Complete Sherlock Holmes, Volume II (Barnes & Noble Classics Series)

by SIR ARTHUR CONAN DOYLE

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

  “Kill him!” cried a dozen fierce voices.

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

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

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

  A general shout of anger greeted the suggestion.

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

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

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

  “Sure!” said the young man eagerly.

  “How many will you take?”

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

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

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

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

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

  It was nearly midnight, and the street was deserted save for one or two revellers upon their way home. The party crossed the road, and, pushing open the door of the newspaper office, Baldwin and his men rushed in and up the stair which faced them. McMurdo and another remained below. From the room above came a shout, a cry for help, and then the sound of trampling feet and of falling chairs. An instant later a gray-haired man rushed out on the landing.

  He was seized before he could get farther, and his spectacles came tinkling down to McMurdo’s feet. There was a thud and a groan. He was on his face, and half a dozen sticks were clattering together as they fell upon him. He writhed, and his long, thin limbs quivered under the blows. The others ceased at last; but Baldwin, his cruel face set in an infernal smile, was hacking at the man’s head, which he vainly endeavoured to defend with his arms. His white hair was dabbled with patches of blood. Baldwin was still stooping over his victim, putting in a short, vicious blow whenever he could see a part exposed, when McMurdo dashed up the stair and pushed him back.

  “You’ll kill the man,” said he. “Drop it!”

  Baldwin looked at him in amazement. “Curse you!” he cried. “Who are you to interfere—you that are new to the lodge? Stand back!” He raised his stick; but McMurdo had whipped his pistol out of his hip pocket.

  “Stand back yourself!” he cried. “I’ll blow your face in if you lay a hand on me. As to the lodge, wasn’t it the order of the Bodymaster that the man was not to be killed—and what are you doing but killing him?”

  “It’s truth he says,” remarked one of the men.

  “By Gar! you’d best hurry yourselves!” cried the man below. “The windows are all lighting up, and you’ll have the whole town here inside of five minutes.”

  There was indeed the sound of shouting in the street, and a little group of compositors and pressmen was forming in the hall below and nerving itself to action. Leaving the limp and motionless body of the editor at the head of the stair, the criminals rushed down and made their way swiftly along the street. Having reached the Union House, some of them mixed with the crowd in McGinty’s saloon, whispering across the bar to the Boss that the job had been well carried through. Others, and among them McMurdo, broke away into side streets, and so by devious paths to their own homes.

  CHAPTER 4

  The Valley of Fear

  When McMurdo awoke next morning he had good reason to remember his initiation into the lodge. His head ached with the effect of the drink, and his arm, where he had been branded, was hot and swollen. Having his own peculiar source of income, he was irregular in his attendance at his work; so he had a late breakfast, and remained at home for the morning writing a long letter to a friend. Afterwards he read the Daily Herald. In a special column put in at the last moment he read:

  OUTRAGE AT THE HERALD OFFICE—EDITOR

  SERIOUSLY INJURED.

  It was a short account of the facts with which he was himself more familiar than the writer could have been. It ended with the statement:

  The matter is now in the hands of the police; but it can hardly be hoped that their exertions will be attended by any better results than in the past. Some of the men were recognized, and there is hope that a conviction may be obtained. The source of the outrage was, it need hardly be said, that infamous society which has held this community in bondage for so long a period, and against which the Herald has taken so uncompromising a stand. Mr. Stanger’s many friends will rejoice to hear that, though he has been cruelly and brutally beaten, and though he has sustained severe injuries about the head, there is no immediate danger to his life.

  Below it stated that a guard of police, armed with Winchester rifles, had been requisitioned for the defense of the office.

  McMurdo had laid down the paper, and was lighting his pipe with a hand which was shaky from the excesses of the previous evening, when there was a knock outside, and his landlady brought to him a
note which had just been handed in by a lad. It was unsigned, and ran thus:

  I should wish to speak to you; but would rather not do so in your house. You will find me beside the flagstaff upon Miller Hill. If you will come there now, I have something which it is important for you to hear and for me to say.

