. He was a |
| handsome, dashing young man of about the same age and build as |
| McMurdo himself. Under his broad-brimmed black felt hat, |
| which he had not troubled to remove, a handsome face with |
| fierce, domineering eyes and a curved hawk-bill of a nose looked |
| savagely at the pair who sat by the stove. |
| |
| Ettie had jumped to her feet full of confusion and alarm. "I'm |
| glad to see you, Mr. Baldwin," said she. "You're earlier than I |
| had thought. Come and sit down." |
| |
| Baldwin stood with his hands on his hips looking at McMurdo. |
| "Who is this?" he asked curtly. |
| |
| "It's a friend of mine, Mr. Baldwin, a new boarder here. Mr. |
| McMurdo, may I introduce you to Mr. Baldwin?" |
| |
| The young men nodded in surly fashion to each other. |
| |
| "Maybe Miss Ettie has told you how it is with us?" said |
| Baldwin. |
| |
| "I didn't understand that there was any relation between |
| you." |
| |
| "Didn't you? Well, you can understand it now. You can take |
| it from me that this young lady is mine, and you'll find it a very |
| fine evening for a walk." |
| |
| "Thank you, I am in no humour for a walk." |
| |
| "Aren't you?" The man's savage eyes were blazing with |
| anger. "Maybe you are in a humour for a fight, Mr. Boarder!" |
| |
| "That I am!" cried McMurdo, springing to his feet. "You |
| never said a more welcome word." |
| |
| "For God's sake, Jack! Oh, for God's sake!" cried poor, |
| distracted Ettie. "Oh, Jack, Jack, he will hurt you!" |
| |
| "Oh, it's Jack, is it?" said Baldwin with an oath. "You've |
| come to that already, have you?" |
| |
| "Oh, Ted, be reasonable -- be kind! For my sake, Ted, if ever |
| you loved me, be big-hearted and forgiving!" |
| |
| "I think, Ettie, that if you were to leave us alone we could get |
| this thing settled," said McMurdo quietly. "Or maybe, Mr. |
| Baldwin, you will take a turn down the street with me. It's a fine |
| evening, and there's some open ground beyond the next block." |
| |
| "I'll get even with you without needing to dirty my hands," |
| said his enemy. "You'll wish you had never set foot in this |
| house before I am through with you!" |
| |
| "No time like the present," cried McMurdo. |
| |
| "I'll choose my own time, mister. You can leave the time to |
| me. See here!" He suddenly rolled up his sleeve and showed |
| upon his forearm a peculiar sign which appeared to have been |
| branded there. It was a circle with a triangle within it. "D'you |
| know what that means?" |
| |
| "I neither know nor care!" |
| |
| "Well, you will know, I'll promise you that. You won't be |
| much older, either. Perhaps Miss Ettie can tell you something |
| about it. As to you, Ettie, you'll come back to me on your |
| knees -- d'ye hear, girl? -- on your knees -- and then I'll tell you |
| what your punishment may be. You've sowed -- and by the Lord, |
| I'll see that you reap!" He glanced at them both in fury. Then he |
| turned upon his heel, and an instant later the outer door had |
| banged behind him. |
| |
| For a few moments McMurdo and the girl stood in silence. |
| Then she threw her arms around him. |
| |
| "Oh, Jack, how brave you were! But it is no use, you must |
| fly! To-night -- Jack -- to-night! It's your only hope. He will have |
| your life. I read it in his horrible eyes. What chance have you |
| against a dozen of them, with Boss McGinty and all the power of |
| the lodge behind them?" |
| |
| McMurdo disengaged her hands, kissed her, and gently pushed |
| her back into a chair. "There, acushla, there! Don't be disturbed |
| or fear for me. I'm a Freeman myself. I'm after telling your |
| father about it. Maybe I am no better than the others; so don't |
| make a saint of me. Perhaps you hate me too, now that I've told |
| you as much?" |
| |
| "Hate you, Jack? While life lasts I could never do that! I've |
| heard that there is no harm in being a Freeman anywhere but |
| here; so why should I think the worse of you for that? But if you |
| are a Freeman, Jack, why should you not go down and make a |
| friend of Boss McGinty? Oh, hurry, Jack, hurry! Get your word |
| in first, or the hounds will be on your trail." |
| |
| "I was thinking the same thing," said McMurdo. "I'll go |
| right now and fix it. You can tell your father that I'll sleep here |
| to-night and find some other quarters in the morning." |
| |
| The bar of McGinty's saloon was crowded as usual, for it was |
| the favourite loafing place of all the rougher elements of the |
| town. The man was popular; for he had a rough, jovial disposition |
| which formed a mask, covering a great deal which lay behind it. |
| But apart from this popularity, the fear in which he was held |
| throughout the township, and indeed down the whole thirty miles |
| of the valley and past the mountains on each side of it, was |
| enough in itself to fill his bar; for none could afford to neglect |
| his good will. |
| |
| Besides those secret powers which it was universally believed |
| that he exercised in so pitiless a fashion, he was a high public |
| official, a municipal councillor, and a commissioner of roads, |
| elected to the office through the votes of the ruffians who in turn |
| expected to receive favours at his hands. Assessments and taxes |
| were enormous; the public works were notoriously neglected, the |
| accounts were slurred over by bribed auditors, and the decent |
| citizen was terrorized into paying public blackmail, and holding |
| his tongue lest some worse thing befall him. |
| |
| Thus it was that, year by year, Boss McGinty's diamond pins |
| became more obtrusive, his gold chains more weighty across a |
| more gorgeous vest, and his saloon stretched farther and farther, |
| until it threatened to absorb one whole side of the Market Square. |
| |
| McMurdo pushed open the swinging door of the saloon and made his way |
| amid the crowd of men within, through an atmosphere blurred with |
| tobacco smoke and heavy with the smell of spirits. The place was |
| brilliantly lighted, and the huge, heavily gilt mirrors upon every |
| wall reflected and multiplied the garish illumination. There were |
| several bartenders in their shirt sleeves, hard at work mixing drinks |
| for the loungers who fringed the broad, brass-trimmed counter. |
| |
| At the far end, with his body resting upon the bar and a cigar |
| stuck at an acute angle from the corner of his mouth, stood a tall, |
| strong, heavily built man who could be none other than the |
| famous McGinty himself. He was a black-maned giant, bearded |
| to the cheek-bones, and with a shock of raven hair which fell to |
| his collar. His complexion was as swarthy as that of an Italian, |
| and his eyes were of a strange dead black, which, combined with |
| a slight squint, gave them a particularly sinister appearance. |
| |
| All else in the man -- his noble proportions, his fine features, |
| and his frank bearing -- fitted in with that jovial, man-to-man |
| manner which he affected. Here, one would say, is a bluff, |
| honest fellow, whose heart would be sound however rude his |
| outspoken words might seem. It was only when those dead, dark |
| eyes, deep and remorseless, were turned upon a man that he |
| shrank within himself, feeling that he was face to face with an |
| infinite possibility of latent evil, with a strength and courage and |
| cunning behind it which made it a thousand times more deadly. |
| |
| Having had a good look at his man, McMurdo elbowed his way forward |
| with his usual careless audacity, and pushed himself through the |
| little group of courtiers who were fawning upon the powerful boss, |
| laughing uproariously at the smallest of his jokes. The young |
| stranger's bold gray eyes looked back fearlessly through their |
| glasses at the deadly black ones which turned sharply upon him. |
| |
| "Well, young man, I can't call your face to mind." |
| |
| "I'm new here, Mr. McGinty." |
| |
| "You are not so new that you can't give a gentleman his |
| proper title." |
| |
| "He's Councillor McGinty, young man," said a voice from |
| the group. |
| |
| "I'm sorry, Councillor. I'm strange to the ways of the place. |
| But I was advised to see you." |
| |
| "Well, you see me. This is all there is. What d'you think of |
| me?" |
| |
| "Well, it's early days. If your heart is as big as your body, and |
| your soul as fine as your face, then I'd ask for nothing better," |
| said McMurdo. |
| |
| "By Gar! you've got an Irish tongue in your head anyhow," |
| cried the saloon-keeper, not quite certain whether to humour this |
| audacious visitor or to stand upon his dignity. |
| |
| "So you are good enough to pass my appearance?" |
| |
| "Sure," said McMurdo. |
| |
| "And you were told to see me?" |
| |
| "I was." |
| |
| "And who told you?" |
| |
| "Brother Scanlan of Lodge 341, Vermissa. I drink your health |
| Councillor, and to our better acquaintance." He raised a glass |
| with which he had been served to his lips and elevated his little |
| finger as he drank it. |
| |
| McGinty, who had been watching him narrowly, raised his |
| thick black eyebrows. "Oh, it's like that, is it?" said he. "I'll |
| have to look a bit closer into this, Mister --" |
| |
| "McMurdo." |
| |
| "A bit closer, Mr. McMurdo; for we don't take folk on trust |
| in these parts, nor believe all we're told neither. Come in here |
| for a moment, behind the bar." |
| |
| There was a small room there, lined with barrels. McGinty |
| carefully closed the door, and then seated himself on one of |
| them, biting thoughtfully on his cigar and surveying his companion |
| with those disquieting eyes. For a couple of minutes he sat in |
| complete silence. McMurdo bore the inspection cheerfully, one |
| hand in his coat pocket, the other twisting his brown moustache. |
| Suddenly McGinty stooped and produced a wicked-looking revolver. |
| |
| "See here, my joker," said he, "if I thought you were |
| playing any game on us, it would be short work for you." |
| |
| "This is a strange welcome," McMurdo answered with some |
| dignity, "for the Bodymaster of a lodge of Freemen to give to a |
| stranger brother." |
| |
| "Ay, but it's just that same that you have to prove," said |
| McGinty, "and God help you if you fail! Where were you |
| made?" |
| |
| "Lodge 29, Chicago." |
| |
| "When?" |
| |
| "June 24, 1872." |
| |
| "What Bodymaster?" |
| |
| "James H. Scott." |
| |
| "Who is your district ruler?" |
| |
| "Bartholomew Wilson." |
| |
| "Hum! You seem glib enough in your tests. What are you |
| doing here?" |
| |
| "Working, the same as you -- but a poorer job." |
| |
| "You have your back answer quick enough." |
| |
| "Yes, I was always quick of speech." |
| |
| "Are you quick of action?" |
| |
| "I have had that name among those that knew me best." |
| |
| "Well, we may try you sooner than you think. Have you |
| heard anything of the lodge in these parts?" |
| |
| "I've heard that it takes a man to be a brother." |
| |
| "True for you, Mr. McMurdo. Why did you leave Chicago?" |
| |
| "I'm damned if I tell you that!" |
| |
| McGinty opened his eyes. He was not used to being answered |
| in such fashion, and it amused him. "Why won't you tell me?" |
| |
| "Because no brother may tell another a lie." |
| |
| "Then the truth is too bad to tell?" |
| |
| "You can put it that way if you like." |
| |
| "See here, mister, you can't expect me, as Bodymaster, to |
| pass into the lodge a man for whose past he can't answer." |
| |
| McMurdo looked puzzled. Then he took a worn newspaper |
| cutting from an inner pocket. |
| |
| "You wouldn't squeal on a fellow?" said he. |
| |
| "I'll wipe my hand across your face if you say such words to |
| me!" cried McGinty hotly. |
| |
| "You are right, Councillor," said McMurdo meekly. "I should |
| apologize. I spoke without thought. Well, I know that I am safe |
| in your hands. Look at that clipping." |
| |
| McGinty glanced his eyes over the account of the shooting of |
| one Jonas Pinto, in the Lake Saloon, Market Street, Chicago, in |
| the New Year week of 1874. |
| |
| "Your work?" he asked, as he handed back the paper. |
| |
| McMurdo nodded. |
| |
| "Why did you shoot him?" |
| |
| "I was helping Uncle Sam to make dollars. Maybe mine were |
| not as good gold as his, but they looked as well and were cheaper |
| to make. This man Pinto helped me to shove the queer --" |
| |
| "To do what?" |
| |
| "Well, it means to pass the dollars out into circulation. Then |
| he said he would split. Maybe he did split. I didn't wait to see. I |
| just killed him and lighted out for the coal country." |
| |
| "Why the coal country?" |
| |
| "'Cause I'd read in the papers that they weren't too particular |
| in those parts." |
| |
| McGinty laughed. "You were first a coiner and then a murderer, |
| and you came to these parts because you thought you'd be welcome." |
| |
| "That's about the size of it," McMurdo answered. |
| |
| "Well, I guess you'll go far. Say, can you make those dollars |
| yet?" |
| |
| McMurdo took half a dozen from his pocket. "Those never |
| passed the Philadelphia mint," said he. |
| |
| "You don't say!" McGinty held them to the light in his |
| enormous hand, which was hairy as a gorilla's. "I can see no |
| difference. Gar! you'll be a mighty useful brother, I'm thinking! |
| We can do with a bad man or two among us, Friend McMurdo: |
| for there are times when we have to take our own part. We'd |
| soon be against the wall if we didn't shove back at those that |
| were pushing us." |
| |
| "Well, I guess I'll do my share of shoving with the rest of the |
| boys." |
| |
| "You seem to have a good nerve. You didn't squirm when I |
| shoved this gun at you." |
| |
| "It was not me that was in danger." |
| |
| "Who then?" |
| |
| "It was you, Councillor." McMurdo drew a cocked pistol |
| from the side pocket of his peajacket. "I was covering you all |
| the time. I guess my shot would have been as quick as yours." |
| |
| "By Gar!" McGinty flushed an angry red and then burst into |
| a roar of laughter. "Say, we've had no such holy terror come to |
| hand this many a year. I reckon the lodge will learn to be proud |
| of you.... Well, what the hell do you want? And can't I speak |
| alone with a gentleman for five minutes but you must butt in on |
| us?" |
| |
| The bartender stood abashed. "I'm sorry, Councillor, but it's |
| Ted Baldwin. He says he must see you this very minute." |
| |
| The message was unnecessary; for the set, cruel face of the |
| man himself was looking over the servant's shoulder. He pushed |
| the bartender out and closed the door on him. |
| |
| "So," said he with a furious glance at McMurdo, "you got |
| here first, did you? I've a word to say to you, Councillor, about |
| this man." |
| |
| "Then say it here and now before my face," cried McMurdo. |
| |
| "I'll say it at my own time, in my own way." |
| |
| "Tut! Tut!" said McGinty, getting off his barrel. "This will |
| never do. We have a new brother here, Baldwin, and it's not for |
| us to greet him in such fashion. Hold out your hand, man, and |
| make it up!" |
| |
| "Never!" cried Baldwin in a fury. |
| |
| "I've offered to fight him if he thinks I have wronged him," |
| said McMurdo. "I'll fight him with fists, or, if that won't satisfy |
| him, I'll fight him any other way he chooses. Now, I'll leave it |
| to you, Councillor, to judge between us as a Bodymaster should." |
| |
| "What is it, then?" |
| |
| "A young lady. She's free to choose for herself." |
| |
| "Is she?" cried Baldwin. |
| |
| "As between two brothers of the lodge I should say that she |
| was," said the Boss. |
| |
| "Oh, that's your ruling, is it?" |
| |
| "Yes, it is, Ted Baldwin," said McGinty, with a wicked |
| stare. "Is it you that would dispute it?" |
| |
| "You would throw over one that has stood by you this five |
| years in favour of a man that you never saw before in your life? |
| You're not Bodymaster for life, Jack McGinty, and by God! |
| when next it comes to a vote --" |
| |
| The Councillor sprang at him like a tiger. His hand closed |
| round the other's neck, and he hurled him back across one of the |
| barrels. In his mad fury he would have squeezed the life out of |
| him if McMurdo had not interfered. |
| |
| "Easy, Councillor! For heaven's sake, go easy!" he cried, as |
| he dragged him back. |
| |
| McGinty released his hold, and Baldwin, cowed and shaken |
| gasping for breath, and shivering in every limb, as one who has |
| looked over the very edge of death, sat up on the barrel over |
| which he had been hurled. |
| |
| "You've been asking for it this many a day, Ted Baldwin -- |
| now you've got it!" cried McGinty, his huge chest rising and |
| falling. "Maybe you think if I was voted down from Bodymaster |
| you would find yourself in my shoes. It's for the lodge to say |
| that. But so long as I am the chief I'll have no man lift his voice |
| against me or my rulings." |
| |
| "I have nothing against you," mumbled Baldwin, feeling his |
| throat. |
| |
| "Well, then," cried the other, relapsing in a moment into a |
| bluff joviality, "we are all good friends again and there's an end |
| of the matter." |
| |
| He took a bottle of champagne down from the shelf and |
| twisted out the cork. |
| |
| "See now," he continued, as he filled three high glasses. |
| "Let us drink the quarrelling toast of the lodge. After that, as |
| you know, there can be no bad blood between us. Now, then |
| the left hand on the apple of my throat. I say to you, Ted |
| Baldwin, what is the offense, sir?" |
| |
| "The clouds are heavy," answered Baldwin |
| |
| "But they will forever brighten." |
| |
| "And this I swear!" |
| |
| The men drank their glasses, and the same ceremony was |
| performed between Baldwin and McMurdo |
| |
| "There!" cried McGinty, rubbing his hands. "That's the end |
| of the black blood. You come under lodge discipline if it goes |
| further, and that's a heavy hand in these parts, as Brother |
| Baldwin knows -- and as you will damn soon find out, Brother |
| McMurdo, if you ask for trouble!" |
| |
| "Faith, I'd be slow to do that," said McMurdo. He held out |
