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The
Valley of Fear
A Sherlock Holmes Novel
By SIR ARTHUR CONAN DOYLE
AUTHOR OF
"The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes," "The White
Company," Etc.
A L BURT COMPANY
PUBLISHERS - - NEW YORK
PUBUSHBD BY AxSANGBMBNT WITH GCORGB H. DORAN COMPANY
POSl-lC UBRA.OT
35833SA„
ConsMffr, 191i, bt
ARTHUR GONAN DOTLR
PRINTED w ixn imrmQi states of America
* * • * >
• • • • • •
• ••
•• ••
• •••
• <»
• ••
»
• ••
•••
• ••• «
•- • • •
:!*:
- ' • . -
• *
a
'• • •
s
CONTENTS
PARTI: THE TRAGEDY OF BIRLSTONE
PAGC
CHAPTER I
Thk Warning • • • • 11
CHAPTER II
Sherlock Holmes Discourses • • • • » 28
CHAPTER III
The Tragedy of Birlstone • . • « • ^ 44
CHAPTER IV
Darkness • • • • 62
CHAPTER V
The People of the Drama •••*•• 88
CHAPTER VI
A Dawning Light 105
CHAPTER VII
The Solution 129
PART II: THE SCOWRERS
CHAPTER I
The Man I6l
Cvi ' CHAPTER II
*^Thb Bodtmaster • 17$
oo [5]
f
i
r
6 CONTENTS
CHAPTER III ^j^
Lodge S4i1, Vebmissa • • • • 208
CHAPTER IV
The Valley of Fear 2S7
CHAPTER y
The Darkest Hour ft56
CHAPTER VI
Danger 280
CHAPTER VII
The Trapping of Birdy Edwards 298
Pakt I
THE TRAGEDY OF BIRLSTONB
CHAPTER I
THE WARNING
•■
9>
I AM inclined to think " said I.
"I should do so," Sherlock Holmes re-
marked impatiently.
I believe that I am one of the most long-suffer-
ing 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 jflap.
It is Porlock's writing," said he thoughtfully,
I can hardly doubt that it is Porlock's writing,
[11]
THE TALUBT OF FEAA
tiiough I have seen it only twice before. The
Greek e with the peculiar top flourish is distinc-
tive. But if it is Porlock, then it must be some-
thing 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 frank-
ly informed me that the name was not his own,
and defied me ever to trace him among the teem-
ing millions of this great city. Porlock is im-
portant, 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 compan-
ionship with what is formidable: not only for-
midable, Watson, but sinister — ^in the highest de-
gree sinister. That is where he comes within my
purview. You have heard me speak of Profes-
sor Moriarty?"
"The famous scientific criminal, as famous
among crooks as '*
[12]
THE WARNING
"My blushes, Watson 1" Holmes miinnured in
a deprecating voice.
"I was about to say, as he is unknown to the
public."
"A touch! A distinct touch 1" cried Holmes.
"You are developing a certain unexpected vein
of pawky humor, 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 or-
ganizer 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 I 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 pen-
sion 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 rare-
fied heights of pure mathematics that it is said
that there was no man in the scientific press ca^
pable of criticizing it? Is this a man to traduce?
[18]
THE VALLEY OF FEAR
Foul-mouthed doctor and slandered professor —
such would be your respective rdles I That's ge-
nius, Watson. But if I am spared by lesser men,
our day will surely come."
"May I be there to see I" 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 attach-
ment. Porlock is not quite a sound link — be-
tween 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 I Hence the ex-
treme importance of Porlock. Led on by some
rudimentary aspirations toward right, and en-
couraged by the judicious stimulation of an oc-
casional ten-pound note sent to him by devious
methods, he has once or twice given me advance
information which has been of value, — ^that high-
est value which anticipates and prevents rather
than avenges crime. I cannot doubt that, if we
had the cipher, we should find that this communi-
cation is of the nature that I indicate."
Again Hohnes flattened out the paper upon
[14]
THE WAKNINQ
his unused plate. I rose and, leaning over him,
stared down at the curious inscription, which ran
as follows:
584 C2 18 127 86 81 4 17 21 41
DOUGLAS 109 298 6 87 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 with-
out 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 colunm: 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'?"
[15]
THE TALLET OF FEAB
"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' 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 noth-
[16]
THE WAKNING
ing. I trust that the man Porlock will come to
no harmu
" '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 actu-
ally 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 bum the cipher message, which can
now be of no use to you.
" Teed Poelock.' "
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 noth-
ing 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 Mori-
arty."
"No less 1 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?"
[IT]
THE YALLEY OF FEAB
"Huml That's a large question. When you
have one of the first hrains of Europe up agamst
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 in*
quiry 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 madden-
ing 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 un-
tasted breakfast and lit the unsavory 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
[18]
THE WAXSINQ
have escaped your Maehiavellian intellect. Let
us consider the problem in the light of pure rea-
son. 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 bookr
"None."
"Well, well, it is surely not quite so bad as
that. The cipher message begins with a large
684, does it not? We may take it as a working
hypothesis that 584 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 nima-
ber of the chapter is immaterial. Also that if
page 584 finds us only in the second chapter, the
[19]
THE TALLEY OF FEAR
length of the first one must have been really
intolerable."
^^Columnl" 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 begm 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 indi-
cate that the book is one which he thought I
would have no difficulty in fibtiding 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/'
[20]
<r
V
THE WAKNING
"So we have contracted our field of search to
a large book, printed in double columns and in
conunon use."
"The Bible!'' I cried triumphantly.
"Good, Watson, good I 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 "
"Bradshawl"
"There are difficulties, Watson. The vocabu-
lary of Bradshaw is nervous and terse, but limit-
ed. The selection of words would hardly lend
itself to the sending of general messages. We
[21]
THE VALLEY OF FEAE
tnll eliminate Bradshaw. The dictionary is, I
fear, inadmissible for the same reason. What
then is left?'"
"An almanac r*
"Excellent, Watson I I am very much mis-
taken if you have not touched the spot. An al-
manac! Let us consider the claims of Whitak-
er's Almanac. It is in conmion use. It has the
requisite number of pages. It is in double col-
umn. Though reserved in its earlier vocabulary,
it becomes, if I remember right, quite garrulous
toward the end." He picked the volume from
his desk. "Here is page 584, 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 Pro-
fessor Moriarty. Now let us try again. What
does the Mahratta government do? Alas! the
next word is *pig*s-bristles.' We are undone,
^y good Watson! It is finished!''
He had spoken in jesting vein, but the twitch*
[22]
THE WAKNINQ
ing of his bushy eyebrows bespoke his disappoint-
ment and irritation. I sat helpless and unhappy.
rt«ing into the fire. A long ,aenc ™ brS
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 m the new
almanac. It is more than likely that Forlock
took his message from the old one. No doubt
he would have told us so had his letter of ex-
planation been written. Now let us see what
page 584 has in store for us. Number thirteen
is 'There,' which is much more promising. Num-
ber one hundred and twenty-seven is *is' — 'There
is.' " Holmes' eyes were gleaming with excite-
ment, and his thin, nervous fingers twitched as
he counted the words, " 'danger.' Hal Hal
Capital 1 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 — confi-
dence — ^is — ^pressing.' There, Watson I What
[28]
THE VALLEY OF FEAS
do you think of pure reason, and its fruits? If
fhe green-grocer 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 remark-
ably 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 correspond-
ent. The purport is perfectly clear. Some dev-
iltry is intended against one Douglas, whoever
he may be, residing as stated, a rich country gen-
tleman. 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 suc-
[24]
THE WAKNIN6
cess when Billy swung open the door and In-
spector MacDonald of Scotland Yard was ush-
ered into the room.
Those were the early days at the end of the
^80's, when Alec MacDonald was far from hav-
ing 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 intrusted
to him. His tall, bony figure gave promise of
exceptional physical strength, while his great
cranium and deep-set, lustrous eyes spoke no less
de.rty of the kL inWligen JwMA twinkled
out from behind his bushy eyebrows. He was a
sflent, 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 Scotch-
man for his amateur colleague were profound,
and he showed them by the frankness with which
he consulted Holmes in every difficulty. Medi-
ocrity knows nothing higher than itself; but tal-
ent instantly recognizes genius, and MacDonald
[25]
THE YALUEY OF FEAB
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 ex*
perience. 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 —
99
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 I" he stammered. "Birlstone I What's
this, Mr. Holmes? Man, it's witchcraft I Where
[26]
THE WARNING
in the name of all that is wonderful did you get
those names V
"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 I''
rar]
CHAPTER II
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. With-
out having a tinge of cruelty in his singular com-
position, he was undoubtedly callous from long
overstimulation. Yet, if his emotions were dulled,
his intellectual perceptions were exceedingly ac-
tive. 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 inter-
ested composure of the chemist who sees the crys-
tals falling into position from his oversaturated
solution.
"Remarkable I" said he. "Remarkable 1"
"You don't seem surprised."
[28]
SHEBIX)CK HOLMES DISCOUESES
"Interested, Mister Mae, but hardly surprised.
Why should I be surprised ? I receive an anony-
mous 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 ci-
pher. MacDonald sat with his chin on his hands
and his great sandy eyebrows bunched into a yel-
low 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."
1 rather think not," said Holmes.
'Hang it all, Mr. Holmes 1" cried the Inspec-
tor. "The papers will be full of the Birlstone
mystery in a day or two; but whereas the mys-
tery if there is a man in London who prophesied
the crime before ever it occurred? We have only
[29]
THE VALLEY OP FEAS
to lay our hands on that man, and the rest will
foUow."
"No doubt, Mr. Mac But how do you pro-
pose to lay your hands on the so-called Por-
lock?"
MacDonald turned over the letter which
Holmes had handed him. "Posted in Camber-
well — ^that doesn't help us much. Name, you
say, is assiuned. Not much to go on, certainly.
Didn't you say that you have sent him money?"
"Twice."
"And how?"
"In notes to Camberwell postoffice."
"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 I"
[80]
SHERLOCK HOLMES DISC0UE8ES
«'
Inspector Ma^Donald smiled, and his eyelid
quivered as he glanced toward me. "I won't con-
ceal 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 in-
quiries myself about the matter. He seems to
be a very respectable, learned, and talented sort
of man."
*Tm glad youVe 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 upbring-
ing. 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 shoul-
der 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.
[81]
THE VALLEY OF FEAB
ti
'*Greatl" he said. ''Great I 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 endeavored to look interested.
"Jean Baptiste Greuze," Holmes continued,
joining his finger tips and leaning weU back in
his chair, "was a French artist who flourished
between the years 1750 and 1800. I allude, of
course, to his working career. Modem criticism
[32]
SHEEIXKJK HOLMES DISCOUBSES
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," Hohnes interrupted. "All
that I am saying has a very direct and vital beaj>
ing upon what you have called the Birlstone Mys-
tery. In fact, it may in a sense be called the
very center of it."
MacDonald smiled feebly, and looked appeal-
ingly 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 be-
tween 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 TAgneau' fetched one million two
hundred thousand francs — ^more than forty thou-
sand 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.
[88]
THE TALLET OF FEAB
"I may remind you," Holmes continued, "that
the professor's salary can be ascertained in sev-
eral trustworthy books of reference. It is seven
hundred a year."
"Then how could he buy *^
"Quite sol How could her
"Aye, that's remarkable," said the Inspector
thoughtfully. "Talk away, Mr. Holmes. I'm
just loving it. It's fine 1"
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 Mo-
riarty.'
'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
difTerent 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
[84]
SHERLOCK HOLMES DISCOUBSES
that I took the liberty of runnmg over his papers
< — ^with the most unexpected results."
Tou 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 un-
married. His younger brother is a station mas-
ter in the west of England. His chair is worth
seven hundred a year. And he owns a Greuze."
*'Welir^
"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 toward the center of the web
where the poisonous, motionless creature is lurk-
ing. I only mention the Greuze because it brings
the matter within the range of your own obser-
vation."
"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
[851
\
THE TALLET OF FEAB
clearer if you can. Is it forgery, coining, bur-
glary — ^where does the money come from?"
"Have you ever read of Jonathan Wild?**
"Well, the name has a familiar sound. Some-
one 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 thenu
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 crimi-
nals, to whom he sold his brains and his organiza-
tion 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."
[86]
SHEBJLOCK HOLMES DISCOUBSES
**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?**
"Fd like to hear/'
"Six thousand a year. That's paying for
brains, you see, — ^the American business princi-
ple. 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
[87]
THE YALUSY OF FEAS
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 Mo-
riarty."
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 sidetracked with your interesting^ anecdotes^
Mr. Holmes. What really counts is your remark
that there is some connection between the pro-
fessor and the crime. That you get from the
warning received through the man Porlock. Can
we for our present practical needs get any fur-
ther than that?"
"We may form some conception as to the mo-
tives of the crime. It is, as I gather from your
original remarks, an inexplicable, or at least an
unexplained, murder. Now, presiuning that the
source of the crime is as we suspect it to be, there
might be two different motives. In the first
[88]
s
8HEBL0CK HOLMES DISCOUBSES
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 ap-
proaching fate was known by one of the arch-
criminal's subordinates — ^had in some way be-
trayed 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 favor of the second. Moriarty
may have been engaged to engineer it on a prom-
ise 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 weU to
suppose that he has left an3rthing up here which
may lead us to him.*'
[89]
THE VALLEY OF FEAE
"Then to Birlstone we must go I" cried Mac-
Donald, jumping from his chair. "My word!
it's later than I thought. I can give you, Gen-
tlemen, five minutes for preparation, and that
is aU."