  McMurdo read the note twice with the utmost surprise; for he could not imagine what it meant or who was the author of it. Had it been in a feminine hand, he might have imagined that it was the beginning of one of those adventures which had been familiar enough in his past life. But it was the writing of a man, and of a well educated one, too. Finally, after some hesitation, he determined to see the matter through.

  Miller Hill is an ill-kept public park in the very centre of the town. In summer it is a favourite resort of the people; but in winter it is desolate enough. From the top of it one has a view not only of the whole straggling, grimy town, but of the winding valley beneath, with its scattered mines and factories blackening the snow on each side of it, and of the wooded and white-capped ranges flanking it.

  McMurdo strolled up the winding path hedged in with evergreens until he reached the deserted restaurant which forms the centre of summer gaiety. Beside it was a bare flagstaff, and underneath it a man, his hat drawn down and the collar of his overcoat turned up. When he turned his face McMurdo saw that it was Brother Morris, he who had incurred the anger of the Bodymaster the night before. The lodge sign was given and exchanged as they met.

  “I wanted to have a word with you, Mr. McMurdo,” said the older man, speaking with a hesitation which showed that he was on delicate ground. “It was kind of you to come.”

  “Why did you not put your name to the note?”

  “One has to be cautious, mister. One never knows in times like these how a thing may come back to one. One never knows either who to trust or who not to trust.”

  “Surely one may trust brothers of the lodge.”

  “No, no, not always,” cried Morris with vehemence. “Whatever we say, even what we think, seems to go back to that man McGinty.”

  “Look here!” said McMurdo sternly. “It was only last night, as you know well, that I swore good faith to our Bodymaster. Would you be asking me to break my oath?”

  “If that is the view you take,” said Morris sadly, “I can only say that I am sorry I gave you the trouble to come and meet me. Things have come to a bad pass when two free citizens cannot speak their thoughts to each other.”

  McMurdo, who had been watching his companion very narrowly, relaxed somewhat in his bearing. “Sure I spoke for myself only,” said he. “I am a newcomer, as you know, and I am strange to it all. It is not for me to open my mouth, Mr. Morris, and if you think well to say anything to me I am here to hear it.”

  “And to take it back to Boss McGinty!” said Morris bitterly.

  “Indeed, then, you do me injustice there,” cried McMurdo. “For myself I am loyal to the lodge, and so I tell you straight; but I would be a poor creature if I were to repeat to any other what you might say to me in confidence. It will go no further than me; though I warn you that you may get neither help nor sympathy.”

  “I have given up looking for either the one or the other,” said Morris. “I may be putting my very life in your hands by what I say; but, bad as you are—and it seemed to me last night that you were shaping to be as bad as the worst—still you are new to it, and your conscience cannot yet be as hardened as theirs. That was why I thought to speak with you.”

  “Well, what have you to say?”

  “If you give me away, may a curse be on you!”

  “Sure, I said I would not.”

  “I would ask you, then, when you joined the Freeman’s society in Chicago and swore vows of charity and fidelity, did ever it cross your mind that you might find it would lead you to crime?”

  “If you call it crime,” McMurdo answered.

  “Call it crime!” cried Morris, his voice vibrating with passion. “You have seen little of it if you can call it anything else. Was it crime last night when a man old enough to be your father was beaten till the blood dripped from his white hairs? Was that crime—or what else would you call it?”

  “There are some would say it was war,” said McMurdo. “a war of two classes with all in, so that each struck as best it could.”

  “Well, did you think of such a thing when you joined the Freeman’s society at Chicago?”

  “No, I’m bound to say I did not.”

  “Nor did I when I joined it at Philadelphia. It was just a benefit club and a meeting place for one’s fellows. Then I heard of this place—curse the hour that the name first fell upon my ears!—and I came to better myself! My God! to better myself! My wife and three children came with me. I started a 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 forearm and something worse branded on my heart. I found that I was under the orders of a black villain and caught in a meshwork of crime. What could I do? Every word I said to make things better was taken as treason, same as it was last night. I can’t get away; for all I have in the world is in my store. If I leave the society, I know well that it means murder to me, and God knows what to my wife and children. Oh, man, it is awful—awful!” He put his hands to his face, and his body shook with convulsive sobs.

