"
The men came in good time as arranged. They were outwardly
respectable citizens, well clad and cleanly; but a judge of faces
would have read little hope for Birdy Edwards in those hard
mouths and remorseless eyes. There was not a man in the room
whose hands had not been reddened a dozen times before. They
were as hardened to human murder as a butcher to sheep.
Foremost, of course, both in appearance and in guilt, was the
formidable Boss. Harraway, the secretary, was a lean, bitter man
with a long, scraggy neck and nervous, jerky limbs, a man of
incorruptible fidelity where the finances of the order were
concerned, and with no notion of justice or honesty to anyone
beyond. The treasurer, Carter, was a middle-aged man, with an
impassive, rather sulky expression, and a yellow parchment skin.
He was a capable organizer, and the actual details of nearly
every outrage had sprung from his plotting brain. The two
Willabys were men of action, tall, lithe young fellows with
determined faces, while their companion, Tiger Cormac, a heavy,
dark youth, was feared even by his own comrades for the ferocity
of his disposition.
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