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六座拿破侖半身像 The Adventure of the Six Napoleons
蘇格蘭場的雷斯垂德先生晚上到我們這兒來坐坐，已經是習以為常的事了。福爾摩斯歡迎他的到來，因為這能使福爾摩斯瞭解到總部在做些什麽。福爾摩斯總是用心地傾聽這位先生講述辦案的細節，同時他根據自己淵博的知識和豐富的經驗，也不時地嚮對方提出一些建議和意見。
一天晚上雷斯垂德談過天氣和報紙後，便沉默不語，不停地抽着雪茄。福爾摩斯急切地望着他，問道：“手頭有什麽不尋常的案子嗎？”
“啊，福爾摩斯先生，沒有——沒有什麽很特別的事。”
“那麽對我說說。”
雷斯垂德笑了。
“好吧，福爾摩斯先生，沒有必要否認我心裏確實有事。可是它是那樣荒誕，所以我不太想麻煩你。從另一方面說來，事情雖小，但是奇怪得很。我當然知道你對於一切不尋常的事都有興趣。不過我認為這件事和華生大夫的關係比和我們的關係更大。”
我說：“疾病？”
“起碼可以說是瘋病，而且是奇怪的瘋病。你能想到有這樣的事嗎？生活在今天的人卻非常仇恨拿破侖，看到他的像就要打碎。”
福爾摩斯仰身靠在椅子上。
他說：“這不是我的事。”
“是的，我已經說過這不是我們的事。但是，當這個人破門而入去打碎別人的拿破侖像的時候，那就不是要把他送到大夫那兒，而是要送到這兒來了。”
福爾摩斯又坐直了身子。
“搶劫？這倒很有意思。請你講講詳細情況。”
雷斯垂德拿出他的工作日志，打開看看，以免講時有什麽遺漏。
他說：“四天以前有人來報了第一個案子。事情發生在冒斯·賀得遜的商店，他在康寧頓街有個分店出售圖片和塑像。店員剛剛離開櫃臺一會兒，他就聽到什麽東西互相撞擊的聲音，便立刻跑到店鋪的前面，發現一座和其他藝術品一起擺在櫃臺上的拿破侖像已經被打得粉碎。他衝到街上，雖然有幾個過路人說他們看到有一個人跑出商店，但是他沒有找到這個人，而且也沒認出這個流氓。這象是件時常發生的毫無意義的流氓行為。事情如實地報告了巡警。石膏像最多值幾個先令，而全部事情又很小，不值得專門調查。
“但是，第二個案子更嚴重更特殊。就發生在昨天晚上。
“在康寧頓街離冒斯·賀得遜的商店二三百碼遠的地方，住着一位著名的巴爾尼柯大夫，泰晤士河南岸一帶有很多人常去找他看病。他的住宅和主要診療所是在康寧頓街，但是在兩英裏外的下布列剋斯頓街還有一個分診所和藥房。這位巴爾尼柯大夫由衷地崇拜拿破侖，他的傢裏滿是有關這位法國皇帝的書籍、繪畫以及遺物。不久以前他從賀得遜的商店買了兩座拿破侖半身像的復製品，這個頭像很有名，是法國著名的雕刻傢笛萬的作品。一座他放在康寧頓街住宅的大廳裏，一座放在下布列剋斯頓街診所的壁爐架上。好，今天早晨巴爾尼柯大夫一下樓，他大吃一驚，發現夜裏曾有人闖入他的住宅，不過除去大廳裏的石膏頭像外，並沒有拿走什麽別的東西。那座石膏頭像被拿到外面花園的墻下，已經撞成了碎片。”
福爾摩斯揉搓着他的手。
他說：“這確實很新奇。”
“我想這會使你感興趣的。但是，我還沒有說完。巴爾尼柯大夫十二點來到他的診所，他一到馬上發現窗戶已被打開了，屋內滿地是另一個拿破侖半身像的碎片，你可以想見他是多麽吃驚。半身像的底座也打成細小的碎塊。兩處全沒有任何跡象可以使我們查到製造這個惡作劇的罪犯，或者說是瘋子。福爾摩斯先生，事情經過就是這樣。”
福爾摩斯說：“事情是很奇怪，當然也很荒誕。請問在巴爾尼柯大夫的傢裏和診所裏打碎的兩個半身像和在賀得遜商店打碎的那個，是不是全是同一模型的復製品？”
“全是用一個模型做的。”
“這個事實否定了這樣的說法，即認為這個人打碎半身像是因為痛恨拿破侖的緣故。我們知道，整個倫敦市內有幾萬個這位皇帝的塑像，那些反對偶像崇拜的人，無論是誰，都不可能衹從這三個復製品入手錶示反對。因此這種看法是不合適的。”
雷斯垂德說：“我曾經象你這樣想過。可是，冒斯·賀得遜是倫敦那一個區唯一的塑像供應者，這三座像在他的商店裏放了很長時間。所以，儘管象你所說的在倫敦有幾萬個塑像，不過很有可能這三個是那一區僅有的。所以，這個地區的瘋子就從這三個着手。華生大夫，你怎樣想的呢？”
我回答：“偏執狂的表現是各種各樣沒有限度的。有這樣的情況，也就是被當代法國心理學家們稱作為'偏執的意念'的，意思是衹在一件細微的事上固執，而在其他各個方面卻完全清醒。一個人拿破侖的事跡讀得太多了，印象太深了，或是他的家庭遺傳給他當時戰爭所造成的某種心理缺陷，便完全可以形成一種'偏執的意念'，在這一意念的影響下，他能夠因幻想而狂怒。”
福爾摩斯搖搖頭說：“我親愛的華生，不能這樣解釋。因為不管'偏執的意念'産生怎樣的影響也不會使你所感興趣的偏執狂患者去找出這些頭像分佈在什麽地方。”
“那麽，你怎樣解釋呢？”
“我不想解釋。我衹是觀察到這位紳士采取這些怪癖行動時是遵循一定方法的。例如，在巴爾尼柯大夫的大廳裏，一點聲音可以驚醒全家，半身像是先拿到外面再打碎的，而在診療所，沒有驚動別人的危險，半身像在原地就打碎了。這象是無關緊要的細節，但是經驗告訴我不該把任何事情輕易看成是瑣碎無關的。華生，你還記得阿巴涅特傢的那件煩人的事情是怎樣引起我註意的嗎？不過是由於看出在熱天放到黃油裏的芹菜會沉多深罷了。雷斯垂德，所以我不能對於你的三個破碎的半身像一笑置之，要是你讓我知道這一連串奇異事件的新發展，我會深深感謝你的。”
我的朋友想要瞭解的事情發展得比他想象得更快，更悲慘。第二天清晨我正在臥室穿衣服，剛聽到敲門聲，福爾摩斯便過來了，手裏拿着一封電報。他大聲讀給我聽：
"立刻到肯辛頓彼特街１３１號來。
雷斯垂德"
我問：“怎麽一回事？”
“不知道——什麽事都可能發生。不過我猜想是半身像故事的繼續。要是這樣的話，我們這位打塑像的朋友已經在倫敦的其它區開始活動了。桌子上有咖啡，華生，我已經叫來了一輛馬車，快些！”
過了半小時我們到達彼特街，這是一條死氣沉沉的小巷，位於倫敦一個最繁華地區的附近。１３１號是一排整齊漂亮的房屋中的一座，這些房屋也很實用。我們的馬車剛到，便看見房子前的柵欄外擠滿了好奇的人們。福爾摩斯口裏發出噓噓聲纔穿過人群。"天啊！少說這也是謀殺。這下子倫敦的報童可要被團團圍住了。瞧，死者蜷縮着肩膀，伸長了脖子，不是暴力行為又是什麽呢？華生，這是怎麽一回事？上面的臺階衝洗過，而其它的臺階是幹的？哦，腳印倒是不少！喏，雷斯垂德就在前面窗口那兒。我們馬上便會知道一切。”
這位警官神色莊嚴地迎接了我們，並帶我們走進一間起居室。衹見一位衣着邋遢的長者，身穿法蘭絨晨衣，正在顫巍巍地來回踱步。雷斯垂德給我們介紹說，他就是這座房子的主人，中央報刊辛迪加的賀拉斯·哈剋先生。
雷斯垂德說：“又是拿破侖半身像的事。福爾摩斯先生，昨天晚上你好象對它很感興趣，所以我想你來這兒會高興的。現在事情發展得嚴重多了。”
“到什麽程度呢？”
“謀殺。哈剋先生，請你把發生的事準確地告訴這二位先生。”
哈剋先生說：“這件事很不尋常。我的一生全是在收集別人的新聞，而現在卻在我的身上發生一件真正的新聞，於是我糊塗了，心情不安，一個字都寫不出來了。如果我是以記者身份來到這裏的話，那麽我就得自己會見自己，還要在晚報上寫出兩欄報道。事實上，由於工作的關係，我也確實對許多不同的人都做過重要的報道，可是今天我自己實在無能為力了。歇洛剋·福爾摩斯先生，我聽到過你的名字，要是你能解釋這件怪事，我講給你聽就不是徒勞了。”
福爾摩斯坐下來靜靜地聽着。
“事情的起因，好象是為了那座拿破侖半身像。那是我四個月以前從高地街驛站旁邊的第二傢商店，也就是哈定兄弟商店買來的，價錢很便宜，買來後就一直把它放在這間屋子裏。我一般是在夜裏寫稿常常要寫到清晨，今天也是這樣。大約三點左右我正在樓上我的書房裏，忽然聽到樓下傳來什麽聲音。我就註意地聽着，可是，聲音又沒有了。於是我想聲音一定是從外面傳來的。然後，又過了五分鐘，突然傳來一聲非常凄慘的吼叫，福爾摩斯先生，聲音可怕極了，衹要我活着，它就會永遠縈繞在我耳邊。我當時嚇呆了，直愣愣地坐了一兩分鐘，後來就拿普通條走下樓去。我走進這間屋子，一眼就看到窗戶大開着，壁爐架上的半身像不見了。我真弄不懂強盜為什麽要拿這樣的東西，不過是個石膏塑像罷了，並不值多少錢。
“您一定看到了，不管是誰，從這扇開着的窗戶那裏邁一大步，便可以跨到門前的臺階上。這個強盜顯然是這樣做的，所以我就打開門，摸黑走出去，不料差一點被一個死人絆倒，屍體就橫在那兒。我趕忙回來拿燈，這纔看到那個可憐的人躺在地上，脖子上有個大洞，周圍是一大灘血。他臉朝天躺着，膝蓋彎麯，嘴大張着，樣子實在嚇人。呵，我一定還會夢見他的。後來，我趕忙吹了一下警哨，接着就什麽都不知道了。我想我一定是暈倒了，等我醒過來的時候，已經是在大廳裏，這位站在我身邊看着我。”
福爾摩斯問，"被害者是誰呢？”
雷斯垂德說：“沒有什麽東西可以表明他的身分。你要看屍體可以到殯儀館去，可是直到目前我們沒有從屍體上查出任何綫索。他身高體壯，臉色曬得發黑，年齡超不過三十歲，穿得很不象樣子，不過又不象是工人。有一把牛角柄的折刀扔在他身旁的一灘血裏。我不知道這把刀究竟是殺人犯的兇器，還是死者的遺物。死者的衣服上沒有名字，他的口袋裏衹有一個蘋果，一根繩子，一張值一先令的倫敦地圖，還有一張照片。這是照片。”
照片顯然是用小照相機快速拍攝的。照片上的人神情機智，眉毛很濃，口鼻都很凸出，而且凸出得很特別，象是狒狒的面孔。
福爾摩斯仔細地看過照片以後問：“那座半身像怎麽樣了？”
“就在你來之前我們得到一個消息。塑像在堪姆頓街一所空房子的花園裏找到了，已經被打得粉碎。我要去看看，你去嗎？”