"And ample for us both,** said Holmes, as he
sprang up and hastened to change from his dress-
ing 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 ex-
pert's closest attention. He brightened and
rubbed his thin hands together as he listened to
the meager but remarkable details. A long
series of sterile weeks lay behind us, and here at
last there was a fitting object for those remark-
able powers which, like all special gifts, become
irksome to their owner when they are not in use.
That razor brain blunted and rusted with in-
action.
Sherlock Holmes' eyes glistened, his pale
cheeks took a warmer hue, and his whole eager
face shone with an inward light when the call
[40]
SHEBIX)CK HOLMES DISCOUESES
for work reached him. Leaning forward in the
cab, he listened intently to MacDonald's short
sketch of the problem which awaited us in Sus-
sex. The Inspector was himself dependent, as
he explained to us, upon a scribbled account for-
warded to him by the milk train in the early
hours of the morning. White Mason, the local
oflBcer, was a personal friend, and hence Mac-
Donald 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.
*T)eae Inspector MacDonald/^ said tiie let-
ter which he read to us, — "Ofiicial 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
[41]
THE VALLEY OF FEAE
there wasn't a dead man in the middle of it. My
wordl it M 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 inclosed 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 wiU leave it
[42]
SHERLOCK HOLMES DISCOURSES
at that, Mr. Mac. The temptation to form pre-
mature 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 be-
tween that we are going to trace."
1*8]
CHAPTER III
THE TRAGEDY OF
BIRLSTONE
NOW for a moment I will ask leave to re-
move 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 afterward. Only in this way
can I make the reader appreciate the people con-
cerned 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
[44]
THE TBAGEDY OF BIKLSTONE
the extreme fringe of the great Weald forest,
which thins away xmtU it reaches tiie northern
chalk downs. A number of small shops have
come into being to meet the wants of the in-
creased population; so there seems some pros-
pect that Birlstone may soon grow from an an-
cient village into a modem town. It is the cen-
ter for a considerable area of coimtry, since Tun-
bridge 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
f ortalice in the center of the estate, which had
been granted to him by the Red King. This
was destroyed by fire in 1548, and some of its
smoke-blackened cornerstones 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 seven*
[45]
THE VALLEY OF FEAE
teenth century. Of the double moats which had
guarded its more warlike predecessor, the outer
had been allowed to dry up, and served the hum-
ble 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 con-
tinued beyond it, so that the sheet of water,
thouffh turbid, was never ditchlike or unhealthy.
The ground floor windows were wiUun . 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 draw-
bridge was not only capable of being raised, but
lActually 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
<«
THE TBAGEDY OF BIELSTONE
and was threatening to molder 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 mustache,
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 ofiliand in his manners, giv-
ing 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 neighbors, he soon
acquired a great popularity among the villagers,
subscribing handsomely to all local objects, and
attending their smoking concerts and other func-
tions, where, having a remarkably rich tenor
voice, he was always ready to oblige with an ex-
cellent 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
[47]
THE VALLEY OF FEAB
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 man-
ners 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 fearless-
ness 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 Birl-
stone.
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 coimty 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
[48]
THE TRAGEDY OF BniLSTONE
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 con-
tentment of their fanuly 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 im-
perfectly 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 re-
mark, and it bulked larger upon people's mem-
ory when the events arose which gave it a very
special significance.
There was yet another individual whose resi-
dence under that roof was, it is true, only an in-
termittent one, but whose presence at the time
[49J
■1
THE VALLEY OF FEAE
of the strange happenings which wiU 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 vil-
lage ; 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 consid-
erable 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 throu^ ; hole crowd. He neith«
rode nor shot, but spent his days in wandering
round the old village Mdth his pipe in his mouth»
[50]
THE TRAGEDY OF BISLSTONE
or in driving with his host, or in his absence with
his hostess, over the beautiful country side. "An
^asy-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 men-
tion the prim, respectable, and capable wAoies,
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 Jan-
uary 6.
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 beU. A
[51]
/
THE VALLEY OF FEAB
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 ar-
rived 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 mas-
ter of himself and his emotions ; he had opened
the door which was nearest to the entrance and
had beckoned to the Sergeant to follow him. At
that moment there arrived Dr. Wood, a brisk
and capable general practitioner from the vil-
lage. The three men entered the fatal room to-
gether, while the horror-stricken butler followed
at their heels, closing the door behind him to shut
out the terrible scene from the maid servants.
[52]
THE TBAGEDY OF BIELSTONE
The dead man lay on his back, sprawling with
outstretched limbs in the center 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 be-
side him and held down the hand lamp which
had stood on the table. One glance at the vic-
tim was enough to show the healer that his pres-
ence 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 simul-
taneous* 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
[58]
(
THE VAIXEY OF FEAE
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 be-
gun to undress, and I was sitting by the fire in
my bedroom when I heard the report. It waa
not very loud — ^it seemed to be muffled. I rushed
down — ^I don't suppose it was thirty seconds be-
fore I was in the room."
"Was the door open?"
"Yes, it was open. Poor Douglas was Ijring
as you see him. His bedroom candle was burn-
ing 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."
* Y^es, it was up imtil I lowered it."
[64]
THE TKAGEDY OF BIKLSTONE
"Then how could any murderer have got away?
It is out of the question 1 Mr. Douglas must
have shot himself/*
"That was our first idea. But seel" Barker
drew aside the curtain, and showed that the long,
diamond-paned window was open to its full ex-
tent. "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 cur-
tain 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
[55]
THE VALLEY OF FEAB
surrounded it. "I've never seen such injuries
since the Birlstone railway smash."
"But, I say," remarked the police Sergeant,
whose slow, bucolic commonsense was still pon-
dering 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. Doug-
las came into the room after eleven."
"That is so! Mr. Douglas went round the
house every night the last thing before he turned
[56]
THE TRAGEDY OF BIRLSTONE
in to see that the lights were right. That brought
him in here. The man wa^ 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 be-
side the dead man on the floor. The initials
V. V. and under them the number 841 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 yes-
terday," he said. "I saw him myself, standing
[«7]
THE VALLEY OF FEAE
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 ex-
citedly, 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
boote 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
[68]
THE TBAQEDY OF BIBLSTONE
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
feUow gets away?"
The Sergeant considered for a moment.
"There are no trains before six in the morn-
ing; 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 imtil we see more clearly how
we all stand."
The doctor had taken the lamp and was nar-
rowly scrutinizing the body. "What's this
mark?" he asked. "Could this have any connec-
tion 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-colored
skin.
It's not tattooed," said the doctor, peering
[59]
if
i
THE TALLET OF FEAS
through his glasses. ""I never saw anything li
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. IVe often won-
dered 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 as<
tonishment and was pointing at the dead man's
outstretched hand.
"They've taken his wedding ring!" he gasped.
'^Whatl"
"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."
[60]
THE TRAGEDY OF BIELSTONE
"^e'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 ofi^ this ring you call the nugget ring, then
the wedding ring, and afterward put the nug-
get ring back again."
"That is sol"
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."
r«i]
CHAPTER IV
DARKNESS
AT three in the morning the chief Sussex de-
tective, obeying the urgent call from Ser^
geant Wilson of Birlstone, arrived from head-
quarters in a light dogcart 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, comfort-
able-looking person in a loose tweed suit, with a
clean-shaved, ru^dy face, a stoutish body, and
powerful bandy legs adorned with gaiters, look-
ing like a small farmer, a retired gamekeeper, or
anything upon earth except a very favorable
specimen of the provincial criminal officer.
"A real downright snorter, Mr. MacDonald 1"
he kept repeating. "We'll have the pressmen
down like flies when they understand it. I'm
[62]
DABKNESS
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 wOl
come home to you^ Mr. Holmes, or I am mis-
taken. 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 aU
found our quarters. In ten more we were seated
in the parlor of the inn and being treated to a
rapid sketch of those events which have been out-
lined in the previous chapter. MacDonald made
an occasional note; while Holmes sat absorbed,
with the expression of surprised and reverent ad-
miration with which the botanist surveys the rare
and precious bloom.
"Remarkable!" he said, when the story was
unfolded, "most remarkable! I can hardly re-
call any case where the features have been more
peculiar.'*
[68]
THE TALLET OF FEAS
"I thought you would say so, Mr. Hohnes,"
said White Mason in great delight. "We*re well
up with the tunes in Sussex. IVe 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," re-
marked Inspector MacDonald. "There has been
many a hammer murder and no trace on the ham-
mer."
"Quite so. It doesn't prove it wasn't used. |
But there might have been stains and that would
[64]
DASKNES8
have helped us. As a matter of fact there were
none. Then I exammed 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 com-
plete maker's name ; but the printed letters p-e-n
were on the fluting betweeft the barrels, and the
rest of the name had been cut oflF by the saw.*'
^'A big F with a flourish above it, £ and N
smaller?" asked Holmes.
"Exactly."
"Pennsylvania Small Arm 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 1 Wonderful! Do
[66]
THE TALLEY OF FEAB
you carry the names of all the gunmakers 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 it
some evidence, then, that this man who entered
the house and killed its master was an Amer-
lean.
MacDonald shook his head. ''Man, you are
surely traveling 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
guni"
"Nothing there that could not have been ar-
ranged. 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 do-
99
ings.
"Ames, the butler **
[66]
DARKNESS
"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 i^ould 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 any-
one in the house," said he. "I'm asking you to
conseedar" (his accent became more Aberdoriian
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 incon-
ceivable! It's clean against commonsensel 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.
[67]
THK TALLET OF FEAB
«■
^^The man it not a burglar, sappoamg liiat he
erer exiitecL The ring boainess and the card
point to premeditated murder for some private
reaion* Veiy good. Here is a man idio dips
into a bouae with the deliberate intention of comr
mitting murder. He knows, if he knows any-
thingt 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 Ihe
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 hu-
man 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
C«8]
DAAKNES8
of the man having climbed out from the water f*
"There were no signs, Mr. Hohnes. But it is
a stone ledge, and one could hardly expect thenu"
**No tracks 6r marks?"
"None."
"Hal 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 witii 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 MacDonaldL "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 tiiey have first separated them-
selves 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
[69]
THE VALLEY OF FEAB
and give my results at my own time— complete
rather than in stages."
"I am sure we are honored 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
simimits 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 ^t as one only sees in rural
England, then a sudden turn, and the long, low
Jacobean house of dingy, liver-colored 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 beau-
tiful broad moat as still and luminous as quick-
silver 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
[70]
DABKNESS
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, overhimg gables were
a fitting covering to grim and terrible intrigue.
As I looked at the deepset windows and the long
sweep of the dull-colored, 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?"
[71]
THE YALLEY OF FEAR
'"Exactly. Why should he? Is the water al-
ways turbid?*'
''Grenerally about this color. The stream
brings down the day."
"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 hay-
ing 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 doc-
tor had departed.
"Anything fresh. Sergeant Wilson?" asked
White Mason.
"No, Sh-."
"Then you can go home. YouVe had enough.
We can send for you if we want you. The but-
ler had better wait outside. Tell him to warn
Mr. Cecil Barker, Mrs. Douglas, and the house*
keeper that we may want a word with them pres-
C72]
Wmmmmmmmm ii i i i i ,
DARKNESS
ently. Now, Grentlemen, perhaps you will allow
me to give you the views I have f onned first,
and then you will be able to arrive at your own.**
He impressed me, this coimtry specialist. He
had a solid grip of fact and a cool, clear, com-
monsense brain, which should take him some way
in his profession. Holmes listened to him in-
tently, with no sign of that impatience which
the of&cial exponent too often produced.
"Is it suicide, or is it murder — ^that's our first
question. Gentlemen, is it not? If it were sui-
cide, then we have to believe that this man be-
gan by taking ofi^ his wedding ring and conceal-
ing it; that he then came down here in his dress-
ing gown, trampled mud into a comer behind
the curtain in order to give the idea someone had
waited for hun, opened the window, put blood
on the '^
"We can surely dismiss that,'* said MacDon-
ald.
"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 some-
one outside or inside the house?"
"Well, let's hear the argument/*
[78]
THE YALUIY OF FEAB
''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 hap-
pened — a weapon that was never seen in the house
before. That does not seem a very likely start,
does itr
"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. Ce-
cil 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 comer,
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
[74]
DABKNESS
that it was done by someone from outside. We
are still faced with some big difficulties ; but any-
how 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. Doug-
las entered the room. It was a short interview,
if there were any interview at all ; for Mrs. Doug-
las 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 oiie,
is not burned more than half an inch. He must
[75]
THE YALLXY OF FEAE
have placed it on the table before he was at-
tacked; otherwise, of course, it would have fallen
when he fell. This shows that he was not at-
tacked 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. 841, whatever that may mean, — and he
made his escape through the window and across
the moat at the very moment when Cecil Barker
was discovermg the crime. How's that, Mr.
Hohnes?"
"Very interesting, but just a little inconvinc-
in«."
[76]
DAKKNESS
"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 es-
cape? Come, Mr. Holmes, it's up to you to give
us a lead, since you say Mn White Mason's
theory is inconvincing.'*
Holmes had sat intently observant during this
long discussion, missing no word that was said,
with his keen eyes darting to right and to leftf
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
'own beside the body. *T)ear 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 tmusual mark — ^a
branded triangle inside a circle — ^upon Mr. Doug-
las' forearm?"
"Frequently, Sir."
[77]
THE VALLEY OF FEAE
"You never heard any speculation as to what
it meant?"
"No, Su-."
"It must have caused great paJn when it was
inflicted. It is tmdoubtedly a bum. Now, I ob-
serve, Ames, that there is a small piece of plaster
at the angle of Mr. Douglas' jaw. Did you ob-
serve that in life?"
"Yes, Sir, he cut himself in shaving yesterday
morning/*
"Did you ever know him to cut himself in shav-
ing 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 no-
ticed anything unusual in his conduct, yesterday,
Ames?"
