ADVENTURE IV. THE BOSCOMBE VALLEY MYSTERY
A STUDY IN SCARLET.
PART I.
CHAPTER I. MR. SHERLOCK HOLMES.
CHAPTER II. THE SCIENCE OF DEDUCTION.
CHAPTER III. THE LAURISTON GARDEN MYSTERY 6
CHAPTER IV. WHAT JOHN RANCE HAD TO TELL.
CHAPTER V. OUR ADVERTISEMENT BRINGS A VISITOR.
CHAPTER VI. TOBIAS GREGSON SHOWS WHAT HE CAN DO.
CHAPTER VII. LIGHT IN THE DARKNESS.
PART II. The Country of the Saints.
CHAPTER I. ON THE GREAT ALKALI PLAIN.
CHAPTER II. THE FLOWER OF UTAH.
CHAPTER III. JOHN FERRIER TALKS WITH THE PROPHET.
CHAPTER IV. A FLIGHT FOR LIFE.
CHAPTER V. THE AVENGING ANGELS.
CHAPTER VI. A CONTINUATION OF THE REMINISCENCES OF JOHN WATSON, M.D.
CHAPTER VII. THE CONCLUSION.
Chapter 1. Mr. Sherlock Holmes
Chapter 2. The Curse of the Baskervilles
Chapter 3. The Problem
Chapter 4. Sir Henry Baskerville
Chapter 5. Three Broken Threads
Chapter 6. Baskerville Hall
Chapter 7. The Stapletons of Merripit House
Chapter 8. First Report of Dr. Watson
Chapter 9. The Light upon the Moor [Second Report of Dr. Watson]
Chapter 10. Extract from the Diary of Dr. Watson
Chapter 11. The Man on the Tor
Chapter 12. Death on the Moor
Chapter 13. Fixing the Nets
Chapter 14. The Hound of the Baskervilles
Chapter 15. A Retrospection
ADVENTURE I. A SCANDAL IN BOHEMIA
I.To
Sherlock Holmes she is always
the woman. I have
seldom heard him mention her under any other name. In his eyes she
eclipses and predominates the whole of her sex. It was not that he
felt any emotion akin to love for Irene Adler. All emotions, and
that
one particularly, were abhorrent to his cold, precise but admirably
balanced mind. He was, I take it, the most perfect reasoning and
observing machine that the world has seen, but as a lover he would
have placed himself in a false position. He never spoke of the
softer
passions, save with a gibe and a sneer. They were admirable things
for the observer—excellent for drawing the veil from men’s
motives and actions. But for the trained reasoner to admit such
intrusions into his own delicate and finely adjusted temperament
was
to introduce a distracting factor which might throw a doubt upon
all
his mental results. Grit in a sensitive instrument, or a crack in
one
of his own high-power lenses, would not be more disturbing than a
strong emotion in a nature such as his. And yet there was but one
woman to him, and that woman was the late Irene Adler, of dubious
and
questionable memory.I
had seen little of Holmes lately. My marriage had drifted us away
from each other. My own complete happiness, and the home-centred
interests which rise up around the man who first finds himself
master
of his own establishment, were sufficient to absorb all my
attention,
while Holmes, who loathed every form of society with his whole
Bohemian soul, remained in our lodgings in Baker Street, buried
among
his old books, and alternating from week to week between cocaine
and
ambition, the drowsiness of the drug, and the fierce energy of his
own keen nature. He was still, as ever, deeply attracted by the
study
of crime, and occupied his immense faculties and extraordinary
powers
of observation in following out those clues, and clearing up those
mysteries which had been abandoned as hopeless by the official
police. From time to time I heard some vague account of his doings:
of his summons to Odessa in the case of the Trepoff murder, of his
clearing up of the singular tragedy of the Atkinson brothers at
Trincomalee, and finally of the mission which he had accomplished
so
delicately and successfully for the reigning family of Holland.
Beyond these signs of his activity, however, which I merely shared
with all the readers of the daily press, I knew little of my former
friend and companion.One
night—it was on the twentieth of March, 1888—I was returning from
a journey to a patient (for I had now returned to civil practice),
when my way led me through Baker Street. As I passed the
well-remembered door, which must always be associated in my mind
with
my wooing, and with the dark incidents of the Study in Scarlet, I
was
seized with a keen desire to see Holmes again, and to know how he
was
employing his extraordinary powers. His rooms were brilliantly lit,
and, even as I looked up, I saw his tall, spare figure pass twice
in
a dark silhouette against the blind. He was pacing the room
swiftly,
eagerly, with his head sunk upon his chest and his hands clasped
behind him. To me, who knew his every mood and habit, his attitude
and manner told their own story. He was at work again. He had risen
out of his drug-created dreams and was hot upon the scent of some
new
problem. I rang the bell and was shown up to the chamber which had
formerly been in part my own.His
manner was not effusive. It seldom was; but he was glad, I think,
to
see me. With hardly a word spoken, but with a kindly eye, he waved
me
to an armchair, threw across his case of cigars, and indicated a
spirit case and a gasogene in the corner. Then he stood before the
fire and looked me over in his singular introspective
fashion.
“
Wedlock
suits you,” he remarked. “I think, Watson, that you have put on
seven and a half pounds since I saw you.”
“
Seven!”
I answered.
“
Indeed,
I should have thought a little more. Just a trifle more, I fancy,
Watson. And in practice again, I observe. You did not tell me that
you intended to go into harness.”
“
Then,
how do you know?”
“
I
see it, I deduce it. How do I know that you have been getting
yourself very wet lately, and that you have a most clumsy and
careless servant girl?”
“
My
dear Holmes,” said I, “this is too much. You would certainly have
been burned, had you lived a few centuries ago. It is true that I
had
a country walk on Thursday and came home in a dreadful mess, but as
I
have changed my clothes I can’t imagine how you deduce it. As to
Mary Jane, she is incorrigible, and my wife has given her notice,
but
there, again, I fail to see how you work it out.”He
chuckled to himself and rubbed his long, nervous hands
together.