“是的，我要去看一下。"福爾摩斯檢查了地毯和窗戶，他說：“這個人不是腿很長，便是動作很靈活。窗下地勢很低，跳上窗臺並且開開窗戶要很靈巧纔行。可是跳出去是相當容易的。哈剋先生，您要不要和我們一同去看那半身像的殘跡呢？”
這位新聞界人士情緒低沉地坐到寫字檯旁。
他說：“雖然我相信今天的第一批晚報已經發行了，上面會有這事的詳情，但是我還是要盡力把這件事寫一下。我的命運就是這樣！你還記得頓卡斯特的看臺坍倒的事嗎？我是①那個看臺上唯一的記者，我的報紙也是沒有登載此事的唯一一傢報紙，因為我受的震動太大，不能寫了。現在動筆寫發生在我傢門前的這件兇殺案是晚了一些。”
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①英國約剋郡的一個小城市。——譯者註
我們離開這間屋子的時候，聽到他的筆在稿紙上刷刷地寫着。
打碎半身像的地方離這所房子僅僅二三百碼遠。半身像已經被打得粉碎，細小的碎片散落在草地上。可想而知砸像人心中的仇恨是多麽強烈和難以控製。我們還是第一次看到這位偉大皇帝落到這種地步。福爾摩斯撿起幾塊碎片仔細檢查。從他專心緻志的面容和自信的神態來看，我確信他找到了綫索。
雷斯垂德問：“怎麽樣？”
福爾摩斯聳了聳肩。
他說：“我們要做的事雖然還很多，不過我們已經掌握了一些事實，可以做為行動的依據。對於這個犯人說來，半身像比人的生命值錢得多。這是一點。還有，要是說此人弄到半身像衹是為了打碎，而他又不在屋內或是屋子附近打碎，這也是一件奇怪的事。”
“也許當時他遇到這個人便慌亂起來。他簡直不知道該怎樣對付，便拿出了刀子。”
“很可能是這樣的。不過我要請你特別註意這棟房子的位置，塑像是在這棟房子的花園裏被打碎的。”
雷斯垂德嚮四周看了看。
“這是一座空房子，所以他知道在花園裏沒有人打攪他。”
“可是在這條街入口不遠的地方還有一棟空房子，他必定先路過那一棟才能到這一棟。既然他拿着半身像走路，每多走一碼，被人碰上的危險也就愈大些，為什麽他不在那一棟空房子那兒打碎呢？”
雷斯垂德說：“我答不出來。”
福爾摩斯指着我們頭上的路燈。
“在這兒他能看得見，在那兒卻不能，就是這個理由。”
這位偵探說：“哎呀，確實是這樣。我想起來了，巴爾尼柯大夫買的半身像是在離燈光不遠的地方打碎的。福爾摩斯先生，對這種情況你怎樣辦呢？”
“記住它，把它寫在備案錄裏。以後我們也許會碰上與此事有關的情況。雷斯垂德，你考慮下一步怎樣做呢？”
“依我看來，弄清內幕的最好辦法是查明這個死人的身分。這是不難的。這樣，我們便會有個很好的開端，從而可以進一步弄清昨天晚上死者在彼特街做什麽，以及誰在哈剋先生門前的臺階上遇見他並且殺了他。你看是這樣嗎？”
“不錯，是這樣；不過這和我處理這個案件的方法並不完全一樣。”
“那麽，你要怎樣做呢？”
“噢，你一點也不要受我的影響。我建議你做你的，我做我的。以後我們可以交換意見，這樣將會互相取長補短。”
雷斯垂德說：“好吧。”
“要是你回彼特街，見到哈剋先生，請替我告訴他，我認為可以肯定，昨晚來他傢的是一個有殺人狂的人，而且有仇視拿破侖的瘋病。這對於他的報道是有用的。”
雷斯垂德凝視着他。
“這並不是你的真實意見吧？”
福爾摩斯笑了。
“不是嗎？也許我不這樣看。但是，我敢說這會使哈剋先生以及中央報刊辛迪加的訂戶們感興趣。華生，我們今天還有很多、很復雜的工作要做。雷斯垂德，我希望你能在今晚六點鐘到貝剋街來和我們見面。我想先用一下這張死人口袋裏的照片，到晚上再給你。要是我的判斷沒有錯誤的話，或許要請你在半夜出去一趟協助我們。晚上見，祝你順利！”
歇洛剋·福爾摩斯和我一起步行到高地街，走進賣半身像的哈定兄弟商店。一個年輕的店員告訴我們哈定先生下午纔來，他自己是個新手，不瞭解情況。福爾摩斯流露出失望和煩惱的表情。
他說：“好吧，既然如此，我們衹好改變計劃了。看來哈定先生上午不會來了，我們衹好下午再來找他。華生，你一定已經猜到，我為什麽要追究這些半身像的來源，為的就是要看看有沒有什麽特別的事情，以便正確解釋這些像被砸的原因。現在，我們先到康寧頓街賀得遜先生的商店，看他能不能給我們一點啓發。”
我們乘上馬車，一小時後，來到了這傢商店。賀得遜身材不高，臉色紅潤，身體強壯，但是態度顯得急躁。
他說：“是的，先生，塑像就是在我這個櫃臺上打碎的。哼！太不象話了！既然強盜可以隨心所欲，那我們納稅還有什麽用呢？不錯，先生，是我賣給巴爾尼柯大夫兩座像。這種事情肯定是無政府主義者幹的——我就是這樣看。衹有無政府主義者纔會到處去打碎塑像。我從哪兒弄到這些塑像？我看不出這和那件事有什麽關係。不過，你實在想要知道，我就告訴你，是從斯捷班尼區教堂街蓋爾得爾公司弄來的。這個公司近二十年來在石膏雕塑行業中一直是有名的。我買了多少？三個，第一次是兩個，第二次是一個，共三個。賣給巴爾尼柯大夫兩個，還有一個在光天化日之下就在櫃臺上被打碎了。至於照片上這個人嗎？不，我不認識。哦，不，也可以說我認識。這不就是倍波嗎？他是個意大利人，幹零活的，他在這裏幹過活兒。他會點雕刻，會鍍金，會做框子，總之會做些零活。這傢夥是上星期走的，從那以後沒有人提到過他。我不知道他從哪兒來的，也不知道他上哪兒去了。他在這兒的時候，幹得不錯。打碎半身像的時候，他已經走了兩天。”
從商店出來之後，福爾摩斯對我說：“我們從冒斯·賀得遜這兒衹能瞭解這麽多了。弄清了在康寧頓街和肯辛頓的兩個案件裏全有倍波，就憑這一點，我們走了十英裏是值得的。華生，我們去斯捷班尼區的蓋爾得爾公司，這些半身像是在那兒製做的。我估計我們會從那兒得到一些情況。”
於是，我們迅速接連穿過倫敦的一些繁華地區：通過了旅館集中的街道，戲院毗鄰的街道，商店林立的街道，還通過了倫敦海運公司集中的地方，最後到了一個有十來萬人口的泰晤士河沿岸的市鎮。市鎮的分租房屋裏住滿了歐洲來的流浪者，並且彌漫着他們的氣味和情調。在一條原是倫敦富商居住的寬闊街道上，我們找到了我們要找的雕塑公司的工廠，廠裏有個相當大的院子，院裏堆滿了石碑等東西。裏面有一間很大的房屋，屋內有五十個工人正在幹活。經理是位身材高大皮膚白皙的德國人，他很有禮貌地接待了我們，對於福爾摩斯提的問題一一作出清楚的回答。經查賬得知，用笛萬的大理石拿破侖頭像復製了幾百座石膏像，大約一年前賣給冒斯·賀得遜的三座和另外的三座是一批貨，另外三座賣給了肯辛頓的哈定兄弟公司。這六座像和其他的任何一座不可能有什麽不同。他不能解釋有人想要毀壞這些塑像的原因——實際上，他譏笑所謂"偏執狂"的解釋。塑像的批發價是六先令，但零售商可以賣到十二個先令以上。復製品是從大理石頭像的前後分別做出模片，再把兩個半面模片連在一起，便構成一個完整的頭像。這種工作常由意大利人擔當，他們就在這間屋內工作，然後把半身像拿到過道的桌子上吹幹，一一存放棄來。他能告訴我們的，衹有這麽多了。
可是，那張照片卻對這位經理産生了奇怪的影響。他的臉氣得發紅，他的條頓族式藍色眼睛上的雙眉緊皺。
他大聲說：“啊，這個惡棍！是的，我對他瞭解得很清楚。我們這個公司一嚮名聲很好，衹有一次到這兒來了，那就是因為這個傢夥。那是一年多以前的事。他在街上用刀子捅了另一個意大利人，他剛到車間，緊跟着就來了，就是在這兒把他抓走的。他的名字叫倍波——我從來不知道他的姓。雇了這樣一個品行不端正的人，我是自找倒黴。但是，他很會幹活兒，是一把好手。”
“給他定個什麽罪？”
“被捅的人沒有死，把他關了一年就放出來了。我肯定他現在不在監獄裏，他沒有敢在這兒露面。這兒有他的一個表弟，我想他會告訴你他在哪兒。”
福爾摩斯大聲說：“不，不，什麽也不要對他的表弟說——我請求你一個字都不要說。事情是很嚴重的，我越來越覺得嚴重。你查看你賣出這些塑像的賬目時，我從旁看到賣出日期是去年六月三日。請你告訴我什麽時候倍波被逮捕的。”
這位經理回答：“我看一下工資賬就可以告訴你大概的日期。"他翻過幾頁後繼續說：“是的，最後一次發給他工錢是在五月二十號。”
福爾摩斯說：“謝謝你。我想我不必再耽誤您的時間和給您添麻煩了。"他最後再次囑咐經理不要把我們的調查說出去，我們便起身往回走了。
一直忙到下午四五點鐘，我們纔來得及在一傢飯館匆忙地吃了午飯。在飯館門口，報童呼叫着：“肯辛頓兇殺案，瘋子殺人。"這條新聞說明，哈剋先生的報道終於被刊登了。報道占了兩欄，文章使人震驚並且詞句漂亮。福爾摩斯把報紙立在調味品架上一邊吃一邊看。有一兩次他格格地笑了。
他說：“華生，是要這樣寫。你聽這一段：
'我們高興地告訴讀者，在這個案件上沒有分歧意見，因為經驗豐富的官方偵探雷斯垂德先生和著名的咨詢偵探傢福爾摩斯先生均得出同一結論，以殺人告終的這一係列的荒誕事件，全是出於精神失常而不是蓄意謀殺，衹有用心理失常的原因，才能解釋全部事件。'
“衹要你懂得怎樣使用報紙，華生，報紙便是非常寶貴的工具。你要是吃完了，我們就回到肯辛頓，聽聽哈定兄弟公司的經理會說些什麽。”
出乎意料，這個大商店的創建人卻是一個削瘦的小個子，但是精明強幹，頭腦清醒，很會講話。
“是的，先生，我已經看過晚報上的報道。哈剋先生是我們的顧客。幾個月前我們賣給了他那座塑像。我們從斯捷班尼區的蓋爾得爾公司訂了三座那種塑像。現在全賣出去了。賣給誰了？查一查我們的賣貨賬，便可以立刻告訴你。噢，這幾筆賬在這兒。你看，一個賣給哈剋先生，一個賣給齊茲威剋區拉布諾姆街的卓茲雅·布朗先生，第三個賣給瑞丁區下叢林街的珊德福特先生。你給我看的照片上的這個人，我從來沒有見過。這樣的人是不容易忘記的，因為他長得太醜了。你問我們的店員中有沒有意大利人嗎？有的，在工人和清潔工中有幾個。他們要想偷看售貨賬是很容易的。我想沒有什麽必要把賬本特別保護起來。啊，是的，那是一件怪事。要是您想瞭解什麽情況，請您告訴我。”
