The New Annotated Sherlock Holmes

by Arthur Conan Doyle

  “Is your Lodge No. 29, Chicago?”

  He bowed again.

  “Dark nights are unpleasant,” said the voice.

  “Yes, for strangers to travel,” he answered.

  “The clouds are heavy.”

  “Yes, a storm is approaching.”

  “Are the brethren satisfied?” asked the Bodymaster.

  There was a general murmur of assent.

  “We know, Brother, by your sign and by your countersign that you are indeed one of us,” said McGinty. “We would have you know, however, that in this county and in other counties of these parts we have certain rites, and also certain duties of our own which call for good men. Are you ready to be tested?”

  “I am.”

  “Are you of stout heart?”

  “I am.”

  “Take a stride forward to prove it.”

  As the words were said he felt two hard points in front of his eyes, pressing upon them so that it appeared as if he could not move forward without a danger of losing them. None the less, he nerved himself to step resolutely out, and as he did so the pressure melted away. There was a low murmur of applause.

  “He is of stout heart,” said the voice. “Can you bear pain?”

  “As well as another,” he answered.

  “Test him!”

  It was all he could do to keep himself from screaming out, for an agonizing pain shot through his forearm. He nearly fainted at the sudden shock of it; but he bit his lip and clenched his hands to hide his agony.

  “I can take more than that,” said he.

  This time there was loud applause. A finer first appearance had never been made in the Lodge. Hands clapped him on the back, and the hood was plucked from his head. He stood blinking and smiling amid the congratulations of the brothers.

  “One last word, Brother McMurdo,” said McGinty. “You have already sworn the oath of secrecy and fidelity, and you are aware that the punishment for any breach of it is instant and inevitable death?”

  “It was all he could do to keep himself from screaming out.”

  Arthur I. Keller, Associated Sunday Magazines, 1914

  “I am,” said McMurdo.

  “And you accept the rule of the Bodymaster for the time being under all circumstances?”

  “I do.”

  “Then in the name of Lodge 341, Vermissa, I welcome you to its privileges and debates. You will put the liquor on the table, Brother Scanlan, and we will drink to our worthy brother.”

  McMurdo’s coat had been brought to him; but before putting it on he examined his right arm, which still smarted heavily. There on the flesh of the forearm was a clear-cut circle with a triangle within it, deep and red, as the branding-iron had left it. One or two of his neighbours pulled up their sleeves and showed their own Lodge marks.

  “We’ve all had it,” said one; “but not all as brave as you over it.”

  “Tut! It was nothing,” said he; but it burned and ached all the same.

  When the drinks which followed the ceremony of initiation had all been disposed of, the business of the Lodge proceeded. McMurdo, accustomed only to the prosaic performances of Chicago, listened with open ears and more surprise than he ventured to show to what followed.

  “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.”

  Frank Wiles, Strand Magazine, 1915

  “The first business on the agenda paper,” said McGinty, “is to read the following letter from Division Master Windle, of Merton County, Lodge 249. He says:

  DEAR SIR:

  There is a job to be done on Andrew Rae of Rae & Sturmash, coal-owners near this place.129 You will remember that your Lodge owes us a return, having had the service of two brethren in the matter of the patrolman last fall.130 You will send two good men, they will be taken charge of by Treasurer Higgins of this Lodge, whose address you know. He will show them when to act and where. Yours in freedom,

  J.W. WINDLE, D.M.A.O.F.

  “Windle has never refused us when we have had occasion to ask for the loan of a man or two, and it is not for us to refuse him.” McGinty paused and looked round the room with his dull, malevolent eyes. “Who will volunteer for the job?”

  Several young fellows held up their hands. The Bodymaster looked at them with an approving smile.

  “You’ll do, Tiger Cormac. If you handle it as well as you did the last, you won’t be amiss. And you, Wilson.”

  “I’ve no pistol,” said the volunteer, a mere boy in his teens.

