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.

 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