哈定先生作證的時候，福爾摩斯記下了一些情況。我看出他對於事情的發展是很滿意的。可是，他沒說什麽，衹是急於趕回去，不然就會耽誤和雷斯垂德見面。果然我們到貝剋街的時候，他已經到了，他正在屋內很不耐煩地踱來踱去。他那嚴肅的樣子說明他這一天工作得很有成績。
他問：“怎麽樣？福爾摩斯先生，有成績嗎？”
我的朋友解釋道：“我們今天很忙，而且沒有白過。零售商和批發製造商我們全見到了。我弄清了每個塑像的來源。”
雷斯垂德喊道：“半身像！好，福爾摩斯先生，你有你的方法，我不應該反對，但是我認為我這一天比你幹得好。我查清了死者的身分。”
“是嗎？”
“並且查出了犯罪的原因。”
“好極了。”
“我們有個偵探，名叫薩弗侖·希爾，他專門負責意大利區。死者的脖子上挂着天主像，加上他皮膚的顔色，使我認為他是從歐洲南部來的。偵探希爾一看見屍體，便認出了他。他的名字是彼埃拙·萬努齊，從那不勒斯來的。他是倫敦有名的強盜。他和黑手黨有聯繫。你知道黑手黨是個秘密組織，想要通過暗殺實現他們的信條。現在看來，事情逐漸清楚了。另外那個人可能也是個意大利人，並且也是黑手黨。他大概是違犯了黑手黨某一方面的紀律。彼埃拙是在跟蹤他。彼埃拙口袋中的照片可能就是另外那個人的，帶照片是為了弄準。他尾隨着這個人，看見他進了一棟房子，就在外面等着，後來在扭打中他受了致命傷。歇洛剋·福爾摩斯先生，這個解釋怎樣？”
福爾摩斯贊賞地拍着手。
他喊道：“好極了，雷斯垂德，好極了！可是，我沒有完全明白你對於打碎半身像的解釋。”
“半身像！你總是忘不了半身像。那算不了什麽；小偷小摸，最多關六個月監獄。我們認為調查的是兇殺，老實說，所有的綫索我全都弄到手了。”
“下一步呢？”
“那很簡單。我和希爾到意大利區，按照照片找人，以兇殺罪逮捕他。你和我們一塊兒去嗎？”
“我不想去。我想我們可以更容易地達到目的。我不能說準，這全看——全看一個我們根本不能控製的因素。但是希望很大——可以說有三分之二的把握——要是你今天晚上和我們一同去，我能幫助你逮捕他。”
“在意大利區？”
“不，我想很可能會在齊茲威剋區找到他。雷斯垂德，你如果今天晚上和我一同去齊茲威剋區，那麽明天晚上我一定陪你去意大利區，耽誤一個晚上不會礙事的。我看我們現在先得睡幾個小時纔好，因為要晚上十一點以後出去，大概天亮才能回來。雷斯垂德，你和我們一起吃飯，然後在沙發上休息。華生，你最好能打電話叫一個緊急通信員，我有一封很要緊的信必須立刻送出去。”
說完，福爾摩斯就走上閣樓，去翻閱舊報紙的合訂本。過了很長時間，他纔走下樓來，眼睛裏流露出勝利的目光，不過他對我們兩個人什麽也沒說。這個復雜的案件幾經周折，我一步一步地註視着福爾摩斯偵緝中所采取的方法。雖然我還不能看清我們要達到的目的，可是我十分清楚福爾摩斯在等待這個荒誕的罪犯去搞另外兩座半身像。我記得其中有一個是在齊茲威剋區。毫無疑問，我們此行的目的就是要當場抓到他。所以，我很贊賞我的朋友的機智，他在晚報上塞進了一個錯誤的綫索，使得這個人以為他可以繼續作案而不受懲罰。因此，福爾摩斯讓我帶上手槍的時候，我並不感到吃驚。他自己拿了裝好子彈的獵槍，這是他最喜愛的武器。
十一點鐘，我們乘上馬車來到了漢莫斯密斯橋，下車後，我們告訴馬車夫在那兒等候，然後繼續嚮前走，不久就來到一條平靜的大路上，路旁有一排齊整的房子，每一所房前全有自己的花園。藉着路燈的微光，我們找到了寫有"拉布諾姆別墅"的門牌。主人顯然已經休息了，因為在花園的小道上，除了從門楣窗裏透出的一圈模糊的光亮之外，周圍全是一漆黑暗。隔開大路和花園的木柵欄，在園內投下一片深深的黑影，我們正好躲在那裏。
福爾摩斯低聲說：“恐怕我們要等很久。謝謝老天爺，今晚沒下雨。我們不能在這兒抽煙，這樣消磨時間可不安全。不過你們放心，事情已有三分之二的把握，所以我們吃點苦還是划得来的。”
出乎意料的是，我們守候的時間並不長，突然聽到有了動靜。事先沒有一點聲音預示有人到來，大門就一下子被推開了，一個靈活的黑色人影象猴子一樣迅速而又敏捷地衝到花園的小路上。我們看見這個人影急速穿過門楣窗映在地上的燈光，便消失在房子的黑影中。這時四周完全寂靜無聲，我們屏住了呼吸。一會兒工夫，忽然聽到輕微的嘎吱一聲，窗戶已經打開了。聲音消逝了，接着又是長時間的靜寂。估計這個人正在設法潛入室內。一會兒，我們又看到一隻深色燈籠的光在室內閃了一下。他所找的東西顯然不在那兒，因為我們隔着另一窗簾又看到一下閃光，然後隔着第三個窗簾又有一次閃光。
雷斯垂德低聲說：“我們到那個開着的窗戶那兒去。他一爬出來，我們就能立即抓住他。”
但是我們還沒有來得及動，這個人便又出現了。當他走到小路上那塊閃爍着微光的地方的時候，我們看到他腋下夾着一件白色的東西。他鬼鬼祟祟地四下張望着。寂靜無聲的街道給他壯了幾分膽。他轉過身去，背嚮我們，放下這件東西，跟着是很響的"啪嗒"一聲，接着又是"格格"的連續響聲。他幹得很專心，所以當我們悄悄地穿過一塊草地時，他並沒有聽見我們的腳步聲。於是福爾摩斯猛虎般地撲嚮他的背後，雷斯垂德和我立即抓住他的手腕並且給他戴上了手銬。當我們把他扭轉過來時，我看到一副兩頰深陷奇醜無比的面孔，他的眼睛怒視着我們，他的面孔在抽搐，我這纔看清我們抓到的確實是照片上的那個人。
可是，福爾摩斯卻不去註意我們抓到的人，他蹲在臺階上仔細地檢查這個人從屋裏拿出來的東西。這是一座拿破侖的半身像，和我們那天早晨看到的一樣，並且也是同樣被打成小碎片。福爾摩斯把碎片拿到亮光下認真地檢查，沒有看出這些石膏碎片有什麽特殊的地方。他剛剛檢查完，屋裏的燈一亮，門開了，房屋的主人，一位和藹、肥胖的人，穿着襯衫和長褲出現在我們面前。
福爾摩斯說：“我想您是卓茲雅·布朗先生吧？”
“是的，先生，您準是福爾摩斯先生吧？我收到通訊員送來的急信，便完全按照你所說的做了。我們把每扇門全從裏面鎖上，等待事情的發展。我很高興你們抓到了這個流氓，先生們，請你們到屋裏來休息一下。”
然而雷斯垂德急於把犯人送到安全的地方，所以沒有幾分鐘便叫來馬車，我們四個人動身去倫敦了。犯人一句話也不說，他的眼睛從亂蓬蓬的頭髮陰影裏惡狠狠地看着我們，有一次我的手離他較近，他便象餓狼一樣地猛抓過來。我們在局對他進行了搜查，他身上除去幾個先令和一把刀身很長的刀子之外，什麽也沒有，刀把上有許多新的血跡。
分手的時候，雷斯垂德說：“事情就是這樣了。希爾很瞭解這些流氓，他會給他定罪的。你看，我用黑手黨來解釋並沒有錯，不過，福爾摩斯先生，我非常感謝你這樣巧妙地抓住了他，可我還沒完全懂得這是怎麽一回事。”
福爾摩斯說：“時間太晚，不能解釋了。另外，還有一兩件小事沒有弄清楚，這個案件是應該搞徹底的。要是你明天晚上六點鐘到我傢來，我會給你說明直到現在你還沒有完全瞭解的這個案件的意義。總的說來，這個案件確實有獨特的地方。華生，要是我同意你繼續記錄我辦的一些案子，我敢說這樁案子一定會使你的記載增色不少。”
到第二天晚上大傢見面的時候，雷斯垂德給我們講了這個犯人的詳細情況。我們已經知道犯人名字叫倍波，但姓氏不詳，他在意大利人聚集的地方是個出名的壞蛋。他很會製造塑像，一度老老實實地過日子，可是後來他走上了歪道，兩次被捕，一次是因為偷了一點東西，另一次是因為刺傷了他的一個同鄉。他英語講得很好。他毀壞這些塑像的原因還不清楚，他拒絶回答這方面的問題。可是發現這些塑像可能是他親手做的，因為他在蓋爾得爾公司的時候是做這種工作的。對於這些我們已經知道的情況，福爾摩斯衹是有禮貌地聽着，但是我明確地感到——因為我很瞭解他——他的思想是在別處。我覺察到，在他慣有的面部表情下，交織着不安和期待。最後，他從椅子上站起來了，他的眼睛閃閃發光。這時門鈴響了。一會兒我們聽到樓梯上有腳步聲，僕人領進來一位面色紅潤、長着灰白色連鬢鬍的老年人。他手裏拿着一個旅行袋，進門後把它放到桌子上。
“歇洛剋·福爾摩斯先生在這兒嗎？”
我的朋友點了點頭，並且微笑一下說：“我想您是瑞丁區的珊德福特先生？”
“是的，我大概是遲到了一會兒，火車太不方便了。您給我寫信談到我買的半身像。”
“是的。”
“您的信在這兒。您說：'我想要一座仿笛萬塑的拿破侖像，對於您的那座我願意付十鎊。'是這樣嗎？”
“不錯，是這樣。”
“我對您的來信感到意外，因為我想象不出您怎麽會知道我有這個像。”
“當然您會感到意外，可是理由卻很簡單。哈定公司的哈定先生說，他們把最後的一座賣給了您，並且把您的地址告訴了我。”
“噢，是這麽一回事！他告訴您我花了多少錢嗎？”
“沒有，他沒說。”
“我雖然並不富有，但是我是誠實的。我衹用了十五個先令，我想在我拿走您十鎊紙幣之前，您應該知道這一點。”
“珊德福特先生，您的顧慮說明您的誠實。既然我已經定了這個價錢，我要堅持這樣做。”
“福爾摩斯先生，您很慷慨。我按照您的要求，帶來了這座像。這就是！"他解開袋子。於是，我們總算看到了一座完整的拿破侖像；以前幾次，我們見到的都是碎片。
福爾摩斯從衣袋中取出一張紙條和一張十鎊的紙幣放到桌子上。
“珊德福特先生，請您當着這幾位證人在這張條子上簽名。這衹是表明，您對於這座塑像的占有權和有關的一切權利，全部轉讓給我。我是一個循規蹈矩的人，一個人永遠無法預見將來會出什麽事。謝謝您，珊德福特先生，這是您的錢，祝您晚安。”
客人走了以後，福爾摩斯的行動引起我們的註意。他從抽屜裏拿出一塊白布，鋪在桌子上，又把新買來的半身像放在白布中間。然後他端起獵槍，猛地往拿破侖像的頭頂上放了一槍，於是像立刻變成了碎片。福爾摩斯彎下腰來，急切地察看着這些分散的碎片。不一會兒，他便得意地喊了起來，我看到，他手裏高舉着一塊碎片，碎片上嵌着一顆深色的東西，就象布丁上的葡萄幹一樣。
他嚷道：“先生們，讓我把著名的包格斯黑珍珠介紹給你們吧！”