  “It’s your first, is it not? Well, you have to be blooded some time. It will be a great start for you. As to the pistol, you’ll find it waiting for you, or I’m mistaken. If you report yourselves on Monday, it will be time enough. You’ll get a great welcome when you return.”

  “Any reward this time?” asked Cormac, a thick-set, dark-faced, brutal-looking young man, whose ferocity had earned him the nickname of “Tiger.”

  “Never mind the reward. You just do it for the honour of the thing. Maybe when it is done there will be a few odd dollars at the bottom of the box.”

  “What has the man done?” asked young Wilson.

  “Sure, it’s not for the likes of you to ask what the man has done. He has been judged over there. That’s no business of ours. All we have to do is to carry it out for them, same as they would for us. Speaking of that, two brothers from the Merton Lodge are coming over to us next week to do some business in this quarter.”

  “Who are they?” asked some one.

  “Faith, it is wiser not to ask. If you know nothing, you can testify nothing, and no trouble can come of it. But they are men who will make a clean job when they are about it.”

  “And time, too!” cried Ted Baldwin. “Folk are gettin’ out of hand in these parts. It was only last week that three of our men were turned off by Foreman Blaker. It’s been owing him a long time, and he’ll get it full and proper.”

  “Get what?” McMurdo whispered to his neighbour.

  “The business end of a buck-shot cartridge!” cried the man with a loud laugh. “What think you of our ways, Brother?”

  McMurdo’s criminal soul seemed to have already absorbed the spirit of the vile association of which he was now a member. “I like it well,” said he. “ ’Tis a proper place for a lad of mettle.”

  Several of those who sat around heard his words and applauded them.

  “What’s that?” cried the black-maned Bodymaster from the end of the table.

  “ ’Tis our new brother, sir, who finds our ways to his taste.”

  McMurdo rose to his feet for an instant, “I would say, Worshipful Master,131 that if a man should be wanted I should take it as an honour to be chosen to help the Lodge.”

  There was great applause at this. It was felt that a new sun was pushing its rim above the horizon. To some of the elders it seemed that the progress was a little too rapid.

  “I would move,” said the secretary, Harraway, a vulture-faced old graybeard who sat near the chairman, “that Brother McMurdo should wait until it is the good pleasure of the Lodge to employ him.”

  “Sure, that was what I meant. I’m in your hands,” said McMurdo.

  “Your time will come, Brother,” said the chairman. “We have marked you down as a willing man, and we believe that you will do good work in these parts. There is a small matter to-night in which you may take a hand if it so please you.”

  “I will wait for something that is worth while.”

  “You can come to-night, anyhow, and it will help you to know what we stand for in this community. I will make the announcement later. Meanwhile,” he glanced at his agenda paper, “I have one or two more points to bring before the meeting. First of all, I will ask the treasurer as to our bank balance. There is the pension to Jim Carnaway’s widow. He was struck down doing the work of the Lodge, and it is for us to see that she is not the loser.”

  “Jim was shot last month
when they tried to kill Chester Wilcox of Marley Creek,” McMurdo’s neighbour informed him.

  “The funds are good at the moment,” said the treasurer, with the bankbook in front of him. “The firms have been generous of late. Max Linder & Co.132 paid five hundred to be left alone. Walker Brothers sent in a hundred; but I took it on myself to return it and ask for five. If I do not hear by Wednesday, their winding gear may get out of order. We had to burn their breaker last year before they became reasonable. Then the West Section Coaling Company has paid its annual contribution. We have enough on hand to meet any obligations.”

  “What about Archie Swindon?” asked a brother.

  “He has sold out and left the district. The old devil left a note for us to say that he had rather be a free crossing sweeper in New York than a large mine-owner under the power of a ring of blackmailers. By Gar! it was as well that he made a break for it before the note reached us! I guess he dare not show his face in this valley again.”

