One autumn day, I went to visit my friend Sherlock Holmes at his home in Baker Street, London. He was talking with a visitor, a fat, older man with very bright red hair. His hair was the color of fire.
“Come in, Watson,” Holmes said. “This is Mr. Jabez Wilson. He has a very interesting story. Mr. Wilson, please start again from the beginning.”
Mr. Wilson took a folded newspaper out of his coat. He showed us an advertisement:
“TO THE RED-HEADED LEAGUE: Thanks to the money left by the late Ezekiah Hopkins, of Pennsylvania, U.S.A., there is another job open for a member of the League. The pay is four pounds a week for easy work. All healthy red-headed men over twenty-one can apply. Come on Monday at eleven o'clock to Duncan Ross, at the office of the League, 7 Pope's Court, Fleet Street.”
“What does it mean?” I asked.
Mr. Wilson told us his story. He had a small pawnshop in Saxe-Coburg Square, a quiet place in the city. A pawnshop is a shop where people borrow money and leave their things as a guarantee. Business was not very good. He had only one assistant, a young man named Vincent Spaulding. Spaulding was very clever, and he worked for half the normal pay because he wanted to learn the business. His only fault was that he loved photography. He was always going down to the cellar to develop his pictures.
Eight weeks before, Spaulding came to him with the newspaper. “I wish I had red hair, Mr. Wilson,” he said. “Look at this! There is a job for red-headed men, and the pay is very good.”
Spaulding explained that an American millionaire, Ezekiah Hopkins, also had red hair. When he died, he left his money to help red-headed men. Mr. Wilson's hair was perfect for the job.
So the next Monday, Mr. Wilson and Spaulding went to Fleet Street. The street was full of men with red hair of every color: orange, brick, lemon, brown. But Spaulding pushed through the crowd, and soon Mr. Wilson was in a small office in front of a little man with even redder hair. This was Mr. Duncan Ross.
Mr. Ross looked at Mr. Wilson's hair with great admiration. He even pulled it hard to check that it was real. Then he gave him the job.