“
It
is simplicity itself,” said he; “my eyes tell me that on the
inside of your left shoe, just where the firelight strikes it, the
leather is scored by six almost parallel cuts. Obviously they have
been caused by someone who has very carelessly scraped round the
edges of the sole in order to remove crusted mud from it. Hence,
you
see, my double deduction that you had been out in vile weather, and
that you had a particularly malignant boot-slitting specimen of the
London slavey. As to your practice, if a gentleman walks into my
rooms smelling of iodoform, with a black mark of nitrate of silver
upon his right forefinger, and a bulge on the right side of his
top-hat to show where he has secreted his stethoscope, I must be
dull, indeed, if I do not pronounce him to be an active member of
the
medical profession.”I
could not help laughing at the ease with which he explained his
process of deduction. “When I hear you give your reasons,” I
remarked, “the thing always appears to me to be so ridiculously
simple that I could easily do it myself, though at each successive
instance of your reasoning I am baffled until you explain your
process. And yet I believe that my eyes are as good as
yours.”
“
Quite
so,” he answered, lighting a cigarette, and throwing himself down
into an armchair. “You see, but you do not observe. The distinction
is clear. For example, you have frequently seen the steps which
lead
up from the hall to this room.”
“
Frequently.”
“
How
often?”
“
Well,
some hundreds of times.”
“
Then
how many are there?”
“
How
many? I don’t know.”
“
Quite
so! You have not observed. And yet you have seen. That is just my
point. Now, I know that there are seventeen steps, because I have
both seen and observed. By the way, since you are interested in
these
little problems, and since you are good enough to chronicle one or
two of my trifling experiences, you may be interested in this.” He
threw over a sheet of thick, pink-tinted notepaper which had been
lying open upon the table. “It came by the last post,” said he.
“Read it aloud.”The
note was undated, and without either signature or address.
“
There
will call upon you to-night, at a quarter to eight o’clock,” it
said, “a gentleman who desires to consult you upon a matter of the
very deepest moment. Your recent services to one of the royal
houses
of Europe have shown that you are one who may safely be trusted
with
matters which are of an importance which can hardly be exaggerated.
This account of you we have from all quarters received. Be in your
chamber then at that hour, and do not take it amiss if your visitor
wear a mask.”
“
This
is indeed a mystery,” I remarked. “What do you imagine that it
means?”
“
I
have no data yet. It is a capital mistake to theorise before one
has
data. Insensibly one begins to twist facts to suit theories,
instead
of theories to suit facts. But the note itself. What do you deduce
from it?”I
carefully examined the writing, and the paper upon which it was
written.
“
The
man who wrote it was presumably well to do,” I remarked,
endeavouring to imitate my companion’s processes. “Such paper
could not be bought under half a crown a packet. It is peculiarly
strong and stiff.”
“
Peculiar—that
is the very word,” said Holmes. “It is not an English paper at
all. Hold it up to the light.”I
did so, and saw a large “E” with a small “g,” a “P,” and
a large “G” with a small “t” woven into the texture of the
paper.
“
What
do you make of that?” asked Holmes.
“
The
name of the maker, no doubt; or his monogram, rather.”
“
Not
at all. The ‘G’ with the small ‘t’ stands for ‘Gesellschaft,’
which is the German for ‘Company.’ It is a customary contraction
like our ‘Co.’ ‘P,’ of course, stands for ‘Papier.’ Now
for the ‘Eg.’ Let us glance at our Continental Gazetteer.” He
took down a heavy brown volume from his shelves. “Eglow,
Eglonitz—here we are, Egria. It is in a German-speaking country—in
Bohemia, not far from Carlsbad. ‘Remarkable as being the scene of
the death of Wallenstein, and for its numerous glass-factories and
paper-mills.’ Ha, ha, my boy, what do you make of that?” His eyes
sparkled, and he sent up a great blue triumphant cloud from his
cigarette.
“
The
paper was made in Bohemia,” I said.
“
Precisely.
And the man who wrote the note is a German. Do you note the
peculiar
construction of the sentence—‘This account of you we have from
all quarters received.’ A Frenchman or Russian could not have
written that. It is the German who is so uncourteous to his verbs.
It
only remains, therefore, to discover what is wanted by this German
who writes upon Bohemian paper and prefers wearing a mask to
showing
his face. And here he comes, if I am not mistaken, to resolve all
our
doubts.”As
he spoke there was the sharp sound of horses’ hoofs and grating
wheels against the curb, followed by a sharp pull at the bell.
Holmes
whistled.
“
A
pair, by the sound,” said he. “Yes,” he continued, glancing out
of the window. “A nice little brougham and a pair of beauties. A
hundred and fifty guineas apiece. There’s money in this case,
Watson, if there is nothing else.”
“
I
think that I had better go, Holmes.”
“
Not
a bit, Doctor. Stay where you are. I am lost without my Boswell.
And
this promises to be interesting. It would be a pity to miss
it.”
“
But
your client—”
“
Never
mind him. I may want your help, and so may he. Here he comes. Sit
down in that armchair, Doctor, and give us your best
attention.”A
slow and heavy step, which had been heard upon the stairs and in
the
passage, paused immediately outside the door. Then there was a loud
and authoritative tap.
“
Come
in!” said Holmes.A
man entered who could hardly have been less than six feet six
inches
in height, with the chest and limbs of a Hercules. His dress was
rich
with a richness which would, in England, be looked upon as akin to
bad taste. Heavy bands of astrakhan were slashed across the sleeves
and fronts of his double-breasted coat, while the deep blue cloak
which was thrown over his shoulders was lined with flame-coloured
silk and secured at the neck with a brooch which consisted of a
single flaming beryl. Boots which extended halfway up his calves,
and
which were trimmed at the tops with rich brown fur, completed the
impression of barbaric opulence which was suggested by his whole
appearance. He carried a broad-brimmed hat in his hand, while he
wore
across the upper part of his face, extending down past the
cheekbones, a black vizard mask, which he had apparently adjusted
that very moment, for his hand was still raised to it as he
entered.
From the lower part of the face he appeared to be a man of strong
character, with a thick, hanging lip, and a long, straight chin
suggestive of resolution pushed to the length of obstinacy.
“
You
had my note?” he asked with a deep harsh voice and a strongly
marked German accent. “I told you that I would call.” He looked
from one to the other of us, as if uncertain which to
address.
“
Pray
take a seat,” said Holmes. “This is my friend and colleague, Dr.
Watson, who is occasionally good enough to help me in my cases.
Whom
have I the honour to address?”