"It struck me that he was a little restless and
excited. Sir."
"Hal The attack may not have been entirely
unexpected. We do seem to make a little prog-
ress, do we not? Perhaps you would rather do
the questioning, Mr. Mac?'
[78]
i9>
DABKNESS
"No, Mr, Holmes, it's in better hands than
mine/'
"Well, then, we will pass to this card — ^V. V.
841. 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 thmk, 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 diflSculties 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
[79]
THE YALUSY OF TEAR
the dead man, which will, when mentioned in the
papers, tell other members of the society that
vengeance has been done. That all hangs to-
gether. But why this gun, of all weapons?''
"Exactly."
"And why the missing ringf
"Quite so/'
"And why no arrest? It's past two now. I
take it for granted that since dawn every con-
stable within forty miles has been looking t>ut
for a wet stranger?"
"That is so, Mr. Holmes."
"Well, imless he has a burrow close by or a
change of clothes ready, they can hardly nodss
him. And yet they have missed him up to now I"
Holmes had gone to the window and was ex-
amining 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 comer, one would
say it was a more shapely sole. However, they
are certainly very indistinct. What's this under
the side table?"
'Mr. Douglas' dumb-bells/' said Ames.
[80]
«*
DABKNES8
"Dumb-bell — ^there's only one. Whereas the
otherr '
"I don't know, Mr. Holmes. There may hav^
been only one. I have not noticed them for
months."
"One dmnb-bell " Holmes said seriously;
but his remarks were interrupted by a sharp
knock at the door.
A tall, sun-burned, capable-looking, clean-
shaved man looked in at us. I had no dif&culty
in guessing that it was the Cecil Barker of whom
I had heard. His masterful eyes traveled quick-
ly 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 htmdred 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 con-
[81]
THE YALLET OF FEAB
siderable journey. There was a saddlebag witii
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 weVe got. If we can*t find where he went
to, at least we are hkely to get where he came
from. But what in the name of all that is won-
derful 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 thought-
fuUy, "Iwonderr
|9>
[81]
CHAPTER V
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 Inspefetor, and
Holmes nodded;
"Then perhaps you would now like to hear ihe
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 dear
one, and he gave a convincing impression of sin-
cerity. He had been engaged five years before,
when Douglas first came to Birlstone. He un-
derstood that Mr. Douglas was a rich gentleman
who had made his money in America. He had
been a kind and considerate employer — ^not quite
[881
THE VALUSY OF FEAE
what Ames was used to, perhaps; but one can't
have everything. He never saw any signs of ap-
prehension in Mr. Douglas : on the contrary, he
was the most fearless man he had ever known.
He ordered the drawbridge to be pulled up everj
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 Tiinbridge Wells. He
(Ames) had observed some restlessness and ex-
citement 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 ring-
ing of the bell. They had gone to the front of
the house together.
As they reached the bottom of the stair he had
[84]
THE PEOPLE OF THE DRAMA
seen Mrsl Douglas coining 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 rooml" he
cried. "Poor Jack is dead! You can do noth-
ing. For God's sake go backl"
After some persuasion upon the stairs Mrs*
Douglas had gone back. She did not screanu
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 noth-
ing 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.
[85]
THE VALLEY OF FEAB
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 re-
membered hearing some soimd which she im*
agined to be the slamming of a door. That was
a good deal earlier, — half an hour at least be-
fore 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 upl Stay with her!'* he had said
to Mrs. Allen.
She had therefore taken her to the bedroom,
and endeavored to soothe her. She was greatly
excited, trembling all over, but made no other
[86]
THE PEOPLE OF THE BBAMA
attempt to go downstairs. She just sat in her
dressing gown by her bedroom fire, with her
head smik 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 expres-
sions of amazement.
Cecil Barker succeeded Mrs. Allen as a wit-
ness. As to the occurrences of the night before,
he had very little to add to what he had already
told the police. PersonaUy, 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 in-
deed 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
[87]
THE YALLXY OF FEAB
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 pros-
pered 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 Doug-
las had suddenly sold out and started for Eng-
land. He was a widower at that time. Barker
had afterward 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' 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
[88]
THE PEOPLE OF THE DRAMA
placard had some reference to this secret society.
"How long were you with Douglas in Cali-
fomia?" asked Inspector MacDonald.
Tive years altogether."
'He was a bachelor, you say?"
"A widower."
"Have you ever heard where his first wife
came from?"
"No, I remember bis saying that she was of
German extraction, and I have seen her por-
trait. She was a very beautiful woman. She
died of tjrphoid the year before I met him."
"You don't associate his past with any par-
ticular 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 traveled 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."
THE TALLEY OF FEAS
''Was there an3rthing curious about his life in
CaUfomia?"
''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 — Calif omians?"
"Well, I don't know about Calif omians. 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,"
[90]
THE PEOPLE OF THE BEAMA
"And then you were together five years in
Calif omia, 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 poUce 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 Doug-
las left California. You followed him next year^
did you not?"
"That is so.''
[91]
THB TALLEY OF FBAS
''And he had been married five years. Tou
must have returned about the time of his mar-
riage."
"About a month before. I was his best man.'*
"Did you know Mrs. Douglas before her mar-
riage?"
"N09 1 did not. I had been away from Eng-
land 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
. m« without knowing hi. wife. If you im-
agine there is any connection "
"I imagine nothing, Mr. Barker. I am boimd
to md.. Zy ■n,4 which ^ hear upon the
case. But I mean no offense."
"Some inquiries are offensive," Barker an-
swered 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
[92]
THE PEOPLE OF THE DBAMA
no right to ask such questions I" he cried. "What
has this to do with the matter you are investigate
ing?"
"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
[»8]
THE YALUSY OF FEAK
would be off the handle and. saying the wildest
things in a moment. More than once IVe 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 he more loyal than
ir
It was spoken with fervor and feeling, and yet
Inspector MacDonald could not dismiss the sub-
ject.
"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 con-
ceivable 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
[94]
THE PEOFIJB OF THE DRAMA
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 honor" — ^his eyes blazed
for an instant, and then with an evident effort
he got a grip upon his own emotions— "weU, 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 smaU point," remarked Sher-
lock 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 inci-
dent 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 inde-
cision. "I don't see that it was remarkable, Mr.
[95]
THE VALLEY OF FEAB
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 Bar-
ker, 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 efiTect 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
difi^erent 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 molded hand which she rested upon the
edge of the table was as steady as my own. Her
sad, appealing eyes traveled from one to the
other of us with a curiously inquisitive expres-
[»6]
THE PEOPLE OF THE DRAMA
sion. 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 un-
dertone of fear rather than of hope in the ques-
tion?
"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
l>^ggcd 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."
THE TALU&T OF FEAB
"How long was it after heaiing 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 house-
keeper, led me upstairs again. It was all like
some dreadful dream."
"Can you give us any idea how long your hus-
band had been downstairs before you heard the
shot?"
"No, I cannot say. He went from his dress-
ing room and I did not hear him go. He did
the round of the hoiise 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 hus-
band only in England, have you not?"
"Yes, we have been married five years."
"Have you heard him sjieak of anything which
occurred in America and might bring some dan-
ger upon him?"
Mrs. Douglas thought earnestly before she an-
swered. **Yes," she said at last, "I have alwayt
[98]
THE PEOPLE OF THE DRAMA
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' 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 sus-
picion 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 ene-
mies, 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," said Holmes, "what the words
were which attracted your attention?"
"The Valley of Fear," the lady answered.
[99]
THE TALLET OF FEAS
^'That was an expression he has used when I
questioned him. ^I have heen 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
VaUey 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. Tlease GUxl it shall never fall upon
youl' It was some real valley in which he had
lived and in which something terrible had oc-
curred to him, of that I am certain; but I can tell
you no more/'
"And he never mentioned any names?"
^"YtSf 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
[100]
THE PEOPLE OF THE DBAMA
whose body he was master of. *Never of mine,
thank God I' he answered with a laugh, and that
was aU I could get from him. But there is a con-
nection between Bodymaster McGinty and the
Valley of Fear."
"There is one other point," said Inspector Mac-
Donald. "You met Mr. Douglas in a boarding
house in London, did you not, and became en-
gaged to him there? Was there any romance,
anything secret or mysterious, about the wed-
ding?"
"There was romance. There is always ro-
mance. 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 an3rthing
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.
[101]
THE VALLEY OF FEAS
"I really cannot tell," she answered, "It is cer-.
tainly a most extraordinary thing."
"Well, we will not detain you any longer, and
we are sorry to have put you to this trouble at
sudh 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 evi-
dence 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 Bar-
ker 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 oS a dead man's What do
you say to it, Mr. Holmes?"
My friend had sat with his head upon his hands^
[102]
THE PEOPLE OF THE DBAMA
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'U 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 tmder 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 blodd — so indeed were
my own."
"That is natural enough, considering the con-
dition 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
[108]
THE TALLET OF FEAB
from the hall. As Ames had observed, the soles
of both were dark with blood.
'"Strangel" murmured Holmes, as he stood in
the light of the window and examined them
minutely. "Very strange indeed I"
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 sil-
ence at his colleagues.
The Inspector was transfigured with excite*
ment. His native accent rattled like a stick upon
railings.
"Man/* he cried, "there's not a doubt of itl
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?"
"Aye, 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 I" he cried. "And a real
snorter it isl"
[104]
CHAPTER VI
A DAWNING LIGHT
THE three detectives had many matters of de-
tail 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 night-
mare, 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 bahn, a strange incident occurred, which
[105]
THE VALLEY OF FEAE
brought me back to the tragedy and left a sinis-
ter impression in my mind.
I have said that a decoration of yew trees cir-
cled 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 direc-
tion 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 shockt
In the dining room she had been demiu^ and dis-
creet. 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 resimoied their solemn masks as my
figure came into view. A hurried word or two
[106]
A DAWNING LIGHT
passed between them, and then Barker rose and
came toward me.
"Excuse me, Sir," said he, "but am I address-
ing 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 re-
serve. I had grieved with her grief in the dining
l*oom. 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.
[107]
THE VAIXEY OF FEAK
"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 him-*
self 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 detec-
tives?"
"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 1
I assure you that you will be helping us — Whelping
me greatly if you will guide us on that point."
There was such a ring of sincerity in the
[108]
A DAWNING LIGHT
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 toward 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 jus-
tice. 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 con-
cealing hedge. I lool^ed back as I rounded the
far end of it, and saw that they were still talking
very earnestly together, and, as they were gaz-
ing after me, it was clear that it was our inter-
view that was the subject (>f their debate.
"I wish none of their confidences," said
Holmes, when I reported to kim what had oc-
curred. He had spent the whole afternoon at
the Manor House in consultation with his two
colleagues, and returned about five with a rave^
[109]
THE VALLEY OF FEAK
nous 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 con-
spiracy and murder."
"You think it will come to that?"
He was in his most cheerful and debonau- hu-
mor. "My dear Watson, when I have extermi-
nated 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-beUl"
"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 im-
portance of this incident. One dumb-bell, Wat-
son 1 Consider an athlete with one dumb-bell 1
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 in-
[110]
A DAWNING LIGHT
tellectual entanglement. The mere sight of his
excellent appetite was an assm*ance of success;
for I had very clear recollections of days and
nights without a thought of food, when his baf-
fled mind had chafed before some problem while
his thin, eager features became more attenuated
with the asceticism of complete mental concen-
tration. 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, ob-
trusive, 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 be-
hind the lie and reconstruct the truth.
"How do I know that they are lying? Be-
cause it is a clumsy fabrication which simply
[111]
THE YAIXJBY OF FEAB
could not be true. Consider I 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 re-
spect 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 char-
acter, 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, Wat-
son, 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.
[112]
A DAWNING LIGHT
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 win-
dowsill 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 house-
keeper's room. It is not so far down the cor-
ridor, 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 dis-
charge is at very close range, as it undoubtedly
[118]
THE TALLEY OF FEAE
was in this instance. It would not be yery 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 be-
fore 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, imtil 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 whicif 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 imderstanding between those two people. She
must be a heartless creatiure to sit laughing at
[114]
A DAWNING LIGHT
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, Wat-
son, 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 femi-
nine ululation. If there had been nothing else,
this incident alone would have suggested a prear-
ranged conspiracy to my mind."
"You think then, definitely, that Barker and
Mrs. Douglas are guflty 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
[115]
THE VALLEY OF FEAR
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 cotiple ar6 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 dis-
creet inquiry among servants and others has
f «led to^bor.^ it in «,y w.y. On U.e
contrary, there is a good deal of evidence that the
Douglases were very attached to each other.**
"That, I am sure, cannot be true," said I,
thinking of the beautiful smiling face in the gar-
den.
"Well, at least they gave that impression.
However, we will suppose that they are an ex-
traordinarily astute couple, who deceive every-
one upon this point, and conspire to murder the
husband. He happens to be a man over whose
head some danger hangs —
9>
"We have only their word for that."
Holmes looked thoughtful. "I see, Watson.
[116]
A DAWNING LIGHT
You are sketching out a theory by which every-
thing they say from the beginning is false. Ac-
cording to your idea, there was never any hid-
den 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 shot-
gun 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? IV 9
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 con-
spire to murder a husband, are they going to
[117]
THE TAIXJBY OF FEAB
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 indi-
cate 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 se-
cret, a really shameful secret in the life of this
man Douglas. This leads to his murder by some-
one who is, we will suppose, an avenger, some-
one from outside. This avenger, for some rea*
son which I confess I am still at a loss to explaiOt
[118]
A DAWNING LIGHT
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 thbught
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 pos-
sibility, are we not?"
"Well, it is possible, no doubt," said I, with
some reserve.
