The Complete Sherlock Holmes

On the day following the evening which had
contained so many exciting events, McMurdo
moved his lodgings from old Jacob Shafter’s and
took up his quarters at the Widow MacNamara’s
on the extreme outskirts of the town. Scanlan,
his original acquaintance aboard the train, had occasion
shortly afterwards to move into Vermissa,
and the two lodged together. There was no other
boarder, and the hostess was an easy-going old
Irishwoman who left them to themselves; so that
they had a freedom for speech and action welcome
to men who had secrets in common.
Shafter had relented to the extent of letting Mc-
Murdo come to his meals there when he liked; so
that his intercourse with Ettie was by no means
broken. On the contrary, it drew closer and more
intimate as the weeks went by.
In his bedroom at his new abode McMurdo felt
it safe to take out the coining moulds, and under
many a pledge of secrecy a number of brothers
from the lodge were allowed to come in and see
them, each carrying away in his pocket some examples
of the false money, so cunningly struck that
there was never the slightest difficulty or danger in
passing it. Why, with such a wonderful art at his
command, McMurdo should condescend to work
at all was a perpetual mystery to his companions;
though he made it clear to anyone who asked him
that if he lived without any visible means it would
very quickly bring the police upon his track.
One policeman was indeed after him already;
but the incident, as luck would have it, did the
adventurer a great deal more good than harm. After
the first introduction there were few evenings
when he did not find his way to McGinty’s saloon,
there to make closer acquaintance with “the boys,”
which was the jovial title by which the dangerous
gang who infested the place were known to one
another. His dashing manner and fearlessness of
speech made him a favourite with them all; while
the rapid and scientific way in which he polished
off his antagonist in an “all in” bar-room scrap
earned the respect of that rough community. Another
incident, however, raised him even higher in
their estimation.
Just at the crowded hour one night, the door
opened and a man entered with the quiet blue uniform
and peaked cap of the mine police. This was
a special body raised by the railways and colliery
owners to supplement the efforts of the ordinary
civil police, who were perfectly helpless in the face
The Valley Of Fear
CHAPTER III.
Lodge 341, Vermissa
712
of the organized ruffianism which terrorized the
district. There was a hush as he entered, and many
a curious glance was cast at him; but the relations
between policemen and criminals are peculiar
in some parts of the States, and McGinty himself
standing behind his counter, showed no surprise
when the policeman enrolled himself among
his customers.
“A straight whisky, for the night is bitter,” said
the police officer. “I don’t think we have met before,
Councillor?”
“You’ll be the new captain?” said McGinty.
“That’s so. We’re looking to you, Councillor,
and to the other leading citizens, to help us in upholding
law and order in this township. Captain
Marvin is my name.”
“We’d do better without you, Captain Marvin,”
said McGinty coldly; “for we have our own police
of the township, and no need for any imported
goods. What are you but the paid tool of the capitalists,
hired by them to club or shoot your poorer
fellow citizen?”
“Well, well, we won’t argue about that,” said
the police officer good-humouredly. “I expect we
all do our duty same as we see it; but we can’t
all see it the same.” He had drunk off his glass
and had turned to go, when his eyes fell upon the
face of Jack McMurdo, who was scowling at his
elbow. “Hullo! Hullo!” he cried, looking him up
and down. “Here’s an old acquaintance!”
McMurdo shrank away from him. “I was never
a friend to you nor any other cursed copper in my
life,” said he.
“An acquaintance isn’t always a friend,” said
the police captain, grinning. “You’re Jack Mc-
Murdo of Chicago, right enough, and don’t you
deny it!”
McMurdo shrugged his shoulders. “I’m not
denying it,” said he. “D’ye think I’m ashamed of
my own name?”
“You’ve got good cause to be, anyhow.”
“What the devil d’you mean by that?” he
roared with his fists clenched.
“No, no, Jack, bluster won’t do with me. I was
an officer in Chicago before ever I came to this
darned coal bunker, and I know a Chicago crook
when I see one.”
McMurdo’s face fell. “Don’t tell me that you’re
Marvin of the Chicago Central!” he cried.