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30 



"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 



ADVENTURE II. THE RED-HEADED LEAGUE