The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes, Page 2

  ADVENTURE II. THE RED-HEADED LEAGUE

  I had called upon my friend, Mr. Sherlock Holmes, one day in theautumn of last year and found him in deep conversation with avery stout, florid-faced, elderly gentleman with fiery red hair.With an apology for my intrusion, I was about to withdraw whenHolmes pulled me abruptly into the room and closed the doorbehind me.

  "You could not possibly have come at a better time, my dearWatson," he said cordially.

  "I was afraid that you were engaged."

  "So I am. Very much so."

  "Then I can wait in the next room."

  "Not at all. This gentleman, Mr. Wilson, has been my partner andhelper in many of my most successful cases, and I have nodoubt that he will be of the utmost use to me in yours also."

  The stout gentleman half rose from his chair and gave a bob ofgreeting, with a quick little questioning glance from his smallfat-encircled eyes.

  "Try the settee," said Holmes, relapsing into his armchair andputting his fingertips together, as was his custom when injudicial moods. "I know, my dear Watson, that you share my loveof all that is bizarre and outside the conventions and humdrumroutine of everyday life. You have shown your relish for it bythe enthusiasm which has prompted you to chronicle, and, if youwill excuse my saying so, somewhat to embellish so many of my ownlittle adventures."

  "Your cases have indeed been of the greatest interest to me," Iobserved.

  "You will remember that I remarked the other day, just before wewent into the very simple problem presented by Miss MarySutherland, that for strange effects and extraordinarycombinations we must go to life itself, which is always far moredaring than any effort of the imagination."

  "A proposition which I took the liberty of doubting."

  "You did, Doctor, but none the less you must come round to myview, for otherwise I shall keep on piling fact upon fact on youuntil your reason breaks down under them and acknowledges me tobe right. Now, Mr. Jabez Wilson here has been good enough to callupon me this morning, and to begin a narrative which promises tobe one of the most singular which I have listened to for sometime. You have heard me remark that the strangest and most uniquethings are very often connected not with the larger but with thesmaller crimes, and occasionally, indeed, where there is room fordoubt whether any positive crime has been committed. As far as Ihave heard it is impossible for me to say whether the presentcase is an instance of crime or not, but the course of events iscertainly among the most singular that I have ever listened to.Perhaps, Mr. Wilson, you would have the great kindness torecommence your narrative. I ask you not merely because my friendDr. Watson has not heard the opening part but also because thepeculiar nature of the story makes me anxious to have everypossible detail from your lips. As a rule, when I have heard someslight indication of the course of events, I am able to guidemyself by the thousands of other similar cases which occur to mymemory. In the present instance I am forced to admit that thefacts are, to the best of my belief, unique."

  The portly client puffed out his chest with an appearance of somelittle pride and pulled a dirty and wrinkled newspaper from theinside pocket of his greatcoat. As he glanced down theadvertisement column, with his head thrust forward and the paperflattened out upon his knee, I took a good look at the man andendeavoured, after the fashion of my companion, to read theindications which might be presented by his dress or appearance.

  I did not gain very much, however, by my inspection. Our visitorbore every mark of being an average commonplace Britishtradesman, obese, pompous, and slow. He wore rather baggy greyshepherd's check trousers, a not over-clean black frock-coat,unbuttoned in the front, and a drab waistcoat with a heavy brassyAlbert chain, and a square pierced bit of metal dangling down asan ornament. A frayed top-hat and a faded brown overcoat with awrinkled velvet collar lay upon a chair beside him. Altogether,look as I would, there was nothing remarkable about the man savehis blazing red head, and the expression of extreme chagrin anddiscontent upon his features.

  Sherlock Holmes' quick eye took in my occupation, and he shookhis head with a smile as he noticed my questioning glances."Beyond the obvious facts that he has at some time done manuallabour, that he takes snuff, that he is a Freemason, that he hasbeen in China, and that he has done a considerable amount ofwriting lately, I can deduce nothing else."

  Mr. Jabez Wilson started up in his chair, with his forefingerupon the paper, but his eyes upon my companion.

  "How, in the name of good-fortune, did you know all that, Mr.Holmes?" he asked. "How did you know, for example, that I didmanual labour. It's as true as gospel, for I began as a ship'scarpenter."

  "Your hands, my dear sir. Your right hand is quite a size largerthan your left. You have worked with it, and the muscles are moredeveloped."

  "Well, the snuff, then, and the Freemasonry?"

  "I won't insult your intelligence by telling you how I read that,especially as, rather against the strict rules of your order, youuse an arc-and-compass breastpin."

  "Ah, of course, I forgot that. But the writing?"

  "What else can be indicated by that right cuff so very shiny forfive inches, and the left one with the smooth patch near theelbow where you rest it upon the desk?"

  "Well, but China?"

  "The fish that you have tattooed immediately above your rightwrist could only have been done in China. I have made a smallstudy of tattoo marks and have even contributed to the literatureof the subject. That trick of staining the fishes' scales of adelicate pink is quite peculiar to China. When, in addition, Isee a Chinese coin hanging from your watch-chain, the matterbecomes even more simple."

  Mr. Jabez Wilson laughed heavily. "Well, I never!" said he. "Ithought at first that you had done something clever, but I seethat there was nothing in it, after all."