雷斯垂德和我一下子愣住了。極度的驚嘆使我們突然鼓起掌來，好象看戲看到了最精彩的關鍵部分。福爾摩斯蒼白的面孔泛出紅暈，他嚮我們鞠了一躬，就象著名的劇作傢在答謝觀衆的盛情。衹是在這樣的時刻，他纔暫時中斷理性的思考，而流露出喜歡受到贊揚的人之常情。朋友的驚奇和贊揚竟然深深地打動了這樣一個蔑視世俗的榮譽、性格獨特、沉默寡言的人。
他說：“先生們，這是世界上現有的最著名的珠寶，我是很幸運的，能夠依照一係列的歸納法，從這顆珍珠遺失的地方——科隆那王子在達柯爾旅館的臥室開始，追查到斯捷班尼地區的蓋爾得爾公司所造的六個拿破侖像之一。雷斯垂德，你還記得吧，這顆無價的珍寶遺失之後造成了多麽大的震動，當時倫敦的徒勞無功。在這件案子上，他們詢問過我的意見，但是我提不出任何辦法。懷疑過王妃的女僕，她是個意大利人，當局查明她有一個兄弟在倫敦，但是我們沒有弄清他們之間有無聯繫，女僕的名字叫蘆剋芮什雅·萬努齊。我想兩天以前被殺害的彼埃拙便是她的兄弟。我查看過報上的日期，珍珠是在倍波被捕前兩天遺失的。逮捕倍波是因為他打傷了人，在蓋爾得爾公司抓的，那時他正做這些塑像。你們現在可以完全明白事情發生的順序了，當然，我思考的時候，思路與這些事件的順序正好相反。倍波確實拿到了珍珠。他可能是從彼埃拙那兒偷來的，他也可能就是彼埃拙的同謀，還有可能是彼埃拙和他妹妹的中間人。不過這些對於我們無關緊要。
“重要的事實是他占有了這顆珍珠，正當他身上帶着這顆珍珠的時候，來追捕他。他跑到他工作的工廠，他知道他衹有幾分鐘的時間了，但是必須把這顆無價之寶藏好，否則便會在搜身的時候，被搜出。當時六座拿破侖的石膏像正放在過道吹幹，一座還是軟的。倍波是一個熟練工人，所以立刻在濕石膏上挖了一個小洞，把珍珠放到裏面，然後又抹了幾下，把小洞抹平。石膏像是個理想的外殼，沒有人會想到在那裏能找到這顆珍珠。倍波被關了一年，同時他的六座石膏像被賣到倫敦各處。他不知道哪座像裏有那顆珍珠。搖擺石膏像是不起作用的，因為珍珠會粘在濕石膏上，因此，衹有把石膏像打碎，才能找到它。倍波並沒有失望，他很機靈又有毅力，便繼續尋找。通過一個在蓋爾得爾公司工作的堂兄弟，他弄清了買這些像的是哪幾傢零售公司。於是他設法在冒斯·賀得遜公司得到雇用，這樣他查明了三座塑像的去處。珍珠不在這三座裏。然後在其它意大利雇工的幫助下，他又弄清另外三座塑像的去處。一座是在哈剋先生傢。在那兒他被他的同謀所跟蹤，這個人認為他應對丟失珍珠負責，在後來的搏鬥中他刺死了他的同謀。”
我問：“要是他是他的同謀，為什麽還帶着他的照片？”
“那是為了追尋他用的，要是他想嚮第三者詢問倍波的時候可以拿出來。這個道理是很明顯的。我想倍波在殺人以後，行動會加快，而不會延遲。他怕發現他的秘密，所以他要在追捕他之前加速行動。當然，我不能肯定地說，他在哈剋買的半身像中沒有找到那顆珍珠。我甚至不能斷定石膏像裏藏的是珍珠，但是我很清楚他是在找什麽東西，因為他把半身像拿出去，走過幾棟房屋，在有燈的花園裏纔把它打碎。既然哈剋買的半身像是三個裏面的一個，那麽也就證明了我告訴你們的，珍珠在裏面的可能性是三分之一。還有兩個半身像，很顯然他要先找在倫敦的那一個。我警告房子的主人，以避免發生第二次慘案，然後我們便行動了，並且取得了最好的成績。當然，衹是在這個時候，我纔明確地知道我們要找的是包格斯的珍珠。被害者的姓名使我把兩個事件聯繫起來。那麽衹剩下一個半身像——在瑞丁區的那座了——而且珍珠必定在那個像裏面，所以，我當着你們的面從物主那兒買來——珍珠就在這兒。”
我們默默地坐了一會兒。
雷斯垂德說：“福爾摩斯先生，我看你處理過許多案件，但是都不象處理這個案件那樣巧妙。我們蘇格蘭場的人不是嫉妒你，不是的，先生，而是引以為榮。如果明天你能去的話，不管是老的偵探還是年輕的，都會很高興地嚮你握手祝賀。”
福爾摩斯說：“謝謝你！謝謝你！"這時他轉過臉去。我從來沒有見到過他由於人類的溫暖感情而象現在這樣地激動。過了一會兒，他又冷靜地投入了新的思考。他說：“華生，把珍珠放到保險櫃裏。把康剋—辛格爾頓偽造案件的文件拿出來。再見，雷斯垂德。如果你遇到什麽新的問題，我將會盡我的可能助你一臂之力。”
On this particular evening Lestrade had spoken of the weather and the newspapers. Then he had fallen silent, puffing thoughtfully at his cigar. Holmes looked keenly at him.
"Anything remarkable on hand?" he asked.
"Oh, no, Mr. Holmes, nothing very particular."
"Then tell me about it."
Lestrade laughed.
"Well, Mr. Holmes, there is no use denying that there IS something on my mind. And yet it is such an absurd business that I hesitated to bother you about it. On the other hand, although it is trivial, it is undoubtedly queer, and I know that you have a taste for all that is out of the common. But in my opinion it comes more in Dr. Watson's line than ours."
"Disease?" said I.
"Madness, anyhow. And a queer madness too! You wouldn't think there was anyone living at this time of day who had such a hatred of Napoleon the First that he would break any image of him that he could see."
Holmes sank back in his chair.
"That's no business of mine," said he.
"Exactly. That's what I said. But then, when the man commits burglary in order to break images which are not his own, that brings it away from the doctor and on to the policeman."
Holmes sat up again.
"Burglary! This is more interesting. Let me hear the details."
Lestrade took out his official note-book and refreshed his memory from its pages.
"The first case reported was four days ago," said he. "It was at the shop of Morse Hudson, who has a place for the sale of pictures and statues in the Kennington Road. The assistant had left the front shop for an instant when he heard a crash, and hurrying in he found a plaster bust of Napoleon, which stood with several other works of art upon the counter, lying shivered into fragments. He rushed out into the road, but, although several passers-by declared that they had noticed a man run out of the shop, he could neither see anyone nor could he find any means of identifying the rascal. It seemed to be one of those senseless acts of Hooliganism which occur from time to time, and it was reported to the constable on the beat as such. The plaster cast was not worth more than a few shillings, and the whole affair appeared to be too childish for any particular investigation.
"The second case, however, was more serious and also more singular. It occurred only last night.