  An elderly, clean-shaved man with a kindly face and a good brow rose from the end of the table which faced the chairman. “Mr. Treasurer,” he asked, “may I ask who has bought the property of this man that we have driven out of the district?”

  “Yes, Brother Morris. It has been bought by the State & Merton County Railroad Company.”

  “And who bought the mines of Todman and of Lee that came into the market in the same way last year?”

  “The same company, Brother Morris.”

  “And who bought the ironworks of Manson and of Shuman, and of Van Deher and of Atwood, which have all been given up of late?”

  “They were all bought by the West Gilmerton General Mining Company.”

  “I don’t see, Brother Morris,” said the chairman, “that it matters a nickel to us who buys them, since they can’t carry them out of the district.”

  “With all respect to you, Worshipful Master, I think it may matter very much to us. This process has been going on now for ten long years. We are gradually driving all the small men out of trade. What is the result? We find in their places great companies like the Railroad or the General Iron, who have their directors in New York or Philadelphia, and care nothing for our threats. We can take it out of their local bosses; but it only means that others will be sent in their stead. And we are making it dangerous for ourselves. The small men could not harm us. They had not the money nor the power. So long as we did not squeeze them too dry, they would stay on under our power. But if these big companies find that we stand between them and their profits, they will spare no pains and no expense to hunt us down and bring us to court.”

  There was a hush at these ominous words, and every face darkened as gloomy looks were exchanged. So omnipotent and unchallenged had they been that the very thought that there was possible retribution in the background had been banished from their minds. And yet the idea struck a chill to the most reckless of them.

  “It is my advice,” the speaker continued, “that we bear less heavily upon the small men. On the day that they have all been driven out the power of this society will have been broken.”

  Unwelcome truths are not popular. There were angry cries as the speaker resumed his seat. McGinty rose with gloom upon his brow.

  “Brother Morris,” said he, “you were always a croaker.133 So long as the members of this Lodge stand together there is no power in this 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 do. And now, brethren”—McGinty took off his black velvet cap and his stole as he spoke—“this Lodge has finished its business for the evening, save for one small matter which may be mentioned when we are parting. The time has now come for fraternal refreshment and for harmony.”

  Strange indeed is human nature. Here were these men, to whom murder was familiar, who again and again had struck down the father of the family, some man against whom they had no personal feeling, without one thought of compunction or of compassion for his weeping wife or helpless children, and yet the tender or pathetic in music could move them to tears. McMurdo had a fine tenor voice, and if he had failed to gain the good will of the Lodge before, it could no longer have been withheld after he had thrilled them with “I’m Sitting on the Stile, Mary,”134 and “On the Banks of Allan Water.”135

  In his very first night the new recruit had made himself one of the most popular of the brethren, marked already for advancement and high office. There were other qualities needed, however, besides those of good fellowship, to make a worthy Freeman, and of these he was given an example before the evening was over. The whisky bottle had passed round many times, and the men were hushed and ripe for mischief when their Bodymaster rose once more to address them.

  “Boys,” said he, “there’s one man in this town that wants trimming up, and it’s for you to see that he gets it. I’m speaking of James Stanger, of the Herald. You’ve seen how he’s been opening his mouth against us again?”

  There was a murmur of assent, with many a muttered oath. McGinty took a slip of paper from his waistcoat pocket.

  “ ‘LAW AND ORDER!’ That’s how he heads it.”

  REIGN OF TERROR IN THE COAL AND IRON DISTRICT

  Twelve years have now elapsed since the first assassinations which proved the existence of a criminal organization in our midst. From that day these outrages have never ceased, until now they have reached a pitch which makes us the opprobrium of the civilized world. Is it for such results as this that our great country welcomes to its bosom the alien who flies from the despotisms of Europe?136 Is it that they shall themselves become tyrants over the very men who have given them shelter, and that a state of terrorism and lawlessness should be established under the very shadow of the sacred folds of the starry Flag of Freedom which would raise horror in our minds if we read of it as existing under the most effete monarchy of the East? The men are known. The organization is patent and public. How long are we to endure it? Can we for ever live—

  “The others withdrawing somewhat from the table, he seated himself upon it and began.” [McParlan sings to the crowd.]

