The New Annotated Sherlock Holmes

by Arthur Conan Doyle

  There was a dead silence in the room. It was broken by the chairman.

  “What is your evidence for this, Brother McMurdo?” he asked.

  “It is in this letter which has come into my hands,” said McMurdo. He read the passage aloud. “It is a matter of honour with me that I can give no further particulars about the letter, nor put it into your hands; but I assure you that there is nothing else in it which can affect the interests of the Lodge. I put the case before you as it has reached me.”

  “Let me say, Mr. Chairman,” said one of the older brethren, “that I have heard of Birdy Edwards, and that he has the name of being the best man in the Pinkerton service.”

  “Does anyone know him by sight?” asked McGinty.

  “Yes,” said McMurdo, “I do.”

  There was a murmur of astonishment through the hall.

  “I believe we hold him in the hollow of our hands,” he continued, with an exulting smile upon his face. “If we act quickly and wisely, we can cut this thing short. If I have your confidence and your help, it is little that we have to fear.”

  “What have we to fear, anyhow? What can he know of our affairs?”

  “You might say so if all were as staunch as you, Councillor. But this man has all the millions of the capitalists at his back. Do you think there is no weaker brother among all our lodges that could not be bought? He will get at our secrets—maybe has got them already. There’s only one sure cure.”

  “That he never leaves the valley,” said Baldwin.

  McMurdo nodded. “Good for you, Brother Baldwin,” he said. “You and I have had our differences, but you have said the true word to-night.”

  “Where is he, then? Where shall we know him?”

  “Worshipful Master,” said McMurdo, earnestly. “I would put it to you that this is too vital a thing for us to discuss in open Lodge. God forbid that I should throw a doubt on anyone here; but if so much as a word of gossip got to the ears of this man, there would be an end of any chance of our getting him. I would ask the Lodge to choose a trusty committee, Mr. Chairman—yourself, if I might suggest it, and Brother Baldwin here, and five more. Then I can talk freely of what I know and of what I advise should be done.”

  The proposition was at once adopted, and the committee chosen. Besides the chairman and Baldwin, there were the vulture-faced secretary, Harraway; Tiger Cormac, the brutal young assassin; Carter, the treasurer; and the brothers Willaby, fearless and desperate men who would stick at nothing.

  The usual revelry of the Lodge was short and subdued: for there was a cloud upon the men’s spirits, and many there for the first time began to see the cloud of avenging Law drifting up in that serene sky under which they had dwelt so long. The horrors which they had dealt out to others had been so much a part of their settled lives that the thought of retribution had become a remote one, and so seemed the more startling now that it came so closely upon them. They broke up early and left their leaders to their council.

  “Now, McMurdo!” said McGinty when they were alone. The seven men sat frozen in their seats.

  “I said just now that I knew Birdy Edwards,” McMurdo explained. “I need not tell you that he is not here under that name. He’s a brave man, I dare bet, but not a crazy one. He passes under the name of Steve Wilson, and he is lodging at Hobson’s Patch.”

  “How do you know this?”

  “Because I fell into talk with him. I thought little of it at the time, nor would have given it a second thought but for this letter; but now I’m sure it’s the man. I met him on the cars when I went down the line on Wednesday—a hard case if ever there was one. He said he was a reporter. I believed it for the moment. Wanted to know all he could about the Scowrers and what he called ‘the outrages’ for a New York paper. Asked me every kind of question so as to get something. You bet I was giving nothing away. ‘I’d pay for it and pay well,’ said he, ‘if I could get some stuff that would suit my editor.’ I said what I thought would please him best, and he handed me a twenty-dollar bill for my information. ‘There’s ten times that for you,’ said he, ‘if you can find me all that I want.’ ”

  “What did you tell him, then?”

  “Any stuff I could make up.”

  “How do you know he wasn’t a newspaper man?”

  “I’ll tell you. He got out at Hobson’s Patch, and so did I. I chanced into the telegraph bureau, and he was leaving it.

  “ ‘See here,’ said the operator after he’d gone out, ‘I guess we should charge double rates for this.’ ‘I guess you should,’ said I. He had filled the form with stuff that might have been Chinese, for all we could make of it. ‘He fires a sheet of this off every day,’ said the clerk. ‘Yes,’ said I; ‘it’s special news for his paper, and he’s scared that the others should tap it.’ That was what the operator thought and what I thought at the time; but I think differently now.”

  “By Gar! I believe you are right,” said McGinty. “But what do you allow that we should do about it?”

  “Why not go right down now and fix him?” some one suggested.

  “Ay, the sooner the better.”

  “I’d start this next minute if I knew where we could find him,” said McMurdo. “He’s in Hobson’s Patch; but I don’t know the house. I’ve got a plan, though, if you’ll only take my advice.”

  “Well, what is it?”

  “I’ll go to the Patch to-morrow morning. I’ll find him through the operator. He can locate him, I guess. Well, then, I’ll tell him that I’m a Freeman myself. I’ll offer him all the secrets of the Lodge for a price. You bet he’ll tumble to it. I’ll tell him the papers are at my house, and that it’s as much as my life would be worth to let him come while folk were about. He’ll see that that’s horse sense. Let him come at ten o’clock at night, and he shall see everything. That will fetch him sure.”