  "I begin to think, Watson," said Holmes, "that I make a mistakein explaining. 'Omne ignotum pro magnifico,' you know, and mypoor little reputation, such as it is, will suffer shipwreck if Iam so candid. Can you not find the advertisement, Mr. Wilson?"

  "Yes, I have got it now," he answered with his thick red fingerplanted halfway down the column. "Here it is. This is what beganit all. You just read it for yourself, sir."

  I took the paper from him and read as follows:

  "TO THE RED-HEADED LEAGUE: On account of the bequest of the lateEzekiah Hopkins, of Lebanon, Pennsylvania, U. S. A., there is nowanother vacancy open which entitles a member of the League to asalary of 4 pounds a week for purely nominal services. Allred-headed men who are sound in body and mind and above the ageof twenty-one years, are eligible. Apply in person on Monday, ateleven o'clock, to Duncan Ross, at the offices of the League, 7Pope's Court, Fleet Street."

  "What on earth does this mean?" I ejaculated after I had twiceread over the extraordinary announcement.

  Holmes chuckled and wriggled in his chair, as was his habit whenin high spirits. "It is a little off the beaten track, isn't it?"said he. "And now, Mr. Wilson, off you go at scratch and tell usall about yourself, your household, and the effect which thisadvertisement had upon your fortunes. You will first make a note,Doctor, of the paper and the date."

  "It is The Morning Chronicle of April 27, 1890. Just two monthsago."

  "Very good. Now, Mr. Wilson?"

  "Well, it is just as I have been telling you, Mr. SherlockHolmes," said Jabez Wilson, mopping his forehead; "I have a smallpawnbroker's business at Coburg Square, near the City. It's not avery large affair, and of late years it has not done more thanjust give me a living. I used to be able to keep two assistants,but now I only keep one; and I would have a job to pay him butthat he is willing to come for half wages so as to learn thebusiness."

  "What is the name of this obliging youth?" asked Sherlock Holmes.

  "His name is Vincent Spaulding, and he's not such a youth,either. It's hard to say his age. I should not wish a smarterassistant, Mr. Holmes; and I know very well that he could betterhimself and earn twice what I am able to give him. But, afterall, if he is satisfied, why should I put ideas in h
is head?"

  "Why, indeed? You seem most fortunate in having an employe whocomes under the full market price. It is not a common experienceamong employers in this age. I don't know that your assistant isnot as remarkable as your advertisement."

  "Oh, he has his faults, too," said Mr. Wilson. "Never was such afellow for photography. Snapping away with a camera when he oughtto be improving his mind, and then diving down into the cellarlike a rabbit into its hole to develop his pictures. That is hismain fault, but on the whole he's a good worker. There's no vicein him."

  "He is still with you, I presume?"

  "Yes, sir. He and a girl of fourteen, who does a bit of simplecooking and keeps the place clean--that's all I have in thehouse, for I am a widower and never had any family. We live veryquietly, sir, the three of us; and we keep a roof over our headsand pay our debts, if we do nothing more.

  "The first thing that put us out was that advertisement.Spaulding, he came down into the office just this day eightweeks, with this very paper in his hand, and he says:

  "'I wish to the Lord, Mr. Wilson, that I was a red-headed man.'

  "'Why that?' I asks.

  "'Why,' says he, 'here's another vacancy on the League of theRed-headed Men. It's worth quite a little fortune to any man whogets it, and I understand that there are more vacancies thanthere are men, so that the trustees are at their wits' end whatto do with the money. If my hair would only change colour, here'sa nice little crib all ready for me to step into.'

  "'Why, what is it, then?' I asked. You see, Mr. Holmes, I am avery stay-at-home man, and as my business came to me instead ofmy having to go to it, I was often weeks on end without puttingmy foot over the door-mat. In that way I didn't know much of whatwas going on outside, and I was always glad of a bit of news.

  "'Have you never heard of the League of the Red-headed Men?' heasked with his eyes open.

  "'Never.'

  "'Why, I wonder at that, for you are eligible yourself for oneof the vacancies.'

  "'And what are they worth?' I asked.

  "'Oh, merely a couple of hundred a year, but the work is slight,and it need not interfere very much with one's otheroccupations.'

  "Well, you can easily think that that made me prick up my ears,for the business has not been over-good for some years, and anextra couple of hundred would have been very handy.

  "'Tell me all about it,' said I.

  "'Well,' said he, showing me the advertisement, 'you can see foryourself that the League has a vacancy, and there is the addresswhere you should apply for particulars. As far as I can make out,the League was founded by an American millionaire, EzekiahHopkins, who was very peculiar in his ways. He was himselfred-headed, and he had a great sympathy for all red-headed men;so when he died it was found that he had left his enormousfortune in the hands of trustees, with instructions to apply theinterest to the providing of easy berths to men whose hair is ofthat colour. From all I hear it is splendid pay and very little todo.'

  "'But,' said I, 'there would be millions of red-headed men whowould apply.'

  "'Not so many as you might think,' he answered. 'You see it isreally confined to Londoners, and to grown men. This American hadstarted from London when he was young, and he wanted to do theold town a good turn. Then, again, I have heard it is no use yourapplying if your hair is light red, or dark red, or anything butreal bright, blazing, fiery red. Now, if you cared to apply, Mr.Wilson, you would just walk in; but perhaps it would hardly beworth your while to put yourself out of the way for the sake of afew hundred pounds.'

