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-protection is no murder, anyhow," said McMurdo, smiling
grimly.
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