  “Well?”

  “You can plan the rest for yourselves. Widow MacNamara’s is a lonely house. She’s as true as steel and as deaf as a post. There’s only Scanlan and me in the house. If I get his promise—and I’ll let you know if I do—I’d have the whole seven of you come to me by nine o’clock. We’ll get him in. If ever he gets out alive—well, he can talk of Birdy Edwards’ luck for the rest of his days!”

  “There’s going to be a vacancy at Pinkerton’s or I’m mistaken. Leave it at that, McMurdo. At nine to-morrow we’ll be with you. You once get the door shut behind him, and you can leave the rest with us.”

  150 The Pinkerton National Detective Agency was founded by Allan Pinkerton (1819–1884), a Scotsman who emigrated to Illinois in 1842. He settled in West Dundee, near Chicago, and opened up a cooper’s shop there. An ardent abolitionist, Pinkerton allowed his shop to serve as one of the many stations on the Underground Railroad.

  While chopping wood one day on an uninhabited island in Fox River, Pinkerton stumbled upon evidence that led to the arrest and capture of a gang of counterfeiters. His pivotal role in bringing down the gang resulted in his being named deputy sheriff of Kane County in 1846, then the first city detective of Chicago’s police force. But Pinkerton quickly saw that he would never make his fortune as a cop. In 1850, he left the Chicago force to start his own private detective agency, the first of its kind in Chicago and one of only a handful in the country.

  The Pinkerton National Detective Agency specialised in train robberies and achieved many spectacular successes, including no less than the thwarting of an 1861 assassination attempt on President-elect Lincoln in Baltimore. During the Civil War, Pinkerton worked for the Union side, heading an organisation that gathered intelligence on Confederate activity. After the war, detectives from the Pinkerton Agency did indeed infiltrate the Molly Maguires. The sign above the door of the agency featured the motto “We Never Sleep” accompanying an illustration of an eye, an indelible image that gave rise to the term “private eye.” Among the sixteen books attributed to Pinkerton (as part of “Allan Pinkerton’s Detective Stories”) are, as we have seen, The Molly Maguires
and the Detectives, viewed by many historians now as a highly biased work on the labour dispute, and Criminal Reminiscences and Detective Sketches (1879).

  This is not the Canon’s only reference to the famed Pinkerton Agency. A detective named “Mr. Leverton, of the Pinkerton’s American Agency,” provides assistance and vital information to Holmes and Watson in “The Red Circle.”

  151 “The East” replaces “Philadelphia” in the manuscript. References to “Chicago” are also substituted.

  152 Closely guarded. A “tiler” is the name for the doorkeeper or guard at a Masonic or other fraternal lodge meeting.

  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 conspirators would have simply called out their man, as they had many a time before, and emptied their pistols into his body; but in this instance it was very necessary to find out how much he knew, how he knew it, and what had been passed on to his employers.

  It was possible that they were already too late and that the work had been done. If that was indeed so, they could at least have their revenge upon the man who had done it. But they were hopeful that nothing of great importance had yet come to the detective’s knowledge, as otherwise, they argued, he would not have troubled to write down and forward such trivial information as McMurdo claimed to have given him. However, all this they would learn from his own lips. Once in their power, they would find a way to make him speak. It was not the first time that they had handled an unwilling witness.

  McMurdo went to Hobson’s Patch as agreed. The police seemed to take particular interest in him that morning, and Captain Marvin—he who had claimed the old acquaintance with him at Chicago—actually addressed him as he waited at the depôt. McMurdo turned away and refused to speak with him. He was back from his mission in the afternoon, and saw McGinty at the Union House.

  “He is coming,” he said.

  “Good!” said McGinty. The giant was in his shirt sleeves, with chains and seals gleaming athwart his ample waistcoat and a diamond twinkling through the fringe of his bristling beard. Drink and politics had made the Boss a very rich as well as powerful man. The more terrible, therefore, seemed that glimpse of the prison or the gallows which had risen before him the night before.

  “Do you reckon he knows much?” he asked anxiously.

  McMurdo shook his head gloomily. “He’s been here some time—six weeks at the least. I guess he didn’t come into these parts to look at the prospect. If he has been working among us all that time with the railroad money at his back, I should expect that he has got results, and that he has passed them on.”

  “There’s not a weak man in the Lodge,” cried McGinty. “True as steel, every man of them. And yet, by the Lord, there is that skunk Morris. What about him? If any man gives us away, it would be he. I’ve a mind to send a couple of the boys round before evening to give him a beating up and see what they can get from him.”

  “Well, there would be no harm in that,” McMurdo answered. “I won’t deny that I have a liking for Morris and would be sorry to see him come to harm. He has spoken to me once or twice over Lodge matters, and though he may not see them the same as you or I, he never seemed the sort that squeals. But still it is not for me to stand between him and you.”

  “I’ll fix the old devil!” said McGinty with an oath. “I’ve had my eye on him this year past.”

