Adventure Two of The Adventures of Sherlock
Holmes, by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle
This Librivox recordings is in the public
domain
Recording by Ruth Golding
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 pounds 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.'
"Well, you can easily think that that made
me prick up my ears,
for the business has not been over-good for
some years, and an
extra couple of hundred would have been very
handy.
"'Tell me all about it,' said I.
"'Well,' said he, showing me the advertisement,
'you can see for
yourself that the League has a vacancy, and
there is the address
where you should apply for particulars. As
far as I can make out,
the League was founded by an American millionaire,
Ezekiah
Hopkins, who was very peculiar in his ways.
He was himself
red-headed, and he had a great sympathy for
all red-headed men;
so when he died it was found that he had left
his enormous
fortune in the hands of trustees, with instructions
to apply the
interest to the providing of easy berths to
men whose hair is of
that 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
would apply.'
"'Not so many as you might think,' he answered.
'You see it is
really confined to Londoners, and to grown
men. This American had
started from London when he was young, and
he wanted to do the
old town a good turn. Then, again, I have
heard it is no use your
applying if your hair is 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; but perhaps
it would hardly be
worth your while to put yourself out of the
way for the sake of a
few hundred pounds.'
"Now, it is a fact, gentlemen, as you may
see for yourselves,
that my hair is of a very full and rich tint,
so that it seemed
to me that if there was to be any competition
in the matter I
stood as good a chance as any man that I had
ever met. Vincent
Spaulding seemed to know so much about it
that I thought he might
prove useful, so I just ordered him to put
up the shutters for
the day and to come right away with me. He
was very willing to
have a holiday, so we shut the business up
and started off for
the address that was given us in the advertisement.
"I never hope to see such a sight as that
again, Mr. Holmes. From
north, south, east, and west every man who
had a shade of red in
his hair had tramped into the city to answer
the advertisement.
Fleet Street was choked with red-headed folk,
and Pope's Court
looked like a coster's orange barrow. I should
not have thought
there were so many in the whole country as
were brought together
by that single 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 real
vivid flame-coloured tint. When I saw how
many were waiting, I
would have given it up in despair; but Spaulding
would not hear
of it. How he did it I could not imagine,
but he pushed and
pulled and butted until he got me through
the crowd, and right up
to the steps which led to the office. 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 could
and 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 a deal table, behind which sat a small
man with a head that
was even redder than mine. He said a few words
to each candidate
as he came up, and then he always managed
to find some fault in
them which would disqualify them. Getting
a vacancy did not seem
to be such a very easy matter, after all.
However, when our turn
came the little man was much more favourable
to me than to any of
the others, and he closed the door as we entered,
so that he
might have a private word with us.
"'This is Mr. Jabez Wilson,' said my assistant,
'and he is
willing to fill a vacancy in the League.'
"'And he is admirably suited for it,' the
other answered. 'He has
every requirement. I cannot recall when I
have seen anything so
fine.' He took a step backward, cocked his
head on one side, and
gazed at my hair until I felt 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 am sure, excuse me for taking an
obvious precaution.'
With that he seized my hair in both his hands,
and tugged until I
yelled with the pain. 'There is water in your
eyes,' said he as
he released me. 'I perceive that all is as
it should be. But we
have to be careful, for we have twice been
deceived by wigs and
once by paint. I could tell you tales of cobbler's
wax which
would disgust you with human nature.' He stepped
over to the
window and 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 trooped away in different
directions until there
was not a red-head to be seen except my own
and that of the
manager.
"'My name,' said he, 'is Mr. Duncan Ross,
and I am myself one of
the pensioners upon the fund left by our noble
benefactor. Are
you a married man, Mr. Wilson? Have you a
family?'
"I answered that I had not.
"His face fell immediately.
"'Dear me!' he said gravely, 'that is very
serious indeed! I am
sorry to hear you say that. The fund was,
of course, for the
propagation and spread of the red-heads as
well as for their
maintenance. It is exceedingly unfortunate
that you should be a
bachelor.'
"My face lengthened at this, Mr. Holmes, for
I thought that I was
not to have the vacancy after all; but after
thinking it over for
a few minutes he said that it would be all
right.
"'In the case of another,' said he, 'the objection
might be
fatal, but we must 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?'
"'Well, it is a little awkward, for I have
a business already,'
said I.
"'Oh, never mind about that, Mr. Wilson!'
said Vincent Spaulding.
'I should be able to look after that for you.'
"'What would be the hours?' I asked.
"'Ten to two.'
"Now a pawnbroker's business is mostly done
of an evening, Mr.
Holmes, especially Thursday and Friday evening,
which is just
before pay-day; 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 to anything that turned
up.
"'That would suit me very well,' said I. 'And
the pay?'
"'Is 4 pounds a week.'
"'And the work?'
"'Is purely nominal.'
"'What do you call purely nominal?'
"'Well, you have to be in the office, or at
least in the
building, the whole time. If you leave, you
forfeit your whole
position forever. The will is very clear upon
that point. You
don't comply with the conditions if you budge
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
nor business 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
volume of 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
once more on the important position which
you have been fortunate
enough to gain.' 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 good fortune.
"Well, I thought over the matter all day,
and by evening I was in
low spirits 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 not imagine. It seemed
altogether past
belief that anyone could make such a will,
or that they would pay
such a sum for doing anything so simple as
copying out the
'Encyclopaedia Britannica.' Vincent Spaulding
did what he could to
cheer me up, but by bedtime I had reasoned
myself out of the
whole thing. However, in the morning I determined
to have a look
at it anyhow, so I bought a penny bottle of
ink, and with a
quill-pen, and seven sheets 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 see that I got fairly to work.
