II.THE RED-HEADED LEAGUE

nexactknowledgeofLondon.ThereisMortimer’s,thetobacconist,thelittlenewspapershop,theCoburgbranchoftheCityandSuburbanBank,theVegetarianRestaurant,andMcFarlane’scarriage-buildingdepot.Thatcarriesusrightontotheotherblock.Andnow,Doctor,we’vedoneourwork,soit’stimewehadsomeplay.Asandwichandacupofcoffee,andthenofftoviolin-land,whereallissweetnessanddelicacyandharmony,andtherearenored-headedclientstovexuswiththeirconundrums.” Myfriendwasanenthusiasticmusician,beinghimselfnotonlyaverycapableperformerbutacomposerofnoordinarymerit.Alltheafternoonhesatinthestallswrappedinthemostperfecthappiness,gentlywavinghislong,thinfingersintimetothemusic,whilehisgentlysmilingfaceandhislanguid,dreamyeyeswereasunlikethoseofHolmesthesleuth-hound,Holmestherelentless,keen-witted,ready-handedcriminalagent,asitwaspossibletoconceive.Inhissingularcharacterthedualnaturealternatelyasserteditself,andhisextremeexactnessandastutenessrepresented,asIhaveoftenthought,thereactionagainstthepoeticandcontemplativemoodwhichoccasionallypredominatedinhim.Theswingofhisnaturetookhimfromextremelanguortodevouringenergyand,asIknewwell,hewasneversotrulyformidableaswhen,fordaysonend,hehadbeenlounginginhisarmchairamidhisimprovisationsandhisblack-lettereditions.Thenitwasthatthelustofthechasewouldsuddenlycomeuponhim,andthathisbrilliantreasoningpowerwouldrisetothelevelofintuition,untilthosewhowereunacquaintedwithhismethodswouldlookaskanceathimasonamanwhoseknowledgewasnotthatofothermortals.WhenIsawhimthatafternoonsoenwrappedinthemusicatSt.James’sHallIfeltthataneviltimemightbecominguponthosewhomhehadsethimselftohuntdown. “Youwanttogohome,nodoubt,Doctor,”heremarkedasweemerged. “Yes,itwouldbeaswell.” “AndIhavesomebusinesstodowhichwilltakesomehours.ThisbusinessatCoburgSquareisserious.” “Whyserious?” “Aconsiderablecrimeisincontemplation.Ihaveeveryreasontobelievethatweshallbeintimetostopit.Butto-daybeingSaturdayrathercomplicatesmatters.Ishallwantyourhelpto-night.” “Atwhattime?” “Tenwillbeearlyenough.” “IshallbeatBakerStreetatten.” “Verywell.And,Isay,Doctor,theremaybesomelittledanger,sokindlyputyourarmyrevolverinyourpocket.”Hewavedhishand,turnedonhisheel,anddisappearedinaninstantamongthecrowd. ItrustthatIamnotmoredensethanmyneighbours,butIwasalwaysoppressedwithasenseofmyownstupidityinmydealingswithSherlockHolmes.HereIhadheardwhathehadheard,Ihadseenwhathehadseen,andyetfromhiswordsitwasevidentthathesawclearlynotonlywhathadhappenedbutwhatwasabouttohappen,whiletomethewholebusinesswasstillconfusedandgrotesque.AsIdrovehometomyhouseinKensingtonIthoughtoveritall,fromtheextraordinarystoryofthered-headedcopieroftheEncyclop?diadowntothevisittoSaxe-CoburgSquare,andtheominouswordswithwhichhehadpartedfromme.Whatwasthisnocturnalexpedition,andwhyshouldIgoarmed?Wherewerewegoing,andwhatwerewetodo?IhadthehintfromHolmesthatthissmooth-facedpawnbroker’sassistantwasaformidableman—amanwhomightplayadeepgame.Itriedtopuzzleitout,butgaveitupindespairandsetthematterasideuntilnightshouldbringanexplanation. Itwasaquarter-pastninewhenIstartedfromhomeandmademywayacrossthePark,andsothroughOxfordStreettoBakerStreet.Twohansomswerestandingatthedoor,andasIenteredthepassageIheardthesoundofvoicesfromabove.Onenteringhisroom,IfoundHolmesinanimatedconversationwithtwomen,oneofwhomIrecognisedasPeterJones,theofficialpoliceagent,whiletheotherwasalong,thin,sad-facedman,withaveryshinyhatandoppressivelyrespectablefrock-coat. “Ha!Ourpartyiscomplete,”saidHolmes,buttoninguphispea-jacketandtakinghisheavyhuntingcropfromtherack.“Watson,IthinkyouknowMr.Jones,ofScotlandYard?LetmeintroduceyoutoMr.Merryweather,whoistobeourcompanioninto-night’sadventure.” “We’rehuntingincouplesagain,Doctor,yousee,”saidJonesinhisconsequentialway.“Ourfriendhereisawonderfulmanforstartingachase.Allhewantsisanolddogtohelphimtodotherunningdown.” “Ihopeawildgoosemaynotprovetobetheendofourchase,”observedMr.Merryweathergloomily. “YoumayplaceconsiderableconfidenceinMr.Holmes,sir,”saidthepoliceagentloftily.