“Nor did I when I joined it at Philadelphia.  It was just a benefit club and a meeting place for one’s fellows.  Then I heard of this place—­curse the hour that the name first fell upon my ears!—­and I came to better myself!  My God! to better myself!  My wife and three children came with me.  I started a drygoods store on Market Square, and I prospered well.  The word had gone round that I was a Freeman, and I was forced to join the local lodge, same as you did last night.  I’ve the badge of shame on my forearm and something worse branded on my heart.  I found that I was under the orders of a black villain and caught in a meshwork of crime.  What could I do?  Every word I said to make things better was taken as treason, same as it was last night.  I can’t get away; for all I have in the world is in my store.  If I leave the society, I know well that it means murder to me, and God knows what to my wife and children.  Oh, man, it is awful—­awful!” He put his hands to his face, and his body shook with convulsive sobs.

McMurdo shrugged his shoulders.  “You were too soft for the job,” said he.  “You are the wrong sort for such work.”

“I had a conscience and a religion; but they made me a criminal among them.  I was chosen for a job.  If I backed down I knew well what would come to me.  Maybe I’m a coward.  Maybe it’s the thought of my poor little woman and the children that makes me one.  Anyhow I went.  I guess it 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 could not trust me with the job.  The others went in.  When they came out their hands were crimson to the wrists.  As we turned away a child was screaming out of the house behind us.  It was a boy of five who had seen his father murdered.  I nearly fainted with the horror of it, and yet I had to keep a bold and smiling face; for well I knew that if I did not it would be out of my house that they would come next with their bloody hands and it would be my little Fred that would be screaming for his father.

“But I was a criminal then, part sharer in a murder, lost forever in this world, and lost also in the next.  I am a good Catholic; but the priest would have no word with me when he heard I was a Scowrer, and I am excommunicated from my faith.  That’s how it stands with me.  And I see 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 anything to stop it?”

“What would you do?” asked McMurdo abruptly.  “You would not inform?”

“God forbid!” cried Morris.  “Sure, the very thought would cost me my life.”

“That’s well,” said McMurdo.  “I’m thinking that you are a weak man and that you make too much of the matter.”

“Too much!  Wait till you have lived here longer.  Look down the valley!  See the cloud of a hundred chimneys that overshadows it!  I tell you that the cloud of murder hangs thicker and lower than that over the heads of the people.  It is the Valley of Fear, the Valley of Death.  The terror is in the hearts of the people from the dusk to the dawn.  Wait, young man, and you will learn for yourself.”