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Doyle, Arthur Conan, Sir, 1859-1930

"The Valley of Fear"


Drink and politics had made the Boss a very rich as well as
powerful man. The more terrible, therefore, seemed that glimpse
of the prison or the gallows which had risen before him the night
before.
"Do you reckon he knows much?" he asked anxiously.
McMurdo shook his head gloomily. "He's been here some time--six
weeks at the least. I guess he didn't come into these parts to
look at the prospect. If he has been working among us all that
time with the railroad money at his back, I should expect that he
has got results, and that he has passed them on."
"There's not a weak man in the lodge," cried McGinty. "True as
steel, every man of them. And yet, by the Lord! there is that
skunk Morris. What about him? If any man gives us away, it
would be he. I've a mind to send a couple of the boys round
before evening to give him a beating up and see what they can get
from him."
"Well, there would be no harm in that," McMurdo answered. "I
won't deny that I have a liking for Morris and would be sorry to
see him come to harm. He has spoken to me once or twice over
lodge matters, and though he may not see them the same as you or
I, he never seemed the sort that squeals.


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