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, Pa., U.S.A., there is now another
vacancy open which entitles a member of the League to a salary of
four pounds 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 Saxe-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