The Valley of Fear (Sherlock Holmes 7)

"And the rest."

"Not a killing!"

"It's early days to talk of such things," said McMurdo with the air ofa man who had been surprised into saying more than he intended. "I'vemy own good reasons for leaving Chicago, and let that be enough foryou. Who are you that you should take it on yourself to ask suchthings?" His gray eyes gleamed with sudden and dangerous anger frombehind his glasses.

"All right, mate, no offense meant. The boys will think none the worseof you, whatever you may have done. Where are you bound for now?"

"Vermissa."

"That's the third halt down the line. Where are you staying?"

McMurdo took out an envelope and held it close to the murky oil lamp."Here is the address--Jacob Shafter, Sheridan Street. It's a boardinghouse that was recommended by a man I knew in Chicago."

"Well, I don't know it; but Vermissa is out of my beat. I live atHobson's Patch, and that's here where we are drawing up. But, say,there's one bit of advice I'll give you before we part: If you're introuble in Vermissa, go straight to the Union House and see BossMcGinty. He is the Bodymaster of Vermissa Lodge, and nothing can happenin

these parts unless Black Jack McGinty wants it. So long, mate! Maybewe'll meet in lodge one of these evenings. But mind my words: If youare in trouble, go to Boss McGinty."

Scanlan descended, and McMurdo was left once again to his thoughts.Night had now fallen, and the flames of the frequent furnaces wereroaring and leaping in the darkness. Against their lurid backgrounddark figures were bending and straining, twisting and turning, with themotion of winch or of windlass, to the rhythm of an eternal clank androar.

"I guess hell must look something like that," said a voice.

McMurdo turned and saw that one of the policemen had shifted in hisseat and was staring out into the fiery waste.

"For that matter," said the other policeman, "I allow that hell must besomething like that. If there are worse devils down yonder than some wecould name, it's more than I'd expect. I guess you are new to thispart, young man?"

"Well, what if I am?" McMurdo answered in a surly voice.

"Just this, mister, that I should advise you to be careful in choosingyour friends. I don't think I'd begin with Mike Scanlan or his gang ifI were you."

"What the hell is it to you who are my friends?" roared McMurdo in avoice which brought every head in the carriage round to witness thealtercation. "Did I ask you for your advice, or did you think me such asucker that I couldn't move without it? You speak when you are spokento, and by the Lord you'd have to wait a long time if it was me!" Hethrust out his face and grinned at the patrolmen like a snarling dog.

The two policemen, heavy, good-natured men, were taken aback by theextraordinary vehemence with which their friendly advances had beenrejected.

"No offense, stranger," said one. "It was a warning for your own good,seeing that you are, by your own showing, new to the place."

"I'm new to the place; but I'm not new to you and your kind!" criedMcMurdo in cold fury. "I guess you're the same in all places, shovingyour advice in when nobody asks for it."

"Maybe we'll see more of you before very long," said one of thepatrolmen with a grin. "You're a real hand-picked one, if I am a judge."

"I was thinking the same," remarked the other. "I guess we may meetagain."

"I'm not afraid of you, and don't you think it!" cried McMurdo. "Myname's Jack McMurdo--see? If you want me, you'll find me at JacobShafter's on Sheridan Street, Vermissa; so I'm not hiding from you, amI? Day or night I dare to look the like of you in the face--don't makeany mistake about that!"

There was a murmur of sympathy and admiration from the miners at thedauntless demeanour of the newcomer, while the two policemen shruggedtheir shoulders and renewed a conversation between themselves.

A few minutes later the train ran into the ill-lit station, and therewas a general clearing; for Vermissa was by far the largest town on theline. McMurdo picked up his leather gripsack and was about to start offinto the darkness, when one of the miners accosted him.

"By Gar, mate! you know how to speak to the cops," he said in a voiceof awe. "It was grand to hear you. Let me carry your grip and show youthe road. I'm passing Shafter's on the way to my own shack."

There was a chorus of friendly "Good-nights" from the other miners asthey passed from the platform. Before ever he had set foot in it,McMurdo the turbulent had become a character in Vermissa.

The country had been a place of terror; but the town was in its wayeven more depressing. Down that long valley there was at least acertain gloomy grandeur in the huge fires and the clouds of driftingsmoke, while the strength and industry of man found fitting monumentsin the hills which he had spilled by the side of his monstrousexcavations. But the town showed a dead level of mean ugliness andsqualor. The broad street was churned up by the traffic into a horriblerutted paste of muddy snow. The sidewalks were narrow and uneven. Thenumerous gas-lamps served only to show more clearly a long line ofwooden houses, each with its veranda facing the street, unkempt anddirty.

As they approached the centre of the town the scene was brightened by arow of well-lit stores, and even more by a cluster of saloons andgaming houses, in which the miners spent their hard-earned but generouswages.

"That's the Union House," said the guide, pointing to one saloon whichrose almost to the dignity of being a hotel. "Jack McGinty is the bossthere."

"What sort of a man is he?" McMurdo asked.