Sherlock Holmes complete collection by sir arthur conan doyle

The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes 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 a very stout,florid-faced, elderly gentleman with fiery red hair. With an apology formy intrusion, I was about to withdraw when Holmes pulled me abruptlyinto the room and closed the door behind me."You could not possibly have come at a better time, my dear Watson,"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 no doubt that hewill 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 small, fatencircled eyes."Try the settee," said Holmes, relapsing into his armchair and puttinghis finger-tips together, as was his custom when in judicial moods. "Iknow, my dear Watson, that you share my love of all that is bizarre andoutside the conventions and humdrum routine of everyday life. You haveshown your relish for it by the enthusiasm which has prompted you tochronicle, and, if you will excuse my saying so, somewhat to embellish somany of my own little adventures.""Your cases have indeed been of the greatest interest to me," I observed."You will remember that I remarked the other day, just before we wentinto the very simple problem presented by Miss Mary Sutherland, that forstrange effects and extraordinary combinations we must go to life itself,which is always far more daring 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 my view,for otherwise I shall keep on piling fact upon fact on you until yourreason breaks down under them and acknowledges me to be right. Now,Mr. Jabez Wilson here has been good enough to call upon me thismorning, and to begin a narrative which promises to be one of the mostsingular which I have listened to for some time. You have heard meremark that the strangest and most unique things are very often connectednot with the larger but with the smaller crimes, and occasionally, indeed,where there is room for doubt whether any positive crime has beencommitted. As far as I have heard it is impossible for me to say whetherthe present case 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 to recommence yournarrative. I ask you not merely because my friend Dr. Watson has notheard the opening part but also because the peculiar nature of the storymakes me anxious to have every possible detail from your lips. As a rule,when I have heard some slight indication of the course of events, I amable to guide myself by the thousands of other similar cases which occurto my [177] memory. 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 some littlepride and pulled a dirty and wrinkled newspaper from the inside pocket ofhis great-coat. As he glanced down the advertisement column, with hishead thrust forward and the paper flattened out upon his knee, I took agood look at the man and endeavoured, after the fashion of mycompanion, to read the indications which might be presented by his dressor appearance.I did not gain very much, however, by my inspection. Our visitor boreevery mark of being an average commonplace British tradesman, obese,pompous, and slow. He wore rather baggy gray shepherd's checktrousers, a not over-clean black frock-coat, unbuttoned in the front, and adrab waistcoat with a heavy brassy Albert chain, and a square pierced bitof metal dangling down as an ornament. A frayed top-hat and a fadedbrown overcoat with a wrinkled velvet collar lay upon a chair beside him.Altogether, look as I would, there was nothing remarkable about the mansave his blazing red head, and the expression of extreme chagrin anddiscontent upon his features.Sherlock Holmes's quick eye took in my occupation, and he shook hishead with a smile as he noticed my questioning glances. "Beyond theobvious facts that he has at some time done manual labour, that he takessnuff, that he is a Freemason, that he has been in China, and that he has done a considerable amount of writing lately, I can deduce nothing else."Mr. Jabez Wilson started up in his chair, with his forefinger upon thepaper, 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 did manuallabour? It's as true as gospel, for I began as a ship's carpenter.""Your hands, my dear sir. Your right hand is quite a size larger thanyour left. You have worked with it, and the muscles are more developed.""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, you use an arcand-compass breastpin.""Ah, of course, I forgot that. But the writing?""What else can be indicated by that right cuff so very shiny for fiveinches, and the left one with the smooth patch near the elbow where yourest it upon the desk?""Well, but China?""The fish that you have tattooed immediately above your right wristcould only have been done in China. I have made a small study of tattoomarks and have even contributed to the literature of the subject. That trickof staining the fishes' scales of a delicate pink is quite peculiar to China.When, in addition, I see a Chinese coin hanging from your watch-chain,the matter becomes even more simple."Mr. Jabez Wilson laughed heavily. "Well, I never!" said he. "I thoughtat first that you had done something clever, but I see that there wasnothing in it, after all.""I begin to think, Watson," said Holmes, "that I make a mistake inexplaining. 'Omne ignotum pro magnifico,' you know, and my poor littlereputation, such as it is, will suffer shipwreck if I am so candid. Can younot find the advertisement, Mr. Wilson?"