"We have to remember, Watson, that what-
ever occurred is certainly something very ex-
traordinary. Well now, to continue our suppos-
ititious case, the couple — ^not necessarily a guilty
couple — ^realize after the murderer is gone that
[119]
THE VALLEY OF FEAE
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 con-
nive at it. They rapidly and rather clmnsily met
the situation. The mark was put by Barker's
bloodstained slipper upon the windowsill to sug-
gest how the fugitive got away. They obviously
were the two who must have heard the soimd 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 effec-
tive of all' proofs. But if not — ^well, the re-
sources of science are far from being exhausted.
I think that an evening alone in that study would
help me much."
"An evening alone 1"
"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.
[120]
A DAWNING LIGHT
By the way, you have that big umbrella of yours,
have you not?"
"It is here."
"WeU, I'U 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 coUeagues from Tun-
bridge 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 expe-
dition, 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 joimiey."
"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. Doug-
[121]
THE VALLEY OF FEAB
las had seemed disturbed since the day bef ore^
when he had been at Tunbridge Wells. It was
at Tunbridge Wells then that he had become con-
scious of some danger. It was clear, therefore,
that if a man had come over with a bicycle it
was from Timbridge Wells that he might be
expected to have come. We took the bicycle over
with us and showed it at the hotels. It was iden*
tified at once by the manager of the Eagle Com-
mercial 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 com-
ing 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 1 It's a
lesson in being practical, Mr. Mac."
"Aye, it's just that, Mr. Holmes," said the
Inspector with satisfaction.
"But this may all fit in with your tiheories/' I
remarked.
[122]
A DAWNING LIGHT
"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 care-
fully 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 in-
quiries."
"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
[128]
THE VALLEY OF FEAB
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 grajdsh mustache, a curved
nose, and a face which aU of them described a^
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 mustache, 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 over-
coat 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
[124]
• > I I ■
A DAWNING LIGHT
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. Yester-
day morning he set off for this place on his
bicycle, with his gun condaled in his overcoat.
No one saw him arrive, so far as we can learn;
but lie 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 neigh-
borhood that no particular notice would be
taken."
"That is all very clear," said Holmes.
"Well, Mr. Douglas did not appear. What
[125]
THE VALLEY OF FEAE
was he to do next? He left his bicycle and ap-
proached the house in the twilight. He found
the bridge down and no one about. He took his
chance, intending, no doubt, to make some ex-
cuse if he met anyone. He met no one. He
slipped into the first room that he saw, and con-
cealed himself behind the curtain. Thence he
could see the drawbridge go up, and he knew that
his only escape was tttough the moat. He waited
until quarter past eleven, when Mr. Douglas
upon his usual nightly roimd 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.
Hohnes?"
"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
[126]
9, I I
A DAWNING LIGHT
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 diflSculties," 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 mn*
brella — ^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
[127]
THE VALLEY OF FEAB
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 coimtry inn could do for us. I was already
asleep when I was partly awakened by his en-
trance.
"Well, Holmes,'* I murmured, *liave you
found anything out?"
He stood beside me in silence, his candle in his
hand. Then the tall, lean figure inclined toward
me. "I say, Watson," he whispered. "Would
you be afraid to sleep in the same rooqi 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 astonish-
ment.
"Ah, that's hicky," he said, and not another
word would he utter that night.
[128]
t"
CHAPTER VII
THE SOLUTION
NEXT morning, after breakfast, we found
Inspector MacDonald and White Mason
seated in close consultation in the small parlor of
the local police Sergeant. On the table in front
of them were piled a number of letters and tele-
grams, which they were carefuUy 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
[lad]
THE VALLEY OF FEAB
actually been arrested. The country seems to be
full of the fugitives with yellow coats,"
"Dear me I" 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 ad-
vice to you is summed up in three words, — aban-
don the case."
MacDonald and White Mason stared in
amazement at their celebrated colleague.
"You consider it hopeless I" cried the Inspec-
tor.
"I consider your case to be hopeless. I do not
consider that it is hopeless to arrive at the truth.
[180]
>»
THE SOLUTION
**But this cyclist. He is not an invention. We
have his description, his valise, his bicycle. The
f dlow murt be «,me^e«. Why sh^d we not
gethimr
"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 Liver-
pool. 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 pos-
sible. 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 experi-
ence I cannot recall any more singular and in-
teresting study."
"This is clean beycmd me, Mr. Holmes. We
saw you when we returned from Tunbridge
Wells last night, and you were in general agree-
ment with our results. What has happened since
[181]
THE VAIXEY OF FEAB
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 heen
reading a short but clear and interesting accoimt
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 investi-
gation, my dear Mr. Mac, when one is in con-
scious 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 pre-
[182]
THE SOLUTION
sents one of the finest surviving examples of
the moated Jacobean residence ' "
"You are making fools of us, Mr. Holmes!"
"Tut, tut, Mr. Mac I — ^the first sign of temper
I have detected iii 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 parlia-
mentary 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
bujsiness of ours."
"Is it not? Is it not? Breadth of view, my
dear Mr. Mac, is one of the essentials of oiir pro-
fession. 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
[188]
THE TALLET OF FEAB
heartily. ''You get to your point, I admit; but
you have such a deuced round-the-comer way
of doing it."
''Well, well, I'll drop past history and get
down to presentday 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 amiabili-
ties, which culminated in his allowing me, with*
out reference to anyone else, to sit alone for a
time in the study.'*
'WhatI 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.'
£184]
It'
tr
99
THE SOLUTION
"Where ?*^
"Ah, there we come to the edge of the unex-
plored. 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 boimd 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, m;y 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 wiD
do it."
"Well, I'm bound to say IVe 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
[185]
THE TALLEY OF FEAR
one to the other. Hohnes 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 I" said Hohnes. "Well, then, I should
recommend a nice, cheery country walk for hoth
of you. They tell me that the views from Birl-
stone Kidge over the Weald are very remarkahle.
No douht 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 Mac-
Donald, rising angrily from his chair.
"Well, well, spend the day as you like," said
Holmes, patting him cheerfully upon the shoul-
der. "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."
"WeU?"
[186]
THE SOLUTION
"I'll dictate it, if you like. Ready?
**Deaji Snu — 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. "IVe
made inquiry."
"Tut, tut I My dear Sir, please do what I ask
you."
"Well, go on."
a
— ^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 tomorrow morning diverting the
stream "
"Impossible 1"
«
Averting 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
£1871
THE TALLET OF FEAR
this room. Untfl 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.
Hohnes was very serious in his manner, myself
curious, and the detectives obviously critical and
annoyed.
**Well, Grcntlemen," 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 expe-
dition 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 whidi fenced
it. Through this we slipped, and then in the
gathering gloom we followed Holmes until we
had reiu^ed a shrubbery which Hes nearly oppo-
site to the main door and the drawbridge. The
[1»81
THE SOLUTION
latter had not been raised. Holmes croudied
down behind the screen of laurels, and we all
three followed his example.
"Well, what are we to do now?" asked Mac*
Donald 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 reaUy 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 in-
sistently for a weU 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 accusa-
tion, the brutal tap upon the shoulder, — ^what
can one make of such a denouement? But the
quick inference, the subtle trap, the clever fore-
cast of coming events, the triumphant vindica-
tion 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 hunter.
Where would be that thrill if I had been as
[18»]
)
1
THE TALLEY OF FEAS
definite as a timetable? I only ask a little pa-
tience, 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 aspira-
tion; for our vigil was a long and bitter one.
Slowly the shadows darkened over the long, som-
ber 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 move-
ments 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 fori"
As he spoke the bright, yellow light in the
study was obscured by somebody passing to and
[140]
THE SOLUTION
fro before it. The laurels among which we lay
were immediately opposite the window and not
more than a hundredf eet f romit. 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 some-
thing 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 Hohnes. ''Now!'*
We were all upon our feet, staggering after
him with our stiif ened 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
[141]
THE VALLEY OF FEAB
had been occupied by the man whom we had
been watching.
The oU 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 toward 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 thisT'
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 ™ting Ubie.
"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. In-
spector MacDonald, that I was somewhat struck
[142]
THE SOLUTION
by the absence of a dumb-bell. I drew your at-
tention to it ; but with the pressure of other events
you had hardly the time to give it the consider-
ation 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 sup-
position 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 de-
vice of announcing that the moat would be dried
to-morrow, which had, of course, the effect that
whoever had hidden the bundle would most cer-
tainly 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 imdid the cord
[148]
THE VALLEY OF FEAE
which bound it. From within he extracted a
dumb-bell, which he tossed down to its fellow in
the comer. Next he drew forth a pair of boots.
"American, 9s you perceive," he remarked, point-
ing to the toes. Then he laid upon the table a
long, deadly, sheathed knife. Finally he un-
raveled a bundle of clotliing, comprising a com-
plete set of underclothes, socks, a gray tweed
suit, and a short yellow overcoat.
"The clothes are comimonplace," remarked
Holmes, "save only the overcoat, which is full
of suggestive touches." He held it tenderly
toward the light. "Here, as you perceive, is the
inner pocket prolonged mto 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 add-
ing 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 asso-
ciated the coal districts with Mr. Douglas' first
wife, and it would surely not be too far-fetched
[144]
THE SOLUTION
1
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 emis-
saries 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 tiiis exposition of the great detec-
tive. Anger, amazement, consternation, and in-
decision 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.**
[U5]
THE TALLEY OF FEAB
*^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 sym-
pathy *with you. Madam, and I 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 follow-
ing 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 as-
sured that this is not so. At the same time,
[146]
THE SOLUTION
there is much that is unexplained, and I should
strongly reconunend that you ask Mr. Douglas
to tell us his own story/*
Mrs. Douglas gave a cry of astonishment at
Holmes' 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 ad-
vanced now from the gloom of the comer in
whidi he had appeared. Mrs. Douglas turned,
and in an instant her arms were round hinu
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 mustache, 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
[147]
;
THE TALLEY OF FEAE
but was altogether mellow and pleasing. "You
are the historian of this bunch. Well, Dr. Wat-
son, youVe 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 wel-
come 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'U 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 wiHi
[148]
THE SOLUTION
that," he nodded at my papers, "you will say IVe
brought you something fresh."
Inspector MacDonald had been staring at the
newcomer with the greatest amazement. "Well,
this fairly beats me I" 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 re-
proving 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 tliis 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 tha* 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
[149]
THE VALLEY OF FEAB
they could not be put to the proof until this
erening, 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 him-
self 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 es^
cape."
"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
imder 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,
[160]
THE SOLtmOK
Inspector: I'm ready to stand pat upon the
truth.
"I'm not going to begm at the beginning.
That's all there," he indicated my bundle of
papers, "and a mighty queer yam you'U 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^
[161]
THE VALLEY OF FEAE
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, Grentlemen, the day before these hap-
penings I was over in Tunbridge WeUs, 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
[162]
ym
THE SOLUTION
and waiting for me. But when I made my roimd
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 IVe 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
couldnH 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 mo-
ment 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 aU 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
[168]
THE VALLEY OF FEAR
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 recog-
nized 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 Bar-
ker, — ^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 hap-
pened was known only to omrselves.
^^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 fore-
arm. See here r
THE SOLUTION
The man whom we had known as Douglas
turned up his own coat and cuff to show a hrown
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
was his height and hair and figure, ahout^the
same as my own. No one could swear to his f ace,
poor devil I 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
[155]
THE TALLET OF FEAR
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 under-
neath it.
"Well, that was the situation. If I could lie
low for awhile 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,
[166]
i
THE SOLUTION
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 Sher-
lock 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' 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 ad-
vice and stiU 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
[157]
THE VAULEY OF FEAR
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 be-
fore 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.
[158]
a:
PabtII
THE SC0WRER9
CHAPTER I
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 Gihnerton
Mountains. The steam plow 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 Stag-
ville on the plain to Vermissa, the central town-
ship which lies at the head of Vermissa Valley,
From this point the track sweeps downward to
Bartons Crossing, Helmdale, and the purely ag-
ricultural county of Merton. It was a single
track railroad; but at every siding— and they
were „u=,erou^lc„g ItoesTf trueS pHed wift
coal and iron ore told of the hidden wealth which
had brought a rude population and a bustling life
[161]
THE VALLEY OF FEAB
to this most desolate comer of the United States
of America.
For desolate it was I 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, tortu-
ous valley in the center. 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 return-
ing from theh- 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, pro-
claimed 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.
[162]
THE MAN
Several women of the laboring class and one
or two travelers who might have been small local
storekeepers made up the rest of the company,
with the exception of one young man in a comer
by himself. It is with this man that we are cbn-
cemed. 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 inquh-ingly 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 firm-
ness 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.
[168]
THE YALLEY OF FEAB
Having made one or two tentative remarks
to the nearest miner, and receiving only short,
gruff replies, the traveler resigned himself to
micongenial 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 tower-
ing above them. Huddled groups of mean,
wooden houses, the windows of which were be-
ginning to outline themselves in light, were scat-
tered here and there along the line, and the fre-
quent halting places were crowded with their
swarthy inhabitants.
The iron and coal valleys of the Vermissa dis-
trict were no resorts for the leism^ed or the cul-
tured. 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 traveler 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
[164]
THE MAN
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 some-
thing 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 workingman who had
seated himself upon the adjoining bench.
"Hullo, MateT' said he. "You seem heeled
and ready.''
The young man smiled with an air of embar-
rassment. "Yes,'' said he, "we need them some-
times in the place I come from."
"And where may that be?"
*T['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.
[165]
THE YALLEY OF FBAK
"'Have you heard nothing of doings here-
abouts?''
"Nothing out of the way."
