The Complete Sherlock Holmes

“Just the same old Teddy Marvin, at your service.
We haven’t forgotten the shooting of Jonas
Pinto up there.”
“I never shot him.”
“Did you not? That’s good impartial evidence,
ain’t it? Well, his death came in uncommon handy
for you, or they would have had you for shoving
the queer. Well, we can let that be bygones; for,
between you and me—and perhaps I’m going further
than my duty in saying it—they could get no
clear case against you, and Chicago’s open to you
to-morrow.”
“I’m very well where I am.”
“Well, I’ve given you the pointer, and you’re a
sulky dog not to thank me for it.”
“Well, I suppose you mean well, and I do thank
you,” said McMurdo in no very gracious manner.
“It’s mum with me so long as I see you living
on the straight,” said the captain. “But, by the
Lord! if you get off after this, it’s another story! So
good-night to you—and goodnight, Councillor.”
He left the bar-room; but not before he had created
a local hero. McMurdo’s deeds in far Chicago
had been whispered before. He had put off all
questions with a smile, as one who did not wish to
have greatness thrust upon him. But now the thing
was officially confirmed. The bar loafers crowded
round him and shook him heartily by the hand.
He was free of the community from that time on.
He could drink hard and show little trace of it;
but that evening, had his mate Scanlan not been
at hand to lead him home, the feted hero would
surely have spent his night under the bar.
On a Saturday night McMurdo was introduced
to the lodge. He had thought to pass in without
ceremony as being an initiate of Chicago; but
there were particular rites in Vermissa of which
they were proud, and these had to be undergone
by every postulant. The assembly met in a large
room reserved for such purposes at the Union
House. Some sixty members assembled at Vermissa;
but that by no means represented the full
strength of the organization, for there were several
other lodges in the valley, and others across
the mountains on each side, who exchanged members
when any serious business was afoot, so that
a crime might be done by men who were strangers
to the locality. Altogether there were not less than
five hundred scattered over the coal district.
In the bare assembly room the men were gathered
round a long table. At the side was a second
one laden with bottles and glasses, on which
The Valley Of Fear
713
some members of the company were already turning
their eyes. McGinty sat at the head with a flat
black velvet cap upon his shock of tangled black
hair, and a coloured purple stole round his neck,
so that he seemed to be a priest presiding over
some diabolical ritual. To right and left of him
were the higher lodge officials, the cruel, handsome
face of Ted Baldwin among them. Each of
these wore some scarf or medallion as emblem of
his office.
They were, for the most part, men of mature
age; but the rest of the company consisted of
young fellows from eighteen to twenty-five, the
ready and capable agents who carried out the commands
of their seniors. Among the older men were
many whose features showed the tigerish, lawless
souls within; but looking at the rank and file it
was difficult to believe that these eager and openfaced
young fellows were in very truth a dangerous
gang of murderers, whose minds had suffered
such complete moral perversion that they took a
horrible pride in their proficiency at the business,
and looked with deepest respect at the man who
had the reputation of making what they called “a
clean job.”
To their contorted natures it had become a spirited
and chivalrous thing to volunteer for service
against some man who had never injured them,
and whom in many cases they had never seen in
their lives. The crime committed, they quarrelled
as to who had actually struck the fatal blow, and
amused one another and the company by describing
the cries and contortions of the murdered man.
At first they had shown some secrecy in their
arrangements; but at the time which this narrative
describes their proceedings were extraordinarily
open, for the repeated failures of the law had
proved to them that, on the one hand, no one
would dare to witness against them, and on the
other they had an unlimited number of stanch witnesses
upon whom they could call, and a wellfilled
treasure chest from which they could draw
the funds to engage the best legal talent in the
state. In ten long years of outrage there had
been no single conviction, and the only danger
that ever threatened the Scowrers lay in the victim
himself—who, however outnumbered and taken
by surprise, might and occasionally did leave his
mark upon his assailants.
McMurdo had been warned that some ordeal
lay before him; but no one would tell him in what
it consisted. He was led now into an outer room by
two solemn brothers. Through the plank partition
he could hear the murmur of many voices from