“Sure.”
“I can’t forget that I spoke my heart to you once, and that you kept it to yourself, even though the Boss himself came to ask you about it.”
“What else could I do if you trusted me? It wasn’t that I agreed with what you said.”
“I know that well. But you are the one that I can speak to and be safe. I’ve a secret here,” he put his hand to his breast, “and it is just burning the life out of me. I wish it had come to any one of you but me. If I tell it, it will mean murder, for sure. If I don’t, it may bring the end of us all. God help me, but I am near out of my wits over it!”
McMurdo looked at the man earnestly. He was trembling in every limb. He poured some whisky into a glass and handed it to him. “That’s the physic for the likes of you,” said he. “Now let me hear of it.”
Morris drank, and his white face took a tinge of colour. “I can tell it to you all in one sentence,” said he. “There’s a detective on our trail.”
McMurdo stared at him in astonishment. “Why, man, you’re crazy,” he said. “Isn’t the place full of police and detectives and what harm did they ever do us?”
“No, no, it’s no man of the district. As you say, we know them, and it is little that they can do. But you’ve heard of Pinkerton’s?”
“I’ve read of some folk of that name.”
“Well, you can take it from me you’ve no show when they are on your trail. It’s not a take-it-or-miss-it government concern. It’s a dead earnest business proposition that’s out for results and keeps out till by hook or crook it gets them. If a Pinkerton man is deep in this business, we are all destroyed.”