"Why, I thought the country was full of it,
Tou'll hear quick enough. What made you come
herer
"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 whis-
pering among themselves. The two police offi-
cers were dozing. He came across, seated him-
self close to the yoimg traveler, and held out his
hand.
[166]
\
THE KAK
"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 traveler
at once raised his left hand to his left eyebrow*
"Dark nights are unpleasant," said the work**
man.
"Yes, for strangers to travel," the other an*
swered.
"That's good enough. I'm Brother Scanlan^
Lodge 841, 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 Val-
ley. But we could do with some lads like you*
I can't understand a spry man of the imion find-
ing no work to do in Chicago."
"I foimd plenty of work to do," said Me*
Murdo.
"Then why did you leave?"
[167]
THE VAIXEY OF FEAE
McMurdo nodded toward the policemen and
smiled. ''I guess those chaps would be glad to
know," he said.
Scanlan groaned sympathetically. "In trou-
ble?" 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.
"IVe 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 ojffense 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 ad-
[168]
THE MAN
dress,^ — ^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 Hobsons 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 noth-
ing can happen in these parts unless Black Jack
McGinty wants it. So long. Mate I 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 tiiat,"
said a voice.
[169]
THE YALLEY OF FEAB
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, yoimg 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 yoinr 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 wit-
ness the altercation. 'l!)id 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 1" He thrust out
his face and grinned at the patrolmen like a
snarling dog.
The two policemen, heavy, good-natured men,
[170]
THE MAK
were taken aback by the extraordinary vehemence
with which their friendly advances had been re*
jected.
"No ojffense. 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 I" 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
itl" cried McMurdo. "My name's Jack Mc-
Murdo — see? If you want me, you'll find me at
Jacob Shafter's on Sheridan street, Vermissa;
sormnothidingfi<)myou,amI? Dayornight
I dare to look the like of you in the face — don't
make any mistake about thatl"
There was a miumur of sympathy and admir-
ation from the miners at the daimtless demeanor
of the newcomer, while the two policemen
[171]
THE VAIXEY OF F£AB
shrugged their shoulders and renewed a conver-
sation 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 "Groodnights"
from the other miners as they passed from the
platform. Before ever he had set foot in it,
McMurdo the turbulenthad 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 cer-
tain 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
[172]
THE MAN
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 side-
walks 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 center of the town the
scene was brightened by a row of well-lit stores,
and even more by a cluster of saloons and gam-
ing 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?"
[178]
THE VAIXEY OF FEAE
'Well/* the miner lowered his voic^ — ^''over*
the ajffairs."
"What affairs r'
"Good Lord, Mister I you are queer, if I mu^t
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 I" cried the miner, stand-
ing still in alarm, and gazing in amazement at
his companion. "Man, you won't Kve 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 kill-
ing 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,
[174]
THE KAN
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
Shaf ter that runs it as honest a man as lives in
this township."
"I thank you»" said McMurdo, and shaking
bands 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 dif-
ferent from what he had expected. It was a
woman, young and singularly beautiful. She
was of the Grcrman type, blond 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 color 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 sur-
roundings. A lovely violet growing upon one
of those black slap-heaps of the mines would not
[176]
THE YAIXEY OF FEAB
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. 'T)id
you come to see him? He is down town. I ex-
pect 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 wiU."
"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 Shaf ter, 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 I So you can fix things with him
right away."
[176]
THE MAN
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 Shaf ter 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 Shaf ters, the first step which was
to lead to so long and dark a train of events,
ending in a far distant land.
[17T]
CHAPTER II
THE BODYMASTER
McMURDO was a man who made his mark
qmckly. Wherever he was the folk
around soon knew it. Within a, week he had be-
come infinitely the most important person at
Shafter's. There were ten or a dozen boarders
there; but they were honest foremen or common-
place clerks from the stores, of a very different
caliber 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 bom boon compan-
ion, with a magnetism which drew good humor
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 re-
spect and even the fear of those who met him*
[178]
THE B0DTMA8TEE
For the law, too, and all who were connected
with it, he exhibited a bitter contempt which de-
lighted 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 dis-
regard 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 I 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 fie
[17»1
THE YALLET OF FEAS
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 miU. And afterward came
the hint of romance, the feeling that strange
thing, ^ h.ppe«d to him in L great 4.
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 Ustened, her dark eyes gleaming with pity
and with sympathy,— those two quaUties 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 Free-
men. He was reminded of his omission, how-
ever, by a visit one evening from Mike Scanlan,
[180]
THE BODYMASTEB
the fellow member whom he had met in the train.
Scanlan, a small, sharp-faced, nervous, black-
eyed man, seemed glad to see him once more.
After a glass or two of whiskey he broached the
object of his visit.
"Say, McMurdo,'^ said he, "I remembered your
address; so I made bold to call. I'm surprised
that youVe not reported to the Bodymaster.
Why haven't you seen Boss McGinty yet?'V
"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 alll"
McMurdo showed mild surprise. "I've been a
member of 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.
[181]
THE VALLEY OF FEAB
"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 hoimds what I thought
of them."
"By the Lord, you'll be a man after McGinty^s
heart 1"
"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 I
Now, take a friend's advice and go at onceF
i»»
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 evi-
dent than before, or that they had gradually ob-
truded themselves into the slow mind of his good
€rerman host ; but, whatever the cause, the board-
ing-house keeper beckoned the young man into
[182]
THE BODTMASTE]^
his private room and started on the subject with-
out 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.
'Veil, 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."
"Veil, 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 1 Perhaps
she did not vish to frighten you avay."
' "Frighten 1" McMurdo was on fire in a mo-
ment.
"Ah, yes, my friend I You need not be
aidiamed to be frightened of him. It is Teddy
Baldwin."
"And who the devil is he?"
"He is a boss of Scowrers."
"Scowrersl I've heard of them before. It's
Scowrers here and Scowrers there, and always
[1881
— ^— — — * t
THE VALLEY OF FEAJt
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 1"
The young man stared. "Why, I am a mem-
ber 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 veek."
"What's wrong with the order? It's for char-
ity and good fellowship. The rules say so."
"Maybe in some places. Not here I"
"What'isitherer
"It's a murder society, that's vat it is."
McMurdo laughed incredulously. "How can
you prove that?" he asked.
"Prove itl 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 itl
Is there a man or a voman in this valley vhat does
not know it?"
"See here I" said McMurdo earnestly. "I want
[184]
f
f
THE BODYMASTEB
you to take back what youVe 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 so-
ciety 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 coimting 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 apol-
ogy or else an explanation, Mr. Shafter."
"I can but tell you vhat the whole vorld knows.
Mister. The bosses of the one are the bosses of
the other. If you ofi^end the one, it is the other
vhat vill strike you. We have proved it too
often.''
'That's just gossip — I want proof!" said Mc-
Murdo.
"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 peo-
ple come courting my Ettie, and that I dare not
turn him down, but that I should have another
[186]
ui
THE YALLET OF FEAK
for my boarder ? Yes, indeed, you shall not sleep
here after tonight T'
McMurdo found himself mider 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 IVe known you, you are the very breath of
life to me, and I can't live without you 1"
"Oh, hush, Mr. McMurdo, don't speak soT*
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 Grod's sake, Ettie, let it stand
at fhatl" he cried. "Will you ruin y^ur life and
[186]
THE BODYMASTER
my own for the sake of this promise? Follow
your heart, ^cushla ! '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 T
"hay tnax yc
/"
"Not here?'^
"Yes, here/*
"No, no, Jackl" His arms were round her
now, "It could not be here. Could yoii take me
away?'*
A struggle passed for a moment over McMur-
do'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 arel"
"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 folk in a free
country. If you love me, and I you, who will
dara to come between?"
[187]
THB VALLEY OF FEAE
"You don*t know, Jack. YouVe 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
ihem, and I don't believe in them I" said McMur-
do. "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 itl 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 siu'ely. Jack, you must have read
all this. I had imderstood 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 them-
selves."
[188]
THE BODTMASTEB
"Oh, Jack, don't let me hear you speak sol
That is how he speaks — ^the other one I"
"Baldwin — ^he speaks like that, does he?"
"And that is why I loathe him so. Oh, Jack,
how 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 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 ?'*
[189]
99
THE YALLET OF FEAR
The door had opened suddenly, and a young
fellow caihe swaggering in with the air of one
who is the master. He was a handsome, dashing
yoimg man of about the same age and build as
McMurdo himself. Under his broad-brimmed
black felt hat, which he had not troubled to re-
move, a handsome face with fierce, domineering
eyes and a curved hawk-bill of a nose looked sav-
agely 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 look*
ing 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 rela-
tion between you."
[190]
THE BODYMASTEB
"Didn't you? Well, you can understand it
now. You can take it from me that this young
lady is mine, and you'U find it a very fine evening
for a walk/'
"Thank you, I am in no humor for a walk."
"Aren't you?" The man's savage eyes were
blazing with anger. "Maybe you are in a humor
for a fight, Mr. Boarder I"
"That I am 1" cried McMurdo, springing to his
feet. "You never said a more welcome word."
"For God's sake, Jackl Oh, for God's sakeP'
cried poor, distracted Ettie. "Oh, Jack, Jack,
he will hurt youl"
"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 I For my
sake, Ted, if ever you loved me, be big-hearted
and forgiving I"
"I think, Ettie, that if you were to leave us
alone we could get this thing settled," said Mc-
Murdo 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 groxmd be-
yond the next block."
"I'll get even with you without needing to dirty
[191]
THE YALLET OF FEAB
my hands," said his enemy, "You'll wish you
had never set foot in this house before I am
through with you 1"
"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. *T)'you know what that means?"
"I neither know nor care 1"
**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 yoiu* punishment may be. You've
sowed — and by the Lord, I'll see that you reap I"
He glanced at them both in fiuy. Then he
turned upon his heel, and an instant later the
outer door had banged behind him.
For a few moments McMiu'do and the girl
stood in silence. Then she threw her arms around
him.
"Oh, Jack, how brave you were I But it is no
[192]
THE BODTMASTES
use, you must fly I Tonight — ^Jack — ^tonight I
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 McMur-
do. "I'll go right now and fix it. You can tell
your father that I'll sleep here tonight and find
some other quarters in the morning."
The bar of McGinty's saloon was crowded
[193]
THE TALLET OF FEAR
as usual ; for it was the favorite loafing place of
all the rougher elements of the town. The man
was popular; for he had a rough, jovial disposi-
tion which formed a mask, covering a great deal
which lay behind it. But apart from this popu-
larity, 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 uni-
versally believed that he exercised in so pitiless
a fashion, he was a high public official, a munici-
pal councilor, and a commissioner of roads,
elected to the office through the votes of the ruf-
fians who in turn expected to receive favors at
his hands. Assessments and taxes were enor-
mous; the public works were notoriously neg-
lected, the accounts were slurred over by bribed
auditors, and the decent citizen was terrorized
into paying pubUc 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
[194]
THE BODYMASTEB
chains more weighty across a more gorgeous vest,
and his saloon stretched farther and farther, untfl
it threatened to absorb one whole side of the Mar-
ket Square.
McMurdo pushed open the swinging door of
the saloon and made his way amid the crowd of
men within, throngh ™ .tm«phere blurred with
tobacco smoke and heavy with the smell of spirits.
The place was brilliantly lighted, and the huge,
heavfly gUt 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 loimgers 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
comer of his mouth, stood a tall, strong, heavily
built man who could be none other than the fam-
ous McGinty himself. He was a black-maned
giant, bearded to the cheekbones, and with a shock
of raven hair which fell to his collar. His com-
plexion was as swarthy as that of an Italian, and
his eyes were of a strange dead black, which, com-
bined with a slight squint, gave them a particu-
larly sinister appearance.
[195]
THE TAIXEY OF FEAB
All else in the man — hia noble proportions,
fine features, and his frank bearing — ^fitted in
with that jovial, man-to-man manner which he af-
fected. 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 remorse-
less, were turned upon a man that he shrank with-
in 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/'
[196]
THE BODYMASTEE
"You are not so new that you can't give a gen-
tleman his proper title."
"He's Councilor McGinty, young man/' said
a voice from the group. /
*Tm sorry. Councilor. 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 1 you've got an Irish tongue in your
head anyhow," cried the saloonkeeper, not quite
certain whether to humor 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 841, Vermissa. I
drink your health. Councilor, and to our better
acquaintance.'' He raised a glass with which he
£197]
THE YAIXEY OF FEAB
had been served to his lips and elevated his little
finger as he drank it.
McGinty, who had been watching him nar-
rowly, 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 bar-
rels. McGinty carefully closed the door, and
then seated himself on one of them, biting
thoughtfully on his cigar and surveying his com-
panion 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 mus-
tache. 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 an-
[198]
THE BODYMASTER
swered with some dignity, "for the Bodymaster
of a lodge of Freemen to give to a stranger
brother."
"Aye, but it's just that same that you have
to prove," said McGinty, "and God help you if
you faill Where were you made?'
'Lodge 29, Chicago.'
ou maae i**
"Lodge 2'^ ^^- "
"When?"
"June 24, 1872."
"What Bodymaster?"
"James H. Scott."
"Who is your district ruler?"
"Bartholomew Wilson."
"Huml 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."
[199]
THE VALLEY OF FEAB
True for you, Mr. McMurdo. Why did you
leave Chicago?"
"I^m damned if I tell you thatl"
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 mel" cried McGinty hotly.
"You are right. Councilor," 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.
[200]
THE BODYMASTEE
"Your work?" he asked, as he handed back the
paper.
McMurdo nodded.
"Why did you shoot hhn?"
"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 whatr^
"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 oiit 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 an-
swered.
"Well, I guess you'll go far. Say, can you
make those dollars yet?"
McMurdo took half a dozen from his pocket.