| his hand to Baldwin. "I'm quick to quarrel and quick to forgive. |
| It's my hot Irish blood, they tell me. But it's over for me, and I |
| bear no grudge." |
| |
| Baldwin had to take the proffered hand, for the baleful eye of |
| the terrible Boss was upon him. But his sullen face showed how |
| little the words of the other had moved him. |
| |
| McGinty clapped them both on the shoulders. "Tut! These |
| girls! These girls!" he cried. "To think that the same petticoats |
| should come between two of my boys! It's the devil's own luck! |
| Well, it's the colleen inside of them that must settle the question |
| for it's outside the jurisdiction of a Bodymaster -- and the Lord |
| be praised for that! We have enough on us, without the women |
| as well. You'll have to be affiliated to Lodge 341, Brother |
| McMurdo. We have our own ways and methods, different from |
| Chicago. Saturday night is our meeting, and if you come then, |
| we'll make you free forever of the Vermissa Valley." |
| |
| |
| |
| Chapter 3 |
| Lodge 341, Vermissa |
| |
| On the day following the evening which had contained so many |
| exciting events, McMurdo moved his lodgings from old Jacob |
| Shafter's and took up his quarters at the Widow MacNamara's |
| on the extreme outskirts of the town. Scanlan, his original |
| acquaintance aboard the train, had occasion shortly afterwards to |
| move into Vermissa, and the two lodged together. There was no |
| other boarder, and the hostess was an easy-going old Irishwoman |
| who left them to themselves; so that they had a freedom for |
| speech and action welcome to men who had secrets in common. |
| |
| Shafter had relented to the extent of letting McMurdo come to |
| his meals there when he liked; so that his intercourse with Ettie |
| was by no means broken. On the contrary, it drew closer and |
| more intimate as the weeks went by. |
| |
| In his bedroom at his new abode McMurdo felt it safe to take |
| out the coining moulds, and under many a pledge of secrecy a |
| number of brothers from the lodge were allowed to come in and |
| see them, each carrying away in his pocket some examples of the |
| false money, so cunningly struck that there was never the slightest |
| difficulty or danger in passing it. Why, with such a wonderful art |
| at his command, McMurdo should condescend to work at all was a |
| perpetual mystery to his companions; though he made it clear to |
| anyone who asked him that if he lived without any visible means it |
| would very quickly bring the police upon his track. |
| |
| One policeman was indeed after him already; but the incident, |
| as luck would have it, did the adventurer a great deal more good |
| than harm. After the first introduction there were few evenings |
| when he did not find his way to McGinty's saloon, there to make |
| closer acquaintance with "the boys," which was the jovial title |
| by which the dangerous gang who infested the place were known |
| to one another. His dashing manner and fearlessness of speech |
| made him a favourite with them all; while the rapid and scientific |
| way in which he polished off his antagonist in an "all in" |
| bar-room scrap earned the respect of that rough community. |
| Another incident, however, raised him even higher in their |
| estimation. |
| |
| Just at the crowded hour one night, the door opened and a man |
| entered with the quiet blue uniform and peaked cap of the mine |
| police. This was a special body raised by the railways and |
| colliery owners to supplement the efforts of the ordinary civil |
| police, who were perfectly helpless in the face of the organized |
| ruffianism which terrorized the district. There was a hush as he |
| entered, and many a curious glance was cast at him; but the |
| relations between policemen and criminals are peculiar in some |
| parts of the States, and McGinty himself standing behind his |
| counter, showed no surprise when the policeman enrolled himself |
| among his customers. |
| |
| "A straight whisky, for the night is bitter," said the police |
| officer. "I don't think we have met before, Councillor?" |
| |
| "You'll be the new captain?" said McGinty. |
| |
| "That's so. We're looking to you, Councillor, and to the other |
| leading citizens, to help us in upholding law and order in this |
| township. Captain Marvin is my name." |
| |
| "We'd do better without you, Captain Marvin," said McGinty |
| coldly; "for we have our own police of the township, and no |
| need for any imported goods. What are you but the paid tool of |
| the capitalists, hired by them to club or shoot your poorer fellow |
| citizen?" |
| |
| "Well, well, we won't argue about that," said the police |
| officer good-humouredly. "I expect we all do our duty same as |
| we see it; but we can't all see it the same." He had drunk off his |
| glass and had turned to go, when his eyes fell upon the face of |
| Jack McMurdo, who was scowling at his elbow. "Hullo! Hullo!" |
| he cried, looking him up and down. "Here's an old acquaintance!" |
| |
| McMurdo shrank away from him. "I was never a friend to |
| you nor any other cursed copper in my life," said he. |
| |
| "An acquaintance isn't always a friend," said the police |
| captain, grinning. "You're Jack McMurdo of Chicago, right |
| enough, and don't you deny it!" |
| |
| McMurdo shrugged his shoulders. "I'm not denying it," said |
| he. "D'ye think I'm ashamed of my own name?" |
| |
| "You've got good cause to be, anyhow." |
| |
| "What the devil d'you mean by that?" he roared with his fists |
| clenched. |
| |
| "No, no, Jack, bluster won't do with me. I was an officer in |
| Chicago before ever I came to this darned coal bunker, and I |
| know a Chicago crook when I see one." |
| |
| McMurdo's face fell. "Don't tell me that you're Marvin of the |
| Chicago Central!" he cried. |
| |
| "Just the same old Teddy Marvin, at your service. We haven't |
| forgotten the shooting of Jonas Pinto up there." |
| |
| "I never shot him." |
| |
| "Did you not? That's good impartial evidence, ain't it? Well, |
| his death came in uncommon handy for you, or they would have |
| had you for shoving the queer. Well, we can let that be bygones; |
| for, between you and me -- and perhaps I'm going further than |
| my duty in saying it -- they could get no clear case against you, |
| and Chicago's open to you to-morrow." |
| |
| "I'm very well where I am." |
| |
| "Well, I've given you the pointer, and you're a sulky dog not |
| to thank me for it." |
| |
| "Well, I suppose you mean well, and I do thank you," said |
| McMurdo in no very gracious manner. |
| |
| "It's mum with me so long as I see you living on the |
| straight," said the captain. "But, by the Lord! if you get off |
| after this, it's another story! So good-night to you -- and |
| goodnight, Councillor." |
| |
| He left the bar-room; but not before he had created a local |
| hero. McMurdo's deeds in far Chicago had been whispered |
| before. He had put off all questions with a smile, as one who did |
| not wish to have greatness thrust upon him. But now the thing |
| was officially confirmed. The bar loafers crowded round him and |
| shook him heartily by the hand. He was free of the community |
| from that time on. He could drink hard and show little trace of it; |
| but that evening, had his mate Scanlan not been at hand to lead |
| him home, the feted hero would surely have spent his night |
| under the bar. |
| |
| On a Saturday night McMurdo was introduced to the lodge. |
| He had thought to pass in without ceremony as being an initiate |
| of Chicago; but there were particular rites in Vermissa of which |
| they were proud, and these had to be undergone by every |
| postulant. The assembly met in a large room reserved for such |
| purposes at the Union House. Some sixty members assembled at |
| Vermissa; but that by no means represented the full strength of |
| the organization, for there were several other lodges in the |
| valley, and others across the mountains on each side, who |
| exchanged members when any serious business was afoot, so that |
| a crime might be done by men who were strangers to the |
| locality. Altogether there were not less than five hundred |
| scattered over the coal district. |
| |
| In the bare assembly room the men were gathered round a |
| long table. At the side was a second one laden with bottles and |
| glasses, on which some members of the company were already |
| turning their eyes. McGinty sat at the head with a flat black |
| velvet cap upon his shock of tangled black hair, and a coloured |
| purple stole round his neck, so that he seemed to be a priest |
| presiding over some diabolical ritual. To right and left of him |
| were the higher lodge officials, the cruel, handsome face of Ted |
| Baldwin among them. Each of these wore some scarf or medallion |
| as emblem of his office. |
| |
| They were, for the most part, men of mature age; but the rest of |
| the company consisted of young fellows from eighteen to twenty- |
| five, the ready and capable agents who carried out the commands |
| of their seniors. Among the older men were many whose features |
| showed the tigerish, lawless souls within; but looking at the rank |
| and file it was difficult to believe that these eager and open-faced |
| young fellows were in very truth a dangerous gang of murderers, |
| whose minds had suffered such complete moral perversion that |
| they took a horrible pride in their proficiency at the business, and |
| looked with deepest respect at the man who had the reputation of |
| making what they called "a clean job." |
| |
| To their contorted natures it had become a spirited and chivalrous |
| thing to volunteer for service against some man who had never |
| injured them, and whom in many cases they had never seen in their |
| lives. The crime committed, they quarrelled as to who had actually |
| struck the fatal blow, and amused one another and the company by |
| describing the cries and contortions of the murdered man. |
| |
| At first they had shown some secrecy in their arrangements; |
| but at the time which this narrative describes their proceedings |
| were extraordinarily open, for the repeated failures of the law |
| had proved to them that, on the one hand, no one would dare to |
| witness against them, and on the other they had an unlimited |
| number of stanch witnesses upon whom they could call, and a |
| well-filled treasure chest from which they could draw the funds |
| to engage the best legal talent in the state. In ten long years of |
| outrage there had been no single conviction, and the only danger |
| that ever threatened the Scowrers lay in the victim himself -- |
| who, however outnumbered and taken by surprise, might and |
| occasionally did leave his mark upon his assailants. |
| |
| McMurdo had been warned that some ordeal lay before him; |
| but no one would tell him in what it consisted. He was led now |
| into an outer room by two solemn brothers. Through the plank |
| partition he could hear the murmur of many voices from the |
| assembly within. Once or twice he caught the sound of his own |
| name, and he knew that they were discussing his candidacy. |
| Then there entered an inner guard with a green and gold sash |
| across his chest. |
| |
| "The Bodymaster orders that he shall be trussed, blinded, and |
| entered," said he. |
| |
| The three of them removed his coat, turned up the sleeve of |
| his right arm, and finally passed a rope round above the elbows |
| and made it fast. They next placed a thick black cap right over |
| his head and the upper part of his face, so that he could see |
| nothing. He was then led into the assembly hall. |
| |
| It was pitch dark and very oppressive under his hood. He |
| heard the rustle and murmur of the people round him, and then |
| the voice of McGinty sounded dull and distant through the |
| covering of his ears. |
| |
| "John McMurdo," said the voice, "are you already a member |
| of the Ancient Order of Freemen?" |
| |
| He bowed in assent. |
| |
| "Is your lodge No. 29, Chicago?" |
| |
| He bowed again. |
| |
| "Dark nights are unpleasant," said the voice. |
| |
| "Yes, for strangers to travel," he answered. |
| |
| "The clouds are heavy." |
| |
| "Yes, a storm is approaching." |
| |
| "Are the brethren satisfied?" asked the Bodymaster. |
| |
| There was a general murmur of assent. |
| |
| "We know, Brother, by your sign and by your countersign |
| that you are indeed one of us," said McGinty. "We would have |
| you know, however, that in this county and in other counties of |
| these parts we have certain rites, and also certain duties of our |
| own which call for good men. Are you ready to be tested?" |
| |
| "I am." |
| |
| "Are you of stout heart?" |
| |
| "I am." |
| |
| "Take a stride forward to prove it." |
| |
| As the words were said he felt two hard points in front of his |
| eyes, pressing upon them so that it appeared as if he could not |
| move forward without a danger of losing them. None the less, he |
| nerved himself to step resolutely out, and as he did so the |
| pressure melted away. There was a low murmur of applause. |
| |
| "He is of stout heart," said the voice. "Can you bear pain?" |
| |
| "As well as another," he answered. |
| |
| "Test him!" |
| |
| It was all he could do to keep himself from screaming out, for |
| an agonizing pain shot through his forearm. He nearly fainted at |
| the sudden shock of it; but he bit his lip and clenched his hands |
| to hide his agony. |
| |
| "I can take more than that," said he. |
| |
| This time there was loud applause. A finer first appearance |
| had never been made in the lodge. Hands clapped him on the |
| back, and the hood was plucked from his head. He stood blinking |
| and smiling amid the congratulations of the brothers. |
| |
| "One last word, Brother McMurdo," said McGinty. "You |
| have already sworn the oath of secrecy and fidelity, and you are |
| aware that the punishment for any breach of it is instant and |
| inevitable death?" |
| |
| "I am," said McMurdo. |
| |
| "And you accept the rule of the Bodymaster for the time |
| being under all circumstances?" |
| |
| "I do." |
| |
| "Then in the name of Lodge 341, Vermissa, I welcome you to |
| its privileges and debates. You will put the liquor on the table, |
| Brother Scanlan, and we will drink to our worthy brother." |
| |
| McMurdo's coat had been brought to him; but before putting it |
| on he examined his right arm, which still smarted heavily. There |
| on the flesh of the forearm was a circle with a triangle within it, |
| deep and red, as the branding iron had left it. One or two of his |
| neighbours pulled up their sleeves and showed their own lodge |
| marks. |
| |
| "We've all had it," said one; "but not all as brave as you |
| over it." |
| |
| "Tut! It was nothing," said he; but it burned and ached all the |
| same. |
| |
| When the drinks which followed the ceremony of initiation |
| had all been disposed of, the business of the lodge proceeded. |
| McMurdo, accustomed only to the prosaic performances of Chicago, |
| listened with open ears and more surprise than he ventured to |
| show to what followed. |
| |
| "The first business on the agenda paper," said McGinty, "is |
| to read the following letter from Division Master Windle of |
| Merton County Lodge 249. He says: |
| |
| "DEAR SIR: |
| |
| "There is a job to be done on Andrew Rae of Rae & |
| |
| Sturmash, coal owners near this place. You will remember |
| |
| that your lodge owes us a return, having had the service of |
| |
| two brethren in the matter of the patrolman last fall. You |
| |
| will send two good men, they will be taken charge of by |
| |
| Treasurer Higgins of this lodge, whose address you know. |
| |
| He will show them when to act and where. Yours in freedom, |
| |
| "J. W. WINDLE D. M. A. O. F. |
| |
| "Windle has never refused us when we have had occasion to |
| ask for the loan of a man or two, and it is not for us to refuse |
| him." McGinty paused and looked round the room with his dull, |
| malevolent eyes. "Who will volunteer for the job?" |
| |
| Several young fellows held up their hands. The Bodymaster |
| looked at them with an approving smile. |
| |
| "You'll do, Tiger Cormac. If you handle it as well as you did |
| the last, you won't be wrong. And you, Wilson." |
| |
| "I've no pistol," said the volunteer, a mere boy in his teens. |
| |
| "It's your first, is it not? Well, you have to be blooded some |
| time. It will be a great start for you. As to the pistol, you'll find |
| it waiting for you, or I'm mistaken. If you report yourselves on |
| Monday, it will be time enough. You'll get a great welcome |
| when you return." |
| |
| "Any reward this time?" asked Cormac, a thick-set, dark- |
| faced, brutal-looking young man, whose ferocity had earned him |
| the nickname of "Tiger." |
| |
| "Never mind the reward. You just do it for the honour of the |
| thing. Maybe when it is done there will be a few odd dollars at |
| the bottom of the box." |
| |
| "What has the man done?" asked young Wilson. |
| |
| "Sure, it's not for the likes of you to ask what the man has |
| done. He has been judged over there. That's no business of ours. |
| All we have to do is to carry it out for them, same as they would |
| for us. Speaking of that, two brothers from the Merton lodge are |
| coming over to us next week to do some business in this quarter." |
| |
| "Who are they?" asked someone. |
| |
| "Faith, it is wiser not to ask. If you know nothing, you can |
| testify nothing, and no trouble can come of it. But they are men |
| who will make a clean job when they are about it." |
| |
| "And time, too!" cried Ted Baldwin. "Folk are gettin' out of |
| hand in these parts. It was only last week that three of our men |
| were turned off by Foreman Blaker. It's been owing him a long |
| time, and he'll get it full and proper." |
| |
| "Get what?" McMurdo whispered to his neighbour. |
| |
| "The business end of a buckshot cartridge!" cried the man |
| with a loud laugh. "What think you of our ways, Brother?" |
