prompt:
Chapter: If anything had been needed to give an impetus to Jack McMurdo's
popularity among his fellows it would have been his arrest and
acquittal. That a man on the very night of joining the lodge should have
done something which brought him before the magistrate was a new record
in the annals of the society. Already he had earned the reputation of a
good boon companion, a cheery reveller, and withal a man of high temper,
who would not take an insult even from the all-powerful Boss himself.
But in addition to this he impressed his comrades with the idea that
among them all there was not one whose brain was so ready to devise a
bloodthirsty scheme, or whose hand would be more capable of carrying
it out. "He'll be the boy for the clean job," said the oldsters to one
another, and waited their time until they could set him to his work.

McGinty had instruments enough already; but he recognized that this was
a supremely able one. He felt like a man holding a fierce bloodhound
in leash. There were curs to do the smaller work; but some day he
would slip this creature upon its prey. A few members of the lodge, Ted
Baldwin among them, resented the rapid rise of the stranger and hated
him for it; but they kept clear of him, for he was as ready to fight as
to laugh.

But if he gained favour with his fellows, there was another quarter,
one which had become even more vital to him, in which he lost it. Ettie
Shafter's father would have nothing more to do with him, nor would he
allow him to enter the house. Ettie herself was too deeply in love to
give him up altogether, and yet her own good sense warned her of what
would come from a marriage with a man who was regarded as a criminal.

One morning after a sleepless night she determined to see him, possibly
for the last time, and make one strong endeavour to draw him from those
evil influences which were sucking him down. She went to his house, as
he had often begged her to do, and made her way into the room which he
used as his sitting-room. He was seated at a table, with his back turned
and a letter in front of him. A sudden spirit of girlish mischief came
over her--she was still only nineteen. He had not heard her when she
pushed open the door. Now she tiptoed forward and laid her hand lightly
upon his bended shoulders.

If she had expected to startle him, she certainly succeeded; but only in
turn to be startled herself. With a tiger spring he turned on her, and
his right hand was feeling for her throat. At the same instant with the
other hand he crumpled up the paper that lay before him. For an instant
he stood glaring. Then astonishment and joy took the place of the
ferocity which had convulsed his features--a ferocity which had sent
her shrinking back in horror as from something which had never before
intruded into her gentle life.

"It's you!" said he, mopping his brow. "And to think that you should
come to me, heart of my heart, and I should find nothing better to do
than to want to strangle you! Come then, darling," and he held out his
arms, "let me make it up to you."

But she had not recovered from that sudden glimpse of guilty fear which
she had read in the man's face. All her woman's instinct told her that
it was not the mere fright of a man who is startled. Guilt--that was
it--guilt and fear!

"What's come over you, Jack?" she cried. "Why were you so scared of me?
Oh, Jack, if your conscience was at ease, you would not have looked at
me like that!"

"Sure, I was thinking of other things, and when you came tripping so
lightly on those fairy feet of yours--"

"No, no, it was more than that, Jack." Then a sudden suspicion seized
her. "Let me see that letter you were writing."

"Ah, Ettie, I couldn't do that."

Her suspicions became certainties. "It's to another woman," she cried.
"I know it! Why else should you hold it from me? Was it to your wife
that you were writing? How am I to know that you are not a married
man--you, a stranger, that nobody knows?"

"I am not married, Ettie. See now, I swear it! You're the only one woman
on earth to me. By the cross of Christ I swear it!"

He was so white with passionate earnestness that she could not but
believe him.

"Well, then," she cried, "why will you not show me the letter?"

"I'll tell you, acushla," said he. "I'm under oath not to show it, and
just as I wouldn't break my word to you so I would keep it to those who
hold my promise. It's the business of the lodge, and even to you it's
secret. And if I was scared when a hand fell on me, can't you understand
it when it might have been the hand of a detective?"

She felt that he was telling the truth. He gathered her into his arms
and kissed away her fears and doubts.

"Sit here by me, then. It's a queer throne for such a queen; but it's
the best your poor lover can find. He'll do better for you some of these
days, I'm thinking. Now your mind is easy once again, is it not?"

"How can it ever be at ease, Jack, when I know that you are a criminal
among criminals, when I never know the day that I may hear you are in
court for murder? 'McMurdo the Scowrer,' that's what one of our boarders
called you yesterday. It went through my heart like a knife."

"Sure, hard words break no bones."

"But they were true."

"Well, dear, it's not so bad as you think. We are but poor men that are
trying in our own way to get our rights."

Ettie threw her arms round her lover's neck. "Give it up, Jack! For my
sake, for God's sake, give it up! It was to ask you that I came here
to-day. Oh, Jack, see--I beg it of you on my bended knees! Kneeling here
before you I implore you to give it up!"

He raised her and soothed her with her head against his breast.

"Sure, my darlin', you don't know what it is you are asking. How could I
give it up when it would be to break my oath and to desert my comrades?
If you could see how things stand with me you could never ask it of me.
Besides, if I wanted to, how could I do it? You don't suppose that the
lodge would let a man go free with all its secrets?"

"I've thought of that, Jack. I've planned it all. Father has saved some
money. He is weary of this place where the fear of these people darkens
our lives. He is ready to go. We would fly together to Philadelphia or
New York, where we would be safe from them."

McMurdo laughed. "The lodge has a long arm. Do you think it could not
stretch from here to Philadelphia or New York?"

"Well, then, to the West, or to England, or to Germany, where father
came from--anywhere to get away from this Valley of Fear!"

McMurdo thought of old Brother Morris. "Sure, it is the second time I
have heard the valley so named," said he. "The shadow does indeed seem
to lie heavy on some of you."

"It darkens every moment of our lives. Do you suppose that Ted Baldwin
has ever forgiven us? If it were not that he fears you, what do you
suppose our chances would be? If you saw the look in those dark, hungry
eyes of his when they fall on me!"

"By Gar! I'd teach him better manners if I caught him at it! But see
here, little girl. I can't leave here. I can't--take that from me once
and for all. But if you will leave me to find my own way, I will try to
prepare a way of getting honourably out of it."

"There is no honour in such a matter."

"Well, well, it's just how you look at it. But if you'll give me six
months, I'll work it so that I can leave without being ashamed to look
others in the face."

The girl laughed with joy. "Six months!" she cried. "Is it a promise?"

"Well, it may be seven or eight. But within a year at the furthest we
will leave the valley behind us."

It was the most that Ettie could obtain, and yet it was something. There
was this distant light to illuminate the gloom of the immediate future.
She returned to her father's house more light-hearted than she had ever
been since Jack McMurdo had come into her life.