“
You
may address me as the Count Von Kramm, a Bohemian nobleman. I
understand that this gentleman, your friend, is a man of honour and
discretion, whom I may trust with a matter of the most extreme
importance. If not, I should much prefer to communicate with you
alone.”I
rose to go, but Holmes caught me by the wrist and pushed me back
into
my chair. “It is both, or none,” said he. “You may say before
this gentleman anything which you may say to me.”The
Count shrugged his broad shoulders. “Then I must begin,” said he,
“by binding you both to absolute secrecy for two years; at the end
of that time the matter will be of no importance. At present it is
not too much to say that it is of such weight it may have an
influence upon European history.”
“
I
promise,” said Holmes.
“
And
I.”
“
You
will excuse this mask,” continued our strange visitor. “The
august person who employs me wishes his agent to be unknown to you,
and I may confess at once that the title by which I have just
called
myself is not exactly my own.”
“
I
was aware of it,” said Holmes dryly.
“
The
circumstances are of great delicacy, and every precaution has to be
taken to quench what might grow to be an immense scandal and
seriously compromise one of the reigning families of Europe. To
speak
plainly, the matter implicates the great House of Ormstein,
hereditary kings of Bohemia.”
“
I
was also aware of that,” murmured Holmes, settling himself down in
his armchair and closing his eyes.Our
visitor glanced with some apparent surprise at the languid,
lounging
figure of the man who had been no doubt depicted to him as the most
incisive reasoner and most energetic agent in Europe. Holmes slowly
reopened his eyes and looked impatiently at his gigantic
client.
“
If
your Majesty would condescend to state your case,” he remarked, “I
should be better able to advise you.”The
man sprang from his chair and paced up and down the room in
uncontrollable agitation. Then, with a gesture of desperation, he
tore the mask from his face and hurled it upon the ground. “You are
right,” he cried; “I am the King. Why should I attempt to conceal
it?”
“
Why,
indeed?” murmured Holmes. “Your Majesty had not spoken before I
was aware that I was addressing Wilhelm Gottsreich Sigismond von
Ormstein, Grand Duke of Cassel-Felstein, and hereditary King of
Bohemia.”
“
But
you can understand,” said our strange visitor, sitting down once
more and passing his hand over his high white forehead, “you can
understand that I am not accustomed to doing such business in my
own
person. Yet the matter was so delicate that I could not confide it
to
an agent without putting myself in his power. I have come
incognito from
Prague for the purpose of consulting you.”
“
Then,
pray consult,” said Holmes, shutting his eyes once more.
“
The
facts are briefly these: Some five years ago, during a lengthy
visit
to Warsaw, I made the acquaintance of the well-known adventuress,
Irene Adler. The name is no doubt familiar to you.”
“
Kindly
look her up in my index, Doctor,” murmured Holmes without opening
his eyes. For many years he had adopted a system of docketing all
paragraphs concerning men and things, so that it was difficult to
name a subject or a person on which he could not at once furnish
information. In this case I found her biography sandwiched in
between
that of a Hebrew rabbi and that of a staff-commander who had
written
a monograph upon the deep-sea fishes.
“
Let
me see!” said Holmes. “Hum! Born in New Jersey in the year 1858.
Contralto—hum! La Scala, hum! Prima donna Imperial Opera of
Warsaw—yes! Retired from operatic stage—ha! Living in
London—quite so! Your Majesty, as I understand, became entangled
with this young person, wrote her some compromising letters, and is
now desirous of getting those letters back.”
“
Precisely
so. But how—”
“
Was
there a secret marriage?”
“
None.”
“
No
legal papers or certificates?”
“
None.”
“
Then
I fail to follow your Majesty. If this young person should produce
her letters for blackmailing or other purposes, how is she to prove
their authenticity?”
“
There
is the writing.”
“
Pooh,
pooh! Forgery.”
“
My
private note-paper.”
“
Stolen.”
“
My
own seal.”
“
Imitated.”
“
My
photograph.”
“
Bought.”
“
We
were both in the photograph.”
“
Oh,
dear! That is very bad! Your Majesty has indeed committed an
indiscretion.”
“
I
was mad—insane.”
“
You
have compromised yourself seriously.”
“
I
was only Crown Prince then. I was young. I am but thirty
now.”
“
It
must be recovered.”
“
We
have tried and failed.”
“
Your
Majesty must pay. It must be bought.”
“
She
will not sell.”
“
Stolen,
then.”
“
Five
attempts have been made. Twice burglars in my pay ransacked her
house. Once we diverted her luggage when she travelled. Twice she
has
been waylaid. There has been no result.”
“
No
sign of it?”
“
Absolutely
none.”Holmes
laughed. “It is quite a pretty little problem,” said he.
“
But
a very serious one to me,” returned the King
reproachfully.
“
Very,
indeed. And what does she propose to do with the
photograph?”
“
To
ruin me.”
“
But
how?”
“
I
am about to be married.”
“
So
I have heard.”
“
To
Clotilde Lothman von Saxe-Meningen, second daughter of the King of
Scandinavia. You may know the strict principles of her family. She
is
herself the very soul of delicacy. A shadow of a doubt as to my
conduct would bring the matter to an end.”
“
And
Irene Adler?”
“
Threatens
to send them the photograph. And she will do it. I know that she
will
do it. You do not know her, but she has a soul of steel. She has
the
face of the most beautiful of women, and the mind of the most
resolute of men. Rather than I should marry another woman, there
are
no lengths to which she would not go—none.”
“
You
are sure that she has not sent it yet?”
“
I
am sure.”
“
And
why?”
“
Because
she has said that she would send it on the day when the betrothal
was
publicly proclaimed. That will be next Monday.”
“
Oh,
then we have three days yet,” said Holmes with a yawn. “That is
very fortunate, as I have one or two matters of importance to look
into just at present. Your Majesty will, of course, stay in London
for the present?”
“
Certainly.
You will find me at the Langham under the name of the Count Von
Kramm.”
“
Then
I shall drop you a line to let you know how we
progress.”
“
Pray
do so. I shall be all anxiety.”
“
Then,
as to money?”
“
You
have carte blanche.”
“
Absolutely?”
“
I
tell you that I would give one of the provinces of my kingdom to
have
that photograph.”