  "Now, it is a fact, gentlemen, as you may see for yourselves,that my hair is of a very full and rich tint, so that it seemedto me that if there was to be any competition in the matter Istood as good a chance as any man that I had ever met. VincentSpaulding seemed to know so much about it that I thought he mightprove useful, so I just ordered him to put up the shutters forthe day and to come right away with me. He was very willing tohave a holiday, so we shut the business up and started off forthe address that was given us in the advertisement.

  "I never hope to see such a sight as that again, Mr. Holmes. Fromnorth, south, east, and west every man who had a shade of red inhis hair had tramped into the city to answer the advertisement.Fleet Street was choked with red-headed folk, and Pope's Courtlooked like a coster's orange barrow. I should not have thoughtthere were so many in the whole country as were brought togetherby that single advertisement. Every shade of colour theywere--straw, lemon, orange, brick, Irish-setter, liver, clay;but, as Spaulding said, there were not many who had the realvivid flame-coloured tint. When I saw how many were waiting, Iwould have given it up in despair; but Spaulding would not hearof it. How he did it I could not imagine, but he pushed andpulled and butted until he got me through the crowd, and right upto the steps which led to the office. There was a double streamupon the stair, some going up in hope, and some coming backdejected; but we wedged in as well as we could and soon foundourselves in the office."

  "Your experience has been a most entertaining one," remarkedHolmes as his client paused and refreshed his memory with a hugepinch of snuff. "Pray continue your very interesting statement."

  "There was nothing in the office but a couple of wooden chairsand a deal table, behind which sat a small man with a head thatwas even redder than mine. He said a few words to each candidateas he came up, and then he always managed to find some fault inthem which would disqualify them. Getting a vacancy did not seemto be such a very easy matter, after all. However, when our turncame the little man was much more favourable to me than to any ofthe others, and he closed the door as we entered, so that hemight have a private word with us.

  "'This is Mr. Jabez Wilson,' said my assistant, 'and he iswilling to fill a vacancy in the League.'

  "'And he is admirably suited for it,' the other answered. 'He hasevery requirement. I cannot recall when I have seen anything sofine.' He took a step backward, cocked his head on one side, andgazed at my hair until I felt quite bashful. Then suddenly heplunged forward, wrung my hand, and congratulated me warmly on mysuccess.

  "'It would be injustice to hesitate,' said he. 'You will,however, I am sure, excuse me for taking an obvious precaution.'With that he seized my hair in both his hands, and tugged until Iyelled with the pain. 'There is water in your eyes,' said he ashe released me. 'I perceive that all is as it should be. But wehave to be careful, for we have twice been deceived by wigs andonce by paint. I could tell you tales of cobbler's wax whichwould disgust you with human nature.' He stepped over to thewindow and shouted through it at the top of his voice that thevacancy was filled. A groan of disappointment came up from below,and the folk all trooped away in different directions until therewas not a red-head to be seen except my own and that of themanager.

  "'My name,' said he, 'is Mr. Duncan Ross, and I am myself one ofthe pensioners upon the fund left by our noble benefactor. Areyou a married man, Mr. Wilson? Have you a family?'

  "I answered that I had not.

  "His face fell immediately.

  "'Dear me!' he said gravely, 'that is very serious indeed! I amsorry to hear you say that. The fund was, of course, for thepropagation and spread of the red-heads as well as for theirmaintenance. It is exceedingly unfortunate that you should be abachelor.'

  "My face lengthened at this, Mr. Holmes, for I thought that I wasnot to have the vacancy after all; but after thinking it over fora few minutes he said that it would be all right.

  "'In the case of another,' said he, 'the objection might befatal, but we must stretch a point in favour of a man with such ahead of hair as yours. When shall you be able to enter upon yournew duties?'

  "'Well, it is a little awkward, for I have a business already,'said I.

  "'Oh, never mind about that, Mr. Wilson!' said Vincent Spaulding.'I should be able to look after that for you.'

  "'What would be the hours?' I asked.

  "'Ten to two.'

  "Now a pawnbroker's business is mostly done of an evening, Mr.Holmes, especially Thursday and
Friday evening, which is justbefore pay-day; so it would suit me very well to earn a little inthe mornings. Besides, I knew that my assistant was a good man,and that he would see to anything that turned up.

  "'That would suit me very well,' said I. 'And the pay?'

  "'Is 4 pounds a week.'

  "'And the work?'

  "'Is purely nominal.'

  "'What do you call purely nominal?'

  "'Well, you have to be in the office, or at least in thebuilding, the whole time. If you leave, you forfeit your wholeposition forever. The will is very clear upon that point. Youdon't comply with the conditions if you budge from the officeduring that time.'

  "'It's only four hours a day, and I should not think of leaving,'said I.

  "'No excuse will avail,' said Mr. Duncan Ross; 'neither sicknessnor business nor anything else. There you must stay, or you loseyour billet.'

  "'And the work?'

  "'Is to copy out the "Encyclopaedia Britannica." There is the firstvolume of it in that press. You must find your own ink, pens, andblotting-paper, but we provide this table and chair. Will you beready to-morrow?'

  "'Certainly,' I answered.

  "'Then, good-bye, Mr. Jabez Wilson, and let me congratulate youonce more on the important position which you have been fortunateenough to gain.' He bowed me out of the room and I went home withmy assistant, hardly knowing what to say or do, I was so pleasedat my own good fortune.