[201]
THE VALLEY OF FEAR
"'Those never passed the Philadelphia mint/' said
he.
"You don't sayl" McGinty held them to the
light in his enormous hand, which was hairy as a
gorilla's. "I can see no difference. Garl 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, Coxmcilor." McMurdo drew a
cocked pistol from the side pocket of his pea-
jacket. "I was covering you all the time. I
guess my shot would have been as quick as
yours."
"By Garl" 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
[202]
THE BODYMASTER
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 gentle-
man for five minutes but you must butt in on
usr
The bartender stood abashed. "I'm sorry,
Councilor, 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 Mc-
Murdo, "you got here first, did you? I've a
word to say to you. Councilor, about this man."
"Then say it here and now before my face,"
cried McMurdo.
*T11 say it at my own time, in my own way."
"Tutl Tutl" said McGinty, getting oiF 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 !"
^Neverl" cried Baldwin in a fury.
IVe offered to fight him if he thinks I have
[208]
THE VALLEY OF FEAK
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, Councilor, to judge between us as a
Bodymaster should."
"What is it, then?"
"A young lady. She's free to choose for her-
self."
Is she?" cried Baldwin.
'As between two brothers of the lodge I should
say that she was," said the Boss.
'Oh, that's yoiu* 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 favor of a man that you
never saw before in your life? You're not Body-
master for life. Jack McGinty, and by Godl
when next it comes to a vote "
"<
«-
a-
The Councilor 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.
[204]
THE BODYM ASTER
ir
"Easy, Councilor 1 For Heaven*s sake, go
easyl" he cried, as he dragged him back.
McGinty released his hold, and Baldwin,
cowed and shaken, gasping for breath, and shiv-
ering 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 youVe got itl" cried Mc-
Ginty, 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 ruKngs."
"I have nothing against you," mumbled Bald-
win, feeling his throat.
"Well, then," cried the other, relapsing in a
moment into a blufi^ 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 quarreling toast of
the lodge. After that, as you know, there can
[205]
THE VALLEY OF FEAB
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 swearl"
The men drank their glasses, and the same
ceremony was performed between Baldwin and
McMurdo.
"There 1" 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 1"
"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.
[206]
THE BODYMASTEB
"Tutl These girls 1 These girls I" he cried. "To
think that the same petticoats should come be*
tween two of my boysl It's the devil's own
luckl Well, it's the colleen inside of them that
must settle the question; for it's outside the juris-
diction of a Bodymaster — and the Lord be
praised for that 1 We have enough on us, with-
out the women as well. You'll have to be affili-
ated to Lodge 841, Brother McMurdo. We have
our own ways and methods, different from Chi-
cago. Saturday night is our meeting, and if you
come then, we'll make you free forever of the
Vermissa Valley."
[207]
CHAPTER III
LODGE 841, VERMISSA
ON the day following the evening which had
contained so many exciting events, Mc-
Murdo moved his lodgings from old Jacob Shaf-
ter*s and took up his quarters at the widow Mac*
Namara's on the extreme outskirts of the town.
Scanlan, his original acquaintance aboard the
train, had occasion shortly afterward 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 them-
selves; so that they had a freedom for speech
and action welcome to men who had secrets in
common.
Shaf ter 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.
[208]
LODGE 841, VEEMISSA
In his bedroom at his new abode McMurdo
felt it safe to take out the coining molds, and
mider 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 diffi-
culty 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 even-
ings 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 favorite with
them all; while the rapid and scientific way in
[209]
THE VALLEY OF FEAE
which he polished o£P his antagonist in an ''all in''
barroom 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 col-
liery owners to supplement the efforts of the
ordinary civil police, who were perfectly helpless
in the face of the organized ruffianism which ter-
rorized the district. There was a hush as he en-
tered, 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 Mc-
Ginty himself, standing behind his coimter,
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, Coimcilor?"
"You'll be the new Captain?" said McGinty.
"That's so. We're looking to you, Coimcilor,
and to the other leading citizens, to help us in
[210]
LODGE 341, TERMISSA
upholding law and order in this township. Cap-
tain Marvin is my name."
"We'd do better without you, Captain Mar-
vin," said McGinty coldly ; "for we have our own
police of the township, and no need for any im-
ported 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 oflSicer good-humoredly. "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 Bus
elbow. "Hullo 1 Hullo I" he cried, looking him
up and down. "Here's an old acquaintance 1"
McMurdo shrank away from him. "I was
never a friend to you nor any other cursed cop-
per in my life," said he.
"An acquaintance isn't always a friend," said
the police Captain, grinning. "You're Jack Mc-
Murdo of Chicago, right enough, and don't you
deny it I"
McMurdo shrugged his shoulders. "I'm not
[211]
THE VALLEY OF FEAE
denying it," said he. "D'ye think I'm ashamed
of my own name?"
"YouVe got good cause to be, anyhow."
"What the devil dyou mean by that?" he
roared with his fists clenched.
"No, no. Jack, bluster won't do with me. I
was an ofiicer 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 Centrall" 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 evi-
dence, ain't it? Well, his death came in imcom-
mon 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 per-
haps I'm going further than my duty in saying
it, — ^they could get no clear case against you, and
Chicago's open to you tomorrow."
"I'm very well where I am."
[212]
^
%
LODGE 841, TEBMISSA
"Well, IVe 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
tkank you," said McMurdo in no very gracious
manner.
it
It's mum with me so long as I see you living
on the straight," said the Captain. "But, by the
Lord I if you get off after this, it's another story!
So goodnight to you— and goodnight, Coun-
cHor."
He left the barroom; 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 roimd him and shook him heart-
ily by the hand. He was free of the community
from that time on. He could drink hard and
show Kttle 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 intro-
duced to the lodge. He had thought to pass in
[218]
THE YALIJST OF FEAB
without ceremony as being an initiate of Chi-
cago; 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 as-
sembled at Vermissa ; but that by no means repre-
sented the f uU strength of the organization, for
there were several other lodges in the valley, and
others across the moimtains on each side, who ex-
changed members when any serious business was
.fooU th.t . crime might be done by men who
were strangers to the locality. Altogether there
were not less than five hundred scattered over
the coal di$;trict.
In the bare assembly room the men were gath^
ered round a long table. At the side was a sec-
ond 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 colored 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^
[214]
LODGE 341, YEBMISSA
the cruel, handsome face of Ted Baldwin among
them. Each of these wore some scarf or medal-
lion as emhlem 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 tiger-
ish, lawless souls within; but looking at the rank
and file it was difficult to beliere that these eager
and open-faced young f eUows 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
quarreled as to who had actually struck the fatal
blow, and amused one another and the company
[216]
THE VALLEY OF FEAB
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 nar-
rative describes their proceedings were extraor-
dinarily 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 imlimited 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 vic-
tim himself, — ^who, however outnimibered 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,
[216]
LODGE 841, TERMISSA
and he knew that they were discussing his can-
didacy. 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 then 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
oyer 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 Mc-
Ginty sounded dull and distant through the cov-
ering of his ears.
"John McMurdo," said tihe voice, "are you al-
ready a member of the Ancient Order of Free-
men?"
He bowed in assent.
"Is your lodge No. 29, Chicago?"
He bowed again.
*T3ark nights are unpleasant," said the voice.
'Yes, for strangers to travel," he answered.
[217]
€C
THE YALLET OF TEAR
"The clouds are heavy."
•Te^ . »tonn i, .p^roachmg."
"Are the brethren satisfied?" asked the Body-
master.
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 coimty and in other counties of these
parts we have certain rites, and also certain duties
of oiu* own which call for good men. Are you
ready to be tested?"
1 am.
"Are you of stout heart?"
1 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 with-
out 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
I<>wmurmu;of.pplM«e.
"He is of stout heart," said the voice. "Can
you bear pain?"
[218]
LODGE 841, YERMISSA
"As well as another," he answered
"Test him r
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 blink-
ing and smiling amid the congratulations of the
brothers*
"One last word. Brother McMurdo,'* said Mc-
Ginty. "You have already sworn the oath of
secrecy and fidelity, and you are aware that the
pimishment for any breach of it is instant and
inevitable death?"
1 am," said McMurdo.
'And you accept the rule of the Bodjnmaster
for the time being under all circumstances?"
"I do."
"Then in the name of Lodge 841, Vermissa, I
welcome you to its privileges and debates. You
[219]
W
t<
THE YAULET OF FEAB
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
i0{ the forearm was a circle with a triangle within
ity deep and red, as the branding iron had left it.
One or two of his neighbors 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 1 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 busi-
ness of the lodge proceeded. McMurdo, accus-
tomed only to the prosaic performances of Chi-
cago, 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 Sie. — There is a job to be done on
Andrew Rae of Rae & Sturmash, coal owners
[220]
* •
LODGE 341, YERMIS8A
near this place. You will remember that your
lodge owes us a return, having had the sefnce
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:
li <
"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 approv-
ing 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 volimteer, 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
[221]
THE YALLEY OF FEAR
for you, or I'm mistaken. If you report your-
selves 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 honor of the thing. Maybe when it is done
there wUl be a few odd doUars at the bottom of
the box."
"What has the man done?" asked young Wil-
son.
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."
[222]
LODGE 341, TERMISSA
"And time, tool" 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 neigh-
bor.
"The business end of a buckshot cartridge 1'*
cried the man with a loud laugh. "What think
you of our ways, Brother?"
McMurdo's criminal soul seemed to have al-
ready 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 met-
tle."
Several of those who sat around heard his
words and applauded them.
"What's that?" cried the black-maned Body-
master 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 honor to
be chosen to help the lodge."
[228]
THE VALLEY OF FEAB
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, Harra-
way, 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 chair-
man. "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 tonight
in which you may take a hand if it so please
you."
"I will wait for something that is worth while."
"You can come tonight, anyhow, and it will
help you to know what we stand for in this com-
munity. I will make the announcement lat^r.
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
[224]
m
LODGE 841, TERMISaA
Camaway'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," McMur-
do*s neighbor 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 bto-n their breaker
last year before they became reasonable. Then
the West Section Coaling Company has paid its
annual contribution. We have enough in 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
[225]
THE VALLEY OF FEAR
he made a break for it before the note reached
us! I guess he won't show his face m this val-
ley 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. Treas-
urer/' 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 At-
wood, which have all been given up of late?"
"They were all bought by the West Gilmertcwi
General Mining Company."
"I don't see, Brother Morris," said the chair-
man, "that it matters to us who buys them, since
they can't carry them out of the district."
"With all respect to you, Eminent Body-
master, I think it may matter very much to us.
[226]
LODGE 841, VERMISSA
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 com-
panies find that we stand between them and their
profits, they will spare no pains and no expense
to himt us down and bring us to court."
There was a hush at these ominous words, and
every face darkened as gloomy looks were ex-
changed. So onmipotent 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
[227]
THE VALLEY OF FEAB
that they have all been driven out the power of
this soeiety 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 oflF his black vel-
vet 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 fra-
ternal 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 com-
punction or of compassion for his weeping wife
or helpless children, and yet the tender or pa-
[228]
LODGE 841, YERMISSA
thetic in music could move them to tears. Mo
Murdo had a fine tenor voice, and if he had failed
to gain the good wiU 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 ofiice. 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 ad-
dress 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 open-
ing 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*
[229]
THE VALLEY OF FEAB
" *Law and Order!' That's how he heads it.
^eign 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
op^robriumofftedvLd world. Isitfor«.ch
results as this that our great country welcomes
to its hosom the alien who flies from the despot**
isms of Europe? Is it that they shall them-
selves become tyrants over the very men who
have given them shelter^ and that a state of ter-
rorism and lawlessness should be established un-
der the very shadow of the sacred folds of the
starry Flag of Freedom which would raise hor-
ror 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 pub-
He. 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?'*
[280]
LODGE 841, YEKMISSA
"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 wiD unite to crush us
out. James Stanger is an old man. He is re-
spected in the township and the district. Hi3
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 de-
struction, Mr. Standback!" cried McGinty. "Is
it by the police? Siu'e, 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 sug-
gestion.
"I have but to raise my finger," cried Mc-
Ginty, "and I could put two hundred men into
this town that would clear it out from end to
[281]
THE VALLEY OF FEA&
end." Then suddenly raising his voice and bend-
ing his huge black brows into a terrible frown,
"See here, Brother Morris, I have my eye on you,
and have had for some timel YouVe 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 trem-
bling hand arid 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 judg-
ment than in my own. Eminent Bodymaster, and
I promise you that I will not oflFend again."
The Bodjrmaster's scowl relaxed as he listened
to the humble words. "Very good. Brother Mor-
ris. It's myself that would be sorry if it were
needful to give you a lesson. But so long as
[282]
LODGE 841, YERMISSA
I am in this chair we shall be a united lodge in
word and in deed. And now. Boys,'* he con-»
tinned, 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 for-
given. "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 revelers, and many of the brethren
[283]
THE VAUJEY OF FEAK
remained there. The little band who had been
told oflF for duty passed out into the street, pro-
ceeding 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 toen stopped
and gathered in a yard which faced a high build-
ing. The words "Vermissa Herald" were printed
in gold lettering between the brightly lit win-
dows. 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 fear. Boys; for we have a dozen witnesses
that we are in the Union Bar at this very mo-
ment."
It was nearly midnight, and the street was
deserted save for one or two revelers upon their
way home. The party crossed the road, and,
pushing open the door of the newspaper oflSce,
Baldwin and his men rushed in and up the stair
which faced them. McMurdo and another re-
mained below. From the room above came a
[284]
LODGE 841, YEBMISSA
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 land-
ing.