It might be thought that as a member, all the doings of the society
would be told to him; but he was soon to discover that the organization
was wider and more complex than the simple lodge. Even Boss McGinty was
ignorant as to many things; for there was an official named the County
Delegate, living at Hobson's Patch farther down the line, who had power
over several different lodges which he wielded in a sudden and arbitrary
way. Only once did McMurdo see him, a sly, little gray-haired rat of a
man, with a slinking gait and a sidelong glance which was charged with
malice. Evans Pott was his name, and even the great Boss of Vermissa
felt towards him something of the repulsion and fear which the huge
Danton may have felt for the puny but dangerous Robespierre.

One day Scanlan, who was McMurdo's fellow boarder, received a note from
McGinty inclosing one from Evans Pott, which informed him that he was
sending over two good men, Lawler and Andrews, who had instructions
to act in the neighbourhood; though it was best for the cause that no
particulars as to their objects should be given. Would the Bodymaster
see to it that suitable arrangements be made for their lodgings and
comfort until the time for action should arrive? McGinty added that it
was impossible for anyone to remain secret at the Union House, and that,
therefore, he would be obliged if McMurdo and Scanlan would put the
strangers up for a few days in their boarding house.

The same evening the two men arrived, each carrying his gripsack. Lawler
was an elderly man, shrewd, silent, and self-contained, clad in an old
black frock coat, which with his soft felt hat and ragged, grizzled
beard gave him a general resemblance to an itinerant preacher. His
companion Andrews was little more than a boy, frank-faced and cheerful,
with the breezy manner of one who is out for a holiday and means to
enjoy every minute of it. Both men were total abstainers, and behaved
in all ways as exemplary members of the society, with the one simple
exception that they were assassins who had often proved themselves to
be most capable instruments for this association of murder. Lawler had
already carried out fourteen commissions of the kind, and Andrews three.

They were, as McMurdo found, quite ready to converse about their deeds
in the past, which they recounted with the half-bashful pride of men
who had done good and unselfish service for the community. They were
reticent, however, as to the immediate job in hand.

"They chose us because neither I nor the boy here drink," Lawler
explained. "They can count on us saying no more than we should. You must
not take it amiss, but it is the orders of the County Delegate that we
obey."

"Sure, we are all in it together," said Scanlan, McMurdo's mate, as the
four sat together at supper.

"That's true enough, and we'll talk till the cows come home of the
killing of Charlie Williams or of Simon Bird, or any other job in the
past. But till the work is done we say nothing."

"There are half a dozen about here that I have a word to say to," said
McMurdo, with an oath. "I suppose it isn't Jack Knox of Ironhill that
you are after. I'd go some way to see him get his deserts."

"No, it's not him yet."

"Or Herman Strauss?"

"No, nor him either."

"Well, if you won't tell us we can't make you; but I'd be glad to know."

Lawler smiled and shook his head. He was not to be drawn.

In spite of the reticence of their guests, Scanlan and McMurdo were
quite determined to be present at what they called "the fun." When,
therefore, at an early hour one morning McMurdo heard them creeping down
the stairs he awakened Scanlan, and the two hurried on their clothes.
When they were dressed they found that the others had stolen out,
leaving the door open behind them. It was not yet dawn, and by the light
of the lamps they could see the two men some distance down the street.
They followed them warily, treading noiselessly in the deep snow.

The boarding house was near the edge of the town, and soon they were
at the crossroads which is beyond its boundary. Here three men were
waiting, with whom Lawler and Andrews held a short, eager conversation.
Then they all moved on together. It was clearly some notable job which
needed numbers. At this point there are several trails which lead to
various mines. The strangers took that which led to the Crow Hill, a
huge business which was in strong hands which had been able, thanks to
their energetic and fearless New England manager, Josiah H. Dunn, to
keep some order and discipline during the long reign of terror.

Day was breaking now, and a line of workmen were slowly making their
way, singly and in groups, along the blackened path.

McMurdo and Scanlan strolled on with the others, keeping in sight of the
men whom they followed. A thick mist lay over them, and from the heart
of it there came the sudden scream of a steam whistle. It was the
ten-minute signal before the cages descended and the day's labour began.

When they reached the open space round the mine shaft there were
a hundred miners waiting, stamping their feet and blowing on their
fingers; for it was bitterly cold. The strangers stood in a little group
under the shadow of the engine house. Scanlan and McMurdo climbed a heap
of slag from which the whole scene lay before them. They saw the mine
engineer, a great bearded Scotchman named Menzies, come out of the
engine house and blow his whistle for the cages to be lowered.

At the same instant a tall, loose-framed young man with a clean-shaved,
earnest face advanced eagerly towards the pit head. As he came forward
his eyes fell upon the group, silent and motionless, under the engine
house. The men had drawn down their hats and turned up their collars to
screen their faces. For a moment the presentiment of Death laid its cold
hand upon the manager's heart. At the next he had shaken it off and saw
only his duty towards intrusive strangers.

"Who are you?" he asked as he advanced. "What are you loitering there
for?"

There was no answer; but the lad Andrews stepped forward and shot him in
the stomach. The hundred waiting miners stood as motionless and helpless
as if they were paralyzed. The manager clapped his two hands to the
wound and doubled himself up. Then he staggered away; but another of the
assassins fired, and he went down sidewise, kicking and clawing among
a heap of clinkers. Menzies, the Scotchman, gave a roar of rage at the
sight and rushed with an iron spanner at the murderers; but was met by
two balls in the face which dropped him dead at their very feet.

There was a surge forward of some of the miners, and an inarticulate
cry of pity and of anger; but a couple of the strangers emptied their
six-shooters over the heads of the crowd, and they broke and scattered,
some of them rushing wildly back to their homes in Vermissa.

When a few of the bravest had rallied, and there was a return to the
mine, the murderous gang had vanished in the mists of morning, without
a single witness being able to swear to the identity of these men who in
front of a hundred spectators had wrought this double crime.

Scanlan and McMurdo made their way back; Scanlan somewhat subdued, for
it was the first murder job that he had seen with his own eyes, and
it appeared less funny than he had been led to believe. The horrible
screams of the dead manager's wife pursued them as they hurried to the
town. McMurdo was absorbed and silent; but he showed no sympathy for the
weakening of his companion.

"Sure, it is like a war," he repeated. "What is it but a war between us
and them, and we hit back where we best can."