"In Kennington Road, and within a few hundred yards of Morse Hudson's shop, there lives a well-known medical practitioner, named Dr. Barnicot, who has one of the largest practices upon the south side of the Thames. His residence and principal consulting-room is at Kennington Road, but he has a branch surgery and dispensary at Lower Brixton Road, two miles away. This Dr. Barnicot is an enthusiastic admirer of Napoleon, and his house is full of books, pictures, and relics of the French Emperor. Some little time ago he purchased from Morse Hudson two duplicate plaster casts of the famous head of Napoleon by the French sculptor, Devine. One of these he placed in his hall in the house at Kennington Road, and the other on the mantelpiece of the surgery at Lower Brixton. Well, when Dr. Barnicot came down this morning he was astonished to find that his house had been burgled during the night, but that nothing had been taken save the plaster head from the hall. It had been carried out and had been dashed savagely against the garden wall, under which its splintered fragments were discovered."
Holmes rubbed his hands.
"This is certainly very novel," said he.
"I thought it would please you. But I have not got to the end yet. Dr. Barnicot was due at his surgery at twelve o'clock, and you can imagine his amazement when, on arriving there, he found that the window had been opened in the night, and that the broken pieces of his second bust were strewn all over the room. It had been smashed to atoms where it stood. In neither case were there any signs which could give us a clue as to the criminal or lunatic who had done the mischief. Now, Mr. Holmes, you have got the facts."
"They are singular, not to say grotesque," said Holmes. "May I ask whether the two busts smashed in Dr. Barnicot's rooms were the exact duplicates of the one which was destroyed in Morse Hudson's shop?"
"They were taken from the same mould."
"Such a fact must tell against the theory that the man who breaks them is influenced by any general hatred of Napoleon. Considering how many hundreds of statues of the great Emperor must exist in London, it is too much to suppose such a coincidence as that a promiscuous iconoclast should chance to begin upon three specimens of the same bust."
"Well, I thought as you do," said Lestrade. "On the other hand, this Morse Hudson is the purveyor of busts in that part of London, and these three were the only ones which had been in his shop for years. So, although, as you say, there are many hundreds of statues in London, it is very probable that these three were the only ones in that district. Therefore, a local fanatic would begin with them. What do you think, Dr. Watson?"
"There are no limits to the possibilities of monomania," I answered. "There is the condition which the modern French psychologists have called the `idee fixe,' which may be trifling in character, and accompanied by complete sanity in every other way. A man who had read deeply about Napoleon, or who had possibly received some hereditary family injury through the great war, might conceivably form such an `idee fixe' and under its influence be capable of any fantastic outrage."
"That won't do, my dear Watson," said Holmes, shaking his head; "for no amount of `idee fixe' would enable your interesting monomaniac to find out where these busts were situated."
"Well, how do YOU explain it?"
"I don't attempt to do so. I would only observe that there is a certain method in the gentleman's eccentric proceedings. For example, in Dr. Barnicot's hall, where a sound might arouse the family, the bust was taken outside before being broken, whereas in the surgery, where there was less danger of an alarm, it was smashed where it stood. The affair seems absurdly trifling, and yet I dare call nothing trivial when I reflect that some of my most classic cases have had the least promising commencement. You will remember, Watson, how the dreadful business of the Abernetty family was first brought to my notice by the depth which the parsley had sunk into the butter upon a hot day. I can't afford, therefore, to smile at your three broken busts, Lestrade, and I shall be very much obliged to you if you will let me hear of any fresh developments of so singular a chain of events."
The development for which my friend had asked came in a quicker and an infinitely more tragic form than he could have imagined. I was still dressing in my bedroom next morning when there was a tap at the door and Holmes entered, a telegram in his hand. He read it aloud:--
"Come instantly, 131, Pitt Street, Kensington. -- Lestrade."
"What is it, then?" I asked.
"Don't know -- may be anything. But I suspect it is the sequel of the story of the statues. In that case our friend, the image-breaker, has begun operations in another quarter of London. There's coffee on the table, Watson, and I have a cab at the door."
In half an hour we had reached Pitt Street, a quiet little backwater just beside one of the briskest currents of London life. No. 131 was one of a row, all flat-chested, respectable, and most unromantic dwellings. As we drove up we found the railings in front of the house lined by a curious crowd. Holmes whistled.
"By George! it's attempted murder at the least. Nothing less will hold the London message-boy. There's a deed of violence indicated in that fellow's round shoulders and outstretched neck. What's this, Watson? The top steps swilled down and the other ones dry. Footsteps enough, anyhow! Well, well, there's Lestrade at the front window, and we shall soon know all about it."
The official received us with a very grave face and showed us into a sitting-room, where an exceedingly unkempt and agitated elderly man, clad in a flannel dressing-gown, was pacing up and down. He was introduced to us as the owner of the house -- Mr. Horace Harker, of the Central Press Syndicate.
"It's the Napoleon bust business again," said Lestrade. "You seemed interested last night, Mr. Holmes, so I thought perhaps you would be glad to be present now that the affair has taken a very much graver turn."
"What has it turned to, then?"
"To murder. Mr. Harker, will you tell these gentlemen exactly what has occurred?"
The man in the dressing-gown turned upon us with a most melancholy face.
"It's an extraordinary thing," said he, "that all my life I have been collecting other people's news, and now that a real piece of news has come my own way I am so confused and bothered that I can't put two words together. If I had come in here as a journalist I should have interviewed myself and had two columns in every evening paper. As it is I am giving away valuable copy by telling my story over and over to a string of different people, and I can make no use of it myself. However, I've heard your name, Mr. Sherlock Holmes, and if you'll only explain this queer business I shall be paid for my trouble in telling you the story."
Holmes sat down and listened.
"It all seems to centre round that bust of Napoleon which I bought for this very room about four months ago. I picked it up cheap from Harding Brothers, two doors from the High Street Station. A great deal of my journalistic work is done at night, and I often write until the early morning. So it was to-day. I was sitting in my den, which is at the back of the top of the house, about three o'clock, when I was convinced that I heard some sounds downstairs. I listened, but they were not repeated, and I concluded that they came from outside. Then suddenly, about five minutes later, there came a most horrible yell -- the most dreadful sound, Mr. Holmes, that ever I heard. It will ring in my ears as long as I live. I sat frozen with horror for a minute or two. Then I seized the poker and went downstairs. When I entered this room I found the window wide open, and I at once observed that the bust was gone from the mantelpiece. Why any burglar should take such a thing passes my understanding, for it was only a plaster cast and of no real value whatever.
"You can see for yourself that anyone going out through that open window could reach the front doorstep by taking a long stride. This was clearly what the burglar had done, so I went round and opened the door. Stepping out into the dark I nearly fell over a dead man who was lying there. I ran back for a light, and there was the poor fellow, a great gash in his throat and the whole place swimming in blood. He lay on his back, his knees drawn up, and his mouth horribly open. I shall see him in my dreams. I had just time to blow on my police-whistle, and then I must have fainted, for I knew nothing more until I found the policeman standing over me in the hall."
"Well, who was the murdered man?" asked Holmes.
"There's nothing to show who he was," said Lestrade. "You shall see the body at the mortuary, but we have made nothing of it up to now. He is a tall man, sunburned, very powerful, not more than thirty. He is poorly dressed, and yet does not appear to be a labourer. A horn-handled clasp knife was lying in a pool of blood beside him. Whether it was the weapon which did the deed, or whether it belonged to the dead man, I do not know. There was no name on his clothing, and nothing in his pockets save an apple, some string, a shilling map of London, and a photograph. Here it is."
It was evidently taken by a snap-shot from a small camera. It represented an alert, sharp-featured simian man with thick eyebrows, and a very peculiar projection of the lower part of the face like the muzzle of a baboon.
"And what became of the bust?" asked Holmes, after a careful study of this picture.
"We had news of it just before you came. It has been found in the front garden of an empty house in Campden House Road. It was broken into fragments. I am going round now to see it. Will you come?"
"Certainly. I must just take one look round." He examined the carpet and the window. "The fellow had either very long legs or was a most active man," said he. "With an area beneath, it was no mean feat to reach that window-ledge and open that window. Getting back was comparatively simple. Are you coming with us to see the remains of your bust, Mr. Harker?"
The disconsolate journalist had seated himself at a writing-table.
"I must try and make something of it," said he, "though I have no doubt that the first editions of the evening papers are out already with full details. It's like my luck! You remember when the stand fell at Doncaster? Well, I was the only journalist in the stand, and my journal the only one that had no account of it, for I was too shaken to write it. And now I'll be too late with a murder done on my own doorstep."
As we left the room we heard his pen travelling shrilly over the foolscap.
The spot where the fragments of the bust had been found was only a few hundred yards away. For the first time our eyes rested upon this presentment of the great Emperor, which seemed to raise such frantic and destructive hatred in the mind of the unknown. It lay scattered in splintered shards upon the grass. Holmes picked up several of them and examined them carefully. I was convinced from his intent face and his purposeful manner that at last he was upon a clue.
"Well?" asked Lestrade.
Holmes shrugged his shoulders.
"We have a long way to go yet," said he. "And yet -- and yet -- well, we have some suggestive facts to act upon. The possession of this trifling bust was worth more in the eyes of this strange criminal than a human life. That is one point. Then there is the singular fact that he did not break it in the house, or immediately outside the house, if to break it was his sole object."
"He was rattled and bustled by meeting this other fellow. He hardly knew what he was doing."
"Well, that's likely enough. But I wish to call your attention very particularly to the position of this house in the garden of which the bust was destroyed."
Lestrade looked about him.
"It was an empty house, and so he knew that he would not be disturbed in the garden."
"Yes, but there is another empty house farther up the street which he must have passed before he came to this one. Why did he not break it there, since it is evident that every yard that he carried it increased the risk of someone meeting him?"
"I give it up," said Lestrade.
Holmes pointed to the street lamp above our heads.
"He could see what he was doing here and he could not there. That was his reason."
"By Jove! that's true," said the detective. "Now that I come to think of it, Dr. Barnicot's bust was broken not far from his red lamp. Well, Mr. Holmes, what are we to do with that fact?"
"To remember it -- to docket it. We may come on something later which will bear upon it. What steps do you propose to take now, Lestrade?"
"The most practical way of getting at it, in my opinion, is to identify the dead man. There should be no difficulty about that. When we have found who he is and who his associates are, we should have a good start in learning what he was doing in Pitt Street last night, and who it was who met him and killed him on the doorstep of Mr. Horace Harker. Don't you think so?"
"No doubt; and yet it is not quite the way in which I should approach the case."
"What would you do, then?"
"Oh, you must not let me influence you in any way! I suggest that you go on your line and I on mine. We can compare notes afterwards, and each will supplement the other."
"Very good," said Lestrade.
"If you are going back to Pitt Street you might see Mr. Horace Harker. Tell him from me that I have quite made up my mind, and that it is certain that a dangerous homicidal lunatic with Napoleonic delusions was in his house last night. It will be useful for his article."
Lestrade stared.
"You don't seriously believe that?"
Holmes smiled.
