Ped Headed League Part 8
Sir Arthur Ignatius Conan Doyle
We are spies in an enemy's country. We know something of Saxe-Coburg Square. Let us now explore the
parts which lie behind it." The road in which we found ourselves as we turned round the corner from the
retired Saxe-Coburg Square presented as great a contrast to it as the front of a picture does to the back.
It was one of the main arteries which conveyed the traffic of the City to the north and west. The roadway
was blocked with the immense stream of commerce flowing in a double tide inward and outward, while
the footpaths were black with the hurrying swarm of pedestrians. It was difficult to realise as we looked
at the line of fine shops and stately business premises that they really abutted on the other side upon
the faded and stagnant square which we had just quitted. "Let me see," said Holmes, standing at the
corner and glancing along the line, "I should like just to remember the order of the houses here. It is a
hobby of mine to have an exact knowledge of London. There is Mortimer's, the tobacconist, the little
newspaper shop, the Coburg branch of the City and Suburban Bank, the Vegetarian Restaurant, and
McFarlane's carriage-building depot. That carries us right on to the other block. And now, Doctor, we've
done our work, so it's time we had some play. A sandwich and a cup of coffee, and then off to violin-land,
where all is sweetness and delicacy and harmony, and there are no red-headed clients to vex us with
their conundrums."
My friend was an enthusiastic musician, being himself not only a very capable performer 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 relentless, keen-witted, ready-handed
criminal agent, as it was possible to conceive. In his singular character the dual nature alternately
asserted itself, and his extreme exactness and astuteness represented, as I have often thought, the
reaction against the poetic and contemplative mood which occasionally predominated in him. The swing
of his nature took him from extreme languor to devouring energy; and, as I knew well, he was never so
truly formidable as when, for days on end, he had been lounging in his armchair amid his improvisations
and his black-letter editions. Then it was that the lust of the chase 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 complicates matters. I shall want your help to-night."
"At what time?" "Ten will be early enough." "I shall be at Baker Street at ten." "Very well. And, I say,
Doctor, there may be some little danger, so kindly put your army revolver in your pocket." He waved his
hand, turned on his heel, and disappeared in an instant among the crowd. I trust that I am not more
dense than my neighbours, but I was 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 grotesque. As I drove home to my house in
Kensington I thought over it all, from the extraordinary story of the red-headed copier of the
"Encyclopaedia" down to the visit to Saxe-Coburg Square, and the ominous words with which he had
parted from me. 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 pawnbroker's assistant was
a formidable man--a man who might play a deep game.