  "Well, I thought over the matter all day, and by evening I was inlow spirits again; for I had quite persuaded myself that thewhole affair must be some great hoax or fraud, though what itsobject might be I could not imagine. It seemed altogether pastbelief that anyone could make such a will, or that they would paysuch a sum for doing anything so simple as copying out the'Encyclopaedia Britannica.' Vincent Spaulding did what he could tocheer me up, but by bedtime I had reasoned myself out of thewhole thing. However, in the morning I determined to have a lookat it anyhow, so I bought a penny bottle of ink, and with aquill-pen, and seven sheets of foolscap paper, I started off forPope's Court.

  "Well, to my surprise and delight, everything was as right aspossible. The table was set out ready for me, and Mr. Duncan Rosswas there to see that I got fairly to work. He started me offupon the letter A, and then he left me; but he would drop in fromtime to time to see that all was right with me. At two o'clock hebade me good-day, complimented me upon the amount that I hadwritten, and locked the door of the office after me.

  "This went on day after day, Mr. Holmes, and on Saturday themanager came in and planked down four golden sovereigns for myweek's work. It was the same next week, and the same the weekafter. Every morning I was there at ten, and every afternoon Ileft at two. By degrees Mr. Duncan Ross took to coming in onlyonce of a morning, and then, after a time, he did not come in atall. Still, of course, I never dared to leave the room for aninstant, for I was not sure when he might come, and the billetwas such a good one, and suited me so well, that I would not riskthe loss of it.

  "Eight weeks passed away like this, and I had written aboutAbbots and Archery and Armour and Architecture and Attica, andhoped with diligence that I might get on to the B's before verylong. It cost me something in foolscap, and I had pretty nearlyfilled a shelf with my writings. And then suddenly the wholebusiness came to an end."

  "To an end?"

  "Yes, sir. And no later than this morning. I went to my work asusual at ten o'clock, but the door was shut and locked, with alittle square of cardboard hammered on to the middle of thepanel with a tack. Here it is, and you can read for yourself."

  He held up a piece of white cardboard about the size of a sheetof note-paper. It read in this fashion:

  THE RED-HEADED LEAGUE

  IS

  DISSOLVED.

  October 9, 1890.

  Sherlock Holmes and I surveyed this curt announcement and therueful face behind it, until the comical side of the affair socompletely overtopped every other consideration that we bothburst out into a roar of laughter.

  "I cannot see that there is anything very funny," cried ourclient, flushing up to the roots of his flaming head. "If you cando nothing better than laugh at me, I can go elsewhere."

  "No, no," cried Holmes, shoving him back into the chair fromwhich he had half risen. "I really wouldn't miss your case forthe world. It is most refreshingly unusual. But there is, if youwill excuse my saying so, something just a little funny about it.Pray what steps did you take when you found the card upon thedoor?"

  "I was staggered, sir. I did not know what to do. Then I calledat the offices round, but none of them seemed to know anythingabout it. Finally, I went to the landlord, who is an accountantliving on the ground-floor, and I asked him if he could tell mewhat had become of the Red-headed League. He said that he hadnever heard of any such body. Then I asked him who Mr. DuncanRoss was. He answered that the name was new to him.

  "'Well,' said I, 'the gentleman at No. 4.'

  "'What, the red-headed man?'

  "'Yes.'

  "'Oh,' said he, 'his name was William Morris. He was a solicitorand was using my room as a temporary convenience until his newpremises were ready. He moved out yesterday.'

  "'Where could I find him?'

  "'Oh, at his new offices. He did tell me the address. Yes, 17King Edward Street, near St. Paul's.'

  "I started off, Mr. Holmes, but when I got to that address it wasa manufactory of artificial knee-caps, and no one in it had everheard of either Mr. William Morris or Mr. Duncan Ross."

  "And what did you do then?" asked Holmes.

  "I went home to Saxe-Coburg Square, and I took the advice of myassistant. But he could not help me in any way. He could only saythat if I waited I should hear by post. But that was not quitegood enough, Mr. Holmes. I did not wish to lose such a placewithout a struggle, so, as I had heard that you were good enoughto give advice to poor folk who were in need of it, I came rightaway to you."

  "And you did very wisely," said Holmes. "Your case is anexceedingly remarkable one, and I shall be happy to look into it.From what you have told me I think that it is possible thatgraver issues hang from it than might at first sight appear."

  "Grave enough!" said Mr. Jabez Wilson. "Why, I have lost fourpound a week."

  "As far as you are personally concerned," remarked Holmes, "I donot see that you have any grievance against this extraordinaryleague. On the contrary, you are, as I understand, richer by some30 pounds, to say nothing of the minute knowledge which you havegained on every subject which comes under the letter A. You havelost nothing by them."

  "No, sir. But I want to find out about them, and who they are,and what their object was in playing this prank--if it was aprank--upon me. It was a pretty expensive joke for them, for itcost them two and thirty pounds."

  "We shall endeavour to clear up these points for you. And, first,one or two questions, Mr. Wilson. This assistant of yours whofirst called your attention to the advertisement--how long had hebeen with you?"

  "About a month then."

  "How did he come?"

  "In answer to an advertisement."

  "Was he the only applicant?"

  "No, I had a dozen."

  "Why did you pick him?"

  "Because he was handy and would come cheap."

  "At half-wages, in fact."

  "Yes."

  "What is he like, this Vincent Spaulding?"