There was high revel in the lodge room at the Union House that night,
not only over the killing of the manager and engineer of the Crow Hill
mine, which would bring this organization into line with the other
blackmailed and terror-stricken companies of the district, but also
over a distant triumph which had been wrought by the hands of the lodge
itself.

It would appear that when the County Delegate had sent over five good
men to strike a blow in Vermissa, he had demanded that in return three
Vermissa men should be secretly selected and sent across to kill William
Hales of Stake Royal, one of the best known and most popular mine owners
in the Gilmerton district, a man who was believed not to have an enemy
in the world; for he was in all ways a model employer. He had insisted,
however, upon efficiency in the work, and had, therefore, paid off
certain drunken and idle employees who were members of the all-powerful
society. Coffin notices hung outside his door had not weakened his
resolution, and so in a free, civilized country he found himself
condemned to death.

The execution had now been duly carried out. Ted Baldwin, who sprawled
now in the seat of honour beside the Bodymaster, had been chief of the
party. His flushed face and glazed, bloodshot eyes told of sleeplessness
and drink. He and his two comrades had spent the night before among
the mountains. They were unkempt and weather-stained. But no heroes,
returning from a forlorn hope, could have had a warmer welcome from
their comrades.

The story was told and retold amid cries of delight and shouts of
laughter. They had waited for their man as he drove home at nightfall,
taking their station at the top of a steep hill, where his horse must be
at a walk. He was so furred to keep out the cold that he could not lay
his hand on his pistol. They had pulled him out and shot him again and
again. He had screamed for mercy. The screams were repeated for the
amusement of the lodge.

"Let's hear again how he squealed," they cried.

None of them knew the man; but there is eternal drama in a killing, and
they had shown the Scowrers of Gilmerton that the Vermissa men were to
be relied upon.

There had been one contretemps; for a man and his wife had driven up
while they were still emptying their revolvers into the silent body.
It had been suggested that they should shoot them both; but they were
harmless folk who were not connected with the mines, so they were
sternly bidden to drive on and keep silent, lest a worse thing befall
them. And so the blood-mottled figure had been left as a warning to all
such hard-hearted employers, and the three noble avengers had hurried
off into the mountains where unbroken nature comes down to the very
edge of the furnaces and the slag heaps. Here they were, safe and sound,
their work well done, and the plaudits of their companions in their
ears.

It had been a great day for the Scowrers. The shadow had fallen even
darker over the valley. But as the wise general chooses the moment of
victory in which to redouble his efforts, so that his foes may have no
time to steady themselves after disaster, so Boss McGinty, looking out
upon the scene of his operations with his brooding and malicious eyes,
had devised a new attack upon those who opposed him. That very night, as
the half-drunken company broke up, he touched McMurdo on the arm and led
him aside into that inner room where they had their first interview.

"See here, my lad," said he, "I've got a job that's worthy of you at
last. You'll have the doing of it in your own hands."

"Proud I am to hear it," McMurdo answered.

"You can take two men with you--Manders and Reilly. They have been
warned for service. We'll never be right in this district until Chester
Wilcox has been settled, and you'll have the thanks of every lodge in
the coal fields if you can down him."

"I'll do my best, anyhow. Who is he, and where shall I find him?"

McGinty took his eternal half-chewed, half-smoked cigar from the corner
of his mouth, and proceeded to draw a rough diagram on a page torn from
his notebook.

"He's the chief foreman of the Iron Dike Company. He's a hard citizen,
an old colour sergeant of the war, all scars and grizzle. We've had two
tries at him; but had no luck, and Jim Carnaway lost his life over it.
Now it's for you to take it over. That's the house--all alone at the
Iron Dike crossroad, same as you see here on the map--without another
within earshot. It's no good by day. He's armed and shoots quick and
straight, with no questions asked. But at night--well, there he is with
his wife, three children, and a hired help. You can't pick or choose.
It's all or none. If you could get a bag of blasting powder at the front
door with a slow match to it--"

"What's the man done?"

"Didn't I tell you he shot Jim Carnaway?"

"Why did he shoot him?"

"What in thunder has that to do with you? Carnaway was about his house
at night, and he shot him. That's enough for me and you. You've got to
settle the thing right."

"There's these two women and the children. Do they go up too?"

"They have to--else how can we get him?"

"It seems hard on them; for they've done nothing."

"What sort of fool's talk is this? Do you back out?"

"Easy, Councillor, easy! What have I ever said or done that you should
think I would be after standing back from an order of the Bodymaster of
my own lodge? If it's right or if it's wrong, it's for you to decide."

"You'll do it, then?"

"Of course I will do it."

"When?"

"Well, you had best give me a night or two that I may see the house and
make my plans. Then--"

"Very good," said McGinty, shaking him by the hand. "I leave it with
you. It will be a great day when you bring us the news. It's just the
last stroke that will bring them all to their knees."

McMurdo thought long and deeply over the commission which had been so
suddenly placed in his hands. The isolated house in which Chester Wilcox
lived was about five miles off in an adjacent valley. That very night he
started off all alone to prepare for the attempt. It was daylight before
he returned from his reconnaissance. Next day he interviewed his two
subordinates, Manders and Reilly, reckless youngsters who were as elated
as if it were a deer-hunt.

Two nights later they met outside the town, all three armed, and one
of them carrying a sack stuffed with the powder which was used in the
quarries. It was two in the morning before they came to the lonely
house. The night was a windy one, with broken clouds drifting swiftly
across the face of a three-quarter moon. They had been warned to be on
their guard against bloodhounds; so they moved forward cautiously, with
their pistols cocked in their hands. But there was no sound save the
howling of the wind, and no movement but the swaying branches above
them.

McMurdo listened at the door of the lonely house; but all was still
within. Then he leaned the powder bag against it, ripped a hole in it
with his knife, and attached the fuse. When it was well alight he and
his two companions took to their heels, and were some distance off,
safe and snug in a sheltering ditch, before the shattering roar of the
explosion, with the low, deep rumble of the collapsing building, told
them that their work was done. No cleaner job had ever been carried out
in the bloodstained annals of the society.

But alas that work so well organized and boldly carried out should all
have gone for nothing! Warned by the fate of the various victims, and
knowing that he was marked down for destruction, Chester Wilcox had
moved himself and his family only the day before to some safer and less
known quarters, where a guard of police should watch over them. It was
an empty house which had been torn down by the gunpowder, and the grim
old colour sergeant of the war was still teaching discipline to the
miners of Iron Dike.

"Leave him to me," said McMurdo. "He's my man, and I'll get him sure if
I have to wait a year for him."

