McMurdo strolled up the winding path hedged in with evergreens until hereached the deserted restaurant which forms the centre of summergaiety. Beside it was a bare flagstaff, and underneath it a man, hishat drawn down and the collar of his overcoat turned up. When he turnedhis face McMurdo saw that it was Brother Morris, he who had incurredthe anger of the Bodymaster the night before. The lodge sign was givenand exchanged as they met.
"I wanted to have a word with you, Mr. McMurdo," said the older man,speaking with a hesitation which showed that he was on delicate ground."It was kind of you to come."
"Why did you not put your name to the note?"
"One has to be cautious, mister. One never knows in times like thesehow a thing may come back to one. One never knows either who to trustor who not to trust."
"Surely one may trust brothers of the lodge."
"No, no, not always," cried Morris with vehemence. "Whatever we say,even what we think, seems to go back to that man McGinty."
"Look here!" said McMurdo sternly. "It was only last night, as you knowwell, that I swore good faith to our Bodymaster. Would you be asking meto break my oath?"
"If that is the view you take," said Morris sadly, "I can only say thatI am sorry I gave you the trouble to come and meet me. Things have cometo a bad pass when two free citizens cannot speak their thoughts toeach other."
McMurdo, who had been watching his companion very narrowly, relaxedsomewhat in his bearing. "Sure I spoke for myself only," said he. "I ama newcomer, as you know, and I am strange to it all. It is not for meto open my mouth, Mr. Morris, and if you think well to say anything tome I am here to hear it."
"And to take it back to Boss McGinty!" said Morris bitterly.
"Indeed, then, you do me injustice there," cried McMurdo. "For myself Iam loyal to the lodge, and so I tell you straight; but I would be apoor creature if I were to repeat to any other what you might say to mein confidence. It will go no further than me; though I warn you thatyou may get neither help nor sympathy."
"I have given up looking for either the one or the other," said Morris."I may be putting my very life in your hands by what I say; but, bad asyou are--and it seemed to me last night that you were shaping to be asbad as the worst--still you are new to it, and your conscience cannotyet be as hardened as theirs. That was why I thought to speak with you."
"Well, what have you to say?"
"If you give me away, may a curse be on you!"
"Sure, I said I would not."
"I would ask you, then, when you joined the Freeman's society inChicago and swore vows of charity and fidelity, did ever it cross yourmind that you might find it would lead you to crime?"
"If you call it crime," McMurdo answered.
"Call it crime!" cried Morris, his voice vibrating with passion. "Youhave seen little of it if you can call it anything else. Was it crimelast night when a man old enough to be your father was beaten till theblood dripped from his white hairs? Was that crime--or what else wouldyou call it?"
"There are some would say it was war," said McMurdo, "a war of twoclasses with all in, so that each struck as best it could."
"Well, did you think of such a thing when you joined the Freeman'ssociety at Chicago?"
"No, I'm bound to say I did not."
"Nor did I when I joined it at Philadelphia. It was just a benefit cluband a meeting place for one's fellows. Then I heard of thisplace--curse the hour that the name first fell upon my ears!--and Icame to better myself! My God! to better myself! My wife and threechildren came with me. I started a dry goods store on Market Square,and I prospered well. The word had gone round that I was a Freeman, andI was forced to join the local lodge, same as you did last night. I'vethe badge of shame on my forearm and something worse branded on myheart. I found that I was under the orders of a black villain andcaught in a meshwork of crime. What could I do? Every word I said tomake things better was taken as treason, same as it was last night. Ican't get away; for all I have in the world is in my store. If I leavethe society, I know well that it means murder to me, and God knows whatto my wife and children. Oh, man, it is awful--awful!" He put his handsto his face, and his body shook with convulsive sobs.
McMurdo shrugged his shoulders. "You were too soft for the job," saidhe. "You are the wrong sort for such work."
"I had a conscience and a religion; but they made me a criminal amongthem. I was chosen for a job. If I backed down I knew well what wouldcome to me. Maybe I'm a coward. Maybe it's the thought of my poorlittle woman and the children that makes me one. Anyhow I went. I guessit will haunt me forever.
"It was a lonely house, twenty miles from here, over the range yonder.I was told off for the door, same as you were last night. They couldnot trust me with the job. The others went in. When they came out theirhands were crimson to the wrists. As we turned away a child wasscreaming out of the house behind us. It was a boy of five who had seenhis father murdered. I nearly fainted with the horror of it, and yet Ihad to keep a bold and smiling face; for well I knew that if I did notit would be out of my house that they would come next with their bloodyhands and it would be my little Fred that would be screaming for hisfather.
"But I was a criminal then, part sharer in a murder, lost forever inthis world, and lost also in the next. I a
m a good Catholic; but thepriest would have no word with me when he heard I was a Scowrer, and Iam excommunicated from my faith. That's how it stands with me. And Isee you going down the same road, and I ask you what the end is to be.Are you ready to be a cold-blooded murderer also, or can we do anythingto stop it?"
"What would you do?" asked McMurdo abruptly. "You would not inform?"
"God forbid!" cried Morris. "Sure, the very thought would cost me mylife."
"That's well," said McMurdo. "I'm thinking that you are a weak man andthat you make too much of the matter."