  "Small, stout-built, very quick in his ways, no hair on his face,though he's not short of thirty. Has a white splash of acid uponhis forehead."

  Holmes sat up in his chair in considerable excitement. "I thoughtas much," said he. "Have you ever observed that his ears arepierced for earrings?"

  "Yes, sir. He told me that a gipsy had done it for him when hewas a lad."

  "Hum!" said Holmes, sinking back in deep thought. "He is stillwith you?"

  "Oh, yes, sir; I have only just left him."

  "And has your business
been attended to in your absence?"

  "Nothing to complain of, sir. There's never very much to do of amorning."

  "That will do, Mr. Wilson. I shall be happy to give you anopinion upon the subject in the course of a day or two. To-day isSaturday, and I hope that by Monday we may come to a conclusion."

  "Well, Watson," said Holmes when our visitor had left us, "whatdo you make of it all?"

  "I make nothing of it," I answered frankly. "It is a mostmysterious business."

  "As a rule," said Holmes, "the more bizarre a thing is the lessmysterious it proves to be. It is your commonplace, featurelesscrimes which are really puzzling, just as a commonplace face isthe most difficult to identify. But I must be prompt over thismatter."

  "What are you going to do, then?" I asked.

  "To smoke," he answered. "It is quite a three pipe problem, and Ibeg that you won't speak to me for fifty minutes." He curledhimself up in his chair, with his thin knees drawn up to hishawk-like nose, and there he sat with his eyes closed and hisblack clay pipe thrusting out like the bill of some strange bird.I had come to the conclusion that he had dropped asleep, andindeed was nodding myself, when he suddenly sprang out of hischair with the gesture of a man who has made up his mind and puthis pipe down upon the mantelpiece.

  "Sarasate plays at the St. James's Hall this afternoon," heremarked. "What do you think, Watson? Could your patients spareyou for a few hours?"

  "I have nothing to do to-day. My practice is never veryabsorbing."

  "Then put on your hat and come. I am going through the Cityfirst, and we can have some lunch on the way. I observe thatthere is a good deal of German music on the programme, which israther more to my taste than Italian or French. It isintrospective, and I want to introspect. Come along!"

  We travelled by the Underground as far as Aldersgate; and a shortwalk took us to Saxe-Coburg Square, the scene of the singularstory which we had listened to in the morning. It was a poky,little, shabby-genteel place, where four lines of dingytwo-storied brick houses looked out into a small railed-inenclosure, where a lawn of weedy grass and a few clumps of fadedlaurel-bushes made a hard fight against a smoke-laden anduncongenial atmosphere. Three gilt balls and a brown board with"JABEZ WILSON" in white letters, upon a corner house, announcedthe place where our red-headed client carried on his business.Sherlock Holmes stopped in front of it with his head on one sideand looked it all over, with his eyes shining brightly betweenpuckered lids. Then he walked slowly up the street, and then downagain to the corner, still looking keenly at the houses. Finallyhe returned to the pawnbroker's, and, having thumped vigorouslyupon the pavement with his stick two or three times, he went upto the door and knocked. It was instantly opened by abright-looking, clean-shaven young fellow, who asked him to stepin.

  "Thank you," said Holmes, "I only wished to ask you how you wouldgo from here to the Strand."

  "Third right, fourth left," answered the assistant promptly,closing the door.

  "Smart fellow, that," observed Holmes as we walked away. "He is,in my judgment, the fourth smartest man in London, and for daringI am not sure that he has not a claim to be third. I have knownsomething of him before."

  "Evidently," said I, "Mr. Wilson's assistant counts for a gooddeal in this mystery of the Red-headed League. I am sure that youinquired your way merely in order that you might see him."

  "Not him."

  "What then?"

  "The knees of his trousers."

  "And what did you see?"

  "What I expected to see."

  "Why did you beat the pavement?"

  "My dear doctor, this is a time for observation, not for talk. Weare spies in an enemy's country. We know something of Saxe-CoburgSquare. Let us now explore the parts which lie behind it."

  The road in which we found ourselves as we turned round thecorner from the retired Saxe-Coburg Square presented as great acontrast to it as the front of a picture does to the back. It wasone of the main arteries which conveyed the traffic of the Cityto the north and west. The roadway was blocked with the immensestream of commerce flowing in a double tide inward and outward,while the footpaths were black with the hurrying swarm ofpedestrians. It was difficult to realise as we looked at the lineof fine shops and stately business premises that they reallyabutted on the other side upon the faded and stagnant squarewhich we had just quitted.

  "Let me see," said Holmes, standing at the corner and glancingalong the line, "I should like just to remember the order of thehouses here. It is a hobby of mine to have an exact knowledge ofLondon. There is Mortimer's, the tobacconist, the littlenewspaper shop, the Coburg branch of the City and Suburban Bank,the Vegetarian Restaurant, and McFarlane's carriage-buildingdepot. That carries us right on to the other block. And now,Doctor, we've done our work, so it's time we had some play. Asandwich and a cup of coffee, and then off to violin-land, whereall is sweetness and delicacy and harmony, and there are nored-headed clients to vex us with their conundrums."