| |
| McMurdo's criminal soul seemed to have already absorbed the |
| spirit of the vile association of which he was now a member. "I |
| like it well," said he. "'Tis a proper place for a lad of mettle." |
| |
| Several of those who sat around heard his words and applauded |
| them. |
| |
| "What's that?" cried the black-maned Bodymaster from the |
| end of the table. |
| |
| "'Tis our new brother, sir, who finds our ways to his taste." |
| |
| McMurdo rose to his feet for an instant. "I would say, |
| Eminent Bodymaster, that if a man should be wanted I should |
| take it as an honour to be chosen to help the lodge." |
| |
| There was great applause at this. It was felt that a new sun |
| was pushing its rim above the horizon. To some of the elders it |
| seemed that the progress was a little too rapid. |
| |
| "I would move," said the secretary, Harraway, a vulture- |
| faced old graybeard who sat near the chairman, "that Brother |
| McMurdo should wait until it is the good pleasure of the lodge to |
| employ him." |
| |
| "Sure, that was what I meant; I'm in your hands," said |
| McMurdo. |
| |
| "Your time will come, Brother," said the chairman. "We |
| have marked you down as a willing man, and we believe that |
| you will do good work in these parts. There is a small matter |
| to-night in which you may take a hand if it so please you." |
| |
| "I will wait for something that is worth while." |
| |
| "You can come to-night, anyhow, and it will help you to know what |
| we stand for in this community. I will make the announcement later. |
| Meanwhile," he glanced at his agenda paper, "I have one or two more |
| points to bring before the meeting. First of all, I will ask the |
| treasurer as to our bank balance. There is the pension to Jim |
| Carnaway's widow. He was struck down doing the work of the lodge, |
| and it is for us to see that she is not the loser." |
| |
| "Jim was shot last month when they tried to kill Chester |
| Wilcox of Marley Creek," McMurdo's neighbour informed him. |
| |
| "The funds are good at the moment," said the treasurer, with |
| the bankbook in front of him. "The firms have been generous of |
| late. Max Linder & Co. paid five hundred to be left alone. |
| Walker Brothers sent in a hundred; but I took it on myself to |
| return it and ask for five. If I do not hear by Wednesday, their |
| winding gear may get out of order. We had to burn their breaker |
| last year before they became reasonable. Then the West Section |
| Coaling Company has paid its annual contribution. We have |
| enough on hand to meet any obligations." |
| |
| "What about Archie Swindon?" asked a brother. |
| |
| "He has sold out and left the district. The old devil left a note |
| for us to say that he had rather be a free crossing sweeper in New |
| York than a large mine owner under the power of a ring of blackmailers. |
| By Gar! it was as well that he made a break for it before the note |
| reached us! I guess he won't show his face in this valley again." |
| |
| An elderly, clean-shaved man with a kindly face and a good |
| brow rose from the end of the table which faced the chairman. |
| "Mr. Treasurer," he asked, "may I ask who has bought the |
| property of this man that we have driven out of the district?" |
| |
| "Yes, Brother Morris. It has been bought by the State & Merton |
| County Railroad Company." |
| |
| "And who bought the mines of Todman and of Lee that came |
| into the market in the same way last year?" |
| |
| "The same company, Brother Morris." |
| |
| "And who bought the ironworks of Manson and of Shuman and of |
| Van Deher and of Atwood, which have all been given up of late?" |
| |
| "They were all bought by the West Gilmerton General Mining Company." |
| |
| "I don't see, Brother Morris," said the chairman, "that it matters to |
| us who buys them, since they can't carry them out of the district." |
| |
| "With all respect to you, Eminent Bodymaster, I think it may |
| matter very much to us. This process has been going on now for |
| ten long years. We are gradually driving all the small men out of |
| trade. What is the result? We find in their places great companies |
| like the Railroad or the General Iron, who have their directors in |
| New York or Philadelphia, and care nothing for our threats. We |
| can take it out of their local bosses, but it only means that others |
| will be sent in their stead. And we are making it dangerous for |
| ourselves. The small men could not harm us. They had not the money |
| nor the power. So long as we did not squeeze them too dry, they |
| would stay on under our power. But if these big companies find |
| that we stand between them and their profits, they will spare |
| no pains and no expense to hunt us down and bring us to court." |
| |
| There was a hush at these ominous words, and every face darkened |
| as gloomy looks were exchanged. So omnipotent and unchallenged |
| had they been that the very thought that there was possible |
| retribution in the background had been banished from their minds. |
| And yet the idea struck a chill to the most reckless of them. |
| |
| "It is my advice," the speaker continued, "that we go easier |
| upon the small men. On the day that they have all been driven |
| out the power of this society will have been broken." |
| |
| Unwelcome truths are not popular. There were angry cries as the |
| speaker resumed his seat. McGinty rose with gloom upon his brow. |
| |
| "Brother Morris," said he, "you were always a croaker. So |
| long as the members of this lodge stand together there is no |
| power in the United States that can touch them. Sure, have we |
| not tried it often enough in the law courts? I expect the big |
| companies will find it easier to pay than to fight, same as the |
| little companies do. And now, Brethren," McGinty took off his |
| black velvet cap and his stole as he spoke, "this lodge has |
| finished its business for the evening, save for one small matter |
| which may be mentioned when we are parting. The time has now |
| come for fraternal refreshment and for harmony." |
| |
| Strange indeed is human nature. Here were these men, to |
| whom murder was familiar, who again and again had struck |
| down the father of the family, some man against whom they had |
| no personal feeling, without one thought of compunction or of |
| compassion for his weeping wife or helpless children, and yet |
| the tender or pathetic in music could move them to tears. McMurdo |
| had a fine tenor voice, and if he had failed to gain the good |
| will of the lodge before, it could no longer have been withheld |
| after he had thrilled them with "I'm Sitting on the Stile, Mary," |
| and "On the Banks of Allan Water." |
| |
| In his very first night the new recruit had made himself one of |
| the most popular of the brethren, marked already for advancement |
| and high office. There were other qualities needed, however, |
| besides those of good fellowship, to make a worthy Freeman, |
| and of these he was given an example before the evening was |
| over. The whisky bottle had passed round many times, and the |
| men were flushed and ripe for mischief when their Bodymaster |
| rose once more to address them. |
| |
| "Boys," said he, "there's one man in this town that wants |
| trimming up, and it's for you to see that he gets it. I'm speaking |
| of James Stanger of the Herald. You've seen how he's been |
| opening his mouth against us again?" |
| |
| There was a murmur of assent, with many a muttered oath. |
| McGinty took a slip of paper from his waistcoat pocket. |
| |
| "LAW AND ORDER! |
| |
| That's how he heads it. |
| |
| "REIGN OF TERROR IN THE COAL AND IRON DISTRICT |
| |
| "Twelve years have now elapsed since the first assassinations |
| |
| which proved the existence of a criminal organization in our |
| |
| midst. From that day these outrages have never ceased, until |
| |
| now they have reached a pitch which makes us the opprobrium |
| |
| of the civilized world. Is it for such results as this that |
| |
| our great country welcomes to its bosom the alien who flies |
| |
| from the despotisms of Europe? Is it that they shall |
| |
| themselves become tyrants over the very men who have given |
| |
| them shelter, and that a state of terrorism and lawlessness |
| |
| should be established under the very shadow of the sacred |
| |
| folds of the starry Flag of Freedom which would raise horror |
| |
| in our minds if we read of it as existing under the most |
| |
| effete monarchy of the East? The men are known. The organization |
| |
| is patent and public. How long are we to endure it? Can we |
| |
| forever live -- |
| |
| Sure, I've read enough of the slush!" cried the chairman, |
| tossing the paper down upon the table. "That's what he says of us. |
| The question I'm asking you is what shall we say to him?" |
| |
| "Kill him!" cried a dozen fierce voices. |
| |
| "I protest against that," said Brother Morris, the man of the |
| good brow and shaved face. "I tell you, Brethren, that our hand |
| is too heavy in this valley, and that there will come a point |
| where in self-defense every man will unite to crush us out. James |
| Stanger is an old man. He is respected in the township and the |
| district. His paper stands for all that is solid in the valley. |
| If that man is struck down, there will be a stir through this |
| state that will only end with our destruction." |
| |
| "And how would they bring about our destruction, Mr. Standback?" |
| cried McGinty. "Is it by the police? Sure, half of them are in our |
| pay and half of them afraid of us. Or is it by the law courts and |
| the judge? Haven't we tried that before now, and what ever came of it?" |
| |
| "There is a Judge Lynch that might try the case," said Brother Morris. |
| |
| A general shout of anger greeted the suggestion. |
| |
| "I have but to raise my finger," cried McGinty, "and I could |
| put two hundred men into this town that would clear it out from |
| end to end." Then suddenly raising his voice and bending his |
| huge black brows into a terrible frown, "See here, Brother |
| Morris, I have my eye on you, and have had for some time! |
| You've no heart yourself, and you try to take the heart out of |
| others. It will be an ill day for you, Brother Morris, when your |
| own name comes on our agenda paper, and I'm thinking that it's |
| just there that I ought to place it." |
| |
| Morris had turned deadly pale, and his knees seemed to give |
| way under him as he fell back into his chair. He raised his glass |
| in his trembling hand and drank before he could answer. "I |
| apologize, Eminent Bodymaster, to you and to every brother in |
| this lodge if I have said more than I should. I am a faithful |
| member -- you all know that -- and it is my fear lest evil come to |
| the lodge which makes me speak in anxious words. But I have |
| greater trust in your judgment than in my own, Eminent |
| Bodymaster, and I promise you that I will not offend again." |
| |
| The Bodymaster's scowl relaxed as he listened to the humble words. |
| "Very good, Brother Morris. It's myself that would be sorry if it |
| were needful to give you a lesson. But so long as I am in this |
| chair we shall be a united lodge in word and in deed. And now, boys," |
| he continued, looking round at the company, "I'll say this much, that |
| if Stanger got his full deserts there would be more trouble than we |
| need ask for. These editors hang together, and every journal in the |
| state would be crying out for police and troops. But I guess you can |
| give him a pretty severe warning. Will you fix it, Brother Baldwin?" |
| |
| "Sure!" said the young man eagerly. |
| |
| "How many will you take?" |
| |
| "Half a dozen, and two to guard the door. You'll come, Gower, |
| and you, Mansel, and you, Scanlan, and the two Willabys." |
| |
| "I promised the new brother he should go," said the chairman. |
| |
| Ted Baldwin looked at McMurdo with eyes which showed that |
| he had not forgotten nor forgiven. "Well, he can come if he |
| wants," he said in a surly voice. "That's enough. The sooner |
| we get to work the better." |
| |
| The company broke up with shouts and yells and snatches of |
| drunken song. The bar was still crowded with revellers, and |
| many of the brethren remained there. The little band who had |
| been told off for duty passed out into the street, proceeding in |
| twos and threes along the sidewalk so as not to provoke attention. |
| It was a bitterly cold night, with a half-moon shining brilliantly |
| in a frosty, star-spangled sky. The men stopped and gathered in a |
| yard which faced a high building. The words "Vermissa Herald" were |
| printed in gold lettering between the brightly lit windows. From |
| within came the clanking of the printing press. |
| |
| "Here, you," said Baldwin to McMurdo, "you can stand |
| below at the door and see that the road is kept open for us. |
| Arthur Willaby can stay with you. You others come with me. |
| Have no fears, boys; for we have a dozen witnesses that we are |
| in the Union Bar at this very moment." |
| |
| It was nearly midnight, and the street was deserted save for |
| one or two revellers upon their way home. The party crossed the |
| road, and, pushing open the door of the newspaper office, |
| Baldwin and his men rushed in and up the stair which faced |
| them. McMurdo and another remained below. From the room |
| above came a shout, a cry for help, and then the sound of |
| trampling feet and of falling chairs. An instant later a gray-haired |
| man rushed out on the landing. |
| |
| He was seized before he could get farther, and his spectacles |
| came tinkling down to McMurdo's feet. There was a thud and a |
| groan. He was on his face, and half a dozen sticks were clattering |
| together as they fell upon him. He writhed, and his long, thin |
| limbs quivered under the blows. The others ceased at last; but |
| Baldwin, his cruel face set in an infernal smile, was hacking at |
| the man's head, which he vainly endeavoured to defend with his |
| arms. His white hair was dabbled with patches of blood. Baldwin |
| was still stooping over his victim, putting in a short, vicious |
| blow whenever he could see a part exposed, when McMurdo dashed |
| up the stair and pushed him back. |
| |
| "You'll kill the man," said he. "Drop it!" |
| |
| Baldwin looked at him in amazement. "Curse you!" he cried. |
| "Who are you to interfere -- you that are new to the lodge? Stand |
| back!" He raised his stick; but McMurdo had whipped his pistol |
| out of his hip pocket. |
| |
| "Stand back yourself!" he cried. "I'll blow your face in if |
| you lay a hand on me. As to the lodge, wasn't it the order of the |
| Bodymaster that the man was not to be killed -- and what are you |
| doing but killing him?" |
| |
| "It's truth he says," remarked one of the men. |
| |
| "By Gar! you'd best hurry yourselves!" cried the man below. |
| "The windows are all lighting up, and you'll have the whole |
| town here inside of five minutes." |
| |
| There was indeed the sound of shouting in the street, and a |
| little group of compositors and pressmen was forming in the hall |
| below and nerving itself to action. Leaving the limp and motionless |
| body of the editor at the head of the stair, the criminals rushed |
| down and made their way swiftly along the street. Having reached |
| the Union House, some of them mixed with the crowd in McGinty's |
| saloon, whispering across the bar to the Boss that the job had |
| been well carried through. Others, and among them McMurdo, broke |
| away into side streets, and so by devious paths to their own homes. |
| |
| |
| |
| Chapter 4 |
| The Valley of Fear |
| |
| When McMurdo awoke next morning he had good reason to |
| remember his initiation into the lodge. His head ached with the |
| effect of the drink, and his arm, where he had been branded, was |
| hot and swollen. Having his own peculiar source of income, he |
| was irregular in his attendance at his work; so he had a late |
| breakfast, and remained at home for the morning writing a long |
| letter to a friend. Afterwards he read the Daily Herald. In a |
| special column put in at the last moment he read: |
| |
| OUTRAGE AT THE HERALD OFFICE -- EDITOR |
| |
| SERIOUSLY INJURED. |
| |
| It was a short account of the facts with which he was himself more |
| familiar than the writer could have been. It ended with the statement: |
| |
| The matter is now in the hands of the police; but it can |
| |
| hardly be hoped that their exertions will be attended by any |
| |
| better results than in the past. Some of the men were |
| |
| recognized, and there is hope that a conviction may be |
| |
| obtained. The source of the outrage was, it need hardly be |
| |
| said, that infamous society which has held this community |
| |
| in bondage for so long a period, and against which the |
| |
| Herald has taken so uncompromising a stand. Mr. Stanger's |
| |
| many friends will rejoice to hear that, though he has been |
| |
| cruelly and brutally beaten, and though he has sustained |
| |
| severe injuries about the head, there is no immediate danger |
| |
| to his life. |
| |
| Below it stated that a guard of police, armed with Winchester |
| rifles, had been requisitioned for the defense of the office. |
| |
| McMurdo had laid down the paper, and was lighting his pipe with |
| a hand which was shaky from the excesses of the previous evening, |
| when there was a knock outside, and his landlady brought to him |
| a note which had just been handed in by a lad. It was unsigned, |
| and ran thus: |
| |
| I should wish to speak to you, but would rather not do so |
| |
| in your house. You will find me beside the flagstaff upon |
| |
| Miller Hill. If you will come there now, I have something |
| |
| which it is important for you to hear and for me to say. |
| |
| McMurdo read the note twice with the utmost surprise; for he |
| could not imagine what it meant or who was the author of it. |
| Had it been in a feminine hand, he might have imagined that it |
