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It took a man to get between you and the poor devils of men and women that you held under your grip.

There was just one way of doing it, and I did it.

You call me a traitor; but I guess there's many a thousand will call me a deliverer that went down into hell to save them.

I've had three months of it.

I wouldn't have three such months again if they let me loose in the treasury at Washington for it.

I had to stay till I had it all, every man and every secret right here in this hand.

I'd have waited a little longer if it hadn't come to my knowledge that my secret was coming out.

A letter had come into the town that would have set you wise to it all.

Then I had to act and act quickly.

"I've nothing more to say to you, except that when my time comes I'll die the easier when I think of the work I have done in this valley. Now, Marvin, I'll keep you no more. Take them in and get it over."

There is little more to tell.

Scanlan had been given a sealed note to be left at the address of Miss Ettie Shafter, a mission which he had accepted with a wink and a knowing smile.

In the early hours of the morning a beautiful woman and a much muffled man boarded a special train which had been sent by the railroad company, and made a swift, unbroken journey out of the land of danger.

It was the last time that ever either Ettie or her lover set foot in the Valley of Fear.

Ten days later they were married in Chicago, with old Jacob Shafter as witness of the wedding.

The trial of the Scowrers was held far from the place where their adherents might have terrified the guardians of the law.

In vain they struggled.

In vain the money of the lodge-money squeezed by blackmail out of the whole countryside-was spent like water in the attempt to save them.

That cold, clear, unimpassioned statement from one who knew every detail of their lives, their organization, and their crimes was unshaken by all the wiles of their defenders.

At last after so many years they were broken and scattered.

The cloud was lifted forever from the valley.

McGinty met his fate upon the scaffold, cringing and whining when the last hour came. Eight of his chief followers shared his fate. Fifty-odd had various degrees of imprisonment. The work of Birdy Edwards was complete.

And yet, as he had guessed, the game was not over yet.

There was another hand to be played, and yet another and another.

Ted Baldwin, for one, had escaped the scaffold; so had the Willabys; so had several others of the fiercest spirits of the gang.

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