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My friend was an enthusiastic musician, being himself not only a
very capable perfomer but a composer of no ordinary merit. All
the afternoon he sat in the stalls wrapped in the most perfect
happiness, gently waving his long, thin fingers in time to the
music, while his gently smiling face and his languid, dreamy eyes
were as unlike those of Holmes, the sleuth-hound, Holmes the
relentless1, keen-witted, ready-handed criminal agent, as it was
alternately asserted itself, and his extreme exactness and
astuteness3 represented, as I have often thought, the reaction
predominated in him. The swing of his nature took him from
never so truly formidable as when, for days on end, he had been
lounging in his armchair amid his improvisations and his
would suddenly come upon him, and that his brilliant reasoning
power would rise to the level of intuition, until those who were
unacquainted with his methods would look askance at him as on a
man whose knowledge was not that of other mortals. When I saw him
that afternoon so enwrapped in the music at St. James's Hall I
felt that an evil time might be coming upon those whom he had set
himself to hunt down.
"You want to go home, no doubt, Doctor," he remarked as we
emerged.
"Yes, it would be as well."
"And I have some business to do which will take some hours. This
business at Coburg Square is serious."
"Why serious?"
"A considerable crime is in contemplation. I have every reason to
believe that we shall be in time to stop it. But to-day being
Saturday rather complicates8 matters. I shall want your help
to-night."
"At what time?"
"Ten will be early enough."
"Very well. And, I say, Doctor, there may be some little danger,
hand, turned on his heel, and disappeared in an instant among the
crowd.
always oppressed with a sense of my own stupidity in my dealings
with Sherlock Holmes. Here I had heard what he had heard, I had
seen what he had seen, and yet from his words it was evident that
he saw clearly not only what had happened but what was about to
happen, while to me the whole business was still confused and
over it all, from the extraordinary story of the red-headed
copier of the Encyclopaedia13 down to the visit to Saxe-Coburg
What was this nocturnal expedition, and why should I go armed?
Where were we going, and what were we to do? I had the hint from
Holmes that this smooth-faced pawnbroker15's assistant was a
formidable man--a man who might play a deep game. I tried to
puzzle it out, but gave it up in despair and set the matter aside
until night should bring an explanation.
It was a quarter-past nine when I started from home and made my
the passage I heard the sound of voices from above. On entering
one of whom I recognized as Peter Jones, the official police
agent, while the other was a long, thin, sad-faced man, with a
very shiny hat and oppressively respectable frock-coat.
"Ha! Our party is complete," said Holmes, buttoning up his
peajacket and taking his heavy hunting crop from the rack.
"Watson, I think you know Mr. Jones, of Scotland Yard? Let me
introduce you to Mr. Merryweather, who is to be our companion in
to-night's adventure."
"We're hunting in couples again, Doctor, you see," said Jones in
his consequential19 way. "Our friend here is a wonderful man for
starting a chase. All he wants is an old dog to help him to do
the running down."
"I hope a wild goose may not prove to be the end of our chase,"
observed Mr. Merryweather gloomily.
"You may place considerable confidence in Mr. Holmes, sir," said
the police agent loftily. "He has his own little methods, which
are, if he won't mind my saying so, just a little too theoretical
and fantastic, but he has the makings of a detective in him. It
is not too much to say that once or twice, as in that business of
the Sholto murder and the Agra treasure, he has been more nearly
correct than the official force."
"Oh, if you say so, Mr. Jones, it is all right," said the
It is the first Saturday night for seven-and-twenty years that I
have not had my rubber."
"I think you will find," said Sherlock Holmes, "that you will
play for a higher stake to-night than you have ever done yet, and
that the play will be more exciting. For you, Mr. Merryweather,
the stake will be some 30,000 pounds; and for you, Jones, it will
be the man upon whom you wish to lay your hands."
young man, Mr. Merryweather, but he is at the head of his
any criminal in London. He's a remarkable23 man, is young John
Clay. His grandfather was a royal duke, and he himself has been
to Eton and Oxford. His brain is as cunning.as his fingers, and
though we meet signs of him at every turn, we never know where to
find the man himself. He'll crack a crib in Scotland one week,
I've been on his track for years and have never set eyes on him
yet."
"I hope that I may have the pleasure of introducing you to-night.
I've had one or two little turns also with Mr. John Clay, and I
agree with you that he is at the head of his profession. It is
past ten, however, and quite time that we started. If you two
will take the first hansom, Watson and I will follow in the
second."
Sherlock Holmes was not very communicative during the long drive
streets until we emerged into Farrington Street.
"We are close there now," my friend remarked. "This fellow
Merryweather is a bank director, and personally interested in the
matter. I thought it as well to have Jones with us also. He is
not a bad fellow, though an absolute imbecile in his profession.
are, and they are waiting for us."
We had reached the same crowded thoroughfare in which we had
found ourselves in the morning. Our cabs were dismissed, and,
following the guidance of Mr. Merryweather, we passed down a
narrow passage and through a side door, which he opened for us.
Within there was a small corridor, which ended in a very massive
stone steps, which terminated at another formidable gate. Mr.
Merryweather stopped to light a lantern, and then conducted us
down a dark, earth-smelling passage, and so, after opening a
"You are not very vulnerable from above," Holmes remarked as he
held up the lantern and gazed about him.