  My friend was an enthusiastic musician, being himself not only avery capable performer but a composer of no ordinary merit. Allthe afternoon he sat in the stalls wrapped in the most perfecthappiness, gently waving his long, thin fingers in time to themusic, while his gently smiling face and his languid, dreamy eyeswere as unlike those of Holmes the sleuth-hound, Holmes therelentless, keen-witted, ready-handed criminal agent, as it waspossible to conceive. In his singular character the dual naturealternately asserted itself, and his extreme exactness andastuteness represented, as I have often thought, the reactionagainst the poetic and contemplative mood which occasionallypredominated in him. The swing of his nature took him fromextreme languor to devouring energy; and, as I knew well, he wasnever so truly formidable as when, for days on end, he had beenlounging in his armchair amid his improvisations and hisblack-letter editions. Then it was that the lust of the chasewould suddenly come upon him, and that his brilliant reasoningpower would rise to the level of intuition, until those who wereunacquainted with his methods would look askance at him as on aman whose knowledge was not that of other mortals. When I saw himthat afternoon so enwrapped in the music at St. James's Hall Ifelt that an evil time might be coming upon those whom he had sethimself to hunt down.

  "You want to go home, no doubt, Doctor," he remarked as weemerged.

  "Yes, it would be as well."

  "And I have some business to do which will take some hours. Thisbusiness at Coburg Square is serious."

  "Why serious?"

  "A considerable crime is in contemplation. I have every reason tobelieve that we shall be in time to stop it. But to-day beingSaturday rather complicates matters. I shall want your helpto-night."

  "At what time?"

  "Ten will be early enough."

  "I shall be at Baker Street at ten."

  "Very well. And, I say, Doctor, there may be some little danger,so kindly put your army revolver in your pocket." He waved hishand, turned on his heel, and disappeared in an instant among thecrowd.

  I trust that I am not more dense than my neighbours, but I wasalways oppressed with a sense of my own stupidity in my dealingswith Sherlock Holmes. Here I had heard what he had heard, I hadseen what he had seen, and yet from his words it was evident thathe saw clearly not only what had happened but what was about tohappen, while to me the whole business was still confused andgrotesque. As I drove home to my house in Kensington I thoughtover it all, from the extraordinary story of the red-headedcopier of the "Encyclopaedia" down to the visit to Saxe-CoburgSquare, and the ominous words with which he had parted from me.What was this nocturnal expedition, and why should I go armed?Where were we going, and what were we to do? I had the hint fromHolmes that this smooth-faced pawnbroker's assistant was aformidable man--a man who might play a deep game. I tried topuzzle it out, but gave it up in despair and set the matter asideuntil night should bring an explanation.

  It was a quarter-past nine when I started from home and made myway across the Park, and so through Oxford Street to BakerStreet. Two hansoms were
standing at the door, and as I enteredthe passage I heard the sound of voices from above. On enteringhis room I found Holmes in animated conversation with two men,one of whom I recognised as Peter Jones, the official policeagent, while the other was a long, thin, sad-faced man, with avery shiny hat and oppressively respectable frock-coat.

  "Ha! Our party is complete," said Holmes, buttoning up hispea-jacket and taking his heavy hunting crop from the rack."Watson, I think you know Mr. Jones, of Scotland Yard? Let meintroduce you to Mr. Merryweather, who is to be our companion into-night's adventure."

  "We're hunting in couples again, Doctor, you see," said Jones inhis consequential way. "Our friend here is a wonderful man forstarting a chase. All he wants is an old dog to help him to dothe running down."

  "I hope a wild goose may not prove to be the end of our chase,"observed Mr. Merryweather gloomily.

  "You may place considerable confidence in Mr. Holmes, sir," saidthe police agent loftily. "He has his own little methods, whichare, if he won't mind my saying so, just a little too theoreticaland fantastic, but he has the makings of a detective in him. Itis not too much to say that once or twice, as in that business ofthe Sholto murder and the Agra treasure, he has been more nearlycorrect than the official force."

  "Oh, if you say so, Mr. Jones, it is all right," said thestranger with deference. "Still, I confess that I miss my rubber.It is the first Saturday night for seven-and-twenty years that Ihave not had my rubber."

  "I think you will find," said Sherlock Holmes, "that you willplay for a higher stake to-night than you have ever done yet, andthat the play will be more exciting. For you, Mr. Merryweather,the stake will be some 30,000 pounds; and for you, Jones, it willbe the man upon whom you wish to lay your hands."

  "John Clay, the murderer, thief, smasher, and forger. He's ayoung man, Mr. Merryweather, but he is at the head of hisprofession, and I would rather have my bracelets on him than onany criminal in London. He's a remarkable man, is young JohnClay. His grandfather was a royal duke, and he himself has beento Eton and Oxford. His brain is as cunning as his fingers, andthough we meet signs of him at every turn, we never know where tofind the man himself. He'll crack a crib in Scotland one week,and be raising money to build an orphanage in Cornwall the next.I've been on his track for years and have never set eyes on himyet."

  "I hope that I may have the pleasure of introducing you to-night.I've had one or two little turns also with Mr. John Clay, and Iagree with you that he is at the head of his profession. It ispast ten, however, and quite time that we started. If you twowill take the first hansom, Watson and I will follow in thesecond."

  Sherlock Holmes was not very communicative during the long driveand lay back in the cab humming the tunes which he had heard inthe afternoon. We rattled through an endless labyrinth of gas-litstreets until we emerged into Farrington Street.

  "We are close there now," my friend remarked. "This fellowMerryweather is a bank director, and personally interested in thematter. I thought it as well to have Jones with us also. He isnot a bad fellow, though an absolute imbecile in his profession.He has one positive virtue. He is as brave as a bulldog and astenacious as a lobster if he gets his claws upon anyone. Here weare, and they are waiting for us."