A vote of thanks and confidence was passed in full lodge, and so for
the time the matter ended. When a few weeks later it was reported in the
papers that Wilcox had been shot at from an ambuscade, it was an open
secret that McMurdo was still at work upon his unfinished job.

Such were the methods of the Society of Freemen, and such were the deeds
of the Scowrers by which they spread their rule of fear over the great
and rich district which was for so long a period haunted by their
terrible presence. Why should these pages be stained by further crimes?
Have I not said enough to show the men and their methods?

These deeds are written in history, and there are records wherein one
may read the details of them. There one may learn of the shooting of
Policemen Hunt and Evans because they had ventured to arrest two members
of the society--a double outrage planned at the Vermissa lodge and
carried out in cold blood upon two helpless and disarmed men. There also
one may read of the shooting of Mrs. Larbey when she was nursing her
husband, who had been beaten almost to death by orders of Boss McGinty.
The killing of the elder Jenkins, shortly followed by that of his
brother, the mutilation of James Murdoch, the blowing up of the
Staphouse family, and the murder of the Stendals all followed hard upon
one another in the same terrible winter.

Darkly the shadow lay upon the Valley of Fear. The spring had come with
running brooks and blossoming trees. There was hope for all Nature bound
so long in an iron grip; but nowhere was there any hope for the men and
women who lived under the yoke of the terror. Never had the cloud above
them been so dark and hopeless as in the early summer of the year 1875.

Q: Can you write an appropriate summary of the above paragraphs?
A:

completion: McMurdo's reputation skyrockets even more. He is considered a good companion, a cheery fellow, a bloodthirsty and smart schemer, and impressive for getting out of trouble with the law. However, while things are going well in some areas of McMurdo's life, Shafter has forbidden him from coming to see Ettie. Ettie still loves McMurdo, but things are difficult for them. One night Ettie goes to surprise McMurdo. She creeps up behind him, but, to her horror, he reacts fiercely and springs for her throat. He then recognizes her and apologizes, but she is unnerved by the look she saw in his eyes. She cries and begs him to stay away from these violent men. She proposes leaving the Valley of Fear. McMurdo says he cannot do this right now, but finally says that he will work to make it possible for them to get out of the valley within six-to-eight months. Ettie is elated. It is not long before McMurdo starts to see just how vast this organization actually is. McGinty himself answers to Evans Potts, the County Delegate and a man of immense power. Scanlan and McMurdo learn that two men in Potts' employ need a place to stay while they are in town on business and thus will be staying at the boarding house. Lawler, an elderly man, and Andrews, a cheerful young boy, arrive. They are both friendly but will not tell any details of why they were sent. The only thing they mention is that they are assassins and abstainers from drink. That night, when Lawler and Andrews quietly leave to carry out their business, Scanlan and McMurdo follow them. They walk through the snow, watch the men pick up others to help the job, and then head to Crow Hill, a huge mining operation run by Josiah H. Dunn. McMurdo and Scanlan hide themselves and watch the group of men stand off to the side near the miners. The morning whistle sounds the ten-minute alarm. The mine engineer, a Scotsman named Menzies, orders the cages lowered. A young man also walks out and notices the group of men gathered. He asks who they are; Andrews steps forward and shoots him dead. When Menzies protests, he too is killed. The other miners scatter. Scanlan and McMurdo retreat, both surprised. Scanlan feels poorly about what happened, but McMurdo does not seem sympathetic to the dead men. The brothers celebrate at Union House that night. The killing of the mine manager, along with another killing carried out by Baldwin, contributes to the revelry. McGinty knows the time is right to keep his enemies unstable; he decides another killing must occur, so he calls McMurdo over and tells him he has a job for him and two other men. McGinty explains that the district will never be right until the businessman Chester Wilcox is dead. McMurdo wonders what the man did and why his wife and children also have to be killed. McGinty gruffly asks if he has a problem with carrying out his orders, and McMurdo says he does not. He takes a night to do reconnaissance, and gets his other two young men ready. Two nights later, McMurdo and the two other men meet and travel to Wilcox's house, which they blow up with a powder bag. Unfortunately for the murderers, Wilcox and his family were warned and were not there. McMurdo is furious and says he will take care of it. A few weeks later, news comes of Wilcox's death. These are just some of the bloody deeds that took place in the Valley of Fear; "never had the cloud above them been so dark and hopeless as in the early summer of the year 1875"


prompt:
Chapter: It was the height of the reign of terror. McMurdo, who had already
been appointed Inner Deacon, with every prospect of some day succeeding
McGinty as Bodymaster, was now so necessary to the councils of his
comrades that nothing was done without his help and advice. The more
popular he became, however, with the Freemen, the blacker were the
scowls which greeted him as he passed along the streets of Vermissa. In
spite of their terror the citizens were taking heart to band themselves
together against their oppressors. Rumours had reached the lodge of
secret gatherings in the Herald office and of distribution of firearms
among the law-abiding people. But McGinty and his men were undisturbed
by such reports. They were numerous, resolute, and well armed. Their
opponents were scattered and powerless. It would all end, as it had done
in the past, in aimless talk and possibly in impotent arrests. So said
McGinty, McMurdo, and all the bolder spirits.

It was a Saturday evening in May. Saturday was always the lodge night,
and McMurdo was leaving his house to attend it when Morris, the weaker
brother of the order, came to see him. His brow was creased with care,
and his kindly face was drawn and haggard.

"Can I speak with you freely, Mr. McMurdo?"

"Sure."

"I can't forget that I spoke my heart to you once, and that you kept it
to yourself, even though the Boss himself came to ask you about it."

"What else could I do if you trusted me? It wasn't that I agreed with
what you said."

"I know that well. But you are the one that I can speak to and be safe.
I've a secret here," he put his hand to his breast, "and it is just
burning the life out of me. I wish it had come to any one of you but me.
If I tell it, it will mean murder, for sure. If I don't, it may bring
the end of us all. God help me, but I am near out of my wits over it!"

McMurdo looked at the man earnestly. He was trembling in every limb. He
poured some whisky into a glass and handed it to him. "That's the physic
for the likes of you," said he. "Now let me hear of it."

Morris drank, and his white face took a tinge of colour. "I can tell
it to you all in one sentence," said he. "There's a detective on our
trail."

McMurdo stared at him in astonishment. "Why, man, you're crazy," he
said. "Isn't the place full of police and detectives and what harm did
they ever do us?"