[178] "Yes, I have got it now," he answered with his thick red fingerplanted halfway down the column. "Here it is. This is what began it 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 late Ezekiah Hopkins, ofLebanon, Pennsylvania, U. S. A., there is now another vacancyopen which entitles a member of the League to a salary of £4 aweek for purely nominal services. All red-headed men who aresound in body and mind, and above the age of twenty-one years,are eligible. Apply in person on Monday, at eleven o'clock, toDuncan Ross, at the offices of the League, 7 Pope's Court, FleetStreet."What on earth does this mean?" I ejaculated after I had twice readover the extraordinary announcement.Holmes chuckled and wriggled in his chair, as was his habit when inhigh 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 us all about yourself, yourhousehold, and the effect which this advertisement had upon yourfortunes. You will first make a note, Doctor, of the paper and the date.""It is The Morning Chronicle of April 27, 1890. Just two months ago.""Very good. Now, Mr. Wilson?""Well, it is just as I have been telling you, Mr. Sherlock Holmes," saidJabez Wilson, mopping his forehead; "I have a small pawnbroker'sbusiness at Coburg Square, near the City. It's not a very large affair, andof late years it has not done more than just give me a living. I used to beable to keep two assistants, but now I only keep one; and I would have ajob to pay him but that he is willing to come for half wages so as to learnthe business.""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'shard to say his age. I should not wish a smarter assistant, Mr. Holmes; andI know very well that he could better himself and earn twice what I amable to give him. But, after all, if he is satisfied, why should I put ideas inhis head?""Why, indeed? You seem most fortunate in having an employee whocomes under the full market price. It is not a common experience amongemployers in this age. I don't know that your assistant is not asremarkable as your advertisement.""Oh, he has his faults, too," said Mr. Wilson. "Never was such a fellowfor photography. Snapping away with a camera when he ought to beimproving his mind, and then diving down into the cellar like a rabbit intoits hole to develop his pictures. That is his main fault, but on the whole he's a good worker. There's no vice in him.""He is still with you, I presume?""Yes, sir. He and a girl of fourteen, who does a bit of simple cookingand keeps the place clean-that's all I have in the house, for I am awidower and never had any family. We live very quietly, sir, the three ofus; and we keep a roof over our heads and pay our debts, if we do nothingmore."The first thing that put us out was that advertisement. Spaulding, hecame down into the office just this day eight weeks, with this very paperin his hand, and he says:"'I wish to the Lord, Mr. Wilson, that I was a red-headed man.'[179] "'Why that?' I asks."'Why,' says he, 'here's another vacancy on the League of the Redheaded Men. It's worth quite a little fortune to any man who gets it, and Iunderstand that there are more vacancies than there are men, so that thetrustees are at their wits' end what to do with the money. If my hair wouldonly change colour, here's a nice little crib all ready for me to step into.'"'Why, what is it, then?' I asked. You see, Mr. Holmes, I am a verystay-at-home man, and as my business came to me instead of my havingto go to it, I was often weeks on end without putting my foot over thedoor-mat. In that way I didn't know much of what was 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 one of thevacancies.'"'And what are they worth?' I asked. "'Oh, merely a couple of hundred a year, but the work is slight, and itneed not interfere very much with one's other occupations.'"Well, you can easily think that that made me prick up my ears, for thebusiness has not been over-good for some years, and an extra couple ofhundred 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 address whereyou should apply for particulars. As far as I can make out, the League wasfounded by an American millionaire, Ezekiah Hopkins, who was verypeculiar in his ways. He was himself red-headed, and he had a greatsympathy for all red-headed men; so when he died it was found that hehad left his enormous fortune in the hands of trustees, with instructions toapply the interest to the providing of easy berths to men whose hair is ofthat colour. From all I hear it is splendid pay and very little to do.'"'But,' said I, 'there would be millions of red-headed men who wouldapply.'"'Not so many as you might think,' he answered. 'You see it is reallyconfined to Londoners, and to grown men. This American had startedfrom London when he was young, and he wanted to do the old town agood turn. Then, again, I have heard it is no use your applying if your hairis light red, or dark red, or anything but real bright, blazing, fiery red.Now, if you cared to apply, Mr. Wilson, you would just walk in; butperhaps it would hardly be worth your while to put yourself out of theway for the sake of a few hundred pounds.'"Now, it is a fact, gentlemen, as you may see for yourselves, that myhair is of a very full and rich tint, so that it seemed to me that if there wasto be any competition in the matter I stood as good a chance as any manthat I had ever met. Vincent Spaulding seemed to know so much about itthat I thought he might prove useful, so I just ordered him to put up theshutters for the day and to come right away with me. He was very willingto have a holiday, so