| was the beginning of one of those adventures which had been |
| familiar enough in his past life. But it was the writing of a man, |
| and of a well educated one, too. Finally, after some hesitation, |
| he determined to see the matter through. |
| |
| Miller Hill is an ill-kept public park in the very centre of the |
| town. In summer it is a favourite resort of the people; but in |
| winter it is desolate enough. From the top of it one has a view |
| not only of the whole straggling, grimy town, but of the winding |
| valley beneath, with its scattered mines and factories blackening |
| the snow on each side of it, and of the wooded and white-capped |
| ranges flanking it. |
| |
| McMurdo strolled up the winding path hedged in with evergreens |
| until he reached the deserted restaurant which forms the centre |
| of summer gaiety. Beside it was a bare flagstaff, and underneath |
| it a man, his hat drawn down and the collar of his overcoat |
| turned up. When he turned his face McMurdo saw that it was Brother |
| Morris, he who had incurred the anger of the Bodymaster the night |
| before. The lodge sign was given and exchanged as they met. |
| |
| "I wanted to have a word with you, Mr. McMurdo," said the |
| older man, speaking with a hesitation which showed that he was |
| on delicate ground. "It was kind of you to come." |
| |
| "Why did you not put your name to the note?" |
| |
| "One has to be cautious, mister. One never knows in times |
| like these how a thing may come back to one. One never knows |
| either who to trust or who not to trust." |
| |
| "Surely one may trust brothers of the lodge." |
| |
| "No, no, not always," cried Morris with vehemence. "Whatever |
| we say, even what we think, seems to go back to that man McGinty." |
| |
| "Look here!" said McMurdo sternly. "It was only last night, |
| as you know well, that I swore good faith to our Bodymaster. |
| Would you be asking me to break my oath?" |
| |
| "If that is the view you take," said Morris sadly, "I can only |
| say that I am sorry I gave you the trouble to come and meet me. |
| Things have come to a bad pass when two free citizens cannot |
| speak their thoughts to each other." |
| |
| McMurdo, who had been watching his companion very narrowly, |
| relaxed somewhat in his bearing. "Sure I spoke for myself |
| only," said he. "I am a newcomer, as you know, and I am |
| strange to it all. It is not for me to open my mouth, Mr. |
| Morris, and if you think well to say anything to me I am |
| here to hear it." |
| |
| "And to take it back to Boss McGinty!" said Morris bitterly. |
| |
| "Indeed, then, you do me injustice there," cried McMurdo. |
| "For myself I am loyal to the lodge, and so I tell you straight; |
| but I would be a poor creature if I were to repeat to any other |
| what you might say to me in confidence. It will go no further |
| than me; though I warn you that you may get neither help nor |
| sympathy." |
| |
| "I have given up looking for either the one or the other," said |
| Morris. "I may be putting my very life in your hands by what I |
| say; but, bad as you are -- and it seemed to me last night that you |
| were shaping to be as bad as the worst -- still you are new to it, |
| and your conscience cannot yet be as hardened as theirs. That |
| was why I thought to speak with you." |
| |
| "Well, what have you to say?" |
| |
| "If you give me away, may a curse be on you!" |
| |
| "Sure, I said I would not." |
| |
| "I would ask you, then, when you joined the Freeman's society |
| in Chicago and swore vows of charity and fidelity, did ever it |
| cross your mind that you might find it would lead you to crime?" |
| |
| "If you call it crime," McMurdo answered. |
| |
| "Call it crime!" cried Morris, his voice vibrating with passion. |
| "You have seen little of it if you can call it anything else. Was |
| it crime last night when a man old enough to be your father was |
| beaten till the blood dripped from his white hairs? Was that crime -- |
| or what else would you call it?" |
| |
| "There are some would say it was war," said McMurdo, "a war of |
| two classes with all in, so that each struck as best it could." |
| |
| "Well, did you think of such a thing when you joined the |
| Freeman's society at Chicago?" |
| |
| "No, I'm bound to say I did not." |
| |
| "Nor did I when I joined it at Philadelphia. It was just a |
| benefit club and a meeting place for one's fellows. Then I heard |
| of this place -- curse the hour that the name first fell upon my |
| ears! -- and I came to better myself! My God! to better myself! |
| My wife and three children came with me. I started a dry goods |
| store on Market Square, and I prospered well. The word had |
| gone round that I was a Freeman, and I was forced to join the |
| local lodge, same as you did last night. I've the badge of shame |
| on my forearm and something worse branded on my heart. I |
| found that I was under the orders of a black villain and caught in |
| a meshwork of crime. What could I do? Every word I said to |
| make things better was taken as treason, same as it was last |
| night. I can't get away; for all I have in the world is in my store. |
| If I leave the society, I know well that it means murder to me, |
| and God knows what to my wife and children. Oh, man, it is |
| awful -- awful!" He put his hands to his face, and his body shook |
| with convulsive sobs. |
| |
| McMurdo shrugged his shoulders. "You were too soft for the job," |
| said he. "You are the wrong sort for such work." |
| |
| "I had a conscience and a religion; but they made me a |
| criminal among them. I was chosen for a job. If I backed down |
| I knew well what would come to me. Maybe I'm a coward. |
| Maybe it's the thought of my poor little woman and the children |
| that makes me one. Anyhow I went. I guess it will haunt me forever. |
| |
| "It was a lonely house, twenty miles from here, over the |
| range yonder. I was told off for the door, same as you were last |
| night. They could not trust me with the job. The others went in. |
| When they came out their hands were crimson to the wrists. As |
| we turned away a child was screaming out of the house behind |
| us. It was a boy of five who had seen his father murdered. I |
| nearly fainted with the horror of it, and yet I had to keep a bold |
| and smiling face; for well I knew that if I did not it would be out |
| of my house that they would come next with their bloody hands and it |
| would be my little Fred that would be screaming for his father. |
| |
| "But I was a criminal then, part sharer in a murder, lost |
| forever in this world, and lost also in the next. I am a good |
| Catholic; but the priest would have no word with me when he |
| heard I was a Scowrer, and I am excommunicated from my faith. |
| That's how it stands with me. And I see you going down the same |
| road, and I ask you what the end is to be. Are you ready to be |
| a cold-blooded murderer also, or can we do anything to stop it?" |
| |
| "What would you do?" asked McMurdo abruptly. "You would not inform?" |
| |
| "God forbid!" cried Morris. "Sure, the very thought would |
| cost me my life." |
| |
| "That's well," said McMurdo. "I'm thinking that you are a |
| weak man and that you make too much of the matter." |
| |
| "Too much! Wait till you have lived here longer. Look down the valley! |
| See the cloud of a hundred chimneys that overshadows it! I tell you |
| that the cloud of murder hangs thicker and lower than that over the |
| heads of the people. It is the Valley of Fear, the Valley of Death. |
| The terror is in the hearts of the people from the dusk to the dawn. |
| Wait, young man, and you will learn for yourself." |
| |
| "Well, I'll let you know what I think when I have seen more," |
| said McMurdo carelessly. "What is very clear is that you are |
| not the man for the place, and that the sooner you sell out -- |
| if you only get a dime a dollar for what the business is worth -- |
| the better it will be for you. What you have said is safe with me; |
| but, by Gar! if I thought you were an informer --" |
| |
| "No, no!" cried Morris piteously. |
| |
| "Well, let it rest at that. I'll bear what you have said in mind, |
| and maybe some day I'll come back to it. I expect you meant |
| kindly by speaking to me like this. Now I'll be getting home." |
| |
| "One word before you go," said Morris. "We may have been seen |
| together. They may want to know what we have spoken about." |
| |
| "Ah! that's well thought of." |
| |
| "I offer you a clerkship in my store." |
| |
| "And I refuse it. That's our business. Well, so long, Brother Morris, |
| and may you find things go better with you in the future." |
| |
| That same afternoon, as McMurdo sat smoking, lost in thought |
| beside the stove of his sitting-room, the door swung open and its |
| framework was filled with the huge figure of Boss McGinty. He |
| passed the sign, and then seating himself opposite to the young |
| man he looked at him steadily for some time, a look which was |
| as steadily returned. |
| |
| "I'm not much of a visitor, Brother McMurdo," he said at last. |
| "I guess I am too busy over the folk that visit me. But I thought |
| I'd stretch a point and drop down to see you in your own house." |
| |
| "I'm proud to see you here, Councillor," McMurdo answered heartily, |
| bringing his whisky bottle out of the cupboard. "It's an honour |
| that I had not expected." |
| |
| "How's the arm?" asked the Boss. |
| |
| McMurdo made a wry face. "Well, I'm not forgetting it," he said; |
| "but it's worth it." |
| |
| "Yes, it's worth it," the other answered, "to those that are loyal |
| and go through with it and are a help to the lodge. What were you |
| speaking to Brother Morris about on Miller Hill this morning?" |
| |
| The question came so suddenly that it was well that he had his |
| answer prepared. He burst into a hearty laugh. "Morris didn't |
| know I could earn a living here at home. He shan't know either; |
| for he has got too much conscience for the likes of me. But he's |
| a good-hearted old chap. It was his idea that I was at a loose |
| end, and that he would do me a good turn by offering me a |
| clerkship in a dry goods store." |
| |
| "Oh, that was it?" |
| |
| "Yes, that was it." |
| |
| "And you refused it?" |
| |
| "Sure. Couldn't I earn ten times as much in my own bedroom |
| with four hours' work?" |
| |
| "That's so. But I wouldn't get about too much with Morris." |
| |
| "Why not?" |
| |
| "Well, I guess because I tell you not. That's enough for most |
| folk in these parts." |
| |
| "It may be enough for most folk; but it ain't enough for me, |
| Councillor," said McMurdo boldly. "If you are a judge of men, |
| you'll know that." |
| |
| The swarthy giant glared at him, and his hairy paw closed for an |
| instant round the glass as though he would hurl it at the head |
| of his companion. Then he laughed in his loud, boisterous, |
| insincere fashion. |
| |
| "You're a queer card, for sure," said he. "Well, if you want reasons, |
| I'll give them. Did Morris say nothing to you against the lodge?" |
| |
| "No." |
| |
| "Nor against me?" |
| |
| "No." |
| |
| "Well, that's because he daren't trust you. But in his heart he |
| is not a loyal brother. We know that well. So we watch him and |
| we wait for the time to admonish him. I'm thinking that the time |
| is drawing near. There's no room for scabby sheep in our pen. |
| But if you keep company with a disloyal man, we might think |
| that you were disloyal, too. See?" |
| |
| "There's no chance of my keeping company with him; for I |
| dislike the man," McMurdo answered. "As to being disloyal, if |
| it was any man but you he would not use the word to me twice." |
| |
| "Well, that's enough," said McGinty, draining off his glass. |
| "I came down to give you a word in season, and you've had it." |
| |
| "I'd like to know," said McMurdo, "how you ever came to |
| learn that I had spoken with Morris at all?" |
| |
| McGinty laughed. "It's my business to know what goes on in |
| this township," said he. "I guess you'd best reckon on my |
| hearing all that passes. Well, time's up, and I'll just say --" |
| |
| But his leavetaking was cut short in a very unexpected fashion. |
| With a sudden crash the door flew open, and three frowning, |
| intent faces glared in at them from under the peaks of police |
| caps. McMurdo sprang to his feet and half drew his revolver; but |
| his arm stopped midway as he became conscious that two |
| Winchester rifles were levelled at his head. A man in uniform |
| advanced into the room, a six-shooter in his hand. It was Captain |
| Marvin, once of Chicago, and now of the Mine Constabulary. |
| He shook his head with a half-smile at McMurdo. |
| |
| "I thought you'd be getting into trouble, Mr. Crooked |
| McMurdo of Chicago," said he. "Can't keep out of it, can you? |
| Take your hat and come along with us." |
| |
| "I guess you'll pay for this, Captain Marvin," said McGinty. |
| "Who are you, I'd like to know, to break into a house in this |
| fashion and molest honest, law-abiding men?" |
| |
| "You're standing out in this deal, Councillor McGinty," said |
| the police captain. "We are not out after you, but after this man |
| McMurdo. It is for you to help, not to hinder us in our duty," |
| |
| "He is a friend of mine, and I'll answer for his conduct," said |
| the Boss. |
| |
| "By all accounts, Mr. McGinty, you may have to answer for |
| your own conduct some of these days," the captain answered. |
| "This man McMurdo was a crook before ever he came here, and |
| he's a crook still. Cover him, Patrolman, while I disarm him." |
| |
| "There's my pistol," said McMurdo coolly. "Maybe, Captain |
| Marvin, if you and I were alone and face to face you would not |
| take me so easily." |
| |
| "Where's your warrant?" asked McGinty. "By Gar! a man |
| might as well live in Russia as in Vermissa while folk like you |
| are running the police. It's a capitalist outrage, and you'll hear |
| more of it, I reckon." |
| |
| "You do what you think is your duty the best way you can, |
| Councillor. We'll look after ours." |
| |
| "What am I accused of?" asked McMurdo. |
| |
| "Of being concerned in the beating of old Editor Stanger at |
| the Herald office. It wasn't your fault that it isn't a murder |
| charge." |
| |
| "Well, if that's all you have against him," cried McGinty |
| with a laugh, "you can save yourself a deal of trouble by |
| dropping it right now. This man was with me in my saloon |
| playing poker up to midnight, and I can bring a dozen to prove |
| it." |
| |
| "That's your affair, and I guess you can settle it in court |
| to-morrow. Meanwhile, come on, McMurdo, and come quietly |
| if you don't want a gun across your head. You stand wide, |
| Mr. McGinty; for I warn you I will stand no resistance when |
| I am on duty!" |
| |
| So determined was the appearance of the captain that both |
| McMurdo and his boss were forced to accept the situation. The |
| latter managed to have a few whispered words with the prisoner |
| before they parted. |
| |
| "What about --" he jerked his thumb upward to signify the |
| coining plant. |
| |
| "All right," whispered McMurdo, who had devised a safe |
| hiding place under the floor. |
| |
| "I'll bid you good-bye," said the Boss, shaking hands. "I'll |
| see Reilly the lawyer and take the defense upon myself. Take my |
| word for it that they won't be able to hold you." |
| |
| "I wouldn't bet on that. Guard the prisoner, you two, and shoot |
| him if he tries any games. I'll search the house before I leave." |
| |
| He did so; but apparently found no trace of the concealed |
| plant. When he had descended he and his men escorted McMurdo |
| to headquarters. Darkness had fallen, and a keen blizzard |
| was blowing so that the streets were nearly deserted; but a few |
| loiterers followed the group, and emboldened by invisibility |
| shouted imprecations at the prisoner. |
| |
| "Lynch the cursed Scowrer!" they cried. "Lynch him!" They |
| laughed and jeered as he was pushed into the police station. |
| After a short, formal examination from the inspector in charge he |
| was put into the common cell. Here he found Baldwin and three |
| other criminals of the night before, all arrested that afternoon and |
| waiting their trial next morning. |
| |
| But even within this inner fortress of the law the long arm of |
| the Freemen was able to extend. Late at night there came a jailer |
| with a straw bundle for their bedding, out of which he extracted |
| two bottles of whisky, some glasses, and a pack of cards. They |
| spent a hilarious night, without an anxious thought as to the |
| ordeal of the morning. |
| |
| Nor had they cause, as the result was to show. The magistrate |
| could not possibly, on the evidence, have held them for a higher |
| court. On the one hand the compositors and pressmen were forced |
| to admit that the light was uncertain, that they were themselves |
| much perturbed, and that it was difficult for them to swear to the |
| identity of the assailants; although they believed that the accused |
| were among them. Cross examined by the clever attorney who |
| had been engaged by McGinty, they were even more nebulous in |
| their evidence. |
| |
| The injured man had already deposed that he was so taken by |
| surprise by the suddenness of the attack that he could state |
| nothing beyond the fact that the first man who struck him wore a |
| moustache. He added that he knew them to be Scowrers, since |
| no one else in the community could possibly have any enmity to |
| him, and he had long been threatened on account of his outspoken |
| editorials. On the other hand, it was clearly shown by the |
| united and unfaltering evidence of six citizens, including that |
| high municipal official, Councillor McGinty, that the men had |
| been at a card party at the Union House until an hour very much |
| later than the commission of the outrage. |
| |
| Needless to say that they were discharged with something very |
| near to an apology from the bench for the inconvenience to |