"No, no, it's no man of the district. As you say, we know them, and it
is little that they can do. But you've heard of Pinkerton's?"

"I've read of some folk of that name."

"Well, you can take it from me you've no show when they are on your
trail. It's not a take-it-or-miss-it government concern. It's a dead
earnest business proposition that's out for results and keeps out
till by hook or crook it gets them. If a Pinkerton man is deep in this
business, we are all destroyed."

"We must kill him."

"Ah, it's the first thought that came to you! So it will be up at the
lodge. Didn't I say to you that it would end in murder?"

"Sure, what is murder? Isn't it common enough in these parts?"

"It is, indeed; but it's not for me to point out the man that is to be
murdered. I'd never rest easy again. And yet it's our own necks that may
be at stake. In God's name what shall I do?" He rocked to and fro in his
agony of indecision.

But his words had moved McMurdo deeply. It was easy to see that he
shared the other's opinion as to the danger, and the need for meeting
it. He gripped Morris's shoulder and shook him in his earnestness.

"See here, man," he cried, and he almost screeched the words in his
excitement, "you won't gain anything by sitting keening like an old wife
at a wake. Let's have the facts. Who is the fellow? Where is he? How did
you hear of him? Why did you come to me?"

"I came to you; for you are the one man that would advise me. I told you
that I had a store in the East before I came here. I left good friends
behind me, and one of them is in the telegraph service. Here's a letter
that I had from him yesterday. It's this part from the top of the page.
You can read it yourself."

This was what McMurdo read:

How are the Scowrers getting on in your parts? We read plenty of them
in the papers. Between you and me I expect to hear news from you before
long. Five big corporations and the two railroads have taken the thing
up in dead earnest. They mean it, and you can bet they'll get there!
They are right deep down into it. Pinkerton has taken hold under their
orders, and his best man, Birdy Edwards, is operating. The thing has got
to be stopped right now.

"Now read the postscript."

Of course, what I give you is what I learned in business; so it goes no
further. It's a queer cipher that you handle by the yard every day and
can get no meaning from.

McMurdo sat in silence for some time, with the letter in his listless
hands. The mist had lifted for a moment, and there was the abyss before
him.

"Does anyone else know of this?" he asked.

"I have told no one else."

"But this man--your friend--has he any other person that he would be
likely to write to?"

"Well, I dare say he knows one or two more."

"Of the lodge?"

"It's likely enough."

"I was asking because it is likely that he may have given some
description of this fellow Birdy Edwards--then we could get on his
trail."

"Well, it's possible. But I should not think he knew him. He is just
telling me the news that came to him by way of business. How would he
know this Pinkerton man?"

McMurdo gave a violent start.

"By Gar!" he cried, "I've got him. What a fool I was not to know it.
Lord! but we're in luck! We will fix him before he can do any harm. See
here, Morris, will you leave this thing in my hands?"

"Sure, if you will only take it off mine."

"I'll do that. You can stand right back and let me run it. Even your
name need not be mentioned. I'll take it all on myself, as if it were to
me that this letter has come. Will that content you?"

"It's just what I would ask."

"Then leave it at that and keep your head shut. Now I'll get down to the
lodge, and we'll soon make old man Pinkerton sorry for himself."

"You wouldn't kill this man?"

"The less you know, Friend Morris, the easier your conscience will be,
and the better you will sleep. Ask no questions, and let these things
settle themselves. I have hold of it now."

Morris shook his head sadly as he left. "I feel that his blood is on my
hands," he groaned.

"Self-protection is no murder, anyhow," said McMurdo, smiling grimly.
"It's him or us. I guess this man would destroy us all if we left
him long in the valley. Why, Brother Morris, we'll have to elect you
Bodymaster yet; for you've surely saved the lodge."

And yet it was clear from his actions that he thought more seriously
of this new intrusion than his words would show. It may have been his
guilty conscience, it may have been the reputation of the Pinkerton
organization, it may have been the knowledge that great, rich
corporations had set themselves the task of clearing out the Scowrers;
but, whatever his reason, his actions were those of a man who is
preparing for the worst. Every paper which would incriminate him was
destroyed before he left the house. After that he gave a long sigh of
satisfaction; for it seemed to him that he was safe. And yet the danger
must still have pressed somewhat upon him; for on his way to the lodge
he stopped at old man Shafter's. The house was forbidden him; but
when he tapped at the window Ettie came out to him. The dancing Irish
deviltry had gone from her lover's eyes. She read his danger in his
earnest face.

"Something has happened!" she cried. "Oh, Jack, you are in danger!"

"Sure, it is not very bad, my sweetheart. And yet it may be wise that we
make a move before it is worse."

"Make a move?"

"I promised you once that I would go some day. I think the time is
coming. I had news to-night, bad news, and I see trouble coming."

"The police?"

"Well, a Pinkerton. But, sure, you wouldn't know what that is, acushla,
nor what it may mean to the likes of me. I'm too deep in this thing, and
I may have to get out of it quick. You said you would come with me if I
went."

"Oh, Jack, it would be the saving of you!"

"I'm an honest man in some things, Ettie. I wouldn't hurt a hair of your
bonny head for all that the world can give, nor ever pull you down one
inch from the golden throne above the clouds where I always see you.
Would you trust me?"

She put her hand in his without a word. "Well, then, listen to what I
say, and do as I order you, for indeed it's the only way for us. Things
are going to happen in this valley. I feel it in my bones. There may be
many of us that will have to look out for ourselves. I'm one, anyhow. If
I go, by day or night, it's you that must come with me!"

"I'd come after you, Jack."

"No, no, you shall come WITH me. If this valley is closed to me and
I can never come back, how can I leave you behind, and me perhaps in
hiding from the police with never a chance of a message? It's with me
you must come. I know a good woman in the place I come from, and it's
there I'd leave you till we can get married. Will you come?"

"Yes, Jack, I will come."

"God bless you for your trust in me! It's a fiend out of hell that I
should be if I abused it. Now, mark you, Ettie, it will be just a word
to you, and when it reaches you, you will drop everything and come right
down to the waiting room at the depot and stay there till I come for
you."

"Day or night, I'll come at the word, Jack."

Somewhat eased in mind, now that his own preparations for escape had
been begun, McMurdo went on to the lodge. It had already assembled, and
only by complicated signs and 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, the cruel, unfriendly features of Baldwin, the vulture face
of Harraway, the secretary, and a dozen more who were among the leaders
of the lodge. He rejoiced that they should all be there to take counsel
over his news.

