红发会 THE RED-HEADED LEAGUE（一）

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

endeavored, 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 gray

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's 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. Appiy 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 employee 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 color, 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 eligibile 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 color. 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 color they

were--straw, lemon, orange, brick, Irish-setter, liver, clay;

but, as Spaulding said, there were not many who had the real

vivid flame-colored 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 favorable 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 favor 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 card-board 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 card-board 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 endeavor 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 gypsy 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 mantelpiece.

"Sarasate plays at the St. James's Hall this afternoon," he

remarked. "What do you think, Watson? Could your patients spare

you for a 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!"

We travelled by the Underground as far as Aldersgate; and a short

walk took us to Saxe-Coburg Square, the scene of the singular

story which we had listened to in the morning. It was a poky,

little, shabby-genteel place, where four lines of dingy

two-storied brick houses looked out into a small railed-in

enclosure, where a lawn of weedy grass and a few clumps of faded

laurel-bushes made a hard fight against a smoke-laden and

uncongenial atmosphere. Three gilt balls and a brown board with

"JABEZ WILSON" in white letters, upon a corner house, announced

the place where our red-headed client carried on his business.

Sherlock Holmes stopped in front of it with his head on one side

and looked it all over, with his eyes shining brightly between

puckered lids. Then he walked slowly up the street, and then down

again to the corner, still looking keenly at the houses. Finally

he returned to the pawnbroker's, and, having thumped vigorously

upon the pavement with his stick two or three times, he went up

to the door and knocked. It was instantly opened by a

bright-looking, clean-shaven young fellow, who asked him to step

in.

"Thank you," said Holmes, "I only wished to ask you how you would

go from here to the Strand."

"Third right, fourth left," answered the assistant promptly,

closing the door.

"Smart fellow, that," observed Holmes as we walked away. "He is,

in my judgment. the fourth smartest man in London, and for daring

I am not sure that he has not a claim to be third. I have known

something of him before."

"Evidently," said I, "Mr. Wilson's assistant counts for a good

deal in this mystery of the Red-headed League. I am sure that you

inquired your way merely in order that you might see him."

"Not him."

"What then?"

"The knees of his trousers."

"And what did you see?"

"What I expected to see."

"Why did you beat the pavement?"

"My dear doctor, this is a time for observation, not for talk. We

are spies in an enemy's country. We know something of Saxe-Coburg

Square. Let us now explore the parts which lie behind it."

The road in which we found ourselves as we turned round the

corner from the retired Saxe-Coburg Square presented as great a

contrast to it as the front of a picture does to the back. It was

one of the main arteries which conveyed the traffic of the City

to the north and west. The roadway was blocked with the immense

stream of commerce flowing in a double tide inward and outward,

while the footpaths were black with the hurrying swarm of

pedestrians. It was difficult to realize as we looked at the line

of fine shops and stately business premises that they really

abutted on the other side upon the faded and stagnant square

which we had just quitted.

"Let me see," said Holmes, standing at the corner and glancing

along the line, "I should like just to remember the order of the

houses here. It is a hobby of mine to have an exact knowledge of

London. There is Mortimer's, the tobacconist, the little

newspaper shop, the Coburg branch of the City and Suburban Bank,

the Vegetarian Restaurant, and McFarlane's carriage-building

depot. That carries us right on to the other block. And now,

Doctor, we've done our work, so it's time we had some play. A

sandwich and a cup of coffee, and then off to violin-land, where

all is sweetness and delicacy and harmony, and there are no

red-headed clients to vex us with their conundrums."