He started me off
upon the letter A, and then he left me; but
he would drop in from
time to time to see that all was right with
me. At two o'clock he
bade me good-day, complimented me upon the
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
manager came in and planked down four golden
sovereigns for my
week's work. It was the same next week, and
the same the week
after. Every morning I was there at ten, and
every afternoon I
left at two. By degrees Mr. Duncan Ross took
to coming in only
once of a morning, and then, after a time,
he did not come in at
all. Still, of course, I never dared to leave
the room for an
instant, for I was not sure when he might
come, and the billet
was such a good one, and suited me so well,
that I would not risk
the loss of it.
"Eight weeks passed away like this, and I
had written about
Abbots and Archery and Armour and Architecture
and Attica, and
hoped with diligence that I might get on to
the B's before very
long. It cost me something in foolscap, and
I had pretty nearly
filled a shelf with my writings. 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 at ten 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, and you can
read for yourself."
He held up a piece of white cardboard about
the size of a sheet
of note-paper. It read in this fashion:
THE RED-HEADED LEAGUE
IS
DISSOLVED.
October 9, 1890.
Sherlock Holmes and I surveyed this curt announcement
and the
rueful face behind it, until the comical side
of the affair so
completely overtopped every other consideration
that we both
burst out into a roar of laughter.
"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 better than laugh at me, I can
go elsewhere."
"No, no," cried Holmes, shoving him back into
the chair from
which he had half risen. "I really wouldn't
miss your case for
the world. It is most refreshingly unusual.
But there is, if you
will excuse my saying so, something just a
little funny about it.
Pray what steps did you take when you found
the card upon the
door?"
"I was staggered, sir. I did not know what
to do. Then I called
at the offices round, but none of them seemed
to know anything
about it. Finally, I went to the landlord,
who is an accountant
living on the ground-floor, and I asked him
if he could tell me
what had become of the Red-headed 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 was new
to him.
"'Well,' said I, 'the gentleman at No. 4.'
"'What, the red-headed man?'
"'Yes.'
"'Oh,' said he, 'his name was William Morris.
He was a solicitor
and was using my room as a temporary convenience
until his new
premises were ready. He moved out yesterday.'
"'Where could I find him?'
"'Oh, at his new offices. He did tell me the
address. Yes, 17
King Edward Street, near St. Paul's.'
"I started off, Mr. Holmes, but when I got
to that address it was
a manufactory of artificial knee-caps, and
no one in it had ever
heard of either Mr. William Morris or Mr.
Duncan Ross."
"And what did you do then?" asked Holmes.
"I went home to Saxe-Coburg Square, and I
took the advice of my
assistant. But he could not help me in any
way. He could only say
that if I waited 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 had heard that
you were good enough
to give advice to poor folk who were in need
of it, I came right
away to you."
"And you did very wisely," said Holmes. "Your
case is an
exceedingly remarkable one, and I shall be
happy to look into it.
From what you have told me I think that it
is possible that
graver issues hang from it than might at first
sight appear."
"Grave enough!" said Mr. Jabez Wilson. "Why,
I have lost four
pound a week."
"As far as you are personally concerned,"
remarked Holmes, "I do
not see that you have any grievance against
this extraordinary
league. On the contrary, you are, as I understand,
richer by some
30 pounds, to say nothing of the minute knowledge
which you have
gained on every subject which comes 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 what their object was in playing this
prank--if it was a
prank--upon me. It was a pretty 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 or two questions, Mr. Wilson. This assistant
of yours who
first called your attention 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
as much," said he. "Have you ever observed
that his ears are
pierced for earrings?"
"Yes, sir. He told me that a gipsy had done
it for him when he
was a lad."
"Hum!" said Holmes, sinking back in deep thought.
"He is still
with you?"
"Oh, yes, sir; I have only just left him."
"And has your business been attended to in
your absence?"
"Nothing to complain of, sir. There's never
very much to do of a
morning."
"That will do, Mr. Wilson. I shall be happy
to give you an
opinion upon the subject in the course of
a day or two. To-day is
Saturday, and I hope that by Monday we may
come to a conclusion."
"Well, Watson," said Holmes when our visitor
had left us, "what
do you make of it all?"
"I make nothing of it," I answered frankly.
"It is a most
mysterious business."
"As a rule," said Holmes, "the more bizarre
a thing is the less
mysterious it proves to be. It is your commonplace,
featureless
crimes which are really puzzling, just as
a commonplace face is
the most difficult to identify. But I must
be prompt over this
matter."
"What are you going to do, then?" I asked.
"To smoke," he answered. "It is quite a three
pipe problem, and I
beg that you won't speak to me for fifty minutes."
He curled
himself up in his chair, with his thin knees
drawn up to his
hawk-like nose, and there he sat with his
eyes closed and his
black clay pipe thrusting out like the bill
of some strange bird.
I had come to the conclusion that he had dropped
asleep, and
indeed was nodding myself, when he suddenly
sprang out of his
chair with the gesture of a man who has made
up his mind and put
his pipe down upon the mantel piece.
"Sarasate plays at the St. James's Hall this
afternoon," he
remarked. "What do you think, Watson? Could
your patients spare
you for a few hours?"
"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, and we can have some lunch on the way.
I observe that
there is a good deal of German music on the
programme, which is
rather more to my taste than Italian or French.
It is
introspective, and I want to introspect. Come
along!"
End of Part One of Adventure Two, THE RED-HEADED
LEAGUE
