It is not too much to say that once or twice, as in thatbusiness of the Sholto murder and the Agra treasure, he has beenmore nearly correct than the official force." "Oh, if you say so, Mr.
Jones, it is all right," said thestranger with deference.
"Still, I confess that I miss my rubber.It is the first Saturday night for seven-and-twenty years that Ihave not had my rubber." "I think you will find," said Sherlock Holmes, "that you willplay for a higher stake to-night than you have ever done yet, andthat 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 theman upon whom you wish to lay your hands." "John Clay, the murderer, thief, smasher, and forger.
He's ayoung man, Mr.
Merryweather, but he is at the head of hisprofession, and I would rather have my bracelets on him than onany criminal in London.
He's a remarkable man, is young JohnClay.
His grandfather was a royal duke, and he himself has beento Eton and Oxford.
His brain is as cunning.as his fingers, andthough we meet signs of him at every turn, we never knowwhere to find the man himself.
He'll crack a crib in Scotland oneweek, and be raising money to build an orphanage in Cornwallthe next.
I've been on his track for years and have never set eyeson him yet." "I hope that I may have the pleasure of introducing youto-night.
I've had one or two little turns also with Mr.
JohnClay, and I agree with you that he is at the head of his profes-sion.
It is past ten, however, and quite time that we started.
Ifyou two will take the first hansom, Watson and I will followin the second." Sherlock Holmes was not very communicative during the longdrive and lay back in the cab humming the tunes which he hadheard in the afternoon.
We rattled through an endless labyrinthof gas-lit streets until we emerged into Farrington Street.
"We are close there now," my friend remarked.
"This fellowMerryweather is a bank director, and personally interested in thematter.
I thought it as well to have Jones with us also.
He is nota bad fellow, though an absolute imbecile in his profession.
Hehas one positive virtue.
He is as brave as a bulldog and astenacious as a lobster if he gets his claws upon anyone.
Here weare, and they are waiting for us." We had reached the same crowded thoroughfare in which wehad found ourselves in the morning.
Our cabs were dismissed,and, following the guidance of Mr.
Merryweather, we passeddown a narrow passage and through a side door, which heopened for us.
Within there was a small corridor, which ended ina very massive iron gate.
This also was opened, and led down aflight of winding stone steps, which terminated at another formi-dable gate.
Mr.
Merryweather stopped to light a lantern, andthen conducted us down a dark, earth-smelling passage, and so,after opening a third door, into a huge vault or cellar, which waspiled all round with crates and massive boxes.
"You are not very vulnerable from above," Holmes remarkedas he held up the lantern and gazed about him.
"Nor from below," said Mr.
Merryweather, striking his stickupon the flags which lined the floor.
"Why, dear me, it soundsquite hollow!" he remarked, looking up in surprise.
"I must really ask you to be a little more quiet!" said Holmesseverely.
"You have already imperilled the whole success of ourexpedition.
Might I beg that you would have the goodness to sitdown upon one of those boxes, and not to interfere?" The solemn Mr.
Merryweather perched himself upon a crate,with a very injured expression upon his face, while Holmes fellupon his knees upon the floor and, with the lantern and amagnifying lens, began to exarnine minutely the cracks betweenthe stones.
A few seconds sufficed to satisfy him, for he sprangto his feet again and put his glass in his pocket.
"We have at least an hour before us," he remarked, "for theycan hardly take any steps until the good pawnbroker is safely inbed.
Then they will not lose a minute, for the sooner they dotheir work the longer time they will have for their escape.
Weare at present, Doctor --as no doubt you have divined --in thecellar of the City branch of one of the principal London banks.Mr.
Merryweather is the chairman of directors, and he willexplain to you that there are reasons why the more daringcriminals of London should take a considerable interest in thiscellar at present." "It is our French gold," whispered the director.
"We havehad several warnings that an attempt might be made upon it." "Your French gold?" "Yes.
We had occasion some months ago to strengthen ourresources and borrowed for that purpose 30,000 napoleons fromthe Bank of France.
It has become known that we have neverhad occasion to unpack the money, and that it is still lying in ourcellar.
The crate upon which I sit contains 2,000 napoleonspacked between layers of lead foil.
Our reserve of bullion ismuch larger at present than is usually kept in a single branchoffice, and the directors have had misgivings upon the subject." "Which were very well justified," observed Holmes.
"Andnow it is time that we arranged our little plans.
I expect thatwithin an hour matters will come to a head.
In the meantimeMr.
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 haveyour rubber after all.
But I see that the enemy's preparationshave 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 ussome harm unless we are careful.
I shall stand behind this crate,and do you conceal yourselves behind those.
Then, when I flasha light upon them, close in swiftly.
If they fire, Watson, have nocompunction about shooting them down." I placed my revolver, cocked, upon the top of the woodencase behind which I crouched.
Holmes shot the slide across thefront of his lantern and left us in pitch darkness --such anabsolute darkness as I have never before experienced.
The smellof 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 nervesworked up to a pitch of expectancy, there was something de-pressing and subduing in the sudden gloom, and in the cold dankair of the vault.
"They have but one retreat," whispered Holmes.
"That isback through the house into Saxe-Coburg Square.
I hope thatyou have done what I asked you, Jones?" "l have an inspector and two officers waiting at the frontdoor." "Then we have stopped all the holes.
And now we must besilent and wait." What a time it seemed! From comparing notes afterwards itwas but an hour and a quarter, yet it appeared to me that thenight must have almost gone.
and the dawn be breaking aboveus.