  We had reached the same crowded thoroughfare in which we hadfound ourselves in the morning. Our cabs were dismissed, and,following the guidance of Mr. Merryweather, we passed down anarrow passage and through a side door, which he opened for us.Within there was a small corridor, which ended in a very massiveiron gate. This also was opened, and led down a flight of windingstone steps, which terminated at another formidable gate. Mr.Merryweather stopped to light a lantern, and then conducted usdown a dark, earth-smelling passage, and so, after opening athird door, into a huge vault or cellar, which was piled allround with crates and massive boxes.

  "You are not very vulnerable from above," Holmes remarked as heheld up the lantern and gazed about him.

  "Nor from below," said Mr. Merryweather, striking his stick uponthe flags which lined the floor. "Why, dear me, it sounds quitehollow!" he remarked, looking up in surprise.

  "I must really ask you to be a little more quiet!" said Holmesseverely. "You have already imperilled the whole success of ourexpedition. Might I beg that you would have the goodness to sitdown upon one of those boxes, and not to interfere?"

  The solemn Mr. Merryweather perched himself upon a crate, with avery injured expression upon his face, while Holmes fell upon hisknees upon the floor and, with the lantern and a magnifying lens,began to examine minutely the cracks between the stones. A fewseconds sufficed to satisfy him, for he sprang to his feet againand put his glass in his pocket.

  "We have at least an hour before us," he remarked, "for they canhardly take any steps until the good pawnbroker is safely in bed.Then they will not lose a minute, for the sooner they do theirwork the longer time they will have for their escape. We are atpresent, Doctor--as no doubt you have divined--in the cellar ofthe City branch of one of the principal London banks. Mr.Merryweather is the chairman of directors, and he will explain toyou that there are reasons why the more daring criminals ofLondon should take a considerable interest in this cellar atpresent."

  "It is our French gold," whispered the director. "We have hadseveral warnings that an attempt might be made upon it."

  "Your French gold?"

  "Yes. We had occasion some months ago to strengthen our resourcesand borrowed for that purpose 30,000 napoleons from the Bank ofFrance. It has become known that we have never had occasion tounpack the money, and that it is still lying in our cellar. Thecrate upon which I sit contains 2,000 napoleons packed betweenlayers of lead foil. Our reserve of bullion is much larger atpresent than is usually kept in a single branch office, and thedirectors have had misgivings upon the subject."

  "Which were very well justified," observed Holmes. "And now it istime that we arranged our little plans. I expect that within anhour matters will come to a head. In the meantime Mr.Merryweather, we must put the screen over that dark lantern."

  "And sit in the dark?"

  "I am afraid so. I had brought a pack of cards in my pocket, andI thought that, as we were a partie carree, you might have yourrubber after all. But I see that the enemy's preparations havegone so far that we cannot risk the presence of a light. And,first of all, we must choose our positions. These are daring men,and though we shall take them at a disadvantage, they may do ussome harm unless we are careful. I shall stand behind this crate,and do you conceal yourselves behind those. Then, when I flash alight upon them, close in swiftly. If they fire, Watson, have nocompunction about shooting them down."

  I placed my revolver, cocked, upon the top of the wooden casebehind which I crouched. Holmes shot the slide across the frontof his lantern and left us in pitch darkness--such an absolutedarkness as I have never before experienced. The smell of hotmetal remained to assure us that the light was still there, readyto flash out at a moment's notice. To me, with my nerves workedup to a pitch of expectancy, there was something depressing andsubduing in the sudden gloom, and in the cold dank air of thevault.

  "They have but one retreat," whispered Holmes. "That is backthrough the house into Saxe-Coburg Square. I hope that you havedone what I asked you, Jones?"

  "I have an inspector and two officers waiting at the front door."

  "Then we have stopped all the holes. And now we must be silentand wait."

  What a time it seemed! From comparing notes afterwards it was butan hour and a quarter, yet it appeared to me that the night musthave almost gone and the dawn be breaking above us. My limbswere weary and stiff, for I feared to change my position; yet mynerves were worked up to the highest pitch of tension, and myhearing was so acute that I could not only hear the gentlebreathing of my companions, but I could distinguish the deeper,heavier in-breath of the bulky Jones from the thin, sighing noteof the bank director. From my position I could look over the casein the direction of the floor. Suddenly my eyes caught the glintof a light.

&
nbsp; At first it was but a lurid spark upon the stone pavement. Thenit lengthened out until it became a yellow line, and then,without any warning or sound, a gash seemed to open and a handappeared, a white, almost womanly hand, which felt about in thecentre of the little area of light. For a minute or more thehand, with its writhing fingers, protruded out of the floor. Thenit was withdrawn as suddenly as it appeared, and all was darkagain save the single lurid spark which marked a chink betweenthe stones.

  Its disappearance, however, was but momentary. With a rending,tearing sound, one of the broad, white stones turned over uponits side and left a square, gaping hole, through which streamedthe light of a lantern. Over the edge there peeped a clean-cut,boyish face, which looked keenly about it, and then, with a handon either side of the aperture, drew itself shoulder-high andwaist-high, until one knee rested upon the edge. In anotherinstant he stood at the side of the hole and was hauling afterhim a companion, lithe and small like himself, with a pale faceand a shock of very red hair.