“
And
for present expenses?”The
King took a heavy chamois leather bag from under his cloak and laid
it on the table.
“
There
are three hundred pounds in gold and seven hundred in notes,” he
said.Holmes
scribbled a receipt upon a sheet of his note-book and handed it to
him.
“
And
Mademoiselle’s address?” he asked.
“
Is
Briony Lodge, Serpentine Avenue, St. John’s Wood.”Holmes
took a note of it. “One other question,” said he. “Was the
photograph a cabinet?”
“
It
was.”
“
Then,
good-night, your Majesty, and I trust that we shall soon have some
good news for you. And good-night, Watson,” he added, as the wheels
of the royal brougham rolled down the street. “If you will be good
enough to call to-morrow afternoon at three o’clock I should like
to chat this little matter over with you.”II.At
three o’clock precisely I was at Baker Street, but Holmes had not
yet returned. The landlady informed me that he had left the house
shortly after eight o’clock in the morning. I sat down beside the
fire, however, with the intention of awaiting him, however long he
might be. I was already deeply interested in his inquiry, for,
though
it was surrounded by none of the grim and strange features which
were
associated with the two crimes which I have already recorded,
still,
the nature of the case and the exalted station of his client gave
it
a character of its own. Indeed, apart from the nature of the
investigation which my friend had on hand, there was something in
his
masterly grasp of a situation, and his keen, incisive reasoning,
which made it a pleasure to me to study his system of work, and to
follow the quick, subtle methods by which he disentangled the most
inextricable mysteries. So accustomed was I to his invariable
success
that the very possibility of his failing had ceased to enter into
my
head.It
was close upon four before the door opened, and a drunken-looking
groom, ill-kempt and side-whiskered, with an inflamed face and
disreputable clothes, walked into the room. Accustomed as I was to
my
friend’s amazing powers in the use of disguises, I had to look
three times before I was certain that it was indeed he. With a nod
he
vanished into the bedroom, whence he emerged in five minutes
tweed-suited and respectable, as of old. Putting his hands into his
pockets, he stretched out his legs in front of the fire and laughed
heartily for some minutes.
“
Well,
really!” he cried, and then he choked and laughed again until he
was obliged to lie back, limp and helpless, in the
chair.
“
What
is it?”
“
It’s
quite too funny. I am sure you could never guess how I employed my
morning, or what I ended by doing.”
“
I
can’t imagine. I suppose that you have been watching the habits,
and perhaps the house, of Miss Irene Adler.”
“
Quite
so; but the sequel was rather unusual. I will tell you, however. I
left the house a little after eight o’clock this morning in the
character of a groom out of work. There is a wonderful sympathy and
freemasonry among horsey men. Be one of them, and you will know all
that there is to know. I soon found Briony Lodge. It is a
bijou villa, with a
garden at the back, but built out in front right up to the road,
two
stories. Chubb lock to the door. Large sitting-room on the right
side, well furnished, with long windows almost to the floor, and
those preposterous English window fasteners which a child could
open.
Behind there was nothing remarkable, save that the passage window
could be reached from the top of the coach-house. I walked round it
and examined it closely from every point of view, but without
noting
anything else of interest.
“
I
then lounged down the street and found, as I expected, that there
was
a mews in a lane which runs down by one wall of the garden. I lent
the ostlers a hand in rubbing down their horses, and received in
exchange twopence, a glass of half-and-half, two fills of shag
tobacco, and as much information as I could desire about Miss
Adler,
to say nothing of half a dozen other people in the neighbourhood in
whom I was not in the least interested, but whose biographies I was
compelled to listen to.”
“
And
what of Irene Adler?” I asked.
“
Oh,
she has turned all the men’s heads down in that part. She is the
daintiest thing under a bonnet on this planet. So say the
Serpentine-mews, to a man. She lives quietly, sings at concerts,
drives out at five every day, and returns at seven sharp for
dinner.
Seldom goes out at other times, except when she sings. Has only one
male visitor, but a good deal of him. He is dark, handsome, and
dashing, never calls less than once a day, and often twice. He is a
Mr. Godfrey Norton, of the Inner Temple. See the advantages of a
cabman as a confidant. They had driven him home a dozen times from
Serpentine-mews, and knew all about him. When I had listened to all
they had to tell, I began to walk up and down near Briony Lodge
once
more, and to think over my plan of campaign.
“
This
Godfrey Norton was evidently an important factor in the matter. He
was a lawyer. That sounded ominous. What was the relation between
them, and what the object of his repeated visits? Was she his
client,
his friend, or his mistress? If the former, she had probably
transferred the photograph to his keeping. If the latter, it was
less
likely. On the issue of this question depended whether I should
continue my work at Briony Lodge, or turn my attention to the
gentleman’s chambers in the Temple. It was a delicate point, and it
widened the field of my inquiry. I fear that I bore you with these
details, but I have to let you see my little difficulties, if you
are
to understand the situation.”
“
I
am following you closely,” I answered.
“
I
was still balancing the matter in my mind when a hansom cab drove
up
to Briony Lodge, and a gentleman sprang out. He was a remarkably
handsome man, dark, aquiline, and moustached—evidently the man of
whom I had heard. He appeared to be in a great hurry, shouted to
the
cabman to wait, and brushed past the maid who opened the door with
the air of a man who was thoroughly at home.
“
He
was in the house about half an hour, and I could catch glimpses of
him in the windows of the sitting-room, pacing up and down, talking
excitedly, and waving his arms. Of her I could see nothing.
Presently
he emerged, looking even more flurried than before. As he stepped
up
to the cab, he pulled a gold watch from his pocket and looked at it
earnestly, ‘Drive like the devil,’ he shouted, ‘first to Gross
& Hankey’s in Regent Street, and then to the Church of St.
Monica in the Edgeware Road. Half a guinea if you do it in twenty
minutes!’
“
Away
they went, and I was just wondering whether I should not do well to
follow them when up the lane came a neat little landau, the
coachman
with his coat only half-buttoned, and his tie under his ear, while
all the tags of his harness were sticking out of the buckles. It
hadn’t pulled up before she shot out of the hall door and into it.
I only caught a glimpse of her at the moment, but she was a lovely
woman, with a face that a man might die for.
“ ‘
The
Church of St. Monica, John,’ she cried, ‘and half a sovereign if
you reach it in twenty minutes.’