My limbs were weary and stiff, for I feared to change myposition; yet my nerves were worked up to the highest pitch oftension, and my hearing was so acute that I could not only hearthe gentle breathing of my companions, but I could distinguishthe deeper, heavier in-breath of the bulky Jones from the thin,sighing note of the bank director.
From my position I could lookover the case in the direction of the floor.
Suddenly my eyescaught the glint of a light.
At first it was but a lurid spark upon the stone pavement.
Thenit lengthened out until it became a yellow line, and then, withoutany warning or sound, a gash seemed to open and a handappeared; a white, almost womanly hand, which felt about in thecentre of the little area of light.
For a minute or more the hand,with its writhing fingers, protruded out of the floor.
Then it waswithdrawn as suddenly as it appeared, and all was dark againsave the single lurid spark which marked a chink between thestones.
Its disappearance, however, was but momentary.
With a rend-ing, tearing sound, one of the broad.
white stones turned overupon its side and left a square, gaping hole, through whichstreamed the light of a lantern.
Over the edge there peeped aclean-cut, boyish face, which looked keenly about it, and then.with a hand on either side of the aperture, drew itself shoulder-high and waist-high, until one knee rested upon the edge.
Inanother instant he stood at the side of the hole and was haulingafter him a companion, lithe and small like himself, with a paleface and a shock of very red hair.
"It's all clear," he whispered.
"Have you the chisel and thebags? Great Scott! Jump, Archie, jump, and I'll swing for it!" Sherlock Holmes had sprung out and seized the intruder by thecollar.
The other dived down the hole, and I heard the sound ofrending cloth as Jones clutched at his skirts.
The light flashedupon the barrel of a revolver, but Holmes's hunting crop camedown on the man's wrist, and the pistol clinked upon the stonefloor.
"It's no use, John Clay," said Holmes blandly.
"You haveno chance at all." "So I see," the other answered with the utmost coolness.
"Ifancy that my pal is all right, though I see you have got hiscoat-tails." "There are three men waiting for him at the door," saidHolmes.
"Oh, indeed! You seem to have done the thing very com-pletely.
I must compliment you." "And I you," Holmes answered.
"Your red-headed idea wasvery new and effective." "You'll see your pal again presently," said Jones.
"He'squicker at climbing down holes than I am.
Just hold out while Ifix the derbies." "I beg that you will not touch me with your filthy hands,"remarked our prisoner as the handcuffs clattered upon his wrists."You may not be aware that I have royal blood in my veins.Have 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 tocarry your Highness to the police-station?" "That is better," said John Clay serenely.
He made a sweep-ing bow to the three of us and walked quietly off in the custodyof the detective.
"Really, Mr.
Holmes," said Mr.
Merryweather as we fol-lowed them from the cellar, "I do not know how the bank canthank you or repay you.
There is no doubt that you have detectedand defeated in the most complete manner one of the mostdetermined attempts at bank robbery that have ever come withinmy experience." "I have had one or two little scores of my own to settle withMr.
John Clay," said Holmes.
"I have been at some smallexpense over this matter, which I shall expect the bank torefund, but beyond that I am amply repaid by having had anexperience which is in many ways unique, and by hearing thevery remarkable narrative of the Red-headed League." "You see, Watson," he explained in the early hours of themorning as we sat over a glass of whisky and soda in BakerStreet, "it was perfectly obvious from the first that the onlypossible object of this rather fantastic business of the advertise-ment of the League, and the copying of the Encyclopedia, mustbe to get this not over-bright pawnbroker out of the way for anumber of hours every day.
It was a curious way of managing it,but, really, it would be difficult to suggest a better.
The methodwas no doubt suggested to Clay's ingenious mind by the colourof his accomplice's hair.
The 4 pounds a week was a lure which mustdraw him, and what was it to them, who were playing forthousands? They put in the advertisement, one rogue has thetemporary office, the other rogue incites the man to apply for it.and together they manage to secure his absence every morning inthe week.
From the time that I heard of the assistant havingcome for half wages, it was obvious to me that he had somestrong motive for securing the situation." "But how could you guess what the motive was?" "Had there been women in the house, I should have suspecteda mere vulgar intrigue.
That, however, was out of the question.The man's business was a small one, and there was nothing inhis house which could account for such elaborate preparations,and such an expenditure as they were at.
It must, then, besomething out of the house.
What could it be? I thought of theassistant's fondness for photography, and his trick of vanishinginto the cellar.
The cellar! There was the end of this tangledclue.
Then I made inquiries as to this mysterious assistant andfound that I had to deal with one of the coolest and most daringcriminals in London.
He was doing something in the cellar --something which took many hours a day for months on end.What could it be, once more? I could think of nothing save thathe was running a tunnel to some other building.
"So far I had got when we went to visit the scene of action.
Isurprised you by beating upon the pavement with my stick.
I wasascertaining whether the cellar stretched out in front or behind.
Itwas not in front.
Then I rang the bell, and, as I hoped, theassistant answered it.
We have had some skirmishes, but we hadnever set eyes upon each other before.
I hardly looked at hisface.
His knees were what I wished to see.
You must yourselfhave remarked how worn, wrinkled, and stained they were.They spoke of those hours of burrowing.
The only remainingpoint was what they were burrowing for.
I walked round thecorner, saw the City and Suburban Bank abutted on our friend'spremises, and felt that I had solved my problem.
