The Valley of Fear (Sherlock Holmes 7)

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

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

McMurdo thought long and deeply over the commission which had been sosuddenly placed in his hands. The isolated house in which ChesterWilcox lived was about five miles off in an adjacent valley. That verynight he started off all alone to prepare for the attempt. It wasdaylight before he returned from his reconnaissance. Next day heinterviewed his two subordinates, Manders and Reilly, recklessyoungsters who were as elated as if it were a deer-hunt.

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

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

But alas that work so well organized and boldly carried out should allhave gone for nothing! Warned by the fate of the various victims, andknowing that he was marked down for destruction, Chester Wilcox hadmoved himself and his family only the day before to some safer and lessknown quarters, where a guard of police should watch over them. It wasan empty house which had been torn down by the gunpowder, and the grimold colour sergeant of the war was still teaching discipline to theminers of Iron Dike.

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

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

Such were the methods of the Society of Freemen, and such were thedeeds of the Scowrers by which they spread their rule of fear over thegreat and rich district which was for so long a period haunted by theirterrible 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 onemay read the details of them. There one may learn of the shooting ofPolicemen Hunt and Evans because they had ventured to arrest twomembers of the society--a double outrage planned at the Vermissa lodgeand carried out in cold blood upon two helpless and disarmed men. Therealso one may read of the shooting of Mrs. Larbey when she was nursingher husband, who had been beaten almost to death by orders of BossMcGinty. The killing of the elder Jenkins, shortly followed by that ofhis brother, the mutilation of James Murdoch, the blowing up of theStaphouse family, and the murder of the Stendals all followed hard uponone another in the same terrible winter.

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

Chapter 6

Danger

It was the height of the reign of terror. McMurdo, who had already beenappointed Inner Deacon, with every prospect of some day succeedingMcGinty as Bodymaster, was now so necessary to the councils of hiscomrades that nothing was done without his help and advice. The morepopular he became, however, with the Freemen, the blacker were thescowls which greeted him as he passed along the streets of Vermissa. Inspite of their terror the citizens were taking heart to band themselvestogether against their oppressors. Rumours had reached the lodge ofsecret gatherings in the Herald office and of distribution of firearmsamong the law-abiding people. But McGinty and his men were undisturbedby such reports. They were numerous, resolute, and well armed. Theiropponents were scattered and powerless. It would all end, as it haddone in the past, in aimless talk and possibly in impotent arrests. Sosaid 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 weakerbrother 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 itto 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 withwhat 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 justburning the life out of me. I wish it had come to any one of you butme. If I tell it, it will mean murder, for sure. If I don't, it maybring the end of us all. God help me, but I am near out of my wits overit!"

McMurdo looked at the man earnestly. He was trembling in every limb. Hepoured some whisky into a glass and handed it to him. "That's thephysic 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 itto you all in one sentence," said he. "There's a detective on ourtrail."

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

"No, no, it's no man of the district. As you say, we know them, and itis 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 yourtrail. It's not a take-it-or-miss-it government concern. It's a deadearnest business proposition that's out for results and keeps out tillby hook or crook it gets them. If a Pinkerton man is deep in thisbusiness, we are all destroyed."

"We must kill him."

"Ah, it's the first thought that came to you! So it will be up at thelodge. 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 bemurdered. I'd never rest easy again. And yet it's our own necks thatmay be at stake. In God's name what shall I do?" He rocked to and froin his agony of indecision.