The Valley of Fear, Arthur Conan Doyle [books to read in your 30s TXT] 📗

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” barroom 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 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 McMurdo 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.

“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 tomorrow.”

“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 barroom; 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 fêted 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