p of
the page. You can read it yourself."

This was what McMurdo read:

How are the Scowrers getting on in your parts? We read
plenty of them in the papers. Between you and me I expect
to hear news from you before long. Five big corporations
and the two railroads have taken the thing up in dead
earnest. They mean it, and you can bet they'll get there!
They are right deep down into it. Pinkerton has taken hold
under their orders, and his best man, Birdy Edwards, is
operating. The thing has got to be stopped right now.

"Now read the postscript."

Of course, what I give you is what I learned in business;
so it goes no further. It's a queer cipher that you handle by
the yard every day and can get no meaning from.

McMurdo sat in silence for some time, with the letter in his listless
hands. The mist had lifted for a moment, and there was the abyss before
him.

"Does anyone else know of this?" he asked.

"I have told no one else."

"But this man--your friend--has he any other person that he would be
likely to write to?"

"Well, I dare say he knows one or two more."

"Of the lodge?"

"It's likely enough."

"I was asking because it is likely that he may have given some
description of this fellow Birdy Edwards--then we could get on his
trail."

"Well, it's possible. But I should not think he knew him. He is just
telling me the news that came to him by way of business. How would he
know this Pinkerton man?"

McMurdo gave a violent start.

"By Gar!" he cried, "I've got him. What a fool I was not to know it.
Lord! but we're in luck! We will fix him before he can do any harm. See
here, Morris, will you leave this thing in my hands?"

"Sure, if you will only take it off mine."

"I'll do that. You can stand right back and let me run it. Even your
name need not be mentioned. I'll take it all on myself, as if it were
to me that this letter has come. Will that content you?"

"It's just what I would ask."

"Then leave it at that and keep your head shut. Now I'll get down to
the lodge, and we'll soon make old man Pinkerton sorry for himself."

"You wouldn't kill this man?"

"The less you know, Friend Morris, the easier your conscience will be,
and the better you will sleep. Ask no questions, and let these things
settle themselves. I have hold of it now."

Morris shook his head sadly as he left. "I feel that his blood is on my
hands," he groaned.

"Self-protect