II.THE RED-HEADED LEAGUE

dthen,afteratime,hedidnotcomeinatall.Still,ofcourse,Ineverdaredtoleavetheroomforaninstant,forIwasnotsurewhenhemightcome,andthebilletwassuchagoodone,andsuitedmesowell,thatIwouldnotriskthelossofit. “Eightweekspassedawaylikethis,andIhadwrittenaboutAbbotsandArcheryandArmourandArchitectureandAttica,andhopedwithdiligencethatImightgetontotheB’sbeforeverylong.Itcostmesomethinginfoolscap,andIhadprettynearlyfilledashelfwithmywritings.Andthensuddenlythewholebusinesscametoanend.” “Toanend?” “Yes,sir.Andnolaterthanthismorning.Iwenttomyworkasusualatteno’clock,butthedoorwasshutandlocked,withalittlesquareofcardboardhammeredontothemiddleofthepanelwithatack.Hereitis,andyoucanreadforyourself.” Heheldupapieceofwhitecardboardaboutthesizeofasheetofnote-paper.Itreadinthisfashion: “THERED-HEADEDLEAGUEISDISSOLVED.October9,1890.” SherlockHolmesandIsurveyedthiscurtannouncementandtheruefulfacebehindit,untilthecomicalsideoftheaffairsocompletelyovertoppedeveryotherconsiderationthatwebothburstoutintoaroaroflaughter. “Icannotseethatthereisanythingveryfunny,”criedourclient,flushinguptotherootsofhisflaminghead.“Ifyoucandonothingbetterthanlaughatme,Icangoelsewhere.” “No,no,”criedHolmes,shovinghimbackintothechairfromwhichhehadhalfrisen.“Ireallywouldn’tmissyourcasefortheworld.Itismostrefreshinglyunusual.Butthereis,ifyouwillexcusemysayingso,somethingjustalittlefunnyaboutit.Praywhatstepsdidyoutakewhenyoufoundthecarduponthedoor?” “Iwasstaggered,sir.Ididnotknowwhattodo.ThenIcalledattheofficesround,butnoneofthemseemedtoknowanythingaboutit.Finally,Iwenttothelandlord,whoisanaccountantlivingonthegroundfloor,andIaskedhimifhecouldtellmewhathadbecomeoftheRed-headedLeague.Hesaidthathehadneverheardofanysuchbody.ThenIaskedhimwhoMr.DuncanRosswas.Heansweredthatthenamewasnewtohim. “‘Well,’saidI,‘thegentlemanatNo.4.’ “‘What,thered-headedman?’ “‘Yes.’ “‘Oh,’saidhe,‘hisnamewasWilliamMorris.Hewasasolicitorandwasusingmyroomasatemporaryconvenienceuntilhisnewpremiseswereready.Hemovedoutyesterday.’ “‘WherecouldIfindhim?’ “‘Oh,athisnewoffices.Hedidtellmetheaddress.Yes,17KingEdwardStreet,nearSt.Paul’s.’ “Istartedoff,Mr.Holmes,butwhenIgottothataddressitwasamanufactoryofartificialknee-caps,andnooneinithadeverheardofeitherMr.WilliamMorrisorMr.DuncanRoss.” “Andwhatdidyoudothen?”askedHolmes. “IwenthometoSaxe-CoburgSquare,andItooktheadviceofmyassistant.Buthecouldnothelpmeinanyway.HecouldonlysaythatifIwaitedIshouldhearbypost.Butthatwasnotquitegoodenough,Mr.Holmes.Ididnotwishtolosesuchaplacewithoutastruggle,so,asIhadheardthatyouweregoodenoughtogiveadvicetopoorfolkwhowereinneedofit,Icamerightawaytoyou.” “Andyoudidverywisely,”saidHolmes.“Yourcaseisanexceedinglyremarkableone,andIshallbehappytolookintoit.FromwhatyouhavetoldmeIthinkthatitispossiblethatgraverissueshangfromitthanmightatfirstsightappear.” “Graveenough!”saidMr.JabezWilson.“Why,Ihavelostfourpoundaweek.” “Asfarasyouarepersonallyconcerned,”remarkedHolmes,“Idonotseethatyouhaveanygrievanceagainstthisextraordinaryleague.Onthecontrary,youare,asIunderstand,richerbysome￡30,tosaynothingoftheminuteknowledgewhichyouhavegainedoneverysubjectwhichcomesundertheletterA.Youhavelostnothingbythem.” “No,sir.ButIwanttofindoutaboutthem,andwhotheyare,andwhattheirobjectwasinplayingthisprank—ifitwasaprank—uponme.Itwasaprettyexpensivejokeforthem,foritcostthemtwoandthirtypounds.” “Weshallendeavourtoclearupthesepointsforyou.And,first,oneortwoquestions,Mr.Wilson.Thisassistantofyourswhofirstcalledyourattentiontotheadvertisement—howlonghadhebeenwithyou?” “Aboutamonththen.” “Howdidhecome?” “Inanswertoanadvertisement.” “Washetheonlyapplicant?” “No,Ihadadozen.” “Whydidyoupickhim?” “Becausehewashandyandwouldcomecheap.” “Athalfwages,infact.” “Yes.” “Whatishelike,thisVincentSpaulding?” “Small,stout-built,veryquickinhisways,nohaironhisface,thoughhe’snotshortofthirty.Hasawhitesplashofaciduponhisforehead.” Holmessatupinhischairinconsiderableexcitement.“Ithoughtasmuch,”saidhe.