  McMurdo shrugged his shoulders. “You were too soft for the job,” said he. “You are the wrong sort for such work.”

  “I had a conscience and a religion; but they made me a criminal among them. I was chosen for a job. If I backed down, I knew well what would come to me. Maybe I’m a coward. Maybe it’s the thought of my poor little woman and the children that makes me one. Anyhow I went. I guess it will haunt me forever.

  “It was a lonely house, twenty miles from here, over the range yonder. I was told off for the door, same as you were last night. They could not trust me with the job. The others went in. When they came out their hands were crimson to the wrists. As we turned away a child was screaming out of the house behind us. It was a boy of five who had seen his father murdered. I nearly fainted with the horror of it, and yet I had to keep a bold and smiling face; for well I knew that if I did not it would be out of my house that they would come next with their bloody hands, and it would be my little Fred that would be screaming for his father.

  “But I was a criminal then, part sharer in a murder, lost forever in this world, and lost also in the next. I am a good Catholic; but the priest would have no word with me when he heard I was a Scowrer, and I am excommunicated from my faith. That’s how it stands with me. And I see you going down the same road, and I ask you what the end is to be. Are you ready to be a cold-blooded murderer also, or can we do anything to stop it?”

  “What would you do?” asked McMurdo abruptly. “You would not inform?”

  “God forbid!” cried Morris. “Sure, the very thought would cost me my life.”

  “That’s well,” said McMurdo. “I’m thinking that you are a weak man and that you make too much of the matter.”

  “Too much! Wait till you have lived here, longer. Look down the valley! See the cloud of a hundred chimneys that overshadows it! I tell you that the cloud of murder hangs thicker and lower than that over the heads of the people. It is the Valley of Fear, the Valley of Death. The terror is in the hearts of the people from the dusk to the dawn. Wait, young man, and you will learn for yourself.”

  “Well, I’ll let you know what I think when I have seen more,” said McMurdo carelessly. “What is very clear is that you are not the man for the place, and that the sooner you sell out—if you only get a dime a dollar for what the business is worth—the better it will be for you. What you have said is safe with me; but, by Gar! if I thought you were an informer—”

  “No, no!” cried Morris piteously.

  “Well, let it rest at that. I’ll bear what you have said in mind, and maybe some day I’ll come
back to it. I expect you meant kindly by speaking to me like this. Now I’ll be getting home.”

  “One word before you go,” said Morris. “We may have been seen together. They may want to know what we have spoken about.”

  “Ah! that’s well thought of.”

  “I offer you a clerkship in my store.”

  “And I refuse it. That’s our business. Well, so long, Brother Morris, and may you find things go better with you in the future.”

  That same afternoon, as McMurdo sat smoking, lost in thought, beside the stove of his sitting-room, the door swung open and its framework was filled with the huge figure of Boss McGinty. He passed the sign, and then seating himself opposite to the young man he looked at him steadily for some time, a look which was as steadily returned.

  “I’m not much of a visitor, Brother McMurdo,” he said at last. “I guess I am too busy over the folk that visit me. But I thought I’d stretch a point and drop down to see you in your own house.”

  “I’m proud to see you here, Councillor,” McMurdo answered heartily, bringing his whisky bottle out of the cupboard. “it’s an honour that I had not expected.”

  “How’s the arm?” asked the Boss.

  McMurdo made a wry face. “Well, I’m not forgetting it,” he said; “but it’s worth it.”

  “Yes, it’s worth it,” the other answered, “to those that are loyal and go through with it and are a help to the lodge. What were you speaking to Brother Morris about on Miller Hill this morning?”

  The question came so suddenly that it was well that he had his answer prepared. He burst into a hearty laugh. “Morris didn’t know I could earn a living here at home. He shan’t know either; for he has got too much conscience for the likes of me. But he’s a good-hearted old chap. It was his idea that I was at a loose end, and that he would do me a good turn by offering me a clerkship in a drygoods store.”