| which they had been put, together with an implied censure of |
| Captain Marvin and the police for their officious zeal. |
| |
| The verdict was greeted with loud applause by a court in |
| which McMurdo saw many familiar faces. Brothers of the lodge |
| smiled and waved. But there were others who sat with compressed |
| lips and brooding eyes as the men filed out of the dock. One of |
| them, a little, dark-bearded, resolute fellow, put the thoughts |
| of himself and comrades into words as the ex-prisoners passed him. |
| |
| "You damned murderers!" he said. "We'll fix you yet!" |
| |
| |
| |
| Chapter 5 |
| The Darkest Hour |
| |
| If anything had been needed to give an impetus to Jack McMurdo's |
| popularity among his fellows it would have been his arrest and |
| acquittal. That a man on the very night of joining the lodge should |
| have done something which brought him before the magistrate was a |
| new record in the annals of the society. Already he had earned |
| the reputation of a good boon companion, a cheery reveller, and |
| withal a man of high temper, who would not take an insult even |
| from the all-powerful Boss himself. But in addition to this he |
| impressed his comrades with the idea that among them all there |
| was not one whose brain was so ready to devise a bloodthirsty |
| scheme, or whose hand would be more capable of carrying it out. |
| "He'll be the boy for the clean job," said the oldsters to one |
| another, and waited their time until they could set him to his work. |
| |
| McGinty had instruments enough already; but he recognized |
| that this was a supremely able one. He felt like a man holding a |
| fierce bloodhound in leash. There were curs to do the smaller |
| work; but some day he would slip this creature upon its prey. A |
| few members of the lodge, Ted Baldwin among them, resented |
| the rapid rise of the stranger and hated him for it; but they kept |
| clear of him, for he was as ready to fight as to laugh. |
| |
| But if he gained favour with his fellows, there was another |
| quarter, one which had become even more vital to him, in which |
| he lost it. Ettie Shafter's father would have nothing more to do |
| with him, nor would he allow him to enter the house. Ettie |
| herself was too deeply in love to give him up altogether, and yet |
| her own good sense warned her of what would come from a |
| marriage with a man who was regarded as a criminal. |
| |
| One morning after a sleepless night she determined to see him, |
| possibly for the last time, and make one strong endeavour to |
| draw him from those evil influences which were sucking him |
| down. She went to his house, as he had often begged her to do, |
| and made her way into the room which he used as his sitting- |
| room. He was seated at a table, with his back turned and a letter |
| in front of him. A sudden spirit of girlish mischief came over |
| her -- she was still only nineteen. He had not heard her when she |
| pushed open the door. Now she tiptoed forward and laid her |
| hand lightly upon his bended shoulders. |
| |
| If she had expected to startle him, she certainly succeeded; but |
| only in turn to be startled herself. With a tiger spring he turned |
| on her, and his right hand was feeling for her throat. At the same |
| instant with the other hand he crumpled up the paper that lay before him. |
| For an instant he stood glaring. Then astonishment and joy took the |
| place of the ferocity which had convulsed his features -- a ferocity |
| which had sent her shrinking back in horror as from something which |
| had never before intruded into her gentle life. |
| |
| "It's you!" said he, mopping his brow. "And to think that |
| you should come to me, heart of my heart, and I should find |
| nothing better to do than to want to strangle you! Come then, |
| darling," and he held out his arms, "let me make it up to you." |
| |
| But she had not recovered from that sudden glimpse of guilty |
| fear which she had read in the man's face. All her woman's |
| instinct told her that it was not the mere fright of a man who is |
| startled. Guilt -- that was it -- guilt and fear! |
| |
| "What's come over you, Jack?" she cried. "Why were you |
| so scared of me? Oh, Jack, if your conscience was at ease, you |
| would not have looked at me like that!" |
| |
| "Sure, I was thinking of other things, and when you came |
| tripping so lightly on those fairy feet of yours --" |
| |
| "No, no, it was more than that, Jack." Then a sudden |
| suspicion seized her. "Let me see that letter you were writing." |
| |
| "Ah, Ettie, I couldn't do that." |
| |
| Her suspicions became certainties. "It's to another woman," |
| she cried. "I know it! Why else should you hold it from me? |
| Was it to your wife that you were writing? How am I to know |
| that you are not a married man -- you, a stranger, that nobody |
| knows?" |
| |
| "I am not married, Ettie. See now, I swear it! You're the only |
| one woman on earth to me. By the cross of Christ I swear it!" |
| |
| He was so white with passionate earnestness that she could not |
| but believe him. |
| |
| "Well, then," she cried, "why will you not show me the letter?" |
| |
| "I'll tell you, acushla," said he. "I'm under oath not to show |
| it, and just as I wouldn't break my word to you so I would keep |
| it to those who hold my promise. It's the business of the lodge, |
| and even to you it's secret. And if I was scared when a hand fell |
| on me, can't you understand it when it might have been the hand |
| of a detective?" |
| |
| She felt that he was telling the truth. He gathered her into his |
| arms and kissed away her fears and doubts. |
| |
| "Sit here by me, then. It's a queer throne for such a queen; |
| but it's the best your poor lover can find. He'll do better for you |
| some of these days, I'm thinking. Now your mind is easy once |
| again, is it not?" |
| |
| "How can it ever be at ease, Jack, when I know that you are a |
| criminal among criminals, when I never know the day that I may |
| hear you are in court for murder? 'McMurdo the Scowrer,' that's |
| what one of our boarders called you yesterday. It went through |
| my heart like a knife." |
| |
| "Sure, hard words break no bones." |
| |
| "But they were true." |
| |
| "Well, dear, it's not so bad as you think. We are but poor |
| men that are trying in our own way to get our rights." |
| |
| Ettie threw her arms round her lover's neck. "Give it up, Jack! |
| For my sake, for God's sake, give it up! It was to ask you that |
| I came here to-day. Oh, Jack, see -- I beg it of you on my bended knees! |
| Kneeling here before you I implore you to give it up!" |
| |
| He raised her and soothed her with her head against his breast. |
| |
| "Sure, my darlin', you don't know what it is you are asking. |
| How could I give it up when it would be to break my oath and to |
| desert my comrades? If you could see how things stand with me |
| you could never ask it of me. Besides, if I wanted to, how could |
| I do it? You don't suppose that the lodge would let a man go free |
| with all its secrets?" |
| |
| "I've thought of that, Jack. I've planned it all. Father has |
| saved some money. He is weary of this place where the fear of |
| these people darkens our lives. He is ready to go. We would fly |
| together to Philadelphia or New York, where we would be safe |
| from them." |
| |
| McMurdo laughed. "The lodge has a long arm. Do you think |
| it could not stretch from here to Philadelphia or New York?" |
| |
| "Well, then, to the West, or to England, or to Germany, |
| where father came from -- anywhere to get away from this |
| Valley of Fear!" |
| |
| McMurdo thought of old Brother Morris. "Sure, it is the second |
| time I have heard the valley so named," said he. "The shadow |
| does indeed seem to lie heavy on some of you." |
| |
| "It darkens every moment of our lives. Do you suppose that |
| Ted Baldwin has ever forgiven us? If it were not that he fears |
| you, what do you suppose our chances would be? If you saw the |
| look in those dark, hungry eyes of his when they fall on me!" |
| |
| "By Gar! I'd teach him better manners if I caught him at it! |
| But see here, little girl. I can't leave here. I can't -- take that |
| from me once and for all. But if you will leave me to find my own |
| way, I will try to prepare a way of getting honourably out of it." |
| |
| "There is no honour in such a matter." |
| |
| "Well, well, it's just how you look at it. But if you'll give me |
| six months, I'll work it so that I can leave without being ashamed |
| to look others in the face." |
| |
| The girl laughed with joy. "Six months!" she cried. "Is it a promise?" |
| |
| "Well, it may be seven or eight. But within a year at the |
| furthest we will leave the valley behind us." |
| |
| It was the most that Ettie could obtain, and yet it was something. |
| There was this distant light to illuminate the gloom of the |
| immediate future. She returned to her father's house more light- |
| hearted than she had ever been since Jack McMurdo had come |
| into her life. |
| |
| It might be thought that as a member, all the doings of the |
| society would be told to him; but he was soon to discover that |
| the organization was wider and more complex than the simple |
| lodge. Even Boss McGinty was ignorant as to many things; for |
| there was an official named the County Delegate, living at |
| Hobson's Patch farther down the line, who had power over |
| several different lodges which he wielded in a sudden and |
| arbitrary way. Only once did McMurdo see him, a sly, little gray- |
| haired rat of a man, with a slinking gait and a sidelong glance |
| which was charged with malice. Evans Pott was his name, and |
| even the great Boss of Vermissa felt towards him something of |
| the repulsion and fear which the huge Danton may have felt for |
| the puny but dangerous Robespierre. |
| |
| One day Scanlan, who was McMurdo's fellow boarder, received |
| a note from McGinty inclosing one from Evans Pott, which |
| informed him that he was sending over two good men, Lawler |
| and Andrews, who had instructions to act in the neighbourhood; |
| though it was best for the cause that no particulars as to |
| their objects should be given. Would the Bodymaster see to it |
| that suitable arrangements be made for their lodgings and |
| comfort until the time for action should arrive? McGinty added |
| that it was impossible for anyone to remain secret at the |
| Union House, and that, therefore, he would be obliged if |
| McMurdo and Scanlan would put the strangers up for a few days in |
| their boarding house. |
| |
| The same evening the two men arrived, each carrying his |
| gripsack. Lawler was an elderly man, shrewd, silent, and self- |
| contained, clad in an old black frock coat, which with his soft |
| felt hat and ragged, grizzled beard gave him a general |
| resemblance to an itinerant preacher. His companion Andrews was |
| little more than a boy, frank-faced and cheerful, with the breezy |
| manner of one who is out for a holiday and means to enjoy every |
| minute of it. Both men were total abstainers, and behaved in all |
| ways as exemplary members of the society, with the one simple |
| exception that they were assassins who had often proved themselves |
| to be most capable instruments for this association of murder. |
| Lawler had already carried out fourteen commissions of the kind, |
| and Andrews three. |
| |
| They were, as McMurdo found, quite ready to converse about |
| their deeds in the past, which they recounted with the half- |
| bashful pride of men who had done good and unselfish service |
| for the community. They were reticent, however, as to the |
| immediate job in hand. |
| |
| "They chose us because neither I nor the boy here drink," |
| Lawler explained. "They can count on us saying no more than |
| we should. You must not take it amiss, but it is the orders |
| of the County Delegate that we obey." |
| |
| "Sure, we are all in it together," said Scanlan, McMurdo's |
| mate, as the four sat together at supper. |
| |
| "That's true enough, and we'll talk till the cows come home |
| of the killing of Charlie Williams or of Simon Bird, or any other |
| job in the past. But till the work is done we say nothing." |
| |
| "There are half a dozen about here that I have a word to say to," |
| said McMurdo, with an oath. "I suppose it isn't Jack Knox of Ironhill |
| that you are after. I'd go some way to see him get his deserts." |
| |
| "No, it's not him yet." |
| |
| "Or Herman Strauss?" |
| |
| "No, nor him either." |
| |
| "Well, if you won't tell us we can't make you; but I'd be glad to know." |
| |
| Lawler smiled and shook his head. He was not to be drawn. |
| |
| In spite of the reticence of their guests, Scanlan and McMurdo |
| were quite determined to be present at what they called "the |
| fun." When, therefore, at an early hour one morning McMurdo |
| heard them creeping down the stairs he awakened Scanlan, and |
| the two hurried on their clothes. When they were dressed they |
| found that the others had stolen out, leaving the door open |
| behind them. It was not yet dawn, and by the light of the lamps |
| they could see the two men some distance down the street. They |
| followed them warily, treading noiselessly in the deep snow. |
| |
| The boarding house was near the edge of the town, and soon |
| they were at the crossroads which is beyond its boundary. Here |
| three men were waiting, with whom Lawler and Andrews held a |
| short, eager conversation. Then they all moved on together. It |
| was clearly some notable job which needed numbers. At this |
| point there are several trails which lead to various mines. The |
| strangers took that which led to the Crow Hill, a huge business |
| which was in strong hands which had been able, thanks to their |
| energetic and fearless New England manager, Josiah H. Dunn, |
| to keep some order and discipline during the long reign of terror. |
| |
| Day was breaking now, and a line of workmen were slowly making |
| their way, singly and in groups, along the blackened path. |
| |
| McMurdo and Scanlan strolled on with the others, keeping in |
| sight of the men whom they followed. A thick mist lay over |
| them, and from the heart of it there came the sudden scream of a |
| steam whistle. It was the ten-minute signal before the cages |
| descended and the day's labour began. |
| |
| When they reached the open space round the mine shaft there |
| were a hundred miners waiting, stamping their feet and blowing |
| on their fingers; for it was bitterly cold. The strangers stood in a |
| little group under the shadow of the engine house. Scanlan and |
| McMurdo climbed a heap of slag from which the whole scene |
| lay before them. They saw the mine engineer, a great bearded |
| Scotchman named Menzies, come out of the engine house and |
| blow his whistle for the cages to be lowered. |
| |
| At the same instant a tall, loose-framed young man with a |
| clean-shaved, earnest face advanced eagerly towards the pit head. |
| As he came forward his eyes fell upon the group, silent and |
| motionless, under the engine house. The men had drawn down |
| their hats and turned up their collars to screen their faces. For a |
| moment the presentiment of Death laid its cold hand upon the |
| manager's heart. At the next he had shaken it off and saw only |
| his duty towards intrusive strangers. |
| |
| "Who are you?" he asked as he advanced. "What are you |
| loitering there for?" |
| |
| There was no answer; but the lad Andrews stepped forward and shot |
| him in the stomach. The hundred waiting miners stood as motionless |
| and helpless as if they were paralyzed. The manager clapped his |
| two hands to the wound and doubled himself up. Then he staggered |
| away; but another of the assassins fired, and he went down sidewise, |
| kicking and clawing among a heap of clinkers. Menzies, the Scotchman, |
| gave a roar of rage at the sight and rushed with an iron spanner at |
| the murderers; but was met by two balls in the face which dropped |
| him dead at their very feet. |
| |
| There was a surge forward of some of the miners, and an inarticulate |
| cry of pity and of anger; but a couple of the strangers emptied their |
| six-shooters over the heads of the crowd, and they broke and scattered, |
| some of them rushing wildly back to their homes in Vermissa. |
| |
| When a few of the bravest had rallied, and there was a return |
| to the mine, the murderous gang had vanished in the mists of |
| morning, without a single witness being able to swear to the |
| identity of these men who in front of a hundred spectators had |
| wrought this double crime. |
| |
| Scanlan and McMurdo made their way back; Scanlan somewhat |
| subdued, for it was the first murder job that he had seen |
| with his own eyes, and it appeared less funny than he had been |
| led to believe. The horrible screams of the dead manager's |
| wife pursued them as they hurried to the town. McMurdo was |
| absorbed and silent; but he showed no sympathy for the |
| weakening of his companion. |
| |
| "Sure, it is like a war," he repeated. "What is it but a war |
| between us and them, and we hit back where we best can." |
| |
| There was high revel in the lodge room at the Union House |
| that night, not only over the killing of the manager and engineer |
| of the Crow Hill mine, which would bring this organization into |
| line with the other blackmailed and terror-stricken companies of |
| the district, but also over a distant triumph which had been |
| wrought by the hands of the lodge itself. |
| |
| It would appear that when the County Delegate had sent over |
| five good men to strike a blow in Vermissa, he had demanded |
| that in return three Vermissa men should be secretly selected and |
| sent across to kill William Hales of Stake Royal, one of the best |
| known and most popular mine owners in the Gilmerton district, a |
| man who was believed not to have an enemy in the world; for he |
| was in all ways a model employer. He had insisted, however, |