"Nor from below," said Mr. Merryweather, striking his stick upon
the flags which lined the floor. "Why, dear me, it sounds quite
hollow!" he remarked, looking up in surprise.
"I must really ask you to be a little more quiet!" said Holmes
expedition. Might I beg that you would have the goodness to sit
very injured expression upon his face, while Holmes fell upon his
knees upon the floor and, with the lantern and a magnifying lens,
began to examine minutely the cracks between the stones. A few
seconds sufficed to satisfy him, for he sprang to his feet again
and put his glass in his pocket.
"We have at least an hour before us," he remarked, "for they can
hardly take any steps until the good pawnbroker is safely in bed.
Then they will not lose a minute, for the sooner they do their
work the longer time they will have for their escape. We are at
present, Doctor--as no doubt you have divined--in the cellar of
the City branch of one of the principal London banks. Mr.
Merryweather is the chairman of directors, and he will explain to
you that there are reasons why the more daring criminals of
London should take a considerable interest in this cellar at
present."
"It is our French gold," whispered the director. "We have had
several warnings that an attempt might be made upon it."
"Your French gold?"
"Yes. We had occasion some months ago to strengthen our resources
and borrowed for that purpose 30,000 napoleons from the Bank of
France. It has become known that we have never had occasion to
crate upon which I sit contains 2,000 napoleons packed between
present than is usually kept in a single branch office, and the
directors have had misgivings40 upon the subject."
"Which were very well justified," observed Holmes. "And now it is
time that we arranged our little plans. I expect that within an
hour matters will come to a head. In the meantime Mr.
Merryweather, we must put the screen over that dark lantern."
"And sit in the dark?"
"I am afraid so. I had brought a pack of cards in my pocket, and
I thought that, as we were a partie carree, you might have your
rubber after all. But I see that the enemy's preparations have
gone so far that we cannot risk the presence of a light. And,
first of all, we must choose our positions. These are daring men,
and though we shall take them at a disadvantage, they may do us
some harm unless we are careful. I shall stand behind this crate,
light upon them, close in swiftly. If they fire, Watson, have no
compunction about shooting them down."
I placed my revolver, cocked, upon the top of the wooden case
of his lantern and left us in pitch darkness--such an absolute
darkness as I have never before experienced. The smell of hot
metal remained to assure us that the light was still there, ready
to flash out at a moment's notice. To me, with my nerves worked
up to a pitch of expectancy43, there was something depressing and
vault.
"They have but one retreat," whispered Holmes. "That is back
through the house into Saxe-Coburg Square. I hope that you have
done what I asked you, Jones?"
"Then we have stopped all the holes. And now we must be silent
and wait."
What a time it seemed! From comparing notes afterwards it was but
an hour and a quarter, yet it appeared to me that the night must
have almost gone. and the dawn be breaking above us. My limbs
were weary and stiff, for I feared to change my position; yet my
nerves were worked up to the highest pitch of tension, and my
hearing was so acute that I could not only hear the gentle
breathing of my companions, but I could distinguish the deeper,
heavier in-breath of the bulky Jones from the thin, sighing note
of the bank director. From my position I could look over the case
in the direction of the floor. Suddenly my eyes caught the glint
of a light.
it lengthened47 out until it became a yellow line, and then,
appeared; a white, almost womanly hand, which felt about in the
centre of the little area of light. For a minute or more the
again save the single lurid spark which marked a chink between
the stones.
tearing sound, one of the broad, white stones turned over upon
the light of a lantern. Over the edge there peeped a clean-cut,
boyish face, which looked keenly about it, and then, with a hand
waist-high, until one knee rested upon the edge. In another
instant he stood at the side of the hole and was hauling after
and a shock of very red hair.
bags? Great Scott! Jump, Archie, jump, and I'll swing for it!"
Sherlock Holmes had sprung out and seized the intruder by the
collar. The other dived down the hole, and I heard the sound of
rending cloth as Jones clutched at his skirts. The light flashed
upon the barrel of a revolver, but Holmes's hunting crop came
down on the man's wrist, and the pistol clinked upon the stone
floor.
chance at all."
"So I see," the other answered with the utmost coolness. "I fancy
coat-tails."
"There are three men waiting for him at the door," said Holmes.
"Oh, indeed! You seem to have done the thing very completely. I
must compliment you."
"And I you," Holmes answered. "Your red-headed idea was very new
and effective."
"You'll see your pal again presently," said Jones. "He's quicker
at climbing down holes than I am. Just hold out while I fix the
derbies."
the goodness, also, when you address me always to say 'sir' and
'please.'"
"All right," said Jones with a stare and a snigger. "Well, would
you please, sir, march upstairs, where we can get a cab to carry
your Highness to the police-station?"
detective.
"Really, Mr. Holmes," said Mr. Merryweather as we followed them
from the cellar, "I do not know how the bank can thank you or
repay you. There is no doubt that you have detected and defeated
in the most complete manner one of the most determined66 attempts
at bank robbery that have ever come within my experience."
"I have had one or two little scores of my own to settle with Mr.
John Clay," said Holmes. "I have been at some small expense over
that I am amply repaid by having had an experience which is in
the Red-headed League."
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