hing 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 Armor, 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 onto 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.
Oct. 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 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 di