we shut the business up and started off for theaddress 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 in his hairhad tramped into the city to answer the advertisement. Fleet Street waschoked with red-headed folk, and Pope's Court looked like a coster'sorange barrow. I should not have thought there were so many in thewhole country as were brought together by that single [180] advertisement.Every shade of colour they were-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, I wouldhave given it up in despair; but Spaulding would not hear of it. How hedid it I could not imagine, but he pushed and pulled and butted until hegot me through the crowd, and right up to the steps which led to theoffice. There was a double stream upon the stair, some going up in hope,and some coming back dejected; but we wedged in as well as we couldand soon found ourselves in the office.""Your experience has been a most entertaining one," remarked Holmes as his client paused and refreshed his memory with a huge pinch of snuff."Pray continue your very interesting statement.""There was nothing in the office but a couple of wooden chairs and adeal table, behind which sat a small man with a head that was even redderthan mine. He said a few words to each candidate as he came up, and thenhe always managed to find some fault in them which would disqualifythem. Getting a vacancy did not seem to be such a very easy matter, afterall. However, when our turn came the little man was much morefavourable to me than to any of the others, and he closed the door as weentered, so that he might have a private word with us."'This is Mr. Jabez Wilson,' said my assistant, 'and he is willing to filla vacancy in the League.'"'And he is admirably suited for it,' the other answered. 'He has everyrequirement. I cannot recall when I have seen anything so fine.' He took astep backward, cocked his head on one side, and gazed at my hair until Ifelt quite bashful. Then suddenly he plunged forward, wrung my hand,and congratulated me warmly on my success."'It would be injustice to hesitate,' said he. 'You will, however, I amsure, excuse me for taking an obvious precaution.' With that he seized myhair in both his hands, and tugged until I yelled with the pain. 'There iswater in your eyes,' said he as he released me. 'I perceive that all is as itshould be. But we have to be careful, for we have twice been deceived bywigs and once by paint. I could tell you tales of cobbler's wax whichwould disgust you with human nature.' He stepped over to the windowand shouted through it at the top of his voice that the vacancy was filled.A groan of disappointment came up from below, and the folk all troopedaway in different directions until there was not a red-head to be seenexcept my own and that of the manager. "'My name,' said he, 'is Mr. Duncan Ross, and I am myself one of thepensioners upon the fund left by our noble benefactor. Are you a marriedman, 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 am sorry tohear you say that. The fund was, of course, for the propagation and spreadof the red-heads as well as for their maintenance. It is exceedinglyunfortunate that you should be a bachelor.'"My face lengthened at this, Mr. Holmes, for I thought that I was not tohave the vacancy after all; but after thinking it over for a few minutes hesaid that it would be all right."'In the case of another,' said he, 'the objection might be fatal, but wemust stretch a point in favour of a man with such a head of hair as yours.When shall you be able to enter upon your new duties?'[181] "'Well, it is a little awkward, for I have a business already,' said I."'Oh, never mind about that, Mr. Wilson!' said Vincent Spaulding. 'Ishould 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 just before payday; so it would suit me very well to earn a little in the mornings. Besides,I knew that my assistant was a good man, and that he would see toanything that turned up."'That would suit me very well,' said I. 'And the pay?'"'Is £4 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 the building, thewhole time. If you leave, you forfeit your whole position forever. The willis very clear upon that point. You don't comply with the conditions if youbudge from the office during 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 sickness norbusiness nor anything else. There you must stay, or you lose your billet.'"'And the work?'"'Is to copy out the Encyclopaedia Britannica. There is the first volumeof it in that press. You must find your own ink, pens, and blotting-paper,but we provide this table and chair. Will you be ready to-morrow?'"'Certainly,' I answered."'Then, good-bye, Mr. Jabez Wilson, and let me congratulate you oncemore on the important position which you have been fortunate enough togain.' He bowed me out of the room, and I went home with my assistant,hardly knowing what to say or do, I was so pleased at my own goodfortune."Well, I thought over the matter all day, and by evening I was in lowspirits again; for I had quite persuaded myself that the whole affair must be some great hoax or fraud, though what its object might be I could notimagine. It seemed altogether past belief that anyone could make such awill, or that they would pay such a sum for doing anything so simple ascopying out the Encyclopaedia Britannica. Vincent Spaulding did what hecould to cheer me up, but by bedtime I had reasoned myself out of thewhole thing. However, in the morning I determined to have a look at itanyhow, so