| upon efficiency in the work, and had, therefore, paid off certain |
| drunken and idle employees who were members of the all- |
| powerful society. Coffin notices hung outside his door had not |
| weakened his resolution, and so in a free, civilized country he |
| found himself condemned to death. |
| |
| The execution had now been duly carried out. Ted Baldwin, who |
| sprawled now in the seat of honour beside the Bodymaster, had |
| been chief of the party. His flushed face and glazed, blood-shot |
| eyes told of sleeplessness and drink. He and his two comrades |
| had spent the night before among the mountains. They were unkempt |
| and weather-stained. But no heroes, returning from a forlorn hope, |
| could have had a warmer welcome from their comrades. |
| |
| The story was told and retold amid cries of delight and shouts |
| of laughter. They had waited for their man as he drove home at |
| nightfall, taking their station at the top of a steep hill, where his |
| horse must be at a walk. He was so furred to keep out the cold |
| that he could not lay his hand on his pistol. They had pulled him |
| out and shot him again and again. He had screamed for mercy. |
| The screams were repeated for the amusement of the lodge. |
| |
| "Let's hear again how he squealed," they cried. |
| |
| None of them knew the man; but there is eternal drama in a |
| killing, and they had shown the Scowrers of Gilmerton that the |
| Vermissa men were to be relied upon. |
| |
| There had been one contretemps; for a man and his wife had |
| driven up while they were still emptying their revolvers into the |
| silent body. It had been suggested that they should shoot them |
| both; but they were harmless folk who were not connected with |
| the mines, so they were sternly bidden to drive on and keep |
| silent, lest a worse thing befall them. And so the blood-mottled |
| figure had been left as a warning to all such hard-hearted |
| employers, and the three noble avengers had hurried off into the |
| mountains where unbroken nature comes down to the very edge |
| of the furnaces and the slag heaps. Here they were, safe and |
| sound, their work well done, and the plaudits of their companions |
| in their ears. |
| |
| It had been a great day for the Scowrers. The shadow had |
| fallen even darker over the valley. But as the wise general |
| chooses the moment of victory in which to redouble his efforts, |
| so that his foes may have no time to steady themselves after |
| disaster, so Boss McGinty, looking out upon the scene of his |
| operations with his brooding and malicious eyes, had devised a |
| new attack upon those who opposed him. That very night, as the |
| half-drunken company broke up, he touched McMurdo on the |
| arm and led him aside into that inner room where they had their |
| first interview. |
| |
| "See here, my lad," said he, "I've got a job that's worthy of |
| you at last. You'll have the doing of it in your own hands." |
| |
| "Proud I am to hear it," McMurdo answered. |
| |
| "You can take two men with you -- Manders and Reilly. They |
| have been warned for service. We'll never be right in this district |
| until Chester Wilcox has been settled, and you'll have the thanks |
| of every lodge in the coal fields if you can down him." |
| |
| "I'll do my best, anyhow. Who is he, and where shall I find him?" |
| |
| McGinty took his eternal half-chewed, half-smoked cigar from |
| the corner of his mouth, and proceeded to draw a rough diagram |
| on a page torn from his notebook. |
| |
| "He's the chief foreman of the Iron Dike Company. He's a |
| hard citizen, an old colour sergeant of the war, all scars and |
| grizzle. We've had two tries at him; but had no luck, and Jim |
| Carnaway lost his life over it. Now it's for you to take it over. |
| That's the house -- all alone at the Iron Dike crossroad, same as |
| you see here on the map -- without another within earshot. It's no |
| good by day. He's armed and shoots quick and straight, with no |
| questions asked. But at night -- well, there he is with his wife, |
| three children, and a hired help. You can't pick or choose. It's |
| all or none. If you could get a bag of blasting powder at the front |
| door with a slow match to it -- " |
| |
| "What's the man done?" |
| |
| "Didn't I tell you he shot Jim Carnaway?" |
| |
| "Why did he shoot him?" |
| |
| "What in thunder has that to do with you? Carnaway was |
| about his house at night, and he shot him. That's enough for me |
| and you. You've got to settle the thing right." |
| |
| "There's these two women and the children. Do they go up too?" |
| |
| "They have to -- else how can we get him?" |
| |
| "It seems hard on them; for they've done nothing." |
| |
| "What sort of fool's talk is this? Do you back out?" |
| |
| "Easy, Councillor, easy! What have I ever said or done that you |
| should think I would be after standing back from an order of the |
| Bodymaster of my own lodge? If it's right or if it's wrong, |
| it's for you to decide." |
| |
| "You'll do it, then?" |
| |
| "Of course I will do it." |
| |
| "When?" |
| |
| "Well, you had best give me a night or two that I may see the |
| house and make my plans. Then --" |
| |
| "Very good," said McGinty, shaking him by the hand. "I leave it with you. |
| It will be a great day when you bring us the news. It's just the last |
| stroke that will bring them all to their knees." |
| |
| McMurdo thought long and deeply over the commission which |
| had been so suddenly placed in his hands. The isolated house in |
| which Chester Wilcox lived was about five miles off in an |
| adjacent valley. That very night he started off all alone to |
| prepare for the attempt. It was daylight before he returned from |
| his reconnaissance. Next day he interviewed his two subordinates, |
| Manders and Reilly, reckless youngsters who were as elated as if |
| it were a deer-hunt. |
| |
| Two nights later they met outside the town, all three armed, |
| and one of them carrying a sack stuffed with the powder which |
| was used in the quarries. It was two in the morning before they |
| came to the lonely house. The night was a windy one, with |
| broken clouds drifting swiftly across the face of a three-quarter |
| moon. They had been warned to be on their guard against |
| bloodhounds; so they moved forward cautiously, with their pistols |
| cocked in their hands. But there was no sound save the howling of |
| the wind, and no movement but the swaying branches above them. |
| |
| McMurdo listened at the door of the lonely house; but all was |
| still within. Then he leaned the powder bag against it, ripped a |
| hole in it with his knife, and attached the fuse. When it was well |
| alight he and his two companions took to their heels, and were |
| some distance off, safe and snug in a sheltering ditch, before the |
| shattering roar of the explosion, with the low, deep rumble of the |
| collapsing building, told them that their work was done. No |
| cleaner job had ever been carried out in the bloodstained annals |
| of the society. |
| |
| But alas that work so well organized and boldly carried out |
| should all have gone for nothing! Warned by the fate of the |
| various victims, and knowing that he was marked down for |
| destruction, Chester Wilcox had moved himself and his family |
| only the day before to some safer and less known quarters, |
| where a guard of police should watch over them. It was an empty |
| house which had been torn down by the gunpowder, and the |
| grim old colour sergeant of the war was still teaching discipline |
| to the miners of Iron Dike. |
| |
| "Leave him to me," said McMurdo. "He's my man, and I'll |
| get him sure if I have to wait a year for him." |
| |
| A vote of thanks and confidence was passed in full lodge, and |
| so for the time the matter ended. When a few weeks later it was |
| reported in the papers that Wilcox had been shot at from an |
| ambuscade, it was an open secret that McMurdo was still at |
| work upon his unfinished job. |
| |
| Such were the methods of the Society of Freemen, and such |
| were the deeds of the Scowrers by which they spread their rule |
| of fear over the great and rich district which was for so long a |
| period haunted by their terrible presence. Why should these |
| pages be stained by further crimes? Have I not said enough to |
| show the men and their methods? |
| |
| These deeds are written in history, and there are records |
| wherein one may read the details of them. There one may learn |
| of the shooting of Policemen Hunt and Evans because they |
| had ventured to arrest two members of the society -- a double |
| outrage planned at the Vermissa lodge and carried out in cold |
| blood upon two helpless and disarmed men. There also one may |
| read of the shooting of Mrs. Larbey when she was nursing her |
| husband, who had been beaten almost to death by orders of |
| Boss McGinty. The killing of the elder Jenkins, shortly followed |
| by that of his brother, the mutilation of James Murdoch, the |
| blowing up of the Staphouse family, and the murder of the |
| Stendals all followed hard upon one another in the same terrible |
| winter. |
| |
| Darkly the shadow lay upon the Valley of Fear. The spring |
| had come with running brooks and blossoming trees. There was |
| hope for all Nature bound so long in an iron grip; but nowhere |
| was there any hope for the men and women who lived under the |
| yoke of the terror. Never had the cloud above them been so dark |
| and hopeless as in the early summer of the year 1875. |
| |
| |
| |
| Chapter 6 |
| Danger |
| |
| It was the height of the reign of terror. McMurdo, who had |
| already been appointed Inner Deacon, with every prospect of |
| some day succeeding McGinty as Bodymaster, was now so |
| necessary to the councils of his comrades that nothing was done |
| without his help and advice. The more popular he became, |
| however, with the Freemen, the blacker were the scowls which |
| greeted him as he passed along the streets of Vermissa. In spite |
| of their terror the citizens were taking heart to band themselves |
| together against their oppressors. Rumours had reached the lodge |
| of secret gatherings in the Herald office and of distribution of |
| firearms among the law-abiding people. But McGinty and his |
| men were undisturbed by such reports. They were numerous, |
| resolute, and well armed. Their opponents were scattered and |
| powerless. It would all end, as it had done in the past, in |
| aimless talk and possibly in impotent arrests. So said McGinty, |
| McMurdo, and all the bolder spirits. |
| |
| It was a Saturday evening in May. Saturday was always the |
| lodge night, and McMurdo was leaving his house to attend it |
| when Morris, the weaker brother of the order, came to see him. |
| His brow was creased with care, and his kindly face was drawn |
| and haggard. |
| |
| "Can I speak with you freely, Mr. McMurdo?" |
| |
| "Sure." |
| |
| "I can't forget that I spoke my heart to you once, and that you |
| kept it to yourself, even though the Boss himself came to ask |
| you about it." |
| |
| "What else could I do if you trusted me? It wasn't that I |
| agreed with what you said." |
| |
| "I know that well. But you are the one that I can speak to and |
| be safe. I've a secret here," he put his hand to his breast, "and |
| it is just burning the life out of me. I wish it had come to any one |
| of you but me. If I tell it, it will mean murder, for sure. If I |
| don't, it may bring the end of us all. God help me, but I am near |
| out of my wits over it!" |
| |
| McMurdo looked at the man earnestly. He was trembling in |
| every limb. He poured some whisky into a glass and handed it to |
| him. "That's the physic for the likes of you," said he. "Now let |
| me hear of it." |
| |
| Morris drank, and his white face took a tinge of colour. "I can |
| tell it to you all in one sentence," said he. "There's a detective |
| on our trail." |
| |
| McMurdo stared at him in astonishment. "Why, man, you're |
| crazy," he said. "Isn't the place full of police and detectives |
| and what harm did they ever do us?" |
| |
| "No, no, it's no man of the district. As you say, we know |
| them, and it is little that they can do. But you've heard of |
| Pinkerton's?" |
| |
| "I've read of some folk of that name." |
| |
| "Well, you can take it from me you've no show when they |
| are on your trail. It's not a take-it-or-miss-it government |
| concern. It's a dead earnest business proposition that's out for |
| results and keeps out till by hook or crook it gets them. If a |
| Pinkerton man is deep in this business, we are all destroyed." |
| |
| "We must kill him." |
| |
| "Ah, it's the first thought that came to you! So it will be up at |
| the lodge. Didn't I say to you that it would end in murder?" |
| |
| "Sure, what is murder? Isn't it common enough in these |
| parts?" |
| |
| "It is, indeed; but it's not for me to point out the man that is |
| to be murdered. I'd never rest easy again. And yet it's our own |
| necks that may be at stake. In God's name what shall I do?" He |
| rocked to and fro in his agony of indecision. |
| |
| But his words had moved McMurdo deeply. It was easy to see |
| that he shared the other's opinion as to the danger, and the need |
| for meeting it. He gripped Morris's shoulder and shook him in |
| his earnestness. |
| |
| "See here, man," he cried, and he almost screeched the |
| words in his excitement, "you won't gain anything by sitting |
| keening like an old wife at a wake. Let's have the facts. Who is |
| the fellow? Where is he? How did you hear of him? Why did |
| you come to me?" |
| |
| "I came to you; for you are the one man that would advise me. |
| I told you that I had a store in the East before I came here. I left |
| good friends behind me, and one of them is in the telegraph |
| service. Here's a letter that I had from him yesterday. It's this |
| part from the top of the page. You can read it yourself." |
| |
| This was what McMurdo read: |
| |
| How are the Scowrers getting on in your parts? We read |
| |
| plenty of them in the papers. Between you and me I expect |
| |
| to hear news from you before long. Five big corporations |
| |
| and the two railroads have taken the thing up in dead |
| |
| earnest. They mean it, and you can bet they'll get there! |
| |
| They are right deep down into it. Pinkerton has taken hold |
| |
| under their orders, and his best man, Birdy Edwards, is |
| |
| operating. The thing has got to be stopped right now. |
| |
| "Now read the postscript." |
| |
| Of course, what I give you is what I learned in business; |
| |
| so it goes no further. It's a queer cipher that you handle by |
| |
| the yard every day and can get no meaning from. |
| |
| McMurdo sat in silence for some time, with the letter in his |
| listless hands. The mist had lifted for a moment, and there was |
| the abyss before him. |
| |
| "Does anyone else know of this?" he asked. |
| |
| "I have told no one else." |
| |
| "But this man -- your friend -- has he any other person that he |
| would be likely to write to?" |
| |
| "Well, I dare say he knows one or two more." |
| |
| "Of the lodge?" |
| |
| "It's likely enough." |
| |
| "I was asking because it is likely that he may have given |
| some description of this fellow Birdy Edwards -- then we could |
| get on his trail." |
| |
| "Well, it's possible. But I should not think he knew him. He |
| is just telling me the news that came to him by way of business. |
| How would he know this Pinkerton man?" |
| |
| McMurdo gave a violent start. |
| |
| "By Gar!" he cried, "I've got him. What a fool I was not to |
| know it. Lord! but we're in luck! We will fix him before he can |
| do any harm. See here, Morris, will you leave this thing in my |
| hands?" |
| |
| "Sure, if you will only take it off mine." |
| |
| "I'll do that. You can stand right back and let me run it. Even |
| your name need not be mentioned. I'll take it all on myself, as if |
| it were to me that this letter has come. Will that content you?" |
| |
| "It's just what I would ask." |
| |
| "Then leave it at that and keep your head shut. Now I'll get |
| down to the lodge, and we'll soon make old man Pinkerton sorry |
| for himself." |
| |
| "You wouldn't kill this man?" |
| |
| "The less you know, Friend Morris, the easier your conscience |
| will be, and the better you will sleep. Ask no questions, and |
| let these things settle themselves. I have hold of it now." |
| |
| Morris shook his head sadly as he left. "I feel that his blood is |
| on my hands," he groaned. |
| |
| "Self-protection is no murder, anyhow," said McMurdo, smiling |
| grimly. "It's him or us. I guess this man would destroy us all |
| if we left him long in the valley. Why, Brother Morris, we'll |
| have to elect you Bodymaster yet; for you've surely saved the |
| lodge." |
| |
| And yet it was clear from his actions that he thought more |
| seriously of this new intrusion than his words would show. It |
| may have been his guilty conscience, it may have been the |
| reputation of the Pinkerton organization, it may have been the |
| knowledge that great, rich corporations had set themselves the |
| task of clearing out the Scowrers; but, whatever his reason, his |
| actions were those of a man who is preparing for the worst. |
| Every paper which would incriminate him was destroyed before |
| he left the house. After that he gave a long sigh of satisfaction; |
| for it seemed to him that he was safe. And yet the danger must |
| still have pressed somewhat upon him; for on his way to the |
| lodge he stopped at old man Shafter's. The house was forbidden |
| him; but when he tapped at the window Ettie came out to him. |
| The dancing Irish deviltry had gone from her lover's eyes. She |
| read his danger in his earnest face. |
| |
| "Something has happened!" she cried. "Oh, Jack, you are in |
| danger!" |
| |
| "Sure, it is not very bad, my sweetheart. And yet it may be |
| wise that we make a move before it is worse." |
| |
| "Make a move?" |