“
This
was quite too good to lose, Watson. I was just balancing whether I
should run for it, or whether I should perch behind her landau when
a
cab came through the street. The driver looked twice at such a
shabby
fare, but I jumped in before he could object. ‘The Church of St.
Monica,’ said I, ‘and half a sovereign if you reach it in twenty
minutes.’ It was twenty-five minutes to twelve, and of course it
was clear enough what was in the wind.
“
My
cabby drove fast. I don’t think I ever drove faster, but the others
were there before us. The cab and the landau with their steaming
horses were in front of the door when I arrived. I paid the man and
hurried into the church. There was not a soul there save the two
whom
I had followed and a surpliced clergyman, who seemed to be
expostulating with them. They were all three standing in a knot in
front of the altar. I lounged up the side aisle like any other
idler
who has dropped into a church. Suddenly, to my surprise, the three
at
the altar faced round to me, and Godfrey Norton came running as
hard
as he could towards me.
“ ‘
Thank
God,’ he cried. ‘You’ll do. Come! Come!’
“ ‘
What
then?’ I asked.
“ ‘
Come,
man, come, only three minutes, or it won’t be legal.’
“
I
was half-dragged up to the altar, and before I knew where I was I
found myself mumbling responses which were whispered in my ear, and
vouching for things of which I knew nothing, and generally
assisting
in the secure tying up of Irene Adler, spinster, to Godfrey Norton,
bachelor. It was all done in an instant, and there was the
gentleman
thanking me on the one side and the lady on the other, while the
clergyman beamed on me in front. It was the most preposterous
position in which I ever found myself in my life, and it was the
thought of it that started me laughing just now. It seems that
there
had been some informality about their license, that the clergyman
absolutely refused to marry them without a witness of some sort,
and
that my lucky appearance saved the bridegroom from having to sally
out into the streets in search of a best man. The bride gave me a
sovereign, and I mean to wear it on my watch chain in memory of the
occasion.”
“
This
is a very unexpected turn of affairs,” said I; “and what
then?”
“
Well,
I found my plans very seriously menaced. It looked as if the pair
might take an immediate departure, and so necessitate very prompt
and
energetic measures on my part. At the church door, however, they
separated, he driving back to the Temple, and she to her own house.
‘I shall drive out in the park at five as usual,’ she said as she
left him. I heard no more. They drove away in different directions,
and I went off to make my own arrangements.”
“
Which
are?”
“
Some
cold beef and a glass of beer,” he answered, ringing the bell. “I
have been too busy to think of food, and I am likely to be busier
still this evening. By the way, Doctor, I shall want your
co-operation.”
“
I
shall be delighted.”
“
You
don’t mind breaking the law?”
“
Not
in the least.”
“
Nor
running a chance of arrest?”
“
Not
in a good cause.”
“
Oh,
the cause is excellent!”
“
Then
I am your man.”
“
I
was sure that I might rely on you.”
“
But
what is it you wish?”
“
When
Mrs. Turner has brought in the tray I will make it clear to you.
Now,” he said as he turned hungrily on the simple fare that our
landlady had provided, “I must discuss it while I eat, for I have
not much time. It is nearly five now. In two hours we must be on
the
scene of action. Miss Irene, or Madame, rather, returns from her
drive at seven. We must be at Briony Lodge to meet her.”
“
And
what then?”
“
You
must leave that to me. I have already arranged what is to occur.
There is only one point on which I must insist. You must not
interfere, come what may. You understand?”
“
I
am to be neutral?”
“
To
do nothing whatever. There will probably be some small
unpleasantness. Do not join in it. It will end in my being conveyed
into the house. Four or five minutes afterwards the sitting-room
window will open. You are to station yourself close to that open
window.”
“
Yes.”
“
You
are to watch me, for I will be visible to you.”
“
Yes.”
“
And
when I raise my hand—so—you will throw into the room what I give
you to throw, and will, at the same time, raise the cry of fire.
You
quite follow me?”
“
Entirely.”
“
It
is nothing very formidable,” he said, taking a long cigar-shaped
roll from his pocket. “It is an ordinary plumber’s smoke-rocket,
fitted with a cap at either end to make it self-lighting. Your task
is confined to that. When you raise your cry of fire, it will be
taken up by quite a number of people. You may then walk to the end
of
the street, and I will rejoin you in ten minutes. I hope that I
have
made myself clear?”
“
I
am to remain neutral, to get near the window, to watch you, and at
the signal to throw in this object, then to raise the cry of fire,
and to wait you at the corner of the street.”
“
Precisely.”
“
Then
you may entirely rely on me.”
“
That
is excellent. I think, perhaps, it is almost time that I prepare
for
the new role I have to play.”He
disappeared into his bedroom and returned in a few minutes in the
character of an amiable and simple-minded Nonconformist clergyman.
His broad black hat, his baggy trousers, his white tie, his
sympathetic smile, and general look of peering and benevolent
curiosity were such as Mr. John Hare alone could have equalled. It
was not merely that Holmes changed his costume. His expression, his
manner, his very soul seemed to vary with every fresh part that he
assumed. The stage lost a fine actor, even as science lost an acute
reasoner, when he became a specialist in crime.It
was a quarter past six when we left Baker Street, and it still
wanted
ten minutes to the hour when we found ourselves in Serpentine
Avenue.
It was already dusk, and the lamps were just being lighted as we
paced up and down in front of Briony Lodge, waiting for the coming
of
its occupant. The house was just such as I had pictured it from
Sherlock Holmes’ succinct description, but the locality appeared to
be less private than I expected. On the contrary, for a small
street
in a quiet neighbourhood, it was remarkably animated. There was a
group of shabbily dressed men smoking and laughing in a corner, a
scissors-grinder with his wheel, two guardsmen who were flirting
with
a nurse-girl, and several well-dressed young men who were lounging
up
and down with cigars in their mouths.
“
You
see,” remarked Holmes, as we paced to and fro in front of the
house, “this marriage rather simplifies matters. The photograph
becomes a double-edged weapon now. The chances are that she would
be
as averse to its being seen by Mr. Godfrey Norton, as our client is
to its coming to the eyes of his princess. Now the question is,
Where
are we to find the photograph?”
“
Where,
indeed?”