"Don't I? Well, perhaps I don't. But I am sure that it will interest Mr. Horace Harker and the subscribers of the Central Press Syndicate. Now, Watson, I think that we shall find that we have a long and rather complex day's work before us. I should be glad, Lestrade, if you could make it convenient to meet us at Baker Street at six o'clock this evening. Until then I should like to keep this photograph found in the dead man's pocket. It is possible that I may have to ask your company and assistance upon a small expedition which will have be undertaken to-night, if my chain of reasoning should prove to be correct. Until then, good-bye and good luck!"
Sherlock Holmes and I walked together to the High Street, where he stopped at the shop of Harding Brothers, whence the bust had been purchased. A young assistant informed us that Mr. Harding would be absent until after noon, and that he was himself a newcomer who could give us no information. Holmes's face showed his disappointment and annoyance.
"Well, well, we can't expect to have it all our own way, Watson," he said, at last. "We must come back in the afternoon if Mr. Harding will not be here until then. I am, as you have no doubt surmised, endeavouring to trace these busts to their source, in order to find if there is not something peculiar which may account for their remarkable fate. Let us make for Mr. Morse Hudson, of the Kennington Road, and see if he can throw any light upon the problem."
A drive of an hour brought us to the picture-dealer's establishment. He was a small, stout man with a red face and a peppery manner.
"Yes, sir. On my very counter, sir," said he. "What we pay rates and taxes for I don't know, when any ruffian can come in and break one's goods. Yes, sir, it was I who sold Dr. Barnicot his two statues. Disgraceful, sir! A Nihilist plot, that's what I make it. No one but an Anarchist would go about breaking statues. Red republicans, that's what I call 'em. Who did I get the statues from? I don't see what that has to do with it. Well, if you really want to know, I got them from Gelder and Co., in Church Street, Stepney. They are a well-known house in the trade, and have been this twenty years. How many had I? Three -- two and one are three -- two of Dr. Barnicot's and one smashed in broad daylight on my own counter. Do I know that photograph? No, I don't. Yes, I do, though. Why, it's Beppo. He was a kind of Italian piece-work man, who made himself useful in the shop. He could carve a bit and gild and frame, and do odd jobs. The fellow left me last week, and I've heard nothing of him since. No, I don't know where he came from nor where he went to. I have nothing against him while he was here. He was gone two days before the bust was smashed."
"Well, that's all we could reasonably expect to get from Morse Hudson," said Holmes, as we emerged from the shop. "We have this Beppo as a common factor, both in Kennington and in Kensington, so that is worth a ten-mile drive. Now, Watson, let us make for Gelder and Co., of Stepney, the source and origin of busts. I shall be surprised if we don't get some help down there."
In rapid succession we passed through the fringe of fashionable London, hotel London, theatrical London, literary London, commercial London, and, finally, maritime London, till we came to a riverside city of a hundred thousand souls, where the tenement houses swelter and reek with the outcasts of Europe. Here, in a broad thoroughfare, once the abode of wealthy City merchants, we found the sculpture works for which we searched. Outside was a considerable yard full of monumental masonry. Inside was a large room in which fifty workers were carving or moulding. The manager, a big blond German, received us civilly, and gave a clear answer to all Holmes's questions. A reference to his books showed that hundreds of casts had been taken from a marble copy of Devine's head of Napoleon, but that the three which had been sent to Morse Hudson a year or so before had been half of a batch of six, the other three being sent to Harding Brothers, of Kensington. There was no reason why those six should be different to any of the other casts. He could suggest no possible cause why anyone should wish to destroy them -- in fact, he laughed at the idea. Their wholesale price was six shillings, but the retailer would get twelve or more. The cast was taken in two moulds from each side of the face, and then these two profiles of plaster of Paris were joined together to make the complete bust. The work was usually done by Italians in the room we were in. When finished the busts were put on a table in the passage to dry, and afterwards stored. That was all he could tell us.
But the production of the photograph had a remarkable effect upon the manager. His face flushed with anger, and his brows knotted over his blue Teutonic eyes.
"Ah, the rascal!" he cried. "Yes, indeed, I know him very well. This has always been a respectable establishment, and the only time that we have ever had the police in it was over this very fellow. It was more than a year ago now. He knifed another Italian in the street, and then he came to the works with the police on his heels, and he was taken here. Beppo was his name -- his second name I never knew. Serve me right for engaging a man with such a face. But he was a good workman, one of the best."
"What did he get?"
"The man lived and he got off with a year. I have no doubt he is out now; but he has not dared to show his nose here. We have a cousin of his here, and I dare say he could tell you where he is."
"No, no," cried Holmes, "not a word to the cousin -- not a word, I beg you. The matter is very important, and the farther I go with it the more important it seems to grow. When you referred in your ledger to the sale of those casts I observed that the date was June 3rd of last year. Could you give me the date when Beppo was arrested?"
"I could tell you roughly by the pay-list," the manager answered. "Yes," he continued, after some turning over of pages, "he was paid last on May 20th."
"Thank you," said Holmes. "I don't think that I need intrude upon your time and patience any more." With a last word of caution that he should say nothing as to our researches we turned our faces westward once more.
The afternoon was far advanced before we were able to snatch a hasty luncheon at a restaurant. A news-bill at the entrance announced "Kensington Outrage. Murder by a Madman," and the contents of the paper showed that Mr. Horace Harker had got his account into print after all. Two columns were occupied with a highly sensational and flowery rendering of the whole incident. Holmes propped it against the cruet-stand and read it while he ate. Once or twice he chuckled.
"This is all right, Watson," said he. "Listen to this: `It is satisfactory to know that there can be no difference of opinion upon this case, since Mr. Lestrade, one of the most experienced members of the official force, and Mr. Sherlock Holmes, the well-known consulting expert, have each come to the conclusion that the grotesque series of incidents, which have ended in so tragic a fashion, arise from lunacy rather than from deliberate crime. No explanation save mental aberration can cover the facts.' The Press, Watson, is a most valuable institution if you only know how to use it. And now, if you have quite finished, we will hark back to Kensington and see what the manager of Harding Brothers has to say to the matter."
The founder of that great emporium proved to be a brisk, crisp little person, very dapper and quick, with a clear head and a ready tongue.
"Yes, sir, I have already read the account in the evening papers. Mr. Horace Harker is a customer of ours. We supplied him with the bust some months ago. We ordered three busts of that sort from Gelder and Co., of Stepney. They are all sold now. To whom? Oh, I dare say by consulting our sales book we could very easily tell you. Yes, we have the entries here. One to Mr. Harker, you see, and one to Mr. Josiah Brown, of Laburnum Lodge, Laburnum Vale, Chiswick, and one to Mr. Sandeford, of Lower Grove Road, Reading. No, I have never seen this face which you show me in the photograph. You would hardly forget it, would you, sir, for I've seldom seen an uglier. Have we any Italians on the staff? Yes, sir, we have several among our workpeople and cleaners. I dare say they might get a peep at that sales book if they wanted to. There is no particular reason for keeping a watch upon that book. Well, well, it's a very strange business, and I hope that you'll let me know if anything comes of your inquiries."
Holmes had taken several notes during Mr. Harding's evidence, and I could see that he was thoroughly satisfied by the turn which affairs were taking. He made no remark, however, save that, unless we hurried, we should be late for our appointment with Lestrade. Sure enough, when we reached Baker Street the detective was already there, and we found him pacing up and down in a fever of impatience. His look of importance showed that his day's work had not been in vain.
"Well?" he asked. "What luck, Mr. Holmes?"
"We have had a very busy day, and not entirely a wasted one," my friend explained. "We have seen both the retailers and also the wholesale manufacturers. I can trace each of the busts now from the beginning."
"The busts!" cried Lestrade. "Well, well, you have your own methods, Mr. Sherlock Holmes, and it is not for me to say a word against them, but I think I have done a better day's work than you. I have identified the dead man."
"You don't say so?"
"And found a cause for the crime."
"Splendid!"
"We have an inspector who makes a specialty of Saffron Hill and the Italian quarter. Well, this dead man had some Catholic emblem round his neck, and that, along with his colour, made me think he was from the South. Inspector Hill knew him the moment he caught sight of him. His name is Pietro Venucci, from Naples, and he is one of the greatest cut-throats in London. He is connected with the Mafia, which, as you know, is a secret political society, enforcing its decrees by murder. Now you see how the affair begins to clear up. The other fellow is probably an Italian also, and a member of the Mafia. He has broken the rules in some fashion. Pietro is set upon his track. Probably the photograph we found in his pocket is the man himself, so that he may not knife the wrong person. He dogs the fellow, he sees him enter a house, he waits outside for him, and in the scuffle he receives his own death-wound. How is that, Mr. Sherlock Holmes?"
Holmes clapped his hands approvingly.
"Excellent, Lestrade, excellent!" he cried. "But I didn't quite follow your explanation of the destruction of the busts."
"The busts! You never can get those busts out of your head. After all, that is nothing; petty larceny, six months at the most. It is the murder that we are really investigating, and I tell you that I am gathering all the threads into my hands."
"And the next stage?"
"Is a very simple one. I shall go down with Hill to the Italian quarter, find the man whose photograph we have got, and arrest him on the charge of murder. Will you come with us?"
"I think not. I fancy we can attain our end in a simpler way. I can't say for certain, because it all depends -- well, it all depends upon a factor which is completely outside our control. But I have great hopes -- in fact, the betting is exactly two to one -- that if you will come with us to-night I shall be able to help you to lay him by the heels."
"In the Italian quarter?"
"No; I fancy Chiswick is an address which is more likely to find him. If you will come with me to Chiswick to-night, Lestrade, I'll promise to go to the Italian quarter with you to-morrow, and no harm will be done by the delay. And now I think that a few hours' sleep would do us all good, for I do not propose to leave before eleven o'clock, and it is unlikely that we shall be back before morning. You'll dine with us, Lestrade, and then you are welcome to the sofa until it is time for us to start. In the meantime, Watson, I should be glad if you would ring for an express messenger, for I have a letter to send, and it is important that it should go at once."
Holmes spent the evening in rummaging among the files of the old daily papers with which one of our lumber-rooms was packed. When at last he descended it was with triumph in his eyes, but he said nothing to either of us as to the result of his researches. For my own part, I had followed step by step the methods by which he had traced the various windings of this complex case, and, though I could not yet perceive the goal which we would reach, I understood clearly that Holmes expected this grotesque criminal to make an attempt upon the two remaining busts, one of which, I remembered, was at Chiswick. No doubt the object of our journey was to catch him in the very act, and I could not but admire the cunning with which my friend had inserted a wrong clue in the evening paper, so as to give the fellow the idea that he could continue his scheme with impunity. I was not surprised when Holmes suggested that I should take my revolver with me. He had himself picked up the loaded hunting-crop which was his favourite weapon.