"Indeed, it's glad we are to see you, Brother!" cried the chairman.
"There's business here that wants a Solomon in judgment to set it
right."

"It's Lander and Egan," explained his neighbour as he took his seat.
"They both claim the head money given by the lodge for the shooting
of old man Crabbe over at Stylestown, and who's to say which fired the
bullet?"

McMurdo rose in his place and raised his hand. The expression of his
face froze the attention of the audience. There was a dead hush of
expectation.

"Eminent Bodymaster," he said, in a solemn voice, "I claim urgency!"

"Brother McMurdo claims urgency," said McGinty. "It's a claim that by
the rules of this lodge takes precedence. Now Brother, we attend you."

McMurdo took the letter from his pocket.

"Eminent Bodymaster and Brethren," he said, "I am the bearer of ill news
this day; but it is better that it should be known and discussed, than
that a blow should fall upon us without warning which would destroy us
all. I have information that the most powerful and richest organizations
in this state have bound themselves together for our destruction, and
that at this very moment there is a Pinkerton detective, one Birdy
Edwards, at work in the valley collecting the evidence which may put a
rope round the necks of many of us, and send every man in this room into
a felon's cell. That is the situation for the discussion of which I have
made a claim of urgency."

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

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

"It is in this letter which has come into my hands," said McMurdo. 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 stanch as you, Councillor. But this man
has all the millions of the capitalists at his back. Do you think there
is no weaker brother among all our lodges that could not be bought? He
will get at our secrets--maybe has got them already. There's only one
sure cure."

"That he never leaves the valley," said Baldwin.

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

"Where is he, then? Where shall we know him?"

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

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

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

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

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

"How do you know this?"

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

"What did you tell him, then?"

"Any stuff I could make up."

"How do you know he wasn't a newspaper man?"

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

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

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

"Why not go right down now and fix him?" someone suggested.

"Ay, the sooner the better."

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

"Well, what is it?"

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

"Well?"

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

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

Q: Can you write an appropriate summary of the above paragraphs?
A:

completion: It is the height of the Scowrers' reign of terror, and even the citizens are trying to arm themselves and push back against it. McMurdo continues to rise in the organization. One Saturday night before the lodge meeting, Morris comes to see McMurdo. He is visibly afraid and anxious and says he has a secret that is burning inside him. He finally bursts out that a detective is on the union's trail. Astonished, McMurdo says there are always people trying to get them. Morris replies that it is one of the infamous Pinkerton detectives and is thus very serious. McMurdo earnestly grabs Morris and says he must tell him everything. Morris explains he had a friend back East who sent a telegram asking how the Scowrers were doing, and noting that he heard the Pinkertons and their best detective, Birdy Edwards, were on the case. McMurdo feels as if an abyss is before him. He asks if Morris would know what this Edwards looked like and Morris says no; even his friend would not know this. McMurdo suddenly bursts out that he knows who it is, and vows to take of it. To Morris's relief he says he will leave Morris's name out of whatever happens next. Before the meeting McMurdo tells Ettie he is finally ready to go, and to wait for his word soon. That night the meeting commences. McMurdo stands up and declares he has a matter of urgency. This quiets everyone down; the rules state everyone must heed this business before anything else. McMurdo explains that he has a letter telling him of Edwards and the Pinkertons, and that he knows exactly who the man is. A ripple of astonishment and fear sweeps the hall. McGinty says the man must not be allowed to leave the valley. McMurdo agrees and asks leave to form a committee to discuss the plan. That night the lodge's revelry is subdued; for the first time the men see the arm of the law reaching closer to them. McGinty, McMurdo, Baldwin, and the other men selected for the committee meet to discuss the plan. McMurdo identifies the man as Steve Wilson, lodging at Hobson's Patch; Wilson was pretending to be a reporter. McMurdo then says his plan is to go to Wilson with his "secrets" of the Lodge for a price. This could happen at the trusty Widow MacNamara's house. The seven men will meet there by nine; Edwards will show up, and they will take care of him


prompt:
Chapter: As McMurdo had said, the house in which he lived was a lonely one and
very well suited for such a crime as they had planned. It was on the
extreme fringe of the town and stood well back from the road. In any
other case the conspirators would have simply called out their man, as
they had many a time before, and emptied their pistols into his body;
but in this instance it was very necessary to find out how much he knew,
how he knew it, and what had been passed on to his employers.

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

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

"He is coming," he said.

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

"Do you reckon he knows much?" he asked anxiously.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What papers?"

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

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

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

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

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

"That's all easy and plain."

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

"That's so."

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

"I guess you are right."

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

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

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

When he had returned home he made his own preparations for the grim
evening in front of him. First he cleaned, oiled, and loaded his Smith &
Wesson revolver. Then he surveyed the room in which the detective was
to be trapped. It was a large apartment, with a long deal table in the
centre, and the big stove at one side. At each of the other sides were
windows. There were no shutters on these: only light curtains which drew
across. McMurdo examined these attentively. No doubt it must have struck
him that the apartment was very exposed for so secret a meeting. Yet its
distance from the road made it of less consequence. Finally he discussed
the matter with his fellow lodger. Scanlan, though a Scowrer, was an
inoffensive little man who was too weak to stand against the opinion of
his comrades, but was secretly horrified by the deeds of blood at which
he had sometimes been forced to assist. McMurdo told him shortly what
was intended.

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

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

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

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

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

"That will do," said he, with an oath.

"Ay," said Baldwin, catching his meaning. "If he is strapped to that, we
will have the truth out of him."

"We'll have the truth out of him, never fear," said McMurdo. He had
nerves of steel, this man; for though the whole weight of the affair was
on him his manner was as cool and unconcerned as ever. The others marked
it and applauded.

"You are the one to handle him," said the Boss approvingly. "Not a
warning will he get till your hand is on his throat. It's a pity there
are no shutters to your windows."

McMurdo went from one to the other and drew the curtains tighter. "Sure
no one can spy upon us now. It's close upon the hour."

"Maybe he won't come. Maybe he'll get a sniff of danger," said the
secretary.

"He'll come, never fear," McMurdo answered. "He is as eager to come as
you can be to see him. Hark to that!"

They all sat like wax figures, some with their glasses arrested halfway
to their lips. Three loud knocks had sounded at the door.

"Hush!" McMurdo raised his hand in caution. An exulting glance went
round the circle, and hands were laid upon their weapons.

"Not a sound, for your lives!" McMurdo whispered, as he went from the
room, closing the door carefully behind him.