“Haveyoueverobservedthathisearsarepiercedforearrings?” “Yes,sir.Hetoldmethatagipsyhaddoneitforhimwhenhewasalad.” “Hum!”saidHolmes,sinkingbackindeepthought.“Heisstillwithyou?” “Oh,yes,sirIhaveonlyjustlefthim.” “Andhasyourbusinessbeenattendedtoinyourabsence?” “Nothingtocomplainof,sir.There’sneververymuchtodoofamorning.” “Thatwilldo,Mr.Wilson.Ishallbehappytogiveyouanopinionuponthesubjectinthecourseofadayortwo.To-dayisSaturday,andIhopethatbyMondaywemaycometoaconclusion.” “Well,Watson,”saidHolmeswhenourvisitorhadleftus,“whatdoyoumakeofitall?” “Imakenothingofit,”Iansweredfrankly.“Itisamostmysteriousbusiness.” “Asarule,”saidHolmes,“themorebizarreathingisthelessmysteriousitprovestobe.Itisyourcommonplace,featurelesscrimeswhicharereallypuzzling,justasacommonplacefaceisthemostdifficulttoidentify.ButImustbepromptoverthismatter.” “Whatareyougoingtodo,then?”Iasked. “Tosmoke,”heanswered.“Itisquiteathreepipeproblem,andIbegthatyouwon’tspeaktomeforfiftyminutes.”Hecurledhimselfupinhischair,withhisthinkneesdrawnuptohishawk-likenose,andtherehesatwithhiseyesclosedandhisblackclaypipethrustingoutlikethebillofsomestrangebird.Ihadcometotheconclusionthathehaddroppedasleep,andindeedwasnoddingmyself,whenhesuddenlysprangoutofhischairwiththegestureofamanwhohasmadeuphismindandputhispipedownuponthemantelpiece. “SarasateplaysattheSt.James’sHallthisafternoon,”heremarked.“Whatdoyouthink,Watson?Couldyourpatientsspareyouforafewhours?” “Ihavenothingtodoto-day.Mypracticeisneververyabsorbing.” “Thenputonyourhatandcome.IamgoingthroughtheCityfirst,andwecanhavesomelunchontheway.IobservethatthereisagooddealofGermanmusicontheprogramme,whichisrathermoretomytastethanItalianorFrench.Itisintrospective,andIwanttointrospect.Comealong!” WetravelledbytheUndergroundasfarasAldersgateandashortwalktookustoSaxe-CoburgSquare,thesceneofthesingularstorywhichwehadlistenedtointhemorning.Itwasapoky,little,shabby-genteelplace,wherefourlinesofdingytwo-storiedbrickhouseslookedoutintoasmallrailed-inenclosure,wherealawnofweedygrassandafewclumpsoffadedlaurelbushesmadeahardfightagainstasmoke-ladenanduncongenialatmosphere.Threegiltballsandabrownboardwith“JABEZWILSON”inwhiteletters,uponacornerhouse,announcedtheplacewhereourred-headedclientcarriedonhisbusiness.SherlockHolmesstoppedinfrontofitwithhisheadononesideandlookeditallover,withhiseyesshiningbrightlybetweenpuckeredlids.Thenhewalkedslowlyupthestreet,andthendownagaintothecorner,stilllookingkeenlyatthehouses.Finallyhereturnedtothepawnbroker’s,and,havingthumpedvigorouslyuponthepavementwithhissticktwoorthreetimes,hewentuptothedoorandknocked.Itwasinstantlyopenedbyabright-looking,clean-shavenyoungfellow,whoaskedhimtostepin. “Thankyou,”saidHolmes,“IonlywishedtoaskyouhowyouwouldgofromheretotheStrand.” “Thirdright,fourthleft,”answeredtheassistantpromptly,closingthedoor. “Smartfellow,that,”observedHolmesaswewalkedaway.“Heis,inmyjudgment,thefourthsmartestmaninLondon,andfordaringIamnotsurethathehasnotaclaimtobethird.Ihaveknownsomethingofhimbefore.” “Evidently,”saidI,“Mr.Wilson’sassistantcountsforagooddealinthismysteryoftheRed-headedLeague.Iamsurethatyouinquiredyourwaymerelyinorderthatyoumightseehim.” “Nothim.” “Whatthen?” “Thekneesofhistrousers.” “Andwhatdidyousee?” “WhatIexpectedtosee.” “Whydidyoubeatthepavement?” “Mydeardoctor,thisisatimeforobservation,notfortalk.Wearespiesinanenemy’scountry.WeknowsomethingofSaxe-CoburgSquare.Letusnowexplorethepartswhichliebehindit.” TheroadinwhichwefoundourselvesasweturnedroundthecornerfromtheretiredSaxe-CoburgSquarepresentedasgreatacontrasttoitasthefrontofapicturedoestotheback.ItwasoneofthemainarterieswhichconveyedthetrafficoftheCitytothenorthandwest.Theroadwaywasblockedwiththeimmensestreamofcommerceflowinginadoubletideinwardandoutward,whilethefootpathswereblackwiththehurryingswarmofpedestrians.Itwasdifficulttorealiseaswelookedatthelineoffineshopsandstatelybusinesspremisesthattheyreallyabuttedontheothersideuponthefadedandstagnantsquarewhichwehadjustquitted. “Letmesee,”saidHolmes,standingatthecornerandglancingalongtheline,“Ishouldlikejusttoremembertheorderofthehouseshere.Itisahobbyofminetohavea