“
It
is most unlikely that she carries it about with her. It is cabinet
size. Too large for easy concealment about a woman’s dress. She
knows that the King is capable of having her waylaid and searched.
Two attempts of the sort have already been made. We may take it,
then, that she does not carry it about with her.”
“
Where,
then?”
“
Her
banker or her lawyer. There is that double possibility. But I am
inclined to think neither. Women are naturally secretive, and they
like to do their own secreting. Why should she hand it over to
anyone
else? She could trust her own guardianship, but she could not tell
what indirect or political influence might be brought to bear upon
a
business man. Besides, remember that she had resolved to use it
within a few days. It must be where she can lay her hands upon it.
It
must be in her own house.”
“
But
it has twice been burgled.”
“
Pshaw!
They did not know how to look.”
“
But
how will you look?”
“
I
will not look.”
“
What
then?”
“
I
will get her to show me.”
“
But
she will refuse.”
“
She
will not be able to. But I hear the rumble of wheels. It is her
carriage. Now carry out my orders to the letter.”As
he spoke the gleam of the sidelights of a carriage came round the
curve of the avenue. It was a smart little landau which rattled up
to
the door of Briony Lodge. As it pulled up, one of the loafing men
at
the corner dashed forward to open the door in the hope of earning a
copper, but was elbowed away by another loafer, who had rushed up
with the same intention. A fierce quarrel broke out, which was
increased by the two guardsmen, who took sides with one of the
loungers, and by the scissors-grinder, who was equally hot upon the
other side. A blow was struck, and in an instant the lady, who had
stepped from her carriage, was the centre of a little knot of
flushed
and struggling men, who struck savagely at each other with their
fists and sticks. Holmes dashed into the crowd to protect the lady;
but, just as he reached her, he gave a cry and dropped to the
ground,
with the blood running freely down his face. At his fall the
guardsmen took to their heels in one direction and the loungers in
the other, while a number of better dressed people, who had watched
the scuffle without taking part in it, crowded in to help the lady
and to attend to the injured man. Irene Adler, as I will still call
her, had hurried up the steps; but she stood at the top with her
superb figure outlined against the lights of the hall, looking back
into the street.
“
Is
the poor gentleman much hurt?” she asked.
“
He
is dead,” cried several voices.
“
No,
no, there’s life in him!” shouted another. “But he’ll be gone
before you can get him to hospital.”
“
He’s
a brave fellow,” said a woman. “They would have had the lady’s
purse and watch if it hadn’t been for him. They were a gang, and a
rough one, too. Ah, he’s breathing now.”
“
He
can’t lie in the street. May we bring him in, marm?”
“
Surely.
Bring him into the sitting-room. There is a comfortable sofa. This
way, please!”Slowly
and solemnly he was borne into Briony Lodge and laid out in the
principal room, while I still observed the proceedings from my post
by the window. The lamps had been lit, but the blinds had not been
drawn, so that I could see Holmes as he lay upon the couch. I do
not
know whether he was seized with compunction at that moment for the
part he was playing, but I know that I never felt more heartily
ashamed of myself in my life than when I saw the beautiful creature
against whom I was conspiring, or the grace and kindliness with
which
she waited upon the injured man. And yet it would be the blackest
treachery to Holmes to draw back now from the part which he had
intrusted to me. I hardened my heart, and took the smoke-rocket
from
under my ulster. After all, I thought, we are not injuring her. We
are but preventing her from injuring another.Holmes
had sat up upon the couch, and I saw him motion like a man who is
in
need of air. A maid rushed across and threw open the window. At the
same instant I saw him raise his hand and at the signal I tossed my
rocket into the room with a cry of “Fire!” The word was no sooner
out of my mouth than the whole crowd of spectators, well dressed
and
ill—gentlemen, ostlers, and servant maids—joined in a general
shriek of “Fire!” Thick clouds of smoke curled through the room
and out at the open window. I caught a glimpse of rushing figures,
and a moment later the voice of Holmes from within assuring them
that
it was a false alarm. Slipping through the shouting crowd I made my
way to the corner of the street, and in ten minutes was rejoiced to
find my friend’s arm in mine, and to get away from the scene of
uproar. He walked swiftly and in silence for some few minutes until
we had turned down one of the quiet streets which lead towards the
Edgeware Road.
“
You
did it very nicely, Doctor,” he remarked. “Nothing could have
been better. It is all right.”
“
You
have the photograph?”
“
I
know where it is.”
“
And
how did you find out?”
“
She
showed me, as I told you she would.”
“
I
am still in the dark.”
“
I
do not wish to make a mystery,” said he, laughing. “The matter
was perfectly simple. You, of course, saw that everyone in the
street
was an accomplice. They were all engaged for the
evening.”
“
I
guessed as much.”
“
Then,
when the row broke out, I had a little moist red paint in the palm
of
my hand. I rushed forward, fell down, clapped my hand to my face,
and
became a piteous spectacle. It is an old trick.”
“
That
also I could fathom.”
“
Then
they carried me in. She was bound to have me in. What else could
she
do? And into her sitting-room, which was the very room which I
suspected. It lay between that and her bedroom, and I was
determined
to see which. They laid me on a couch, I motioned for air, they
were
compelled to open the window, and you had your chance.”
“
How
did that help you?”
“
It
was all-important. When a woman thinks that her house is on fire,
her
instinct is at once to rush to the thing which she values most. It
is
a perfectly overpowering impulse, and I have more than once taken
advantage of it. In the case of the Darlington Substitution Scandal
it was of use to me, and also in the Arnsworth Castle business. A
married woman grabs at her baby; an unmarried one reaches for her
jewel-box. Now it was clear to me that our lady of to-day had
nothing
in the house more precious to her than what we are in quest of. She
would rush to secure it. The alarm of fire was admirably done. The
smoke and shouting were enough to shake nerves of steel. She
responded beautifully. The photograph is in a recess behind a
sliding
panel just above the right bell-pull. She was there in an instant,
and I caught a glimpse of it as she half drew it out. When I cried
out that it was a false alarm, she replaced it, glanced at the
rocket, rushed from the room, and I have not seen her since. I
rose,
and, making my excuses, escaped from the house. I hesitated whether
to attempt to secure the photograph at once; but the coachman had
come in, and as he was watching me narrowly, it seemed safer to
wait.