I bought a penny bottle of ink, and with a quill-pen, and sevensheets of foolscap paper, I started off for Pope's Court."Well, to my surprise and delight, everything was as right as possible.The table was set out ready for me, and Mr. Duncan Ross was there to seethat I got fairly to work. He started me off upon the letter A, and then heleft me; but he would drop in from time to time to see that all was rightwith me. At two o'clock he bade me good-day, complimented me uponthe amount that I had written, and locked the door of the office after me."This went on day after day, Mr. Holmes, and on Saturday the managercame in and planked down four golden sovereigns for my week's work. Itwas the same next week, and the same the week after. Every morning Iwas there at ten, and every afternoon I left at two. By degrees Mr. DuncanRoss took to coming in only once of a morning, and then, after a time, hedid not come in at all. Still, of course, I [182] never dared to leave theroom for an instant, 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 risk the lossof it."Eight weeks passed away like this, and I had written about Abbots andArchery and Armour and Architecture and Attica, and hoped withdiligence that I might get on to the B's before very long. It cost mesomething in foolscap, and I had pretty nearly filled a shelf with mywritings. And then suddenly the whole business came to an end.""To an end?""Yes, sir. And no later than this morning. I went to my work as usual atten o'clock, but the door was shut and locked, with a little square of cardboard hammered on to the middle of the panel with a tack. Here it is, andyou can read for yourself."He held up a piece of white card-board about the size of a sheet of notepaper. It read in this fashion:THE RED-HEADED LEAGUEISDISSOLVED.October 9, 1890.Sherlock Holmes and I surveyed this curt announcement and the ruefulface behind it, until the comical side of the affair so completelyovertopped every other consideration that we both burst out into a roar oflaughter."I cannot see that there is anything very funny," cried our client,flushing up to the roots of his flaming head. "If you can do nothing betterthan laugh at me, I can go elsewhere.""No, no," cried Holmes, shoving him back into the chair from which hehad half risen. "I really wouldn't miss your case for the world. It is mostrefreshingly unusual. But there is, if you will excuse my saying so,something just a little funny about it. Pray what steps did you take whenyou found the card upon the door?""I was staggered, sir. I did not know what to do. Then I called at theoffices round, but none of them seemed to know anything about it.Finally, I went to the landlord, who is an accountant living on the groundfloor, and I asked him if he could tell me what had become of the Redheaded League. He said that he had never heard of any such body. Then I asked him who Mr. Duncan Ross was. He answered that the name wasnew 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 solicitor andwas using my room as a temporary convenience until his new premiseswere ready. He moved out yesterday.'"'Where could I find him?'"'Oh, at his new offices. He did tell me the address. Yes, 17 KingEdward Street, near St. Paul's.'"I started off, Mr. Holmes, but when I got to that address it was amanufactory of artificial knee-caps, and no one in it had ever heard ofeither Mr. William Morris or Mr. Duncan Ross.""And what did you do then?" asked Holmes.[183] "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 say that if Iwaited I should hear by post. But that was not quite good enough, Mr.Holmes. I did not wish to lose such a place without a struggle, so, as I hadheard that you were good enough to give advice to poor folk who were inneed of it, I came right away to you.""And you did very wisely," said Holmes. "Your case is an exceedinglyremarkable one, and I shall be happy to look into it. From what you havetold me I think that it is possible that graver issues hang from it thanmight at first sight appear.""Grave enough!" said Mr. Jabez Wilson. "Why, I have lost four pounda week.""As far as you are personally concerned," remarked Holmes, "I do notsee that you have any grievance against this extraordinary league. On thecontrary, you are, as I understand, richer by some £30, to say nothing ofthe minute knowledge which you have gained on every subject whichcomes under the letter A. You have lost nothing by them.""No, sir. But I want to find out about them, and who they are, and whattheir object was in playing this prank-if it was a prank-upon me. It was apretty expensive joke for them, for it cost them two and thirty pounds.""We shall endeavour to clear up these points for you. And, first, one ortwo questions, Mr. Wilson. This assistant of yours who first called yourattention to the advertisement-how long had he been 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 upon his forehead."Holmes sat up in his chair in considerable excitement. "I thought asmuch," said he. "Have you ever observed that his ears are pierced forearrings?""Yes, sir. He told me that a gypsy had done it for him when he was alad.""Hum!" said Holmes, sinking back in deep thought. "He is still withyou?""