| |
| "I promised you once that I would go some day. I think the |
| time is coming. I had news to-night, bad news, and I see trouble |
| coming." |
| |
| "The police?" |
| |
| "Well, a Pinkerton. But, sure, you wouldn't know what that |
| is, acushla, nor what it may mean to the likes of me. I'm too |
| deep in this thing, and I may have to get out of it quick. You |
| said you would come with me if I went." |
| |
| "Oh, Jack, it would be the saving of you!" |
| |
| "I'm an honest man in some things, Ettie. I wouldn't hurt a |
| hair of your bonny head for all that the world can give, nor ever |
| pull you down one inch from the golden throne above the clouds |
| where I always see you. Would you trust me?" |
| |
| She put her hand in his without a word. "Well, then, listen to |
| what I say, and do as I order you, for indeed it's the only way |
| for us. Things are going to happen in this valley. I feel it in my |
| bones. There may be many of us that will have to look out for |
| ourselves. I'm one, anyhow. If I go, by day or night, it's you |
| that must come with me!" |
| |
| "I'd come after you, Jack." |
| |
| "No, no, you shall come with me. If this valley is closed to |
| me and I can never come back, how can I leave you behind, and |
| me perhaps in hiding from the police with never a chance of a |
| message? It's with me you must come. I know a good woman in |
| the place I come from, and it's there I'd leave you till we can get |
| married. Will you come?" |
| |
| "Yes, Jack, I will come." |
| |
| "God bless you for your trust in me! It's a fiend out of hell |
| that I should be if I abused it. Now, mark you, Ettie, it will be |
| just a word to you, and when it reaches you, you will drop |
| everything and come right down to the waiting room at the depot |
| and stay there till I come for you." |
| |
| "Day or night, I'll come at the word, Jack." |
| |
| Somewhat eased in mind, now that his own preparations for |
| escape had been begun, McMurdo went on to the lodge. It had |
| already assembled, and only by complicated signs and counter- |
| signs could he pass through the outer guard and inner guard who |
| close-tiled it. A buzz of pleasure and welcome greeted him as he |
| entered. The long room was crowded, and through the haze of |
| tobacco smoke he saw the tangled black mane of the Bodymaster, |
| the cruel, unfriendly features of Baldwin, the vulture face of |
| Harraway, the secretary, and a dozen more who were among the |
| leaders of the lodge. He rejoiced that they should all be there to |
| take counsel over his news. |
| |
| "Indeed, it's glad we are to see you, Brother!" cried the |
| chairman. "There's business here that wants a Solomon in judgment |
| to set it right." |
| |
| "It's Lander and Egan," explained his neighbour as he took |
| his seat. "They both claim the head money given by the lodge |
| for the shooting of old man Crabbe over at Stylestown, and |
| who's to say which fired the bullet?" |
| |
| McMurdo rose in his place and raised his hand. The expression |
| of his face froze the attention of the audience. There was a |
| dead hush of expectation. |
| |
| "Eminent Bodymaster," he said, in a solemn voice, "I claim |
| urgency!" |
| |
| "Brother McMurdo claims urgency," said McGinty. "It's a |
| claim that by the rules of this lodge takes precedence. Now |
| Brother, we attend you." |
| |
| McMurdo took the letter from his pocket. |
| |
| "Eminent Bodymaster and Brethren," he said, "I am the |
| bearer of ill news this day; but it is better that it should be known |
| and discussed, than that a blow should fall upon us without |
| warning which would destroy us all. I have information that the |
| most powerful and richest organizations in this state have bound |
| themselves together for our destruction, and that at this very |
| moment there is a Pinkerton detective, one Birdy Edwards, at |
| work in the valley collecting the evidence which may put a rope |
| round the necks of many of us, and send every man in this room |
| into a felon's cell. That is the situation for the discussion of |
| which I have made a claim of urgency." |
| |
| There was a dead silence in the room. It was broken by the |
| chairman. |
| |
| "What is your evidence for this, Brother McMurdo?" he |
| asked. |
| |
| "It is in this letter which has come into my hands," said |
| McMurdo. Me read the passage aloud. "It is a matter of honour |
| with me that I can give no further particulars about the letter, nor |
| put it into your hands; but I assure you that there is nothing else |
| in it which can affect the interests of the lodge. I put the case |
| before you as it has reached me." |
| |
| "Let me say, Mr. Chairman," said one of the older brethren, |
| "that I have heard of Birdy Edwards, and that he has the name |
| of being the best man in the Pinkerton service." |
| |
| "Does anyone know him by sight?" asked McGinty. |
| |
| "Yes," said McMurdo, "I do." |
| |
| There was a murmur of astonishment through the hall. |
| |
| "I believe we hold him in the hollow of our hands," he |
| continued with an exulting smile upon his face. "If we act |
| quickly and wisely, we can cut this thing short. If I have your |
| confidence and your help, it is little that we have to fear." |
| |
| "What have we to fear, anyhow? What can he know of our |
| affairs?" |
| |
| "You might say so if all were as stanch as you, Councillor. |
| But this man has all the millions of the capitalists at his back. Do |
| you think there is no weaker brother among all our lodges that |
| could not be bought? He will get at our secrets -- maybe has got |
| them already. There's only one sure cure." |
| |
| "That he never leaves the valley," said Baldwin. |
| |
| McMurdo nodded. "Good for you, Brother Baldwin," he |
| said. "You and I have had our differences, but you have said the |
| true word to-night." |
| |
| "Where is he, then? Where shall we know him?" |
| |
| "Eminent Bodymaster," said McMurdo, earnestly, "I would |
| put it to you that this is too vital a thing for us to discuss in open |
| lodge. God forbid that I should throw a doubt on anyone here; |
| but if so much as a word of gossip got to the ears of this man, |
| there would be an end of any chance of our getting him. I would |
| ask the lodge to choose a trusty committee, Mr. Chairman -- |
| yourself, if I might suggest it, and Brother Baldwin here, and |
| five more. Then I can talk freely of what I know and of what I |
| advise should be done." |
| |
| The proposition was at once adopted, and the committee |
| chosen. Besides the chairman and Baldwin there were the vulture- |
| faced secretary, Harraway, Tiger Cormac, the brutal young |
| assassin, Carter, the treasurer, and the brothers Willaby, |
| fearless and desperate men who would stick at nothing. |
| |
| The usual revelry of the lodge was short and subdued: for |
| there was a cloud upon the men's spirits, and many there for the |
| first time began to see the cloud of avenging Law drifting up in |
| that serene sky under which they had dwelt so long. The horrors |
| they had dealt out to others had been so much a part of their |
| settled lives that the thought of retribution had become a remote |
| one, and so seemed the more startling now that it came so |
| closely upon them. They broke up early and left their leaders to |
| their council. |
| |
| "Now, McMurdo!" said McGinty when they were alone. The |
| seven men sat frozen in their seats. |
| |
| "I said just now that I knew Birdy Edwards," McMurdo |
| explained. "I need not tell you that he is not here under that |
| name. He's a brave man, but not a crazy one. He passes under |
| the name of Steve Wilson, and he is lodging at Hobson's Patch." |
| |
| "How do you know this?" |
| |
| "Because I fell into talk with him. I thought little of it at the |
| time, nor would have given it a second thought but for this letter; |
| but now I'm sure it's the man. I met him on the cars when I went |
| down the line on Wednesday -- a hard case if ever there was one. |
| He said he was a reporter. I believed it for the moment. Wanted |
| to know all he could about the Scowrers and what he called 'the |
| outrages' for a New York paper. Asked me every kind of |
| question so as to get something. You bet I was giving nothing |
| away. 'I'd pay for it and pay well,' said he, 'if I could get some |
| stuff that would suit my editor.' I said what I thought would |
| please him best, and he handed me a twenty-dollar bill for my |
| information. 'There's ten times that for you,' said he, 'if you can |
| find me all that I want.'" |
| |
| "What did you tell him, then?" |
| |
| "Any stuff I could make up." |
| |
| "How do you know he wasn't a newspaper man?" |
| |
| "I'll tell you. He got out at Hobson's Patch, and so did I. I |
| chanced into the telegraph bureau, and he was leaving it. |
| |
| "'See here,' said the operator after he'd gone out, 'I guess |
| we should charge double rates for this.' -- 'I guess you should,' |
| said I. He had filled the form with stuff that might have been |
| Chinese, for all we could make of it. 'He fires a sheet of this off |
| every day,' said the clerk. 'Yes,' said I; 'it's special news for his |
| paper, and he's scared that the others should tap it.' That was |
| what the operator thought and what I thought at the time; but I |
| think differently now." |
| |
| "By Gar! I believe you are right," said McGinty. "But what |
| do you allow that we should do about it?" |
| |
| "Why not go right down now and fix him?" someone suggested. |
| |
| "Ay, the sooner the better." |
| |
| "I'd start this next minute if I knew where we could find |
| him," said McMurdo. "He's in Hobson's Patch; but I don't |
| know the house. I've got a plan, though, if you'll only take my |
| advice." |
| |
| "Well, what is it?" |
| |
| "I'll go to the Patch to-morrow morning. I'll find him through |
| the operator. He can locate him, I guess. Well, then I'll tell him |
| that I'm a Freeman myself. I'll offer him all the secrets of the |
| lodge for a price. You bet he'll tumble to it. I'll tell him the |
| papers are at my house, and that it's as much as my life would |
| be worth to let him come while folk were about. He'll see that |
| that's horse sense. Let him come at ten o'clock at night, and he |
| shall see everything. That will fetch him sure." |
| |
| "Well?" |
| |
| "You can plan the rest for yourselves. Widow MacNamara's |
| is a lonely house. She's as true as steel and as deaf as a post. |
| There's only Scanlan and me in the house. If I get his promise -- |
| and I'll let you know if I do -- I'd have the whole seven of you |
| come to me by nine o'clock. We'll get him in. If ever he gets out |
| alive -- well, he can talk of Birdy Edwards's luck for the rest of |
| his days!" |
| |
| "There's going to be a vacancy at Pinkerton's or I'm mistaken. |
| Leave it at that, McMurdo. At nine to-morrow we'll be with you. |
| You once get the door shut behind him, and you can leave the rest |
| with us." |
| |
| |
| |
| Chapter 7 |
| The Trapping of Birdy Edwards |
| |
| As McMurdo had said, the house in which he lived was a |
| lonely one and very well suited for such a crime as they had |
| planned. It was on the extreme fringe of the town and stood well |
| back from the road. In any other case the conspirators would |
| have simply called out their man, as they had many a time |
| before, and emptied their pistols into his body; but in this |
| instance it was very necessary to find out how much he knew, |
| how he knew it, and what had been passed on to his employers. |
| |
| It was possible that they were already too late and that the |
| work had been done. If that was indeed so, they could at least |
| have their revenge upon the man who had done it. But they were |
| hopeful that nothing of great importance had yet come to the |
| detective's knowledge, as otherwise, they argued, he would not |
| have troubled to write down and forward such trivial information |
| as McMurdo claimed to have given him. However, all this they |
| would learn from his own lips. Once in their power, they would |
| find a way to make him speak. It was not the first time that they |
| had handled an unwilling witness. |
| |
| McMurdo went to Hobson's Patch as agreed. The police |
| seemed to take particular interest in him that morning, and |
| Captain Marvin -- he who had claimed the old acquaintance with |
| him at Chicago -- actually addressed him as he waited at the |
| station. McMurdo turned away and refused to speak with him. |
| He was back from his mission in the afternoon, and saw McGinty |
| at the Union House. |
| |
| "He is coming," he said. |
| |
| "Good!" said McGinty. The giant was in his shirt sleeves, |
| with chains and seals gleaming athwart his ample waistcoat and a |
| diamond twinkling through the fringe of his bristling beard. |
| Drink and politics had made the Boss a very rich as well as |
| powerful man. The more terrible, therefore, seemed that glimpse |
| of the prison or the gallows which had risen before him the night |
| before. |
| |
| "Do you reckon he knows much?" he asked anxiously. |
| |
| McMurdo shook his head gloomily. "He's been here some |
| time -- six weeks at the least. I guess he didn't come into these |
| parts to look at the prospect. If he has been working among us |
| all that time with the railroad money at his back, I should expect |
| that he has got results, and that he has passed them on." |
| |
| "There's not a weak man in the lodge," cried McGinty. |
| "True as steel, every man of them. And yet, by the Lord! there |
| is that skunk Morris. What about him? If any man gives us |
| away, it would be he. I've a mind to send a couple of the boys |
| round before evening to give him a beating up and see what they |
| can get from him." |
| |
| "Well, there would be no harm in that," McMurdo answered. |
| "I won't deny that I have a liking for Morris and would be sorry |
| to see him come to harm. He has spoken to me once or twice |
| over lodge matters, and though he may not see them the same as |
| you or I, he never seemed the sort that squeals. But still it is not |
| for me to stand between him and you." |
| |
| "I'll fix the old devil!" said McGinty with an oath. "I've had |
| my eye on him this year past." |
| |
| "Well, you know best about that," McMurdo answered. "But |
| whatever you do must be to-morrow; for we must lie low until |
| the Pinkerton affair is settled up. We can't afford to set the |
| police buzzing, to-day of all days." |
| |
| "True for you," said McGinty. "And we'll learn from Birdy |
| Edwards himself where he got his news if we have to cut his |
| heart out first. Did he seem to scent a trap?" |
| |
| McMurdo laughed. "I guess I took him on his weak point," |
| he said. "If he could get on a good trail of the Scowrers, he's |
| ready to follow it into hell. I took his money," McMurdo |
| grinned as he produced a wad of dollar notes, "and as much |
| more when he has seen all my papers." |
| |
| "What papers?" |
| |
| "Well, there are no papers. But I filled him up about |
| constitutions and books of rules and forms of membership. |
| He expects to get right down to the end of everything |
| before he leaves." |
| |
| "Faith, he's right there," said McGinty grimly. "Didn't he |
| ask you why you didn't bring him the papers?" |
| |
| "As if I would carry such things, and me a suspected man, |
| and Captain Marvin after speaking to me this very day at the |
| depot!" |
| |
| "Ay, I heard of that," said McGinty. "I guess the heavy end |
| of this business is coming on to you. We could put him down an |
| old shaft when we've done with him; but however we work it we |
| can't get past the man living at Hobson's Patch and you being |
| there to-day." |
| |
| McMurdo shrugged his shoulders. "If we handle it right, they |
| can never prove the killing," said he. "No one can see him |
| come to the house after dark, and I'll lay to it that no one will |
| see him go. Now see here, Councillor, I'll show you my plan |
| and I'll ask you to fit the others into it. You will all come in |
| good time. Very well. He comes at ten. He is to tap three times, |
| and me to open the door for him. Then I'll get behind him and |
| shut it. He's our man then." |
| |
| "That's all easy and plain." |
| |
| "Yes; but the next step wants considering. He's a hard |
| proposition. He's heavily armed. I've fooled him proper, and yet |
| he is likely to be on his guard. Suppose I show him right into a |
| room with seven men in it where he expected to find me alone. |
| There is going to be shooting, and somebody is going to be hurt." |
| |
| "That's so." |
| |
| "And the noise is going to bring every damned copper in the |
| township on top of it." |
| |
| "I guess you are right." |
| |
| "This is how I should work it. You will all be in the big |
| room -- same as you saw when you had a chat with me. I'll open |
| the door for him, show him into the parlour beside the door, and |
| leave him there while I get the papers. That will give me the |
| chance of telling you how things are shaping. Then I will go |
| back to him with some faked papers. As he is reading them I will |
| jump for him and get my grip on his pistol arm. You'll hear me |
| call and in you will rush. The quicker the better; for he is as |
| strong a man as I, and I may have more than I can manage. But I |
| allow that I can hold him till you come." |
| |
| "It's a good plan," said McGinty. "The lodge will owe you a |
| debt for this. I guess when I move out of the chair I can put a |
| name to the man that's coming after me." |
| |
| "Sure, Councillor, I am little more than a recruit," said |
| McMurdo; but his face showed what he thought of the great |
| man's compliment. |
| |
| When he had returned home he made his own preparations for |
| the grim evening in front of him. First he cleaned, oiled, and |
| loaded his Smith & Wesson revolver. Then he surveyed the |
| room in which the detective was to be trapped. It was a large |
| apartment, with a long deal table in the centre, and the big stove |