  “Well, you know best about that,” McMurdo answered. “But whatever you do must be to-morrow, for we must lie low until the Pinkerton affair is settled up. We can’t afford to set the police buzzing to-day of all days.”

  “True for you,” said McGinty. “And we’ll learn from Birdy Edwards himself where he got his news if we have to cut his heart out first. Did he seem to scent a trap?”

  McMurdo laughed. “I guess I took him on his weak point,” he said. “If he could get on a good trail of the Scowrers, he’s ready to follow it into hell. I took his money,” McMurdo grinned as he produced a wad of dollar notes, “and as much more when he has seen all my papers.”

  “What papers?”

  “Well, there are no papers. But I filled him up about constitutions and books of rules and forms of membership. He expects to get right down to the end of everything before he leaves.”

  “Faith, he’s right there,” said McGinty grimly. “Didn’t he ask you why you didn’t bring him the papers?”

  “As if I would carry such things, and me a suspected man, and Captain Marvin after speaking to me this very day at the depot!”

  “Ay, I heard of that,” said McGinty. “I guess the heavy end of this business is coming on to you. We could put him down an old shaft when we’ve done with him; but however we work it we can’t get past the man living at Hobson’s Patch and you being there to-day.”

  McMurdo shrugged his shoulders. “If we handle it right, they can never prove the killing,” said he. “No one can see him come to the house after dark, and I’ll lay to it that no one will see him go. Now see here, Councillor, I’ll show you my plan and I’ll ask you to fit the others into it. You will all come in good time. Very well. He comes at ten. He is to tap three times, and me to open the door for him. Then I’ll get behind him and shut it. He’s our man then.”

  “That’s all easy and plain.”

  “Yes; but the next step wants considering. He’s a hard proposition. He’s heavily armed. I’ve fooled him proper, and yet he is likely to be on his guard. Suppose I show him right into a room with seven men in it where he expected to find me alone. There is going to be shooting, and somebody is going to be hurt.”

  “That’s so.”

  “And the noise is going to bring every damned copper in the township on top of it.”

  “I guess you are right.”

  “This is how I should work it. You will all be in the big room—same as you saw when you had a chat with me. I’ll open the door for him, show him into the parlour beside the door, and leave him there while I get the papers. That will give me the chance of telling you how things are shaping. Then I will go back to him with some faked papers. As he is reading them I will jump for him and get my grip on his pistol arm. You’ll hear me call and in you will rush. The quicker the better; for he is as strong a man as I, and I may have more than I can manage. But I allow that I can hold him till you come.”

  “It’s a good plan,” said McGinty. “The Lodge will owe you a debt for this. I guess when I move out of the chair I can put a name to the man that’s coming after me.”

  “Sure, Councillor, I am little more than a recruit,” said McMurdo, but his face showed what he thought of the great man’s compliment.

  When he had returned home he made his own preparations for the grim evening in front of him. First he cleaned, oiled, and loaded his Smith & Wesson revolver.153 Then he surveyed the room in which the detective was to be trapped. It was a large apartment, with a long deal table in the centre, and the big stove at one end. 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 matter. Yet its distance from the road made it of less consequence. Finally he discussed the matter with his fellow Lodger. Scanlan, though a Scowrer, was an inoffensive little man who was too weak to stand against the opinion of his comrades, but was secretly horrified by the deeds of blood at which he had sometimes been forced to assist. McMurdo told him shortly what was intended.

  “And if I were you, Mike Scanlan, I would take a night off and keep clear of it. There will be bloody work here before morning.”

  “Well, indeed then, Mac,” Scanlan answered. “It’s not the will but the nerve that is wanting in me. When I saw Manager Dunn go down at the colliery yonder it was just more tha
n I could stand. I’m not made for it same as you or McGinty. If the Lodge will think none the worse of me, I’ll just do as you advise and leave you to yourselves for the evening.”

  The men came in good time as arranged. They were outwardly respectable citizens, well clad and cleanly; but a judge of faces would have read little hope for Birdy Edwards in those hard mouths and remorseless eyes. There was not a man in the room whose hands had not been reddened a dozen times before. They were as hardened to human murder as a butcher to sheep.

  Foremost, of course, both in appearance and in guilt, was the formidable Boss. Harraway, the secretary, was a lean, bitter man with a long, scraggy neck and nervous, jerky limbs—a man of incorruptible fidelity where the finances of the order were concerned,154 and with no notion of justice or honesty to anyone beyond. The treasurer, Carter, was a middle-aged man with an impassive, rather sulky expression, and a yellow parchment skin. He was a capable organizer, and the actual details of nearly every outrage had sprung from his plotting brain. The two Willabys were men of action, tall, lithe young fellows with determined faces, while their companion, Tiger Cormac, a heavy, dark youth, was feared even by his own comrades for the ferocity of his disposition. These were the men who assembled that night under the roof of McMurdo for the killing of the Pinkerton detective.

  Their host had placed whisky upon the table, and they had hastened to prime themselves for the work before them. Baldwin and Cormac were already half-drunk, and the liquor had brought out all their ferocity. Cormac placed his hands on the stove for an instant—it had been lighted, for the nights were still cold.