Arthur Conan Doyle 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 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 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 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 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