With strained ears the murderers waited. They counted the steps of their
comrade down the passage. Then they heard him open the outer door. There
were a few words as of greeting. Then they were aware of a strange step
inside and of an unfamiliar voice. An instant later came the slam of the
door and the turning of the key in the lock. Their prey was safe within
the trap. Tiger Cormac laughed horribly, and Boss McGinty clapped his
great hand across his mouth.

"Be quiet, you fool!" he whispered. "You'll be the undoing of us yet!"

There was a mutter of conversation from the next room. It seemed
interminable. Then the door opened, and McMurdo appeared, his finger
upon his lip.

He came to the end of the table and looked round at them. A subtle
change had come over him. His manner was as of one who has great work to
do. His face had set into granite firmness. His eyes shone with a fierce
excitement behind his spectacles. He had become a visible leader of men.
They stared at him with eager interest; but he said nothing. Still with
the same singular gaze he looked from man to man.

"Well!" cried Boss McGinty at last. "Is he here? Is Birdy Edwards here?"

"Yes," McMurdo answered slowly. "Birdy Edwards is here. I am Birdy
Edwards!"

There were ten seconds after that brief speech during which the room
might have been empty, so profound was the silence. The hissing of a
kettle upon the stove rose sharp and strident to the ear. Seven white
faces, all turned upward to this man who dominated them, were set
motionless with utter terror. Then, with a sudden shivering of glass, a
bristle of glistening rifle barrels broke through each window, while the
curtains were torn from their hangings.

At the sight Boss McGinty gave the roar of a wounded bear and plunged
for the half-opened door. A levelled revolver met him there with the
stern blue eyes of Captain Marvin of the Mine Police gleaming behind the
sights. The Boss recoiled and fell back into his chair.

"You're safer there, Councillor," said the man whom they had known as
McMurdo. "And you, Baldwin, if you don't take your hand off your pistol,
you'll cheat the hangman yet. Pull it out, or by the Lord that made
me--There, that will do. There are forty armed men round this house,
and you can figure it out for yourself what chance you have. Take their
pistols, Marvin!"

There was no possible resistance under the menace of those rifles. The
men were disarmed. Sulky, sheepish, and amazed, they still sat round the
table.

"I'd like to say a word to you before we separate," said the man who
had trapped them. "I guess we may not meet again until you see me on the
stand in the courthouse. I'll give you something to think over between
now and then. You know me now for what I am. At last I can put my cards
on the table. I am Birdy Edwards of Pinkerton's. I was chosen to break
up your gang. I had a hard and dangerous game to play. Not a soul, not
one soul, not my nearest and dearest, knew that I was playing it. Only
Captain Marvin here and my employers knew that. But it's over to-night,
thank God, and I am the winner!"

The seven pale, rigid faces looked up at him. There was unappeasable
hatred in their eyes. He read the relentless threat.

"Maybe you think that the game is not over yet. Well, I take my chance
of that. Anyhow, some of you will take no further hand, and there are
sixty more besides yourselves that will see a jail this night. I'll tell
you this, that when I was put upon this job I never believed there was
such a society as yours. I thought it was paper talk, and that I would
prove it so. They told me it was to do with the Freemen; so I went to
Chicago and was made one. Then I was surer than ever that it was just
paper talk; for I found no harm in the society, but a deal of good.

"Still, I had to carry out my job, and I came to the coal valleys. When
I reached this place I learned that I was wrong and that it wasn't a
dime novel after all. So I stayed to look after it. I never killed a man
in Chicago. I never minted a dollar in my life. Those I gave you were as
good as any others; but I never spent money better. But I knew the way
into your good wishes and so I pretended to you that the law was after
me. It all worked just as I thought.

"So I joined your infernal lodge, and I took my share in your councils.
Maybe they will say that I was as bad as you. They can say what they
like, so long as I get you. But what is the truth? The night I joined
you beat up old man Stanger. I could not warn him, for there was no
time; but I held your hand, Baldwin, when you would have killed him.
If ever I have suggested things, so as to keep my place among you, they
were things which I knew I could prevent. I could not save Dunn and
Menzies, for I did not know enough; but I will see that their murderers
are hanged. I gave Chester Wilcox warning, so that when I blew his house
in he and his folk were in hiding. There was many a crime that I could
not stop; but if you look back and think how often your man came home
the other road, or was down in town when you went for him, or stayed
indoors when you thought he would come out, you'll see my work."

"You blasted traitor!" hissed McGinty through his closed teeth.

"Ay, John McGinty, you may call me that if it eases your smart. You and
your like have been the enemy of God and man in these parts. It took
a man to get between you and the poor devils of men and women that you
held under your grip. There was just one way of doing it, and I did it.
You call me a traitor; but I guess there's many a thousand will call me
a deliverer that went down into hell to save them. I've had three months
of it. I wouldn't have three such months again if they let me loose
in the treasury at Washington for it. I had to stay till I had it all,
every man and every secret right here in this hand. I'd have waited
a little longer if it hadn't come to my knowledge that my secret was
coming out. A letter had come into the town that would have set you wise
to it all. Then I had to act and act quickly.

"I've nothing more to say to you, except that when my time comes I'll
die the easier when I think of the work I have done in this valley. Now,
Marvin, I'll keep you no more. Take them in and get it over."

There is little more to tell. Scanlan had been given a sealed note to
be left at the address of Miss Ettie Shafter, a mission which he had
accepted with a wink and a knowing smile. In the early hours of the
morning a beautiful woman and a much muffled man boarded a special train
which had been sent by the railroad company, and made a swift, unbroken
journey out of the land of danger. It was the last time that ever either
Ettie or her lover set foot in the Valley of Fear. Ten days later
they were married in Chicago, with old Jacob Shafter as witness of the
wedding.

The trial of the Scowrers was held far from the place where their
adherents might have terrified the guardians of the law. In vain they
struggled. In vain the money of the lodge--money squeezed by blackmail
out of the whole countryside--was spent like water in the attempt to
save them. That cold, clear, unimpassioned statement from one who knew
every detail of their lives, their organization, and their crimes was
unshaken by all the wiles of their defenders. At last after so many
years they were broken and scattered. The cloud was lifted forever from
the valley.

McGinty met his fate upon the scaffold, cringing and whining when the
last hour came. Eight of his chief followers shared his fate. Fifty-odd
had various degrees of imprisonment. The work of Birdy Edwards was
complete.

