Part 2 - Chapter 6

Danger

It was the height of the reign of terror. McMurdo, who had
already been appointed Inner Deacon, with every prospect of some
day succeeding McGinty as Bodymaster, was now so necessary to the
councils of his comrades that nothing was done without his help
and advice. The more popular he became, however, with the
Freemen, the blacker were the scowls which greeted him as he
passed along the streets of Vermissa. In spite of their terror
the citizens were taking heart to band themselves together
against their oppressors. Rumours had reached the lodge of
secret gatherings in the Herald office and of distribution of
firearms among the law-abiding people. But McGinty and his men
were undisturbed by such reports. They were numerous, resolute,
and well armed. Their opponents were scattered and powerless.
It would all end, as it had done in the past, in aimless talk and
possibly in impotent arrests. So said 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 weaker brother 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 it to 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
with what 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 just burning the life out of me. I wish it had come
to any one of you but me. If I tell it, it will mean murder, for
sure. If I don't, it may bring the end of us all. God help me,
but I am near out of my wits over it!"

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

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

"No, no, it's no man of the district. As you say, we know them,
and it is 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
your trail. It's not a take-it-or-miss-it