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 an opinion uponthe subject in the course of a day or two. To-day is Saturday, and I hopethat by Monday we may come to a conclusion.""Well, Watson," said Holmes when our visitor had left us, "what doyou make of it all?""I make nothing of it," I answered frankly. "It is a most mysteriousbusiness.""As a rule," said Holmes, "the more bizarre a thing is the lessmysterious it proves to be. It is your commonplace, featureless crimeswhich are really puzzling, just as a commonplace face is the most difficultto identify. But I must be prompt over this matter."[184] "What are you going to do, then?" I asked."To smoke," he answered. "It is quite a three pipe problem, and I begthat you won't speak to me for fifty minutes." He curled himself up in hischair, with his thin knees drawn up to his hawk-like nose, and there he satwith his eyes closed and his black clay pipe thrusting out like the bill ofsome strange bird. I had come to the conclusion that he had droppedasleep, and indeed was nodding myself, when he suddenly sprang out ofhis chair with the gesture of a man who has made up his mind and put hispipe down upon the mantelpiece."Sarasate plays at the St. James's Hall this afternoon," he remarked."What do you think, Watson? Could your patients spare you for a fewhours?""I have nothing to do to-day. My practice is never very absorbing.""Then put on your hat and come. I am going through the City first, andwe can have some lunch on the way. I observe that there is a good deal ofGerman music on the programme, which is rather more to my taste thanItalian or French. It is introspective, and I want to introspect. Comealong!"We travelled by the Underground as far as Aldersgate; and a short walktook us to Saxe-Coburg Square, the scene of the singular story which wehad listened to in the morning. It was a poky, little, shabby-genteel place,where four lines of dingy two-storied brick houses looked out into a smallrailed-in enclosure, where a lawn of weedy grass and a few clumps offaded laurel-bushes made a hard fight against a smoke-laden anduncongenial atmosphere. Three gilt balls and a brown board with "JABEZWILSON" in white letters, upon a corner house, announced the placewhere our red-headed client carried on his business. Sherlock Holmesstopped in front of it with his head on one side and looked it all over, withhis eyes shining brightly between puckered lids. Then he walked slowlyup the street, and then down again to the corner, still looking keenly at thehouses. Finally he returned to the pawnbroker's, and, having thumpedvigorously upon the pavement with his stick two or three times, he wentup to the door and knocked. It was instantly opened by a bright-looking,clean-shaven young fellow, who asked him to step in."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 thedoor."Smart fellow, that," observed Holmes as we walked away. "He is, inmy judgment, the fourth smartest man in London, and for daring I am notsure that he has not a claim to be third. I have known something of himbefore.""Evidently," said I, "Mr. Wilson's assistant counts for a good deal inthis mystery of the Red-headed League. I am sure that you inquired yourway 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. We arespies 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 the cornerfrom the retired Saxe-Coburg Square presented as great a contrast to it asthe front of a [185] picture does to the back. It was one of the main arterieswhich conveyed the traffic of the City to the north and west. The roadwaywas blocked with the immense stream of commerce flowing in a doubletide inward and outward, while the foot-paths were black with the hurrying swarm of pedestrians. It was difficult to realize as we looked atthe line of fine shops and stately business premises that they reallyabutted on the other side upon the faded and stagnant square which wehad just quitted."Let me see," said Holmes, standing at the corner and glancing alongthe line, "I should like just to remember the order of the houses here. It isa hobby of mine to have an exact knowledge of London. There isMortimer's, the tobacconist, the little newspaper shop, the Coburg branchof the City and Suburban Bank, the Vegetarian Restaurant, andMcFarlane's carriage-building depot. That carries us right on to the otherblock. And now, Doctor, we've done our work, so it's time we had someplay. A sandwich and a cup of coffee, and then off to violin-land, whereall is sweetness and delicacy and harmony, and there are no red-headedclients to vex us with their conundrums."My friend was an enthusiastic musician, being himself not only a verycapable performer but a composer of no ordinary merit. All the afternoonhe sat in the stalls wrapped in the most perfect happiness, gently wavinghis long, thin fingers in time to the music, while his gently smiling faceand his languid, dreamy eyes were as unlike those of Holmes, the sleuthhound, Holmes the relentless, keen-witted, ready-handed criminal agent,as it was possible to conceive. In his singular character the dual naturealternately asserted itself, and his extreme exactness and astutenessrepresented, as I have often thought, the reaction against the poetic andcontemplative mood which occasionally predominated in him. The swingof his nature took him from extreme languor to devouring energy; and, asI knew well, he was never so truly formidable as when, for days on end,he had been lounging in his armchair amid his improvisations and hisblack-letter editions. Then it was that the lust of the chase would suddenlycome upon him, and that his brilliant reasoning power would rise to thelevel of intuition, until those who were unacquainted with his methodswould look askance at him as on a man whose knowledge was not that ofother mortals. When I saw him that afternoon so enwrapped in the musicat St. James's Hall I felt that an evil time might be coming upon thosewhom he had set himself to hunt down."You want to go home, no doubt, Doctor," he remarked as we emerged."