And yet, as he had guessed, the game was not over yet. There was another
hand to be played, and yet another and another. Ted Baldwin, for one,
had escaped the scaffold; so had the Willabys; so had several others
of the fiercest spirits of the gang. For ten years they were out of the
world, and then came a day when they were free once more--a day which
Edwards, who knew his men, was very sure would be an end of his life of
peace. They had sworn an oath on all that they thought holy to have his
blood as a vengeance for their comrades. And well they strove to keep
their vow!

From Chicago he was chased, after two attempts so near success that
it was sure that the third would get him. From Chicago he went under a
changed name to California, and it was there that the light went for a
time out of his life when Ettie Edwards died. Once again he was nearly
killed, and once again under the name of Douglas he worked in a lonely
canyon, where with an English partner named Barker he amassed a fortune.
At last there came a warning to him that the bloodhounds were on his
track once more, and he cleared--only just in time--for England. And
thence came the John Douglas who for a second time married a worthy
mate, and lived for five years as a Sussex county gentleman, a life
which ended with the strange happenings of which we have heard.

Epilogue

The police trial had passed, in which the case of John Douglas was
referred to a higher court. So had the Quarter Sessions, at which he was
acquitted as having acted in self-defense.

"Get him out of England at any cost," wrote Holmes to the wife. "There
are forces here which may be more dangerous than those he has escaped.
There is no safety for your husband in England."

Two months had gone by, and the case had to some extent passed from our
minds. Then one morning there came an enigmatic note slipped into our
letter box. "Dear me, Mr. Holmes. Dear me!" said this singular epistle.
There was neither superscription nor signature. I laughed at the quaint
message; but Holmes showed unwonted seriousness.

"Deviltry, Watson!" he remarked, and sat long with a clouded brow.

Late last night Mrs. Hudson, our landlady, brought up a message that
a gentleman wished to see Mr. Holmes, and that the matter was of the
utmost importance. Close at the heels of his messenger came Cecil
Barker, our friend of the moated Manor House. His face was drawn and
haggard.

"I've had bad news--terrible news, Mr. Holmes," said he.

"I feared as much," said Holmes.

"You have not had a cable, have you?"

"I have had a note from someone who has."

"It's poor Douglas. They tell me his name is Edwards; but he will always
be Jack Douglas of Benito Canyon to me. I told you that they started
together for South Africa in the Palmyra three weeks ago."

"Exactly."

"The ship reached Cape Town last night. I received this cable from Mrs.
Douglas this morning:

"'Jack has been lost overboard in gale off St. Helena. No one knows how
accident occurred.'

"'IVY DOUGLAS.'"

"Ha! It came like that, did it?" said Holmes thoughtfully. "Well, I've
no doubt it was well stage-managed."

"You mean that you think there was no accident?"

"None in the world."

"He was murdered?"

"Surely!"

"So I think also. These infernal Scowrers, this cursed vindictive nest
of criminals--"

"No, no, my good sir," said Holmes. "There is a master hand here. It is
no case of sawed-off 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 afford to fail, one whose whole
unique position depends upon the fact that all he does must succeed. A
great brain and a huge organization have been turned to the extinction
of one man. It is crushing the nut with the triphammer--an absurd
extravagance of energy--but the nut is very effectually crushed all the
same."

"How came this man to have anything to do with it?"

"I can only say that the first word that ever came to us of the business
was from one of his lieutenants. These Americans were well advised.
Having an English job to do, they took into partnership, as any foreign
criminal could do, this great consultant in crime. From that moment
their man was doomed. At first he would content himself by using his
machinery in order to find their victim. Then he would indicate how the
matter might be treated. Finally, when he read in the reports of the
failure of this agent, he would step in himself with a master touch. You
heard me warn this man at Birlstone Manor House that the coming danger
was greater than the past. Was I right?"

Barker beat his head with his clenched fist in his impotent anger. "Do
not tell me that we have to sit down under this? Do you say that no one
can ever get level with this king devil?"

"No, I don't say that," said Holmes, and his eyes seemed to be looking
far into the future. "I don't say that he can't be beat. But you must
give me time--you must give me time!"

We all sat in silence for some minutes while those fateful eyes still
strained to pierce the veil.

Q: Can you write an appropriate summary of the above paragraphs?
A:

completion: McMurdo and McGinty speak about the trap they are setting. McGinty frets over whether or not McMurdo has already told anyone anything. He wonders if Morris is involved; McMurdo tells him it is unlikely, but they have to focus on Edwards right now anyway. He then proceeds to explain how the plan will work: Edwards comes to the house at ten that night; the Freemen hide while he puts Edwards at his ease; he then jumps on Edwards and holds him until the others rush in. McGinty likes the plan and compliments McMurdo. At the house McMurdo prepares his weapon and tells Scanlan, who confesses he does not like these bloody deeds, to stay away from the house that night. The men arrive and wait; bloodlust is in their eyes. Three knocks sound on the door and McMurdo hushes them to be quiet and goes into the other room. They hear him talking to a man and anxiously await their cue. McMurdo appears at the door and the men see his fierce eyes, firm expression, and glow of power. He announces that he is Birdy Edwards. For ten seconds there is silence, then several rifles crash through the glass windows. The police surround the men and point guns at them; the irate McGinty can do nothing. Before the men are hauled off, McMurdo speaks to them of his dangerous game. He can tell that they are angry, but over sixty more Scowrers will be rounded up and jailed. The law was never after McMurdo: Captain Marvin knew him; he joined their "infernal lodge" to expose them. Perhaps some will say he is as bad as they are, but he does not care what people say. He saved Stanger's life; he warned Wilcox and his family. McGinty bursts out that he is a traitor; the amused McMurdo says he does not mind the epithet, and remarks that others would call him a deliverer. He will die easier knowing that he has done good. McMurdo and Ettie leave the Valley of Fear. The Scowrers are defeated and scattered; McGinty dies on the scaffold. Baldwin escapes, though, and vows to kill "McMurdo. He thus follows them to Chicago and California and then to England. Epilogue John Douglas is acquitted by the English law. Holmes warns him to get out of England, though, because there are worse forces at work. One day Holmes gets a letter that only says "Dear me, Mr. Holmes. Dear me. Watson is confused, but Holmes is quiet. Not long afterwards, Cecil Barker arrives. Clearly distraught, he says Mrs. Douglas cabled to say Douglas was lost at sea. It seems he was murdered, but there is no proof. Barker thinks the Scowrers killed Douglas, but Holmes knows it is Moriarty, hired to kill Douglas. The man never leaves a commission unfulfilled. Barker rages and asks if anyone can do anything about Moriarty. Holmes simply says to give him time