A little over-precipitance may ruin all.”
“
And
now?” I asked.
“
Our
quest is practically finished. I shall call with the King
to-morrow,
and with you, if you care to come with us. We will be shown into
the
sitting-room to wait for the lady, but it is probable that when she
comes she may find neither us nor the photograph. It might be a
satisfaction to his Majesty to regain it with his own
hands.”
“
And
when will you call?”
“
At
eight in the morning. She will not be up, so that we shall have a
clear field. Besides, we must be prompt, for this marriage may mean
a
complete change in her life and habits. I must wire to the King
without delay.”We
had reached Baker Street and had stopped at the door. He was
searching his pockets for the key when someone passing said:
“
Good-night,
Mister Sherlock Holmes.”There
were several people on the pavement at the time, but the greeting
appeared to come from a slim youth in an ulster who had hurried
by.
“
I’ve
heard that voice before,” said Holmes, staring down the dimly lit
street. “Now, I wonder who the deuce that could have been.”III.I
slept at Baker Street that night, and we were engaged upon our
toast
and coffee in the morning when the King of Bohemia rushed into the
room.
“
You
have really got it!” he cried, grasping Sherlock Holmes by either
shoulder and looking eagerly into his face.
“
Not
yet.”
“
But
you have hopes?”
“
I
have hopes.”
“
Then,
come. I am all impatience to be gone.”
“
We
must have a cab.”
“
No,
my brougham is waiting.”
“
Then
that will simplify matters.” We descended and started off once more
for Briony Lodge.
“
Irene
Adler is married,” remarked Holmes.
“
Married!
When?”
“
Yesterday.”
“
But
to whom?”
“
To
an English lawyer named Norton.”
“
But
she could not love him.”
“
I
am in hopes that she does.”
“
And
why in hopes?”
“
Because
it would spare your Majesty all fear of future annoyance. If the
lady
loves her husband, she does not love your Majesty. If she does not
love your Majesty, there is no reason why she should interfere with
your Majesty’s plan.”
“
It
is true. And yet—! Well! I wish she had been of my own station!
What a queen she would have made!” He relapsed into a moody
silence, which was not broken until we drew up in Serpentine
Avenue.The
door of Briony Lodge was open, and an elderly woman stood upon the
steps. She watched us with a sardonic eye as we stepped from the
brougham.
“
Mr.
Sherlock Holmes, I believe?” said she.
“
I
am Mr. Holmes,” answered my companion, looking at her with a
questioning and rather startled gaze.
“
Indeed!
My mistress told me that you were likely to call. She left this
morning with her husband by the 5:15 train from Charing Cross for
the
Continent.”
“
What!”
Sherlock Holmes staggered back, white with chagrin and surprise.
“Do
you mean that she has left England?”
“
Never
to return.”
“
And
the papers?” asked the King hoarsely. “All is lost.”
“
We
shall see.” He pushed past the servant and rushed into the
drawing-room, followed by the King and myself. The furniture was
scattered about in every direction, with dismantled shelves and
open
drawers, as if the lady had hurriedly ransacked them before her
flight. Holmes rushed at the bell-pull, tore back a small sliding
shutter, and, plunging in his hand, pulled out a photograph and a
letter. The photograph was of Irene Adler herself in evening dress,
the letter was superscribed to “Sherlock Holmes, Esq. To be left
till called for.” My friend tore it open, and we all three read it
together. It was dated at midnight of the preceding night and ran
in
this way:
“
MY
DEAR MR. SHERLOCK HOLMES,—You really did it very well. You took me
in completely. Until after the alarm of fire, I had not a
suspicion.
But then, when I found how I had betrayed myself, I began to think.
I
had been warned against you months ago. I had been told that, if
the
King employed an agent, it would certainly be you. And your address
had been given me. Yet, with all this, you made me reveal what you
wanted to know. Even after I became suspicious, I found it hard to
think evil of such a dear, kind old clergyman. But, you know, I
have
been trained as an actress myself. Male costume is nothing new to
me.
I often take advantage of the freedom which it gives. I sent John,
the coachman, to watch you, ran upstairs, got into my walking
clothes, as I call them, and came down just as you
departed.
“
Well,
I followed you to your door, and so made sure that I was really an
object of interest to the celebrated Mr. Sherlock Holmes. Then I,
rather imprudently, wished you good-night, and started for the
Temple
to see my husband.
“
We
both thought the best resource was flight, when pursued by so
formidable an antagonist; so you will find the nest empty when you
call to-morrow. As to the photograph, your client may rest in
peace.
I love and am loved by a better man than he. The King may do what
he
will without hindrance from one whom he has cruelly wronged. I keep
it only to safeguard myself, and to preserve a weapon which will
always secure me from any steps which he might take in the future.
I
leave a photograph which he might care to possess; and I remain,
dear
Mr. Sherlock Holmes,“Very
truly yours, “IRENE
NORTON, née
ADLER.”
“
What
a woman—oh, what a woman!” cried the King of Bohemia, when we had
all three read this epistle. “Did I not tell you how quick and
resolute she was? Would she not have made an admirable queen? Is it
not a pity that she was not on my level?”
“
From
what I have seen of the lady, she seems, indeed, to be on a very
different level to your Majesty,” said Holmes coldly. “I am sorry
that I have not been able to bring your Majesty’s business to a
more successful conclusion.”
“
On
the contrary, my dear sir,” cried the King; “nothing could be
more successful. I know that her word is inviolate. The photograph
is
now as safe as if it were in the fire.”
“
I
am glad to hear your Majesty say so.”
“
I
am immensely indebted to you. Pray tell me in what way I can reward
you. This ring—” He slipped an emerald snake ring from his finger
and held it out upon the palm of his hand.
“
Your
Majesty has something which I should value even more highly,” said
Holmes.
“
You
have but to name it.”
“
This
photograph!”The
King stared at him in amazement.
“
Irene’s
photograph!” he cried. “Certainly, if you wish it.”
“
I
thank your Majesty. Then there is no more to be done in the matter.
I
have the honour to wish you a very good morning.” He bowed, and,
turning away without observing the hand which the King had
stretched
out to him, he set off in my company for his chambers.And
that was how a great scandal threatened to affect the kingdom of
Bohemia, and how the best plans of Mr. Sherlock Holmes were beaten
by
a woman’s wit. He used to make merry over the cleverness of women,
but I have not heard him do it of late. And when he speaks of Irene
Adler, or when he refers to her photograph, it is always under the
honourable title of
the woman.