A four-wheeler was at the door at eleven, and in it we drove to a spot at the other side of Hammersmith Bridge. Here the cabman was directed to wait. A short walk brought us to a secluded road fringed with pleasant houses, each standing in its own grounds. In the light of a street lamp we read "Laburnum Villa" upon the gate-post of one of them. The occupants had evidently retired to rest, for all was dark save for a fanlight over the hall door, which shed a single blurred circle on to the garden path. The wooden fence which separated the grounds from the road threw a dense black shadow upon the inner side, and here it was that we crouched.
"I fear that you'll have a long wait," Holmes whispered. "We may thank our stars that it is not raining. I don't think we can even venture to smoke to pass the time. However, it's a two to one chance that we get something to pay us for our trouble."
It proved, however, that our vigil was not to be so long as Holmes had led us to fear, and it ended in a very sudden and singular fashion. In an instant, without the least sound to warn us of his coming, the garden gate swung open, and a lithe, dark figure, as swift and active as an ape, rushed up the garden path. We saw it whisk past the light thrown from over the door and disappear against the black shadow of the house. There was a long pause, during which we held our breath, and then a very gentle creaking sound came to our ears. The window was being opened. The noise ceased, and again there was a long silence. The fellow was making his way into the house. We saw the sudden flash of a dark lantern inside the room. What he sought was evidently not there, for again we saw the flash through another blind, and then through another.
"Let us get to the open window. We will nab him as he climbs out," Lestrade whispered.
But before we could move the man had emerged again. As he came out into the glimmering patch of light we saw that he carried something white under his arm. He looked stealthily all round him. The silence of the deserted street reassured him. Turning his back upon us he laid down his burden, and the next instant there was the sound of a sharp tap, followed by a clatter and rattle. The man was so intent upon what he was doing that he never heard our steps as we stole across the grass plot. With the bound of a tiger Holmes was on his back, and an instant later Lestrade and I had him by either wrist and the handcuffs had been fastened. As we turned him over I saw a hideous, sallow face, with writhing, furious features, glaring up at us, and I knew that it was indeed the man of the photograph whom we had secured.
But it was not our prisoner to whom Holmes was giving his attention. Squatted on the doorstep, he was engaged in most carefully examining that which the man had brought from the house. It was a bust of Napoleon like the one which we had seen that morning, and it had been broken into similar fragments. Carefully Holmes held each separate shard to the light, but in no way did it differ from any other shattered piece of plaster. He had just completed his examination when the hall lights flew up, the door opened, and the owner of the house, a jovial, rotund figure in shirt and trousers, presented himself.
"Mr. Josiah Brown, I suppose?" said Holmes.
"Yes, sir; and you, no doubt, are Mr. Sherlock Holmes? I had the note which you sent by the express messenger, and I did exactly what you told me. We locked every door on the inside and awaited developments. Well, I'm very glad to see that you have got the rascal. I hope, gentlemen, that you will come in and have some refreshment."
However, Lestrade was anxious to get his man into safe quarters, so within a few minutes our cab had been summoned and we were all four upon our way to London. Not a word would our captive say; but he glared at us from the shadow of his matted hair, and once, when my hand seemed within his reach, he snapped at it like a hungry wolf. We stayed long enough at the police-station to learn that a search of his clothing revealed nothing save a few shillings and a long sheath knife, the handle of which bore copious traces of recent blood.
"That's all right," said Lestrade, as we parted. "Hill knows all these gentry, and he will give a name to him. You'll find that my theory of the Mafia will work out all right. But I'm sure I am exceedingly obliged to you, Mr. Holmes, for the workmanlike way in which you laid hands upon him. I don't quite understand it all yet."
"I fear it is rather too late an hour for explanations," said Holmes. "Besides, there are one or two details which are not finished off, and it is one of those cases which are worth working out to the very end. If you will come round once more to my rooms at six o'clock to-morrow I think I shall be able to show you that even now you have not grasped the entire meaning of this business, which presents some features which make it absolutely original in the history of crime. If ever I permit you to chronicle any more of my little problems, Watson, I foresee that you will enliven your pages by an account of the singular adventure of the Napoleonic busts."
When we met again next evening Lestrade was furnished with much information concerning our prisoner. His name, it appeared, was Beppo, second name unknown. He was a well-known ne'er-do-well among the Italian colony. He had once been a skilful sculptor and had earned an honest living, but he had taken to evil courses and had twice already been in gaol -- once for a petty theft and once, as we had already heard, for stabbing a fellow-countryman. He could talk English perfectly well. His reasons for destroying the busts were still unknown, and he refused to answer any questions upon the subject; but the police had discovered that these same busts might very well have been made by his own hands, since he was engaged in this class of work at the establishment of Gelder and Co. To all this information, much of which we already knew, Holmes listened with polite attention; but I, who knew him so well, could clearly see that his thoughts were elsewhere, and I detected a mixture of mingled uneasiness and expectation beneath that mask which he was wont to assume. At last he started in his chair and his eyes brightened. There had been a ring at the bell. A minute later we heard steps upon the stairs, and an elderly, red-faced man with grizzled side-whiskers was ushered in. In his right hand he carried an old-fashioned carpet-bag, which he placed upon the table.
"Is Mr. Sherlock Holmes here?"
My friend bowed and smiled. "Mr. Sandeford, of Reading, I suppose?" said he.
"Yes, sir, I fear that I am a little late; but the trains were awkward. You wrote to me about a bust that is in my possession."
"Exactly."
"I have your letter here. You said, `I desire to possess a copy of Devine's Napoleon, and am prepared to pay you ten pounds for the one which is in your possession.' Is that right?"
"Certainly."
"I was very much surprised at your letter, for I could not imagine how you knew that I owned such a thing."
"Of course you must have been surprised, but the explanation is very simple. Mr. Harding, of Harding Brothers, said that they had sold you their last copy, and he gave me your address."
"Oh, that was it, was it? Did he tell you what I paid for it?"
"No, he did not."
"Well, I am an honest man, though not a very rich one. I only gave fifteen shillings for the bust, and I think you ought to know that before I take ten pounds from you."
"I am sure the scruple does you honour, Mr. Sandeford. But I have named that price, so I intend to stick to it."
"Well, it is very handsome of you, Mr. Holmes. I brought the bust up with me, as you asked me to do. Here it is!" He opened his bag, and at last we saw placed upon our table a complete specimen of that bust which we had already seen more than once in fragments.
Holmes took a paper from his pocket and laid a ten-pound note upon the table.
"You will kindly sign that paper, Mr. Sandeford, in the presence of these witnesses. It is simply to say that you transfer every possible right that you ever had in the bust to me. I am a methodical man, you see, and you never know what turn events might take afterwards. Thank you, Mr. Sandeford; here is your money, and I wish you a very good evening."
When our visitor had disappeared Sherlock Holmes's movements were such as to rivet our attention. He began by taking a clean white cloth from a drawer and laying it over the table. Then he placed his newly-acquired bust in the centre of the cloth. Finally, he picked up his hunting-crop and struck Napoleon a sharp blow on the top of the head. The figure broke into fragments, and Holmes bent eagerly over the shattered remains. Next instant, with a loud shout of triumph, he held up one splinter, in which a round, dark object was fixed like a plum in a pudding.
"Gentlemen," he cried, "let me introduce you to the famous black pearl of the Borgias."
Lestrade and I sat silent for a moment, and then, with a spontaneous impulse, we both broke out clapping as at the well-wrought crisis of a play. A flush of colour sprang to Holmes's pale cheeks, and he bowed to us like the master dramatist who receives the homage of his audience. It was at such moments that for an instant he ceased to be a reasoning machine, and betrayed his human love for admiration and applause. The same singularly proud and reserved nature which turned away with disdain from popular notoriety was capable of being moved to its depths by spontaneous wonder and praise from a friend.
"Yes, gentlemen," said he, "it is the most famous pearl now existing in the world, and it has been my good fortune, by a connected chain of inductive reasoning, to trace it from the Prince of Colonna's bedroom at the Dacre Hotel, where it was lost, to the interior of this, the last of the six busts of Napoleon which were manufactured by Gelder and Co., of Stepney. You will remember, Lestrade, the sensation caused by the disappearance of this valuable jewel, and the vain efforts of the London police to recover it. I was myself consulted upon the case; but I was unable to throw any light upon it. Suspicion fell upon the maid of the Princess, who was an Italian, and it was proved that she had a brother in London, but we failed to trace any connection between them. The maid's name was Lucretia Venucci, and there is no doubt in my mind that this Pietro who was murdered two nights ago was the brother. I have been looking up the dates in the old files of the paper, and I find that the disappearance of the pearl was exactly two days before the arrest of Beppo for some crime of violence, an event which took place in the factory of Gelder and Co., at the very moment when these busts were being made. Now you clearly see the sequence of events, though you see them, of course, in the inverse order to the way in which they presented themselves to me. Beppo had the pearl in his possession. He may have stolen it from Pietro, he may have been Pietro's confederate, he may have been the go-between of Pietro and his sister. It is of no consequence to us which is the correct solution.
"The main fact is that he HAD the pearl, and at that moment, when it was on his person, he was pursued by the police. He made for the factory in which he worked, and he knew that he had only a few minutes in which to conceal this enormously valuable prize, which would otherwise be found on him when he was searched. Six plaster casts of Napoleon were drying in the passage. One of them was still soft. In an instant Beppo, a skilful workman, made a small hole in the wet plaster, dropped in the pearl, and with a few touches covered over the aperture once more. It was an admirable hiding-place. No one could possibly find it. But Beppo was condemned to a year's imprisonment, and in the meanwhile his six busts were scattered over London. He could not tell which contained his treasure. Only by breaking them could he see. Even shaking would tell him nothing, for as the plaster was wet it was probable that the pearl would adhere to it -- as, in fact, it has done. Beppo did not despair, and he conducted his search with considerable ingenuity and perseverance. Through a cousin who works with Gelder he found out the retail firms who had bought the busts. He managed to find employment with Morse Hudson, and in that way tracked down three of them. The pearl was not there. Then, with the help of some Italian EMPLOYE, he succeeded in finding out where the other three busts had gone. The first was at Harker's. There he was dogged by his confederate, who held Beppo responsible for the loss of the pearl, and he stabbed him in the scuffle which followed."
"If he was his confederate why should he carry his photograph?" I asked.
