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Doyle, Arthur Conan, Sir, 1859-1930

"The Valley of Fear"

From that day these outrages have never ceased, until now
they have reached a pitch which makes us the opprobrium of the
civilized world. Is it for such results as this that our great
country welcomes to its bosom the alien who flies from the
despotisms of Europe? Is it that they shall themselves become
tyrants over the very men who have given them shelter, and that a
state of terrorism and lawlessness should be established under
the very shadow of the sacred folds of the starry Flag of Freedom
which would raise horror in our minds if we read of it as
existing under the most effete monarchy of the East? The men are
known. The organization is patent and public. How long are we
to endure it? Can we forever live--
Sure, I've read enough of the slush!" cried the chairman, tossing
the paper down upon the table. "That's what he says of us. The
question I'm asking you is what shall we say to him?"
"Kill him!" cried a dozen fierce voices.
"I protest against that," said Brother Morris, the man of the
good brow and shaved face. "I tell you, Brethren, that our hand
is too heavy in this valley, and that there will come a point
where in self-defense every man will unite to crush us out.


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