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 clat-
tering together as they fell upon him. ^He
writhed, and his long, thin limbs quivered under
the blows. The others ceased at last; but Bald-
win, his cruel face set in an infernal smile, was
hacking at the man's head, which he vainly en-
deavored 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'U kiU the man," said he. *T)rop itr
Baldwin looked at him in amazement. ''Curse
you 1" he cried. "Who are you to interfere — ^you
that are new to the lodge? Stand backl'* He
raised his stick; but McMurdo had whipped his
pistol out of his hip pocket.
[235]
THE VALLEY OF FEAE
«'
«■
"Stand back yourself 1" 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?"
Tt's truth he says," remarked one of the men.
^By Garl 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 STriftly 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 Mc-
Murdo, broke away into side streets, and so by
devious paths to their own homes.
[286]
CHAPTER IV
THE VALLEY OF FEAR
WHEN McMurdo awoke next morning he
had good reason to remember his initia-
tion 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 mom^
ing writing a long letter to a friend. Afterward
he read the Daily Herald. In a special colunm
put in at the last moment he read, "'Outrage at
the Herald OflSce — ^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
[287]
THE VALLEY OF FEAR
will be attended by any better results than in the
past. Some of 4e 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 uncom-
promising 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
Ughting 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 imsigned, 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 flagstafi^ 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.
[288]
^— — — — ■ ^i^— ■
THE VALLEY OF FEAB
^— — — — ^■^— ■
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 center of the town. In simmier it is a
favorite 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 vaUey 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 untU he reached the deserted
restaurant which forms the center of summer
gaiety. Beside it was a bare flagstafi^, and \m-
derneath it a man, his hat drawn down and the
collar of his overcoat turned up. When he
[289]
THE YALLEY OF FEAR
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. Mc-
Murdo/' said the older man, speaking with a hesi-
tation 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 ve-
hemence. "Whatever we say, even what we thinks
seems to go back to that man McGinty."
"Look here I" 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
[240]
THE VALLEY OF FEAR
have come to a bad pass when two free citizens
cannot speak their thoughts to each other."
McMurdo, who had been watching his com-
panion 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 McGintyl" said
Morris bitterly.
"Indeed then, you do me injustice there," cried
McMiu-do. "For myself I am loyal to the lodge,
and so I tell you straight; but I would be a poor
ereatiu-e 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 lookmg 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
[241]
it'
THE YAIJ^EY OF FEAE
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 youf*
"Sure, I said I would not."
"I would ask you, then, when you joined the
Freeman 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 r* cried Morris, his voice vibrat-
ing 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 tiU 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.
[242]
THE VALLEY OF FEAB
It was just a benejfit 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 I — ^and I came to better myself I My God I
to better myself I My wife and three children
came with me. I started a drygoods 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 fore-
arm 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 Grod
knows what to my wife and children. Oh, Man,
it is awful — awfull" 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
[248] .
THE YALLEY OF FEAB
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 haimt 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
!vrould 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 axn excommunicated
[244]
THE VALLEY OF FEAR
from my f aith. 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
an3rthing to stop it?'*
"What would you do?" asked McMurdo ab-
ruptly. "You would not inform?"
"God forbid 1" cried Morris. "Siu-e, the very
thought would cost me my life."
"That's weU," said McMurdo. "I'm thinkmg
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 I See the cloud of
a hundred chimneys that overshadows it I 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 wiU
learn for yourself."
"Well, I'll let you know what I think when I
have seen more," said McMiu-do carelessly.
"What is very clear is, that you are not the man
for the place, and that the sooner you sell out —
[246]
THE VALLEY OF FEAB
if you only get a dime a doUar for what the husi-
ness is worth — ^the better it will be for you. What
you have said is safe with me; but by Gar I if
I thought you were an informer "
'No, no I'* cried Morris piteously.
Well, let it rest at that, I'll bear what you
have said in mind, and maybe some day I'D come
back to it. I expect you meant kindly by speak-
ing 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 I 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 ^i^ou find
things go better with you in the future."
That same afternoon, as McMurdo sat smok-
ing, lost in thought, beside the stove of his sit-
ting room, the door swung open and its frame-
work was filled with the huge figure of Boss Mc-
Ginty. 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.
[246]
THE VALLEY OF FEAE
"I'm not much of a visitor. Brother Mc-
Murdo/' 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, Councilor," Mc-
Murdo answered heartfly, bringing his whisky
bottle out of the cupboard. "It's an honor 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; *T)ut 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 speak-
ing 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 sha'n'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
[247]
THE VALLEY OF FEAE
he would do me a good turn by offering me a
clerkship in a drygoods store."
"Oh, that was it?"
"Yes, that was it"
"And you refused it?"
cr
(r
"Sure. Couldn't I earn ten times as mudi 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. Councilor," 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 com-
panion. Then he laughed in his loud, boister-
ous, 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."
[248]
• »*— — — i^"^™ I ■
THE VALLEY OF FEAE
i<
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 com-
pany with a disloyal man, we might think tibat
you were disloyal, too. See?"
"There's no chance of my keeping company
with him; for I dislike the man," McMurdo an-
swered. "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, drain-
ing 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 leam that I had spoken with Mor-
ris 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
[249]
THE VALLEY OF FEAB
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 leveled at his head. A man in uni-
form advanced into the room, a six-shooter in
his hand. It was Captain Marvin, once of Chi-
cago, 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. Councilor '
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.'^
[250]
THE VALLEY OF FEAB
"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 Mc-
Murdo 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. Councilor. We'll look after ours.
: mure oi ii, x rcciLuii."
"You do what you thiuK is your omy xiic uca
.
"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
[251]
TH£ YALLEY OF FEAB
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 tomorrow. Meanwhile come on, Mc-
Murdo, and come quietly if you don't want a
gun across your head. You stand wide, Mr. Mc-
Ginty; for I warn you I will stand no resistance
when I am on duty I"
So determined was the appearance of the Cap-
tain that both McMurdo and his Boss were
forced to accept the situation. The tetter man-
aged to have a few whispered words with the
prisoner before they parted.
"What about " he lerked his thumb up-
W.K. to Signify the coining pUnt.
"All right," whispered McMurdo, who had
devised a safe hiding place under the floor.
"I'll bid you goodby," 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."
[262]
THE VALLEY OF FEAE
He did so; but apparently found no trace of
fhe concealed plant. When he had descended
he and his men escorted McMurdo to headquar-
ters. Darkness had fallen, and a keen blizzard
was blowing so that the streets were nearly de-
serted; but a few loiterers followed the group,
and emboldened by invisibility shouted impreca-
tions at the prisoner.
Lynch the cursed Scowrerl" they cried.
Lynch him I" 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 ex-
tend. 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 or-
deal of the morning.
Not had they cause, as the result was to show.
[258]
THE VALLEY OF FEAE
The magistrate could not possibly, on the evi-
dence, 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-ex-
amined by the clever attorney who had been
engaged by McGinty, they were even more nebu-
lous 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
mustache. 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 out-
spoken editorials. On the other hand, it was
clearly shown by the united and unfaltering evi-
dence of six citizens, including that high munici-
pal official. Councilor McGinty, that the men
had been at a card party at the Union House
[254]
THE VALLEY OF FEAE
until an hour very much later than the commis-
sion 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 yere 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 danmed murderers I" he said. "We'll fix
you yetr
I"
[266]
CHAPTER V
THE DARKEST HOUR
IF anything had been needed to give an impe-
tus to Jack McMurdo's popularity among
his fellows it would have been his arrest and ac-
quittal. That a man on the very night of join-
ing 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 com-
panion, a cheery reveler, and withal a man of
high temper, who would not take an insult even
from the all powerful Boss himself. But in ad-
dition 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
[256]
THE BAEKEST HOUE
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 Bald-
win 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 favor with his fellows, there
was another quarter, one which had become even
more vital to him, in which he lost it. Ettie
Shaf ter*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 de-
termined to see him, possibly for the last time,
and make one strong endeavor to draw him from
[267]
THE YALLET OF FEAB
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 let-
ter in front of him. A sudden spirit of girlish
mischief came over her — she was still only nine-
teen. 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 her-
self. 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 in-
stant he stood* glaring. Then astonishment and
joy took the place of the ferocity which had con-
vulsed his features, — a ferocity which had sent
her shrinking back in horror as from something
which had never before intruded into her gentle
Kfe.
"It's you I" 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
[258]
THE DARKEST HOUB
to want to strangle you I Come then, Darling,"
and he held out his arms, 'let me make it up to
you."
But she had not xecovered 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 fearl
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 1"
"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 I 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?"
[269]
THE TALUEY OF F£A&
*'I am not married, Ettie. See now, I swear
itl You're the only one woman on earth to me.
By the cross of Christ I swear itl"
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 ?"
"1*11 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
da3rs, 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
[860]
THE DABKEST HOUB
are in court for murder? *McMurdo the Scow-
rer/ that's what one of our boarders called you
yesterday. It went through my heart like s
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 1 For my sake, for God's sake,
give it up I It was to ask you that I came here
today. Oh, Jack, see — I beg it of ycHi' on my
bended knees! Kneeling here before you I im-
plore 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?"
[261]
THE VALLEY OF FEAB
"IVe thought of that, Jack. IVe planned it
all. Father has saved some money. He is weary
of this place where the fear of these people dark-
ens 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
Grcrmany, where Father came from — ^anywhere
to get away from this Valley of Fear I**
McMurdo thought of old Brother Morris.
"Sure it is the second time I have heard the val-
ley so named," said he. "The shadow does in-
deed 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
thev fall on me !"
"By Garl I'd teach him better manners if I
caught him at it 1 But see here, little girl. I can't
leave here. I can't — take that from me once and
[262]
THE DARKEST HOUE
for all. But if you will leave me to find my own
way, I will try to prepare a way of getting hon-
orably out of it/*
"There is no honor 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 I" she
cried. "Is it a promise?"
"WeU, 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, aU 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
[268]
THE VAULEY OF FEAE
County Delegate, living at Hobson's Patch far*
ther 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 toward
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 inclos-
ing 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
neighborhood; though it was best for the cause
that no particulars as to their objects should be
given. Would the Bodymaster see to it that suit-
able arrangements be made for their lodgings
and comfort until the time for action should ar-
rive? McGinty added that it was impossible for
anyone to remain secret at the Union House, and
that, therefore, he would be obliged if McMurdo
[264]
THE DARKEST HOUE
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 gen-
eral resemblance to an itinerant preacher. His
companion Andrews was little more than a boy,
frank-faced and cheerful, with the breezy man-
ner of one who is out for a holiday and means tc?>
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 ex-
ception that they were assassins who had often
proved themselves to be most capable instruments
for this association of murder. Lawler had al-
ready 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 com-
munity. They were reticent, however, as to the
immediate job in hand.
[265]
THE VALLEY OF FEAB
"They dioose us because neither I nqr the boy
here drink," Lawler explained. "They can count
on us sajdng no more than we should. You must
not take it amiss, but it is the orders of the
Coimty 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 Wil-
liams 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 Eiiox 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, Scan-
[266]
THE DAEKEST HOUB
Ian and McMurdo were quite determined to be
present at what they called "the fun." When,
therefore, at an early hour one morning Mc-
Murdo 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 fear-
less New England manager, Josiah H. Dunn, to
[267]
THE DABKEST HOUB
keep some order and discipline during the long
reign of terror.
Day was breaking now, and a line of work-
men 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 labor
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 Scotsman 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
pan with a clean-shaved, earnest face advanced
[268]
THE DARKEST HOUE
eagerly toward the pit head. As he came for-
ward his eyes fell upon the group, silent and mo-
tionless, under the engine house. The men had
drawn down their hats and turned up their col-
lars 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 toward 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 woimd
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 Scotsman, 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 tfe
[269]
THE TALLET OF FEAB
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 rush-
ing 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, with-
out 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 sjonpathy 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 kill-
[270]
THE DAKKEST HOXJK
ing of the manager and engineer of the Crow
HiU 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 Dele-
gate 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 eflBciency in the
work, and had, therefore, paid off certain drunk-
en and idle employees who were members of the
all-powerful society. CoflSn notices hung out-
side his door had not weakened his resolution,
and so in a free, civilized country he found him-
self condemned to death.
The execution had now been duly carried out.
Ted Baldwin, who sprawled now in the seat of
honor beside the Bodymaster, had been chief of
[271]
THE YALLET OF FEAR
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 wel-
come 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, tak-
ing 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 coul^l 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 eter-
nal 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
[272]
THE DARKEST HOUB
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 moimtains where im-
broken 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 Mc-
Murdo on the arm and led him aside into that
inner room where they had their first interview.
"See here, my lad,'* said he, "IVe got a job
[278]
THE TALLET OF FEA&
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 Ches-
ter Wilcox has been settled, and you'll have the
thanks of every lodge in the coaJ 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 tiie Iron Dike
Company. He's a hard citizen, an old Color
Sergeant of the war, all scars and grizzle. We've
had two tries at him; but had no luck, and Jim
Camaway 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
[274]
THE DARKEST HOUB
night— weU, there he is with his wife, three chil-
dren, and a hired help. You can't pick or choose.
It's all or none. If you could get a bag of blast-
ing powder at the front door with a slow match
to it "
"What's the man done?"
*T)idn't I tell you he shot Jim Camaway?"
"Why did he shoot him?"
"What in thunder has that to do with you?
Camaway was about his house at night, and he
shot him. That's enough for me and you.
You've got to set 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, Councilor, easy 1 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,
i^'sL for you to decide."
*^ou'U do it, then?"
[276]
THE YALLirr OF FEA&
"Of course I will do it.*"
**Wlien?"
"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 hj
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 ad-
jacent valley. That very night he started off all
alone to prepare for the attempt. It was day-
light 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
[276]
THE DABKEST HOUE
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 pis-
tols cocked in their hands. But there was no
sound save the howling of the wind, and no move*
ment 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 so-
ciety.