“Hehashisownlittlemethods,whichare,ifhewon’tmindmysayingso,justalittletootheoreticalandfantastic,buthehasthemakingsofadetectiveinhim.Itisnottoomuchtosaythatonceortwice,asinthatbusinessoftheSholtomurderandtheAgratreasure,hehasbeenmorenearlycorrectthantheofficialforce.” “Oh,ifyousayso,Mr.Jones,itisallright,”saidthestrangerwithdeference.“Still,IconfessthatImissmyrubber.ItisthefirstSaturdaynightforseven-and-twentyyearsthatIhavenothadmyrubber.” “Ithinkyouwillfind,”saidSherlockHolmes,“thatyouwillplayforahigherstaketo-nightthanyouhaveeverdoneyet,andthattheplaywillbemoreexciting.Foryou,Mr.Merryweather,thestakewillbesome￡30,000andforyou,Jones,itwillbethemanuponwhomyouwishtolayyourhands.” “JohnClay,themurderer,thief,smasher,andforger.He’sayoungman,Mr.Merryweather,butheisattheheadofhisprofession,andIwouldratherhavemybraceletsonhimthanonanycriminalinLondon.He’saremarkableman,isyoungJohnClay.Hisgrandfatherwasaroyalduke,andhehimselfhasbeentoEtonandOxford.Hisbrainisascunningashisfingers,andthoughwemeetsignsofhimateveryturn,weneverknowwheretofindthemanhimself.He’llcrackacribinScotlandoneweek,andberaisingmoneytobuildanorphanageinCornwallthenext.I’vebeenonhistrackforyearsandhaveneverseteyesonhimyet.” “IhopethatImayhavethepleasureofintroducingyouto-night.I’vehadoneortwolittleturnsalsowithMr.JohnClay,andIagreewithyouthatheisattheheadofhisprofession.Itispastten,however,andquitetimethatwestarted.Ifyoutwowilltakethefirsthansom,WatsonandIwillfollowinthesecond.” SherlockHolmeswasnotverycommunicativeduringthelongdriveandlaybackinthecabhummingthetuneswhichhehadheardintheafternoon.Werattledthroughanendlesslabyrinthofgas-litstreetsuntilweemergedintoFarringtonStreet. “Weareclosetherenow,”myfriendremarked.“ThisfellowMerryweatherisabankdirector,andpersonallyinterestedinthematter.IthoughtitaswelltohaveJoneswithusalso.Heisnotabadfellow,thoughanabsoluteimbecileinhisprofession.Hehasonepositivevirtue.Heisasbraveasabulldogandastenaciousasalobsterifhegetshisclawsuponanyone.Hereweare,andtheyarewaitingforus.” Wehadreachedthesamecrowdedthoroughfareinwhichwehadfoundourselvesinthemorning.Ourcabsweredismissed,and,followingtheguidanceofMr.Merryweather,wepasseddownanarrowpassageandthroughasidedoor,whichheopenedforus.Withintherewasasmallcorridor,whichendedinaverymassiveirongate.Thisalsowasopened,andleddownaflightofwindingstonesteps,whichterminatedatanotherformidablegate.Mr.Merryweatherstoppedtolightalantern,andthenconductedusdownadark,earth-smellingpassage,andso,afteropeningathirddoor,intoahugevaultorcellar,whichwaspiledallroundwithcratesandmassiveboxes. “Youarenotveryvulnerablefromabove,”Holmesremarkedasheheldupthelanternandgazedabouthim. “Norfrombelow,”saidMr.Merryweather,strikinghisstickupontheflagswhichlinedthefloor.“Why,dearme,itsoundsquitehollow!”heremarked,lookingupinsurprise. “Imustreallyaskyoutobealittlemorequiet!”saidHolmesseverely.“Youhavealreadyimperilledthewholesuccessofourexpedition.MightIbegthatyouwouldhavethegoodnesstositdownupononeofthoseboxes,andnottointerfere?” ThesolemnMr.Merryweatherperchedhimselfuponacrate,withaveryinjuredexpressionuponhisface,whileHolmesfelluponhiskneesuponthefloorand,withthelanternandamagnifyinglens,begantoexamineminutelythecracksbetweenthestones.Afewsecondssufficedtosatisfyhim,forhesprangtohisfeetagainandputhisglassinhispocket. “Wehaveatleastanhourbeforeus,”heremarked,“fortheycanhardlytakeanystepsuntilthegoodpawnbrokerissafelyinbed.Thentheywillnotloseaminute,forthesoonertheydotheirworkthelongertimetheywillhavefortheirescape.Weareatpresent,Doctor—asnodoubtyouhavedivined—inthecellaroftheCitybranchofoneoftheprincipalLondonbanks.Mr.Merryweatheristhechairmanofdirectors,andhewillexplaintoyouthattherearereasonswhythemoredaringcriminalsofLondonshouldtakeaconsiderableinterestinthiscellaratpresent.” “ItisourFrenchgold,”whisperedthedirector.“Wehavehadseveralwarningsthatanattemptmightbemadeuponit.” “YourFrenchgold?” “Yes.Wehadoccasionsomemonthsagotostrengthenourresourcesandborrowedforthatpurpose30,000napoleonsfromtheBankofFrance.Ithasbecomeknownthatwehaveneverhadoccasiontounpackthemoney,andthatitisstilllyinginourcellar.ThecrateuponwhichIsitcontains2,000napoleonspackedbetweenl