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"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 uponhis forehead."

Holmes sat up in his chair in considerable excitement. "I thoughtas much," said he. "Have you ever observed that his ears arepierced for earrings?"

"Yes, sir. He told me that a gipsy had done it for him when hewas a lad."

"Hum!" said Holmes, sinking back in deep thought. "He is stillwith 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 amorning."

"That will do, Mr. Wilson. I shall be happy to give you anopinion upon the subject in the course of a day or two. To-day isSaturday, and I hope that by Monday we may come to a conclusion."

"Well, Watson," said Holmes when our visitor had left us, "whatdo you make of it all?"

"I make nothing of it," I answered frankly. "It is a mostmysterious business."

"As a rule," said Holmes, "the more bizarre a thing is the lessmysterious it proves to be. It is your commonplace, featurelesscrimes which are really puzzling, just as a commonplace face isthe most difficult to identify. But I must be prompt over thismatter."

"What are you going to do, then?" I asked.

"To smoke," he answered. "It is quite a three pipe problem, and Ibeg that you won't speak to me for fifty minutes." He curledhimself up in his chair, with his thin knees drawn up to hishawk-like nose, and there he sat with his eyes closed and hisblack clay pipe thrusting out like the bill of some strange bird.I had come to the conclusion that he had dropped asleep, andindeed was nodding myself, when he suddenly sprang out of hischair with the gesture of a man who has made up his mind and puthis pipe down upon the mantelpiece.

"Sarasate plays at the St. James's Hall this afternoon," heremarked. "What do you think, Watson? Could your patients spareyou for a few hours?"

"I have nothing to do to-day. My practice is never veryabsorbing."

"Then put on your hat and come. I am going through the Cityfirst, and we can have some lunch on the way. I observe thatthere is a good deal of German music on the programme, which israther more to my taste than Italian or French. It isintrospective, and I want to introspect. Come along!"

We travelled by the Underground as far as Aldersgate; and a shortwalk took us to Saxe-Coburg Square, the scene of the singularstory which we had listened to in the morning. It was a poky,little, shabby-genteel place, where four lines of dingytwo-storied brick houses looked out into a small railed-inenclosure, where a lawn of weedy grass and a few clumps of fadedlaurel-bushes made a hard fight against a smoke-laden anduncongenial atmosphere. Three gilt balls and a brown board with"JABEZ WILSON" in white letters, upon a corner house, announcedthe place where our red-headed client carried on his business.Sherlock Holmes stopped in front of it with his head on one sideand looked it all over, with his eyes shining brightly betweenpuckered lids. Then he walked slowly up the street, and then downagain to the corner, still looking keenly at the houses. Finallyhe returned to the pawnbroker's, and, having thumped vigorouslyupon the pavement with his stick two or three times, he went upto the door and knocked. It was instantly opened by abright-looking, clean-shaven young fellow, who asked him to stepin.

"Thank you," said Holmes, "I only wished to ask you how you wouldgo 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 daringI am not sure that he has not a claim to be third. I have knownsomething of him before."

"Evidently," said I, "Mr. Wilson's assistant counts for a gooddeal in this mystery of the Red-headed League. I am sure that youinquired your way merely in order that you might see him."

"Not him."


Tags: Arthur Conan Doyle Sherlock Holmes Mystery