| at one side. At each of the other sides were windows. There |
| were no shutters on these: only light curtains which drew across. |
| McMurdo examined these attentively. No doubt it must have |
| struck him that the apartment was very exposed for so secret a |
| meeting. Yet its distance from the road made it of less consequence. |
| Finally he discussed the matter with his fellow lodger. Scanlan, |
| though a Scowrer, was an inoffensive little man who was too weak |
| to stand against the opinion of his comrades, but was secretly |
| horrified by the deeds of blood at which he had sometimes been |
| forced to assist. McMurdo told him shortly what was intended. |
| |
| "And if I were you, Mike Scanlan, I would take a night off |
| and keep clear of it. There will be bloody work here before |
| morning." |
| |
| "Well, indeed then, Mac," Scanlan answered. "It's not the |
| will but the nerve that is wanting in me. When I saw Manager |
| Dunn go down at the colliery yonder it was just more than I |
| could stand. I'm not made for it, same as you or McGinty. If the |
| lodge will think none the worse of me, I'll just do as you advise |
| and leave you to yourselves for the evening." |
| |
| The men came in good time as arranged. They were outwardly |
| respectable citizens, well clad and cleanly; but a judge of |
| faces would have read little hope for Birdy Edwards in those |
| hard mouths and remorseless eyes. There was not a man in the |
| room whose hands had not been reddened a dozen times before. |
| They were as hardened to human murder as a butcher to sheep. |
| |
| Foremost, of course, both in appearance and in guilt, was the |
| formidable Boss. Harraway, the secretary, was a lean, bitter man |
| with a long, scraggy neck and nervous, jerky limbs, a man of |
| incorruptible fidelity where the finances of the order were |
| concerned, and with no notion of justice or honesty to anyone |
| beyond. The treasurer, Carter, was a middle-aged man, with an |
| impassive, rather sulky expression, and a yellow parchment skin. |
| He was a capable organizer, and the actual details of nearly |
| every outrage had sprung from his plotting brain. The two |
| Willabys were men of action, tall, lithe young fellows with |
| determined faces, while their companion, Tiger Cormac, a heavy, |
| dark youth, was feared even by his own comrades for the |
| ferocity of his disposition. These were the men who assembled |
| that night under the roof of McMurdo for the killing of the |
| Pinkerton detective. |
| |
| Their host had placed whisky upon the table, and they had |
| hastened to prime themselves for the work before them. Baldwin |
| and Cormac were already half-drunk, and the liquor had brought |
| out all their ferocity. Cormac placed his hands on the stove for |
| an instant -- it had been lighted, for the nights were still cold. |
| |
| "That will do," said he, with an oath. |
| |
| "Ay," said Baldwin, catching his meaning. "If he is strapped |
| to that, we will have the truth out of him." |
| |
| "We'll have the truth out of him, never fear," said McMurdo. |
| He had nerves of steel, this man; for though the whole weight of |
| the affair was on him his manner was as cool and unconcerned as |
| ever. The others marked it and applauded. |
| |
| "You are the one to handle him," said the Boss approvingly. |
| "Not a warning will he get till your hand is on his throat. It's a |
| pity there are no shutters to your windows." |
| |
| McMurdo went from one to the other and drew the curtains |
| tighter. "Sure no one can spy upon us now. It's close upon the |
| hour." |
| |
| "Maybe he won't come. Maybe he'll get a sniff of danger," |
| said the secretary. |
| |
| "He'll come, never fear," McMurdo answered. "He is as |
| eager to come as you can be to see him. Hark to that!" |
| |
| They all sat like wax figures, some with their glasses arrested |
| halfway to their lips. Three loud knocks had sounded at the door. |
| |
| "Hush!" McMurdo raised his hand in caution. An exulting |
| glance went round the circle, and hands were laid upon hidden |
| weapons. |
| |
| "Not a sound, for your lives!" McMurdo whispered, as he |
| went from the room, closing the door carefully behind him. |
| |
| With strained ears the murderers waited. They counted the |
| steps of their comrade down the passage. Then they heard him |
| open the outer door. There were a few words as of greeting. |
| Then they were aware of a strange step inside and of an |
| unfamiliar voice. An instant later came the slam of the door |
| and the turning of the key in the lock. Their prey was safe |
| within the trap. Tiger Cormac laughed horribly, and Boss |
| McGinty clapped his great hand across his mouth. |
| |
| "Be quiet, you fool!" he whispered. "You'll be the undoing |
| of us yet!" |
| |
| There was a mutter of conversation from the next room. It |
| seemed interminable. Then the door opened, and McMurdo |
| appeared, his finger upon his lip. |
| |
| He came to the end of the table and looked round at them. A |
| subtle change had come over him. His manner was as of one |
| who has great work to do. His face had set into granite firmness. |
| His eyes shone with a fierce excitement behind his spectacles. |
| He had become a visible leader of men. They stared at him with |
| eager interest; but he said nothing. Still with the same singular |
| gaze he looked from man to man. |
| |
| "Well!" cried Boss McGinty at last. "Is he here? Is Birdy |
| Edwards here?" |
| |
| "Yes," McMurdo answered slowly. "Birdy Edwards is here. |
| I am Birdy Edwards!" |
| |
| There were ten seconds after that brief speech during which |
| the room might have been empty, so profound was the silence. |
| The hissing of a kettle upon the stove rose sharp and strident to |
| the ear. Seven white faces, all turned upward to this man who |
| dominated them, were set motionless with utter terror. Then, |
| with a sudden shivering of glass, a bristle of glistening rifle |
| barrels broke through each window, while the curtains were torn |
| from their hangings. |
| |
| At the sight Boss McGinty gave the roar of a wounded bear |
| and plunged for the half-opened door. A levelled revolver met |
| him there with the stern blue eyes of Captain Marvin of the Mine |
| Police gleaming behind the sights. The Boss recoiled and fell |
| back into his chair. |
| |
| "You're safer there, Councillor," said the man whom they |
| had known as McMurdo. "And you, Baldwin, if you don't take |
| your hand off your pistol, you'll cheat the hangman yet. Pull it |
| out, or by the Lord that made me -- There, that will do. There are |
| forty armed men round this house, and you can figure it out for |
| yourself what chance you have. Take their pistols, Marvin!" |
| |
| There was no possible resistance under the menace of those |
| rifles. The men were disarmed. Sulky, sheepish, and amazed, |
| they still sat round the table. |
| |
| "I'd like to say a word to you before we separate," said the |
| man who had trapped them. "I guess we may not meet again |
| until you see me on the stand in the courthouse. I'll give you |
| something to think over between now and then. You know me |
| now for what I am. At last I can put my cards on the table. I am |
| Birdy Edwards of Pinkerton's. I was chosen to break up your |
| gang. I had a hard and dangerous game to play. Not a soul, not |
| one soul, not my nearest and dearest, knew that I was playing it. |
| Only Captain Marvin here and my employers knew that. But it's |
| over to-night, thank God, and I am the winner!" |
| |
| The seven pale, rigid faces looked up at him. There was |
| unappeasable hatred in their eyes. He read the relentless threat. |
| |
| "Maybe you think that the game is not over yet. Well, I take |
| my chance of that. Anyhow, some of you will take no further |
| hand, and there are sixty more besides yourselves that will see a |
| jail this night. I'll tell you this, that when I was put upon this job |
| I never believed there was such a society as yours. I thought it |
| was paper talk, and that I would prove it so. They told me it was |
| to do with the Freemen; so I went to Chicago and was made one. |
| Then I was surer than ever that it was just paper talk; for I found |
| no harm in the society, but a deal of good. |
| |
| "Still, I had to carry out my job, and I came to the coal |
| valleys. When I reached this place I learned that I was wrong |
| and that it wasn't a dime novel after all. So I stayed to look after |
| it. I never killed a man in Chicago. I never minted a dollar in my |
| life. Those I gave you were as good as any others; but I never |
| spent money better. But I knew the way into your good wishes |
| and so I pretended to you that the law was after me. It all worked |
| just as I thought. |
| |
| "So I joined your infernal lodge, and I took my share in your |
| councils. Maybe they will say that I was as bad as you. They can |
| say what they like, so long as I get you. But what is the truth? |
| The night I joined you beat up old man Stanger. I could not warn |
| him, for there was no time; but I held your hand, Baldwin, when |
| you would have killed him. If ever I have suggested things, so as |
| to keep my place among you, they were things which I knew I |
| could prevent. I could not save Dunn and Menzies, for I did not |
| know enough; but I will see that their murderers are hanged. I |
| gave Chester Wilcox warning, so that when I blew his house in |
| he and his folk were in hiding. There was many a crime that I |
| could not stop; but if you look back and think how often your |
| man came home the other road, or was down in town when you |
| went for him, or stayed indoors when you thought he would |
| come out, you'll see my work." |
| |
| "You blasted traitor!" hissed McGinty through his closed |
| teeth. |
| |
| "Ay, John McGinty, you may call me that if it eases your |
| smart. You and your like have been the enemy of God and man |
| in these parts. It took a man to get between you and the poor |
| devils of men and women that you held under your grip. There |
| was just one way of doing it, and I did it. You call me a traitor; |
| but I guess there's many a thousand will call me a deliverer that |
| went down into hell to save them. I've had three months of it. I |
| wouldn't have three such months again if they let me loose in the |
| treasury at Washington for it. I had to stay till I had it all, every |
| man and every secret right here in this hand. I'd have waited a |
| little longer if it hadn't come to my knowledge that my secret |
| was coming out. A letter had come into the town that would |
| have set you wise to it all. Then I had to act and act quickly. |
| |
| "I've nothing more to say to you, except that when my time |
| comes I'll die the easier when I think of the work I have done in |
| this valley. Now, Marvin, I'll keep you no more. Take them in |
| and get it over." |
| |
| There is little more to tell. Scanlan had been given a sealed |
| note to be left at the address of Miss Ettie Shafter, a mission |
| which he had accepted with a wink and a knowing smile. In the |
| early hours of the morning a beautiful woman and a much |
| muffled man boarded a special train which had been sent by the |
| railroad company, and made a swift, unbroken journey out of the |
| land of danger. It was the last time that ever either Ettie or her |
| lover set foot in the Valley of Fear. Ten days later they were |
| married in Chicago, with old Jacob Shafter as witness of the |
| wedding. |
| |
| The trial of the Scowrers was held far from the place where |
| their adherents might have terrified the guardians of the law. |
| In vain they struggled. In vain the money of the lodge -- money |
| squeezed by blackmail out of the whole countryside -- was spent |
| like water in the attempt to save them. That cold, clear, |
| unimpassioned statement from one who knew every detail of their |
| lives, their organization, and their crimes was unshaken by all |
| the wiles of their defenders. At last after so many years they |
| were broken and scattered. The cloud was lifted forever from the |
| valley. |
| |
| McGinty met his fate upon the scaffold, cringing and whining |
| when the last hour came. Eight of his chief followers shared his |
| fate. Fifty-odd had various degrees of imprisonment. The work |
| of Birdy Edwards was complete. |
| |
| And yet, as he had guessed, the game was not over yet. There |
| was another hand to be played, and yet another and another. |
| Ted Baldwin, for one, had escaped the scaffold; so had the Willabys; |
| so had several others of the fiercest spirits of the gang. For ten |
| years they were out of the world, and then came a day when they |
| were free once more -- a day which Edwards, who knew his men, |
| was very sure would be an end of his life of peace. They had |
| sworn an oath on all that they thought holy to have his blood as a |
| vengeance for their comrades. And well they strove to keep their |
| vow! |
| |
| From Chicago he was chased, after two attempts so near |
| success that it was sure that the third would get him. From Chicago |
| he went under a changed name to California, and it was there |
| that the light went for a time out of his life when Ettie Edwards |
| died. Once again he was nearly killed, and once again under the |
| name of Douglas he worked in a lonely canyon, where with an |
| English partner named Barker he amassed a fortune. At last there |
| came a warning to him that the bloodhounds were on his track |
| once more, and he cleared -- only just in time -- for England. And |
| thence came the John Douglas who for a second time married a worthy |
| mate, and lived for five years as a Sussex county gentleman, a life |
| which ended with the strange happenings of which we have heard. |
| |
| |
| Epilogue |
| |
| |
| |
| The police trial had passed, in which the case of John Douglas |
| was referred to a higher court. So had the Quarter Sessions, at |
| which he was acquitted as having acted in self-defense. |
| |
| "Get him out of England at any cost," wrote Holmes to the |
| wife. "There are forces here which may be more dangerous than |
| those he has escaped. There is no safety for your husband in |
| England." |
| |
| Two months had gone by, and the case had to some extent |
| passed from our minds. Then one morning there came an enigmatic |
| note slipped into our letter box. "Dear me, Mr. Holmes. |
| Dear me!" said this singular epistle. There was neither |
| superscription nor signature. I laughed at the quaint message; |
| but Holmes showed unwonted seriousness. |
| |
| "Deviltry, Watson!" he remarked, and sat long with a clouded |
| brow. |
| |
| Late last night Mrs. Hudson, our landlady, brought up a |
| message that a gentleman wished to see Holmes, and that the |
| matter was of the utmost importance. Close at the heels of his |
| messenger came Cecil Barker, our friend of the moated Manor |
| House. His face was drawn and haggard. |
| |
| "I've had bad news -- terrible news, Mr. Holmes," said he. |
| |
| "I feared as much," said Holmes. |
| |
| "You have not had a cable, have you?" |
| |
| "I have had a note from someone who has." |
| |
| "It's poor Douglas. They tell me his name is Edwards; but he |
| will always be Jack Douglas of Benito Canyon to me. I told you |
| that they started together for South Africa in the Palmyra three |
| weeks ago." |
| |
| "Exactly." |
| |
| "The ship reached Cape Town last night. I received this cable from Mrs |
| Douglas this morning: -- |
| |
| "Jack has been lost overboard in gale off St Helena. No one knows how |
| accident occurred. -- Ivy Douglas." |
| |
| "Ha! It came like that, did it?" said Holmes, thoughtfully. "Well, I've |
| no doubt it was well stage-managed." |
| |
| "You mean that you think there was no accident?" |
| |
| "None in the world." |
| |
| "He was murdered?" |
| |
| "Surely!" |
| |
| "So I think also. These infernal Scowrers, this cursed vindictive nest of |
| criminals --" |
| |
| "No, no, my good sir," said Holmes. "There is a master hand here. It is no |
| case of sawed-off shot-guns and clumsy six-shooters. You can tell an old |
| master by the sweep of his brush. I can tell a Moriarty when I see one. |
| This crime is from London, not from America." |
| |
| "But for what motive?" |
| |
| "Because it is done by a man who cannot afford to fail -- one whose whole |
| unique position depends upon the fact that all he does must succeed. A |
| great brain and a huge organization have been turned to the extinction of |
| one man. It is crushing the nut with the hammer -- an absurd extravagance |
| of energy -- but the nut is very effectually crushed all the same." |
| |
| "How came this man to have anything to do with it?" |
| |
| "I can only say that the first word that ever came to us of the business |
| was from one of his lieutenants. These Americans were well advised. |
| Having an English job to do, they took into partnership, as any foreign |
| criminal could do, this great consultant in crime. From that moment |
| their man was doomed. At first he would content himself by using his |
| machinery in order to find their victim. Then he would indicate how the |
| matter might be treated. Finally, when he read in the reports of the |
| failure of this agent, he would step in himself with a master touch. You |
| heard me warn this man at Birlstone Manor House that the coming danger |
| was greater than the past. Was I right?" |
| |
| Barker beat his head with his clenched fist in his impotent anger. |
| |
| "Do you tell me that we have to sit down under this? Do you say that |
| no one can ever get level with this king-devil?" |
| |
| "No, I don't say that," said Holmes, and his eyes seemed to be looking far |
| into the future. "I don't say that he can't be beat. But you must give me |
| time -- you must give me time!" |
| |
| We all sat in silence for some minutes, while those fateful eyes still |
| strained to pierce the veil. |
| |
| |
| |
| |
| |
| End of Project Gutenberg Etext The Valley of Fear, by Arthur Conan Doyle |
| |