  "It's all clear," he whispered. "Have you the chisel and thebags? Great Scott! Jump, Archie, jump, and I'll swing for it!"

  Sherlock Holmes had sprung out and seized the intruder by thecollar. The other dived down the hole, and I heard the sound ofrending cloth as Jones clutched at his skirts. The light flashedupon the barrel of a revolver, but Holmes' hunting crop camedown on the man's wrist, and the pistol clinked upon the stonefloor.

  "It's no use, John Clay," said Holmes blandly. "You have nochance at all."

  "So I see," the other answered with the utmost coolness. "I fancythat my pal is all right, though I see you have got hiscoat-tails."

  "There are three men waiting for him at the door," said Holmes.

  "Oh, indeed! You seem to have done the thing very completely. Imust compliment you."

  "And I you," Holmes answered. "Your red-headed idea was very newand effective."

  "You'll see your pal again presently," said Jones. "He's quickerat climbing down holes than I am. Just hold out while I fix thederbies."

  "I beg that you will not touch me with your filthy hands,"remarked our prisoner as the handcuffs clattered upon his wrists."You may not be aware that I have royal blood in my veins. Havethe goodness, also, when you address me always to say 'sir' and'please.'"

  "All right," said Jones with a stare and a snigger. "Well, wouldyou please, sir, march upstairs, where we can get a cab to carryyour Highness to the police-station?"

  "That is better," said John Clay serenely. He made a sweeping bowto the three of us and walked quietly off in the custody of thedetective.

  "Really, Mr. Holmes," said Mr. Merryweather as we followed themfrom the cellar, "I do not know how the bank can thank you orrepay you. There is no doubt that you have detected and defeatedin the most complete manner one of the most determined attemptsat bank robbery that have ever come within my experience."

  "I have had one or two little scores of my own to settle with Mr.John Clay," said Holmes. "I have been at some small expense overthis matter, which I shall expect the bank to refund, but beyondthat I am amply repaid by having had an experience which is inmany ways unique, and by hearing the very remarkable narrative ofthe Red-headed League."

  "You see, Watson," he explained in the early hours of the morningas we sat over a glass of whisky and soda in Baker Street, "itwas perfectly obvious from the first that the only possibleobject of this rather fantastic business of the advertisement ofthe League, and the copying of the 'Encyclopaedia,' must be to getthis not over-bright pawnbroker out of the way for a number ofhours every day. It was a curious way of managing it, but,really, it would be difficult to suggest a better. The method wasno doubt suggested to Clay's ingenious mind by the colour of hisaccomplice's hair. The 4 pounds a week was a lure which must drawhim, and what was it to them, who were playing for thousands?They put in the advertisement, one rogue has the temporaryoffice, the other rogue incites the man to apply for it, andtogether they manage to secure his absence every morning in theweek. From the time that I heard of the assistant having come forhalf wages, it was obvious to me that he had some strong motivefor securing the situation."

  "But how could you guess what the motive was?"

  "Had there been women in the house, I should have suspected amere vulgar intrigue. That, however, was out of the question. Theman's business was a small one, and there was nothing in hishouse which could account for such elaborate preparations, andsuch an expenditure as they were at. It must, then, be somethingout of the house. What could it be? I thought of the assistant'sfondness for photography, and his trick of vanishing into thecellar. The cellar! There was the end of this tangled clue. ThenI made inquiries as to this mysterious assistant and found that Ihad to deal with one of the coolest and most daring criminals inLondon. He was doing something in the cellar--something whichtook many hours a day for months on end. What could it be, oncemore? I could think of nothing save that he was running a tunnelto some other building.

  "So far I had got when we went to visit the scene of action. Isurprised you by beating upon the pavement with my stick. I wasascertaining whether the cellar stretched out in front or behind.It was not in front. Then I rang the bell, and, as I hoped, theassistant answered it. We have had some skirmishes, but we hadnever set eyes upon each other before. I hardly looked at hisface. His knees were what I wished to see. You must yourself haveremarked how worn, wrinkled, and stained they were. They spoke ofthose hours of burrowing. The only remaining point was what theywere burrowing for. I walked round the corner, saw the City andSuburban Bank abutted on our friend's premises, and felt that Ihad solved my problem. When you drove home after the concert Icalled upon Scotland Yard and upon the chairman of the bankdirectors, with the result that you have seen."

  "And how could you tell that they would make their attemptto-night?" I asked.

  "Well, when they closed their League offices that was a sign thatthey cared no longer about Mr. Jabez Wilson's presence--in otherwords, that they had completed their tunnel. But it was essentialthat they should use it soon, as it might be discovered, or thebullion might be removed. Saturday would suit them better thanany other day, as it would give them two days for their escape.For all these reasons I expected them to come to-night."

  "You reasoned it out beautifully," I exclaimed in unfeignedadmiration. "It is so long a chain, and yet every link ringstrue."

  "It saved me from ennui," he answered, yawning. "Alas! I alreadyfeel it closing in upon me. My life is spent in one long effortto escape from the commonplaces of existence. These littleproblems help me to do so."

  "And you are a benefactor of the race," said I.

  He shrugged his shoulders. "Well, perhaps, after all, it is ofsome little use," he remarked. "'L'homme c'est rien--l'oeuvrec'est tout,' as Gustave Flaubert wrote to George Sand."