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 being Saturdayrather complicates matters. I shall want your help to-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, sokindly put your army revolver in your pocket." He waved his hand, turnedon his heel, and disappeared in an instant among the crowd.I trust that I am not more dense than my neighbours, but I was alwaysoppressed with a sense of my own stupidity in my dealings with SherlockHolmes. Here I had [186] heard what he had heard, I had seen what he hadseen, and yet from his words it was evident that he saw clearly not onlywhat had happened but what was about to happen, while to me the wholebusiness was still confused and grotesque. As I drove home to my housein Kensington I thought over it all, from the extraordinary story of the redheaded copier of the Encyclopaedia down to the visit to Saxe-CoburgSquare, and the ominous words with which he had parted from me. Whatwas this nocturnal expedition, and why should I go armed? Where were we going, and what were we to do? I had the hint from Holmes that thissmooth-faced pawnbroker's assistant was a formidable man-a man whomight play a deep game. I tried to puzzle it out, but gave it up in despairand set the matter aside until night should bring an explanation.It was a quarter-past nine when I started from home and made my wayacross the Park, and so through Oxford Street to Baker Street. Twohansoms were standing at the door, and as I entered the passage I heardthe sound of voices from above. On entering his room I found Holmes inanimated conversation with two men, one of whom I recognized as PeterJones, the official police agent, while the other was a long, thin, sad-facedman, with a very shiny hat and oppressively respectable frock-coat."Ha! our party is complete," said Holmes, buttoning up his pea-jacketand taking his heavy hunting crop from the rack. "Watson, I think youknow Mr. Jones, of Scotland Yard? Let me introduce you to Mr.Merryweather, who is to be our companion in to-night's adventure.""We're hunting in couples again, Doctor, you see," said Jones in hisconsequential way. "Our friend here is a wonderful man for starting achase. All he wants is an old dog to help him to do the 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," said thepolice agent loftily. "He has his own little methods, which are, if he won'tmind my saying so, just a little too theoretical and fantastic, but he has themakings of a detective in him. It is not too much to say that once or twice,as in that business of the Sholto murder and the Agra treasure, he hasbeen more nearly correct than the official force.""Oh, if you say so, Mr. Jones, it is all right," said the stranger withdeference. "Still, I confess that I miss my rubber. It is the first Saturdaynight for seven-and-twenty years that I have not had my rubber.""I think you will find," said Sherlock Holmes, "that you will play for ahigher stake to-night than you have ever done yet, and that the play willbe more exciting. For you, Mr. Merryweather, the stake will be some£30,000; and for you, Jones, it will be the man upon whom you wish tolay your hands.""John Clay, the murderer, thief, smasher, and forger. He's a youngman, Mr. Merryweather, but he is at the head of his profession, and Iwould rather have my bracelets on him than on any criminal in London.He's a remarkable man, is young John Clay. His grandfather was a royalduke, and he himself has been to Eton and Oxford. His brain is as cunningas his fingers, and though we meet signs of him at every turn, we neverknow where to find the man himself. He'll crack a crib in Scotland oneweek, 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 him yet.""I hope that I may have the pleasure of introducing you to-night. I'vehad one or two little turns also with Mr. John Clay, and I agree with youthat he is [187] at the head of his profession. It is past ten, however, andquite time that we started. If you two will take the first hansom, Watsonand I will follow in the second."Sherlock Holmes was not very communicative during the long drive and lay back in the cab humming the tunes which he had heard in theafternoon. We rattled through an endless labyrinth of gas-lit streets untilwe emerged into Farrington Street."We are close there now," my friend remarked. "This fellowMerryweather is a bank director, and personally interested in the matter. Ithought it as well to have Jones with us also. He is not a bad fellow,though an absolute imbecile in his profession. He has one positive virtue.He is as brave as a bulldog and as tenacious as a lobster if he gets hisclaws upon anyone. Here we are, and they are waiting for us."We had reached the same crowded thoroughfare in which we had foundourselves in the morning. Our cabs were dismissed, and, following theguidance of Mr. Merryweather, we passed down a narrow passage andthrough a side door, which he opened for us. Within there was a smallcorridor, which ended in a very massive iron gate. This also was opened,and led down a flight of winding stone steps, which terminated at anotherformidable gate. Mr. Merryweather stopped to light a lantern, and thenconducted us down a dark, earth-smelling passage, and so, after opening athird