But alas that work so well organized and bold-
ly carried out should all have gone for nothing I
Warned by the fate of the various victims, and
knowing that he was marked down for destruc-
tion, 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
[277]
THE YALLET OF FEAR
watch over them. It was an empty house which
had been torn down by the gunpowder, and the
grim old Color 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'U get him sure ii 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 Free-
men, 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
fhem. There one may learn of the shooting of
Policemen Hunt and Evans because they had
[278]
THE DARKEST HOUE
ventured to arrest two members of the society, —
a double outrage plamied at the Vennissa lodge
and carried out m cold blood upon two helpless
and disarmed men. There also one may read of
the shooting of Mrs. Larbey when she was nurs-
ing 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 Mur-
doch, 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 no-
where 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 hope-
less as in the early summer of the year 1875.
[279]
CHAPTER VI
DANGER
IT was the height of the reign of terror. Mc-
Murdo, who had already been appointed In-
ner Deacon, with every prospect of some day suc-
ceeding 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 Ver-
missa. In spite of their terror the citizens were
taking heart to band themselves together against
their oppressors. Rumors had reached the lodge
of secret gatherings in the Herald office and of
distribution of firearms among the lawabiding
people. But McGinty and his men were imdis-
tm-bed by such reports. They were numerous,
resolute, and well armed. Their opponents were
[280]
y
DANOEE
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, Mc-
Murdo, and all the bolder spirits.
It was a Saturday evening in May. Satur-
day 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. IVe a secret here,"
he put his hand to his breast, "and it is just burn-
ing the life out of me. I wish it had come to any
one of you but me. If I tell it, it will mean mur-
der, for sure. If I don't, it may bring the end
[281]
THE YALLmr OF FEAB
of US all. God help me, but I am near out of my
wits over it I"
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 color. "I can tell it to you all in one sen«
tence," said he. "There's a detective on oiU'
traU."
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
resuUts and keeps out till by hook or crook it gets
[282]
BANGEK
them. If a Pinkerton man is deep in this busi-
ness, we are all destroyed.'*
"We must kiU 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 conmion
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 opin-
ion as to the danger, and the need for meeting it.
He gripped Morris' 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?"
[288]
THE YAIJJSY OF FEAK
"'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 1 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 leamea
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
[284]
DANGER
a-
lifted for a moment, and there was the abyss be-
fore 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, "IVe 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 wUl only take it off mine."
"I'll do that. You can stand right back and
[286]
THE VALLEY OF FEAB
HI
let me run it. Even your name need not be
mentioned. I'll take it all on myself, as if if
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 kiU 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
[286]
ilAJCrOEB
his guilty conscience, it may have been the repu-
tation 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, Eveiy 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 1" she cried. "Oh,
Jack, you are in danger 1'"
"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
[287]
ti'
THE VAUJEY OF FEAR
«i
<c
day. I think the time is coming. Ihadnewsto-
mghtj 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 youT
"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"
"I'd come after you. Jack."
"No, no, you shall come with me. If this val-.
ley is closed to me and I can never come back^
{288]
DANGER
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. WiU
you come?"
"Yes, Jack, I will come."
"God bfcss you for your trust in mel 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."
*T)ay or night, I'll come at the word, Jack.'*
Somewhat eased in mind, now that his own
preparations for escape had been begun, Mc-
Murdo went on to the lodge. It had already
assembled, and only by complicated signs and
countersigns 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,
[289]
THE YAIXEY OF TEAR
the cruel, unfriendly features of Baldwin, the
vultiu^ face of Harraway, the secretary, and a
dozen more who were among the leaders of the
lodge. He rejoiced that they should all he there
to take counsel over his news.
"Indeed, it*s glad we are to see you, Brother 1*'
cried the chairman. "There's business here that
wants a Solomon in judgment to set it right."
"It's Lander and Egan," explained his neigh*
bor 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 ex-
pectation.
"Eminent Bodymaster," he said, in a sol^nn
voice, "I claim urgency 1"
"Brother McMurdo claims urgency," said Mc-
Ginty. "It's a claim that by the rules of this
lodge takes precedence. Now, Brother, we at-
tend you."
McMurdo took the letter from his pocket.
"Eminent Bodymaster and Brethren," he said,
[290]
DANGER
"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 in-
formation that the most powerful and richest
organizations in this State have boimd 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 roimd 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 ur-
gency."
There was a dead silence in the room. It was
broken by the chairman.
"What is your evidence for this, Brother Mc-
Murdo?" he asked.
"It is in this letter which has come into my
hands," said McMurdo. He read the passage
aloud. "It is a matter of honor with me that I
can give no fiu*tiier 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
[291]
THE YAIXEY OF FEAB
k
interests of the lodge. I put the case before you
as it has reached me/'
''Let me say, Mr. Chainnan»" said one of the
older brethren, "that I have heard of Birdy Ed-
wards, and that he has the name of being the best
man in the Pinkerton service."
"Does anyone know him by sight?" asked Mc-
Ginty.
"Yes," said McMurdo, "I do."
There was a murmur of astonishment through
the hall.
"I believe we hold him in the hollow of om
hands," he contmued 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 aflFairs?"
**You might say so if all were as stanch as
you, Councilor. But this man has all the mil-
lions 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.^
[292]
99
DANGEB
"That he never leaves the valley/' said Bald-
win.
McMurdo nodded. "Grood 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 ear-
nestly, "I would put it to you that this is too
vital a thing ^or us to discuss in open lodge. Grod
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. Chair-
man, — ^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
conmiittee chosen. Besides the chairman and
Baldwin there were the vulture-faced secrietary,
Harraway, Tiger Cormac, the brutal young as-
sassin. Carter, the treasurer, and the brothers
[298]
THE VALLEY OF FEAR
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, McMurdol" 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 imder 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 Hob-
sons 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
[294]
DANGER
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 5
?"
I'll tell you. He got out at Hobsons Patch,
and so did I. I chanced into the telegraph bu-
reau, 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
[295]
THE YAIXEY OF FEAB
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 I believe you are right/' said Mc-
Ginty. "But what do you allow that we should
do about it?"
"Why not go right down now and fix him?"
someone suggested.
"Aye, the sooner the better/'
"I'd start this next minute if I knew where
we could find him," said McMurdo. "He's in
Hobsons Patch; but I don't know the house.
I've got a plan, though, if you'll only take my
advice/'
WeU, what is it?"
'I'll go to the Patch tomorrow 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. Ill tell him the papers are at my house»
[296]
DANGER
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."
"WeU?"
"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 prom-
ise, — ^and I'll let you know if I do, — I'd have
the whole seven of you come to^e by nine o'clock.
We'll get him in. If ever he gets out alive —
well, he can talk of Birdy Edwards' 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 tomorrow we'll be with you. You once
get the door shut behind him, and you can leave
the rest with us."
[297]
CHAPTER VII
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 con-
spirators 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 were
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
[298]
THE TEAPPING OF BIRDY EDWABDS
yet come to the detective's knowledge, as other-
wise, they asgued, he would not have troubled
to write down and forward such trivial inf onna-
tion 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 imwilling witness.
McMurdo went to Hobsons 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 mis-
sion in the afternoon, and saw McGinty at the
Union House.
'He is coming," he said.
'Goodl'' 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
[299]
THE VALLEY OF TEAR,
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 1 there is that skunk Mor-
ris. 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," Mc-
Murdo 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
[800]
<l*"i^»"M»"*^»W^-^»«»M«»i»ii»^»— — — ^>— — M^PM M ——11—
THE TEAPPING OF BIBDY EDWAKDS
the sort that squeals. But still it is not for me
to stand between him and you."
^'I'U fix the old devil 1" 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 buzzdng, today 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 &rst.
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."
[801]
THE TALLET OF TEAR
^'Faith, he's rig^t there/' said McGinty grim*
ly« ^^Didn't be ask you why you didn't bring
him the papers f
''As if I would carry such things, and me a
suspected man, and Captain Marvin af ta speak-
ing to me this very day at the depot 1"
"Aye, I beard 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
Jt we can't get past the man living at Hobsons
Patch and you being there today."
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 vdll
see him go. Now see here, Councilor, 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.
[802]
THE TEAPPING Ot BIKDY EDWABDS
He's a hard proposition. He's heavily armed.
IVe 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 hml;.''
"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 parlor 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 readincr them I will
j^np for ZZi get „y grip on I pM arm.
You'll hear me call and in you will rush. The
quicker the better; tor 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
[80a]
THE VALLEY OF FEAR
move out of the chair I can put a name to the
man that's coming after me."
"Sure, Councilor, I am little more than a re-
cruit," 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 center, 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. FinaUy he discussed the
matter with his fellow lodger. Scanlan, though
a Scowrer, was an inoflFensive little man who was
too weak to stand against the opinion of his com-
rades, but was secretly horrified by the deeds of
blood at which he had sometimes been forced to
[804]
THE TEAPPING OF BIKDY EDWARDS
assist. McMurdo told him shortly what was in-
tended.
"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 for 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 red-
dened a dozen times before. They were as hard-
ened to hiunan 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
[806]
THE VALLEY OF FEAR
incorruptible fideKty where the finances of the
order were concerned, and with no notion of jus-
tice or honesty to anyone beyond. The treas-
urer. 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 spnmg from his plotting brain. The two
Willabys were men of action, tall, lithe yoxmg
fellows with determined faces, while their com-
panion. 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.
'Aye," said Baldwin^ catching his meaning*
[806]
THE TRAPPING OF BIEDY EDWABDS
**If he is strap})ed to that, we will have the trutii
out of him."
**We'll have the truth out of him, never fear,'*
said McMurdo. He had neuves of steel, this
man; for though the whole weight of the affair
was on him his manner was as cool and uncon-
cerned as ever. The others marked it and ap-
plauded.
"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 1"
They all sat like wax figures, some with their
glasses arrested half-way to their lips. Three
loud knocks had soimded at the door.
"Hushl" McMurdo raised his hand in cau-
tion. An exulting glance went round the
[807]
THE TALLET OF FEAE
circle, and hands were laid upon hidden weapons.
"Not a sound, for your lives 1" 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 firm*
[808]
w
THE TRAPPING OF BIRDY EDWARDS
ness. His eyes shone with a fierce excitement be-
hind 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.
"Welll^* 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 mo-
tionless 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 woxmded bear and plunged for the half -opened
door. A leveled revolver met him there with the
stem blue eyes of Captain Marvin of the Mine
Police gleaming behind the sights. The Boss re^
coiled and fell back into his chair.
[809]
THE VALLEY OF FEAE
"You're safer there, Councilor," 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 sep-
arate," 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 youf
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 Cap-
tain Marvin here and my employers knew that.
[810]
THE TRAPPING OF BIBDY EDWABDS
But it's over tonight, thank Grod, and I am the
winner I"
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
[811]
THE YALLEY OF FEAB
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 sug-
gested 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 mur-
derers are hanged. I gave Chester Wilcox warn-
ing, 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 1" hissed McGinty through
his closed teeth.
[812]
THE TEAPPING OF BIRDY EDWARDS
"Aye, 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 m
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
[818]
THE YAULEY OF FEAK
Miss Ettie Shafter, a mission which he had ac«
cepted 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, imbroken 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 wed-
ding.
The trial of the Scowrers was held far from
the place where their adherents might have ter*
rifled 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 defend-
ers. At last after so many years they were
broken and scattered. The cloud was lifted for-
ever from the valley.
McGinty met his fate upon the scaffold, cring-
[814]
THE TRAPPING OF BIBDY £DWABDS
ing and whining when the last hour came. Eight
of his chief followers idiared his fate. Fifty-odd
luul vmou. degree of impmomnent. 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 Wil-
labys ; so had several others of the fiercest sph-its
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 ven-
geance for their comrades. And well they strove
to keep their vow I
From Chicago he was chased, after two at-
tempts 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
[815]
THE VALLEY OF FBAB
with an English partner named Barker he
amassed a fortune. At last there came a warn-
ing to hun that the bloodhounds were on his track
once more, and he cleared— only just in time —
for England. And thence came the John Doug-
las who for a second tune married a worthy mate,
and lived for five years as a Sussex county gen-
tleman, a life which ended with the strange hap-
penings of which we have heard.
[816]
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 letterbox. "Dear me, Mr. Holmes.
Dear me I" said this singular epistle. There was
neither superscription nor signature. I laughed
at the quaint message; but Holmes showed un-
wonted seriousness.
"Deviltry, Watson!" he remarked, and sat long
with a clouded brow.
J^ate last night Mrs. Hudson, our landlady,
[817]
THE VALLEY OF FEAE
brought up a message that a gentleman wished
to see Hohnes, and that the matter was of the
utmost importance. Close at the heels of his
messenger came Cecil Barker, our friend of t&e
moated Manor House. His face was drawn and
haggard.
"IVe 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 morn-
ing:
"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."
EPILOGUE
"You mean that you think there was no acci-
dent ?"
"None in the world."
"He was murdered?"
"Surelyl"
"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
shotguns 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 af*
ford to fail, one whose whole unique position de-
pends upon the fact that aU he does must sue-
ceed. A great brain and a huge organization
have been turned to the extinction of one man.
It is crushing the nut with the triphammer,—
an absiurd extravagance of energy, — ^but the nut
is very effectually crushed all the same."
"How came this man to have anjrthing to do
with it?"
"I can only say that the first word that ever
6ame to us of the business was from one of his
[819]
THE VALLEY OF FEAK
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 mo-
ment 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 de^r
"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 I"
We all sat in silence for some minutes while
those fateful eyes still strained to pierce the veiL
THE END
[820]
/
--^