ADVENTURE II. THE RED-HEADED LEAGUE
I
had called upon my friend, Mr. Sherlock Holmes, one day in the
autumn
of last year and found him in deep conversation with a very stout,
florid-faced, elderly gentleman with fiery red hair. With an
apology
for my intrusion, I was about to withdraw when Holmes pulled me
abruptly into 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 and helper
in
many of my most successful cases, and I have no doubt 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 of
greeting,
with a quick little questioning glance from his small fat-encircled
eyes.
“
Try
the settee,” said Holmes, relapsing into his armchair and putting
his fingertips together, as was his custom when in judicial moods.
“I
know, my dear Watson, that you share my love of all that is bizarre
and outside the conventions and humdrum routine of everyday life.
You
have shown your relish for it by the enthusiasm which has prompted
you to chronicle, and, if you will excuse my saying so, somewhat to
embellish so many 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 went
into
the very simple problem presented by Miss Mary Sutherland, that for
strange 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 your
reason breaks down under them and acknowledges me to be right. Now,
Mr. Jabez Wilson here has been good enough to call upon me this
morning, and to begin a narrative which promises to be one of the
most singular which I have listened to for some time. You have
heard
me remark that the strangest and most unique things are very often
connected not with the larger but with the smaller crimes, and
occasionally, indeed, where there is room for doubt whether any
positive crime has been committed. As far as I have heard, it is
impossible for me to say whether the present case is an instance of
crime or not, but the course of events is certainly among the most
singular that I have ever listened to. Perhaps, Mr. Wilson, you
would
have the great kindness to recommence your narrative. I ask you not
merely because my friend Dr. Watson has not heard the opening part
but also because the peculiar nature of the story makes 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 am able to
guide myself by the thousands of other similar cases which occur to
my memory. In the present instance I am forced to admit that the
facts are, to the best of my belief, unique.”
The
portly client puffed out his chest with an appearance of some
little
pride and pulled a dirty and wrinkled newspaper from the inside
pocket of his greatcoat. As he glanced down the advertisement
column,
with his head thrust forward and the paper flattened out upon his
knee, I took a good look at the man and endeavoured, after the
fashion of my companion, to read the indications which might be
presented by his dress or appearance.
I
did not gain very much, however, by my inspection. Our visitor bore
every mark of being an average commonplace British tradesman,
obese,
pompous, and slow. He wore rather baggy grey shepherd’s check
trousers, a not over-clean black frock-coat, unbuttoned in the
front,
and a drab waistcoat with a heavy brassy Albert chain, and a square
pierced bit of metal dangling down as an ornament. A frayed top-hat
and a faded brown overcoat with a wrinkled velvet collar lay upon a
chair beside him. Altogether, look as I would, there was nothing
remarkable about the man save his blazing red head, and the
expression of extreme chagrin and discontent upon his
features.
Sherlock
Holmes’ quick eye took in my occupation, and he shook his head with
a smile as he noticed my questioning glances. “Beyond the obvious
facts that he has at some time done manual labour, that he takes
snuff, 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 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 did manual labour.
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 than
your
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 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 for five
inches, and the left one with the smooth patch near the elbow where
you rest it upon the desk?”
“
Well,
but China?”
“
The
fish that you have tattooed immediately above your right wrist
could
only have been done in China. I have made a small study of tattoo
marks and have even contributed to the literature of the subject.
That trick of 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
thought at first that you had done something clever, but I see that
there was nothing in it after all.”
“
I
begin to think, Watson,” said Holmes, “that I make a mistake in
explaining. ‘Omne
ignotum pro magnifico,’
you know, and my poor little reputation, such as it is, will suffer
shipwreck if I am so candid. Can you not find the advertisement,
Mr.
Wilson?”
“
Yes,
I have got it now,” he answered with his thick red finger planted
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, of Lebanon, Pennsylvania, U. S. A., there is now another
vacancy open which entitles a member of the League to a salary
of
£4 a week for
purely nominal services. All red-headed men who are sound in body
and
mind and above the age of twenty-one years, are eligible. Apply in
person on Monday, at eleven o’clock, to Duncan Ross, at the offices
of the League, 7 Pope’s Court, Fleet Street.”
“
What
on earth does this mean?” I ejaculated after I had twice read over
the extraordinary announcement.
Holmes
chuckled and wriggled in his chair, as was his habit when in 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 us all
about yourself, your household, and the effect which this
advertisement 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 months ago.”
“
Very
good. Now, Mr. Wilson?”
“
Well,
it is just as I have been telling you, Mr. Sherlock Holmes,” said
Jabez Wilson, mopping his forehead; “I have a small pawnbroker’s
business at Coburg Square, near the City. It’s not a very large
affair, and of late years it has not done more than just 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 but that he is willing to
come
for half wages so as to learn the 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’s
hard to say his age. I should not wish a smarter assistant, Mr.
Holmes; and I know very well that he could better himself and earn
twice what I am able to give him. But, after all, if he is
satisfied,
why should I put ideas in his head?”
“
Why,
indeed? You seem most fortunate in having an employé who comes
under
the full market price. It is not a common experience among
employers
in this age. I don’t know that your assistant is not as remarkable
as your advertisement.”
“
Oh,
he has his faults, too,” said Mr. Wilson. “Never was such a
fellow for photography. Snapping away with a camera when he ought
to
be improving his mind, and then diving down into the cellar like a
rabbit into its 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 cooking
and
keeps the place clean—that’s all I have in the house, for I am a
widower and never had any family. We live very quietly, sir, the
three of us; and we keep a roof over our heads and 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 eight weeks, 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 the Red-headed
Men. It’s worth quite a little fortune to any man who gets it, and
I understand that there are more vacancies than there are men, so
that the trustees are at their wits’ end what to do with the money.
If my hair would only 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 very
stay-at-home man, and as my business came to me instead of my
having
to go to it, I was often weeks on end without putting my foot over
the door-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?’ he asked with
his eyes open.
“ ‘
Never.’
“ ‘
Why,
I wonder at that, for you are eligible yourself for one of 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 other
occupations.’
“