door, into a huge vault or cellar, which was piled all round withcrates 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 upon theflags which lined the floor. "Why, dear me, it sounds quite hollow!" he remarked, looking up in surprise."I must really ask you to be a little more quiet!" said Holmes severely."You have already imperilled the whole success of our expedition. MightI beg that you would have the goodness to sit down upon one of thoseboxes, and not to interfere?"The solemn Mr. Merryweather perched himself upon a crate, with avery injured expression upon his face, while Holmes fell upon his kneesupon the floor and, with the lantern and a magnifying lens, began toexamine minutely the cracks between the stones. A few seconds sufficedto satisfy him, for he sprang to his feet again and put his glass in hispocket."We have at least an hour before us," he remarked, "for they can hardlytake any steps until the good pawnbroker is safely in bed. Then they willnot lose a minute, for the sooner they do their work the longer time theywill have for their escape. We are at present, Doctor-as no doubt youhave divined-in the cellar of the City branch of one of the principalLondon banks. Mr. Merryweather is the chairman of directors, and he willexplain to you that there are reasons why the more daring criminals ofLondon should take a considerable interest in this cellar at present.""It is our French gold," whispered the director. "We have had severalwarnings 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 of France.It has become known that we have never had occasion to unpack themoney, and that it is still lying in our cellar. The crate upon which I sitcontains 2,000 napoleons packed between layers of lead foil. Our reserveof bullion is much larger at present than is [188] usually kept in a singlebranch office, and the directors have had misgivings upon the subject.""Which were very well justified," observed Holmes. "And now it is timethat we arranged our little plans. I expect that within an hour matters willcome to a head. In the meantime, Mr. Merryweather, we must put thescreen over that dark lantern.""And sit in the dark?""I am afraid so. I had brought a pack of cards in my pocket, and Ithought that, as we were a partie carree, you might have your rubber afterall. But I see that the enemy's preparations have gone so far that wecannot risk the presence of a light. And, first of all, we must choose ourpositions. These are daring men, and though we shall take them at adisadvantage, they may do us some harm unless we are careful. I shallstand behind this crate, and do you conceal yourselves behind those.Then, when I flash a light upon them, close in swiftly. If they fire,Watson, have no compunction about shooting them down."I placed my revolver, cocked, upon the top of the wooden case behindwhich I crouched. Holmes shot the slide across the front of his lantern andleft us in pitch darkness-such an absolute darkness as I have never beforeexperienced. The smell of hot metal remained to assure us that the lightwas still there, ready to flash out at a moment's notice. To me, with mynerves worked up to a pitch of expectancy, there was something depressing and subduing in the sudden gloom, and in the cold dank air ofthe vault."They have but one retreat," whispered Holmes. "That is back throughthe house into Saxe-Coburg Square. I hope that you have done what Iasked 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 silent andwait."What a time it seemed! From comparing notes afterwards it was but anhour and a quarter, yet it appeared to me that the night must have almostgone, and the dawn be breaking above us. My limbs were weary and stiff,for I feared to change my position; yet my nerves were worked up to thehighest pitch of tension, and my hearing was so acute that I could not onlyhear the gentle breathing of my companions, but I could distinguish thedeeper, heavier in-breath of the bulky Jones from the thin, sighing note ofthe bank director. From my position I could look over the case in thedirection of the floor. Suddenly my eyes caught the glint of a light.At first it was but a lurid spark upon the stone pavement. Then itlengthened out until it became a yellow line, and then, without anywarning or sound, a gash seemed to open and a hand appeared; a white,almost womanly hand, which felt about in the centre of the little area oflight. For a minute or more the hand, with its writhing fingers, protrudedout of the floor. Then it was withdrawn as suddenly as it appeared, and allwas dark again 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 upon its side andleft a square, gaping hole, through which streamed the light of a lantern.Over the edge there peeped a clean-cut, boyish face, which looked keenlyabout it, and then, with a hand on either side of the aperture, drew itselfshoulder-high and waist-high, until one knee rested upon the edge. Inanother instant he stood at the side of the hole and was hauling after him acompanion, lithe and small like himself, with a pale face and a shock ofvery red hair.