  The Molly Maguires and the Detectives, by Allan Pinkerton (1877)

  “Sure, I’ve read enough of the slush!” cried the chairman, tossing the paper down upon the table. “That’s what he says of us. The question I’m asking you is what shall we say to him?”

  “Kill him!” cried a dozen fierce voices.

  “I protest against that,” said Brother Morris, the man of the good brow and shaved face. “I tell you, brethren, that our hand is too heavy in this valley, and that there will come a point where in self-defence every man will unite to crush us out. James Stanger is an old man. He is respected in the township and the district. His paper stands for all that is solid in the valley. If that man is struck down, there will be a stir through this state that will only end with our destruction.”

  “And how would they bring about our destruction, Mr. Stand-back?” cried McGinty. “Is it by the police? Sure, half of them are in our pay and half of them afraid of us. Or is it by the law courts and the judge? Haven’t we tried that before now, and what ever came of it?”

  “There is a Judge Lynch that might try the case,”137 said Brother Morris.

  A general shout of anger greeted the suggestion.

  “I have but to raise my finger,” cried McGinty, “and I could put two hundred men into this town that would clear it out from end to end.” Then suddenly raising his voice and bending his huge black brows into a terrible frown, “See here, Brother Morris, I have my eye on you, and have had for some time! You’ve no heart yourself, and you try to take the heart out of others. It will be an ill day for you, Brother Morris, when your own name comes on our agenda paper, and I’m thinking that it’s just there that I ought to place it.”

  Morris had turned deadly pale, and his knees seemed to give way under him as he fell back into his chair. He raised his glass in his trembling hand
and drank before he could answer. “I apologize, Worshipful Master, to you and to every brother in this Lodge if I have said more than I should. I am a faithful member—you all know that—and it is my fear lest evil come to the Lodge which makes me speak in anxious words. But I have greater trust in your judgment than in my own, Worshipful Master, and I promise you that I will not offend again.”

  The Bodymaster’s scowl relaxed as he listened to the humble words. “Very good, Brother Morris. It’s myself that would be sorry if it were needful to give you a lesson. But so long as I am in this chair we shall be a united Lodge in word and in deed. And now, boys,” he continued, looking round at the company, “I’ll say this much, that if Stanger got his full deserts there would be more trouble than we need ask for. These editors hang together, and every journal in the State would be crying out for police and troops. But I guess you can give him a pretty severe warning. Will you fix it, Brother Baldwin?”

  “Sure!” said the young man eagerly.

  “How many will you take?”

  “Half-a-dozen, and two to guard the door. You’ll come, Gower, and you, Mansel, and you, Scanlan, and the two Willabys.”

  “I promised the new brother he should go,” said the chairman.

  Ted Baldwin looked at McMurdo with eyes which showed that he had not forgotten nor forgiven. “Well, he can come if he wants,” he said in a surly voice. “That’s enough. The sooner we get to work the better.”

  The company broke up with shouts and yells and snatches of drunken song. The bar was still crowded with revellers, and many of the brethren remained there. The little band who had been told off for duty passed out into the street, proceeding in twos and threes along the sidewalk so as not to provoke attention. It was a bitterly cold night, with a half-moon shining brilliantly in a frosty, star-spangled sky. The men stopped and gathered in a yard which faced a high building. The words “Vermissa Herald” were printed in gold lettering between the brightly lit windows. From within came the clanking of the printing press.

  “Here, you,” said Baldwin to McMurdo, “you can stand below at the door and see that the road is kept open for us. Arthur Willaby can stay with you. You others come with me. Have no fears, boys, for we have a dozen witnesses that we are in the Union Bar at this very moment.”