[189] "It's all clear," he whispered. "Have you the chisel and the bags?Great Scott! Jump, Archie, jump, and I'll swing for it!"Sherlock Holmes had sprung out and seized the intruder by the collar.The other dived down the hole, and I heard the sound of rending cloth asJones clutched at his skirts. The light flashed upon the barrel of arevolver, but Holmes's hunting crop came down on the man's wrist, andthe pistol clinked upon the stone floor."It's no use, John Clay," said Holmes blandly. "You have no chance atall.""So I see," the other answered with the utmost coolness. "I fancy thatmy pal is all right, though I see you have got his coat-tails.""There are three men waiting for him at the door," said Holmes."Oh, indeed! You seem to have done the thing very completely. I mustcompliment 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 quicker atclimbing down holes than I am. Just hold out while I fix the derbies.""I beg that you will not touch me with your filthy hands," remarked ourprisoner as the handcuffs clattered upon his wrists. "You may not beaware that I have royal blood in my veins. Have the goodness, also, whenyou address me always to say 'sir' and 'please.'""All right," said Jones with a stare and a snigger. "Well, would youplease, sir, march upstairs, where we can get a cab to carry your Highnessto the police-station?""That is better," said John Clay serenely. He made a sweeping bow tothe three of us and walked quietly off in the custody of the detective."Really, Mr. Holmes," said Mr. Merryweather as we followed themfrom the cellar, "I do not know how the bank can thank you or repay you.There is no doubt that you have detected and defeated in the mostcomplete manner one of the most determined attempts at bank robberythat have ever come within my experience.""I have had one or two little scores of my own to settle with Mr. JohnClay," said Holmes. "I have been at some small expense over this matter, which I shall expect the bank to refund, but beyond that I am amplyrepaid by having had an experience which is in many ways unique, andby hearing the very remarkable narrative of the Red-headed League.""You see, Watson," he explained in the early hours of the morning aswe sat over a glass of whisky and soda in Baker Street, "it was perfectlyobvious from the first that the only possible object of this rather fantasticbusiness of the advertisement of the League, and the copying of theEncyclopaedia, must be to get this not over-bright pawnbroker out of theway for a number of hours every day. It was a curious way of managingit, but, really, it would be difficult to suggest a better. The method was nodoubt suggested to Clay's ingenious mind by the colour of hisaccomplice's hair. The £4 a week was a lure which must draw him, andwhat was it to them, who were playing for thousands? They put in theadvertisement, one rogue has the temporary office, the other rogue incitesthe man to apply for it, and together they manage to secure his absenceevery morning in the week. From the time that I heard of the assistanthaving come for half wages, it was obvious to me that he had some strongmotive for securing the situation."[190] "But how could you guess what the motive was?""Had there been women in the house, I should have suspected a merevulgar intrigue. That, however, was out of the question. The man'sbusiness was a small one, and there was nothing in his house which couldaccount for such elaborate preparations, and such an expenditure as theywere at. It must, then, be something out of the house. What could it be? Ithought of the assistant's fondness for photography, and his trick ofvanishing into the cellar. The cellar! There was the end of this tangledclue. Then I made inquiries as to this mysterious assistant and found that Ihad to deal with one of the coolest and most daring criminals in London.He was doing something in the cellar-something which took many hoursa day for months on end. What could it be, once more? I could think ofnothing save that he was running a tunnel to some other building."So far I had got when we went to visit the scene of action. I surprisedyou by beating upon the pavement with my stick. I was ascertainingwhether the cellar stretched out in front or behind. It was not in front.Then I rang the bell, and, as I hoped, the assistant answered it. We havehad some skirmishes, but we had never set eyes upon each other before. Ihardly looked at his face. His knees were what I wished to see. You mustyourself have remarked how worn, wrinkled, and stained they were. Theyspoke of those hours of burrowing. The only remaining point was whatthey were burrowing for. I walked round the corner, saw the City andSuburban Bank abutted on our friend's premises, and felt that I hadsolved my problem. When you drove home after the concert I called uponScotland Yard and upon the chairman of the bank directors, with theresult that you have seen.""And how could you tell that they would make their attempt to-night?"I asked."Well, when they closed their League offices that was a sign that theycared no longer about Mr. Jabez Wilson's presence-in other words, that they had completed their tunnel. But it was essential that they should useit soon, as it might be discovered, or the bullion might be removed.Saturday would suit them better than any other day, as it would give themtwo days for their escape. For all these reasons I expected them to cometo-night.""You reasoned it out beautifully," I exclaimed in unfeigned admiration."It is so long a chain, and yet every link rings true.""It saved me from ennui," he answered, yawning. "Alas! I already feelit closing in upon me. My life is spent in one long effort to escape fromthe commonplaces of existence. These little problems 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 of some littleuse," he remarked. "'L'homme c'est rien-l'oeuvre c'est tout,' as GustaveFlaubert wrote to George Sand."