"As a means of tracing him if he wished to inquire about him from any third person. That was the obvious reason. Well, after the murder I calculated that Beppo would probably hurry rather than delay his movements. He would fear that the police would read his secret, and so he hastened on before they should get ahead of him. Of course, I could not say that he had not found the pearl in Harker's bust. I had not even concluded for certain that it was the pearl; but it was evident to me that he was looking for something, since he carried the bust past the other houses in order to break it in the garden which had a lamp overlooking it. Since Harker's bust was one in three the chances were exactly as I told you, two to one against the pearl being inside it. There remained two busts, and it was obvious that he would go for the London one first. I warned the inmates of the house, so as to avoid a second tragedy, and we went down with the happiest results. By that time, of course, I knew for certain that it was the Borgia pearl that we were after. The name of the murdered man linked the one event with the other. There only remained a single bust -- the Reading one -- and the pearl must be there. I bought it in your presence from the owner -- and there it lies."
We sat in silence for a moment.
"Well," said Lestrade, "I've seen you handle a good many cases, Mr. Holmes, but I don't know that I ever knew a more workmanlike one than that. We're not jealous of you at Scotland Yard. No, sir, we are very proud of you, and if you come down to-morrow there's not a man, from the oldest inspector to the youngest constable, who wouldn't be glad to shake you by the hand."
"Thank you!" said Holmes. "Thank you!" and as he turned away it seemed to me that he was more nearly moved by the softer human emotions than I had ever seen him. A moment later he was the cold and practical thinker once more. "Put the pearl in the safe, Watson," said he, "and get out the papers of the Conk-Singleton forgery case. Good-bye, Lestrade. If any little problem comes your way I shall be happy, if I can, to give you a hint or two as to its solution."
一天晚上雷斯垂德談過天氣和報紙後，便沉默不語，不停地抽着雪茄。福爾摩斯急切地望着他，問道：“手頭有什麽不尋常的案子嗎？”
“啊，福爾摩斯先生，沒有——沒有什麽很特別的事。”
“那麽對我說說。”
雷斯垂德笑了。
“好吧，福爾摩斯先生，沒有必要否認我心裏確實有事。可是它是那樣荒誕，所以我不太想麻煩你。從另一方面說來，事情雖小，但是奇怪得很。我當然知道你對於一切不尋常的事都有興趣。不過我認為這件事和華生大夫的關係比和我們的關係更大。”
我說：“疾病？”
“起碼可以說是瘋病，而且是奇怪的瘋病。你能想到有這樣的事嗎？生活在今天的人卻非常仇恨拿破侖，看到他的像就要打碎。”
福爾摩斯仰身靠在椅子上。
他說：“這不是我的事。”
“是的，我已經說過這不是我們的事。但是，當這個人破門而入去打碎別人的拿破侖像的時候，那就不是要把他送到大夫那兒，而是要送到這兒來了。”
福爾摩斯又坐直了身子。
“搶劫？這倒很有意思。請你講講詳細情況。”
雷斯垂德拿出他的工作日志，打開看看，以免講時有什麽遺漏。
他說：“四天以前有人來報了第一個案子。事情發生在冒斯·賀得遜的商店，他在康寧頓街有個分店出售圖片和塑像。店員剛剛離開櫃臺一會兒，他就聽到什麽東西互相撞擊的聲音，便立刻跑到店鋪的前面，發現一座和其他藝術品一起擺在櫃臺上的拿破侖像已經被打得粉碎。他衝到街上，雖然有幾個過路人說他們看到有一個人跑出商店，但是他沒有找到這個人，而且也沒認出這個流氓。這象是件時常發生的毫無意義的流氓行為。事情如實地報告了巡警。石膏像最多值幾個先令，而全部事情又很小，不值得專門調查。
“但是，第二個案子更嚴重更特殊。就發生在昨天晚上。
“在康寧頓街離冒斯·賀得遜的商店二三百碼遠的地方，住着一位著名的巴爾尼柯大夫，泰晤士河南岸一帶有很多人常去找他看病。他的住宅和主要診療所是在康寧頓街，但是在兩英裏外的下布列剋斯頓街還有一個分診所和藥房。這位巴爾尼柯大夫由衷地崇拜拿破侖，他的傢裏滿是有關這位法國皇帝的書籍、繪畫以及遺物。不久以前他從賀得遜的商店買了兩座拿破侖半身像的復製品，這個頭像很有名，是法國著名的雕刻傢笛萬的作品。一座他放在康寧頓街住宅的大廳裏，一座放在下布列剋斯頓街診所的壁爐架上。好，今天早晨巴爾尼柯大夫一下樓，他大吃一驚，發現夜裏曾有人闖入他的住宅，不過除去大廳裏的石膏頭像外，並沒有拿走什麽別的東西。那座石膏頭像被拿到外面花園的墻下，已經撞成了碎片。”
福爾摩斯揉搓着他的手。
他說：“這確實很新奇。”
“我想這會使你感興趣的。但是，我還沒有說完。巴爾尼柯大夫十二點來到他的診所，他一到馬上發現窗戶已被打開了，屋內滿地是另一個拿破侖半身像的碎片，你可以想見他是多麽吃驚。半身像的底座也打成細小的碎塊。兩處全沒有任何跡象可以使我們查到製造這個惡作劇的罪犯，或者說是瘋子。福爾摩斯先生，事情經過就是這樣。”
福爾摩斯說：“事情是很奇怪，當然也很荒誕。請問在巴爾尼柯大夫的傢裏和診所裏打碎的兩個半身像和在賀得遜商店打碎的那個，是不是全是同一模型的復製品？”
“全是用一個模型做的。”
“這個事實否定了這樣的說法，即認為這個人打碎半身像是因為痛恨拿破侖的緣故。我們知道，整個倫敦市內有幾萬個這位皇帝的塑像，那些反對偶像崇拜的人，無論是誰，都不可能衹從這三個復製品入手錶示反對。因此這種看法是不合適的。”
雷斯垂德說：“我曾經象你這樣想過。可是，冒斯·賀得遜是倫敦那一個區唯一的塑像供應者，這三座像在他的商店裏放了很長時間。所以，儘管象你所說的在倫敦有幾萬個塑像，不過很有可能這三個是那一區僅有的。所以，這個地區的瘋子就從這三個着手。華生大夫，你怎樣想的呢？”
我回答：“偏執狂的表現是各種各樣沒有限度的。有這樣的情況，也就是被當代法國心理學家們稱作為'偏執的意念'的，意思是衹在一件細微的事上固執，而在其他各個方面卻完全清醒。一個人拿破侖的事跡讀得太多了，印象太深了，或是他的家庭遺傳給他當時戰爭所造成的某種心理缺陷，便完全可以形成一種'偏執的意念'，在這一意念的影響下，他能夠因幻想而狂怒。”
福爾摩斯搖搖頭說：“我親愛的華生，不能這樣解釋。因為不管'偏執的意念'産生怎樣的影響也不會使你所感興趣的偏執狂患者去找出這些頭像分佈在什麽地方。”
“那麽，你怎樣解釋呢？”
“我不想解釋。我衹是觀察到這位紳士采取這些怪癖行動時是遵循一定方法的。例如，在巴爾尼柯大夫的大廳裏，一點聲音可以驚醒全家，半身像是先拿到外面再打碎的，而在診療所，沒有驚動別人的危險，半身像在原地就打碎了。這象是無關緊要的細節，但是經驗告訴我不該把任何事情輕易看成是瑣碎無關的。華生，你還記得阿巴涅特傢的那件煩人的事情是怎樣引起我註意的嗎？不過是由於看出在熱天放到黃油裏的芹菜會沉多深罷了。雷斯垂德，所以我不能對於你的三個破碎的半身像一笑置之，要是你讓我知道這一連串奇異事件的新發展，我會深深感謝你的。”
我的朋友想要瞭解的事情發展得比他想象得更快，更悲慘。第二天清晨我正在臥室穿衣服，剛聽到敲門聲，福爾摩斯便過來了，手裏拿着一封電報。他大聲讀給我聽：
"立刻到肯辛頓彼特街１３１號來。
雷斯垂德"
我問：“怎麽一回事？”
“不知道——什麽事都可能發生。不過我猜想是半身像故事的繼續。要是這樣的話，我們這位打塑像的朋友已經在倫敦的其它區開始活動了。桌子上有咖啡，華生，我已經叫來了一輛馬車，快些！”
過了半小時我們到達彼特街，這是一條死氣沉沉的小巷，位於倫敦一個最繁華地區的附近。１３１號是一排整齊漂亮的房屋中的一座，這些房屋也很實用。我們的馬車剛到，便看見房子前的柵欄外擠滿了好奇的人們。福爾摩斯口裏發出噓噓聲纔穿過人群。"天啊！少說這也是謀殺。這下子倫敦的報童可要被團團圍住了。瞧，死者蜷縮着肩膀，伸長了脖子，不是暴力行為又是什麽呢？華生，這是怎麽一回事？上面的臺階衝洗過，而其它的臺階是幹的？哦，腳印倒是不少！喏，雷斯垂德就在前面窗口那兒。我們馬上便會知道一切。”
這位警官神色莊嚴地迎接了我們，並帶我們走進一間起居室。衹見一位衣着邋遢的長者，身穿法蘭絨晨衣，正在顫巍巍地來回踱步。雷斯垂德給我們介紹說，他就是這座房子的主人，中央報刊辛迪加的賀拉斯·哈剋先生。
雷斯垂德說：“又是拿破侖半身像的事。福爾摩斯先生，昨天晚上你好象對它很感興趣，所以我想你來這兒會高興的。現在事情發展得嚴重多了。”
“到什麽程度呢？”
“謀殺。哈剋先生，請你把發生的事準確地告訴這二位先生。”
哈剋先生說：“這件事很不尋常。我的一生全是在收集別人的新聞，而現在卻在我的身上發生一件真正的新聞，於是我糊塗了，心情不安，一個字都寫不出來了。如果我是以記者身份來到這裏的話，那麽我就得自己會見自己，還要在晚報上寫出兩欄報道。事實上，由於工作的關係，我也確實對許多不同的人都做過重要的報道，可是今天我自己實在無能為力了。歇洛剋·福爾摩斯先生，我聽到過你的名字，要是你能解釋這件怪事，我講給你聽就不是徒勞了。”
福爾摩斯坐下來靜靜地聽着。
“事情的起因，好象是為了那座拿破侖半身像。那是我四個月以前從高地街驛站旁邊的第二傢商店，也就是哈定兄弟商店買來的，價錢很便宜，買來後就一直把它放在這間屋子裏。我一般是在夜裏寫稿常常要寫到清晨，今天也是這樣。大約三點左右我正在樓上我的書房裏，忽然聽到樓下傳來什麽聲音。我就註意地聽着，可是，聲音又沒有了。於是我想聲音一定是從外面傳來的。然後，又過了五分鐘，突然傳來一聲非常凄慘的吼叫，福爾摩斯先生，聲音可怕極了，衹要我活着，它就會永遠縈繞在我耳邊。我當時嚇呆了，直愣愣地坐了一兩分鐘，後來就拿普通條走下樓去。我走進這間屋子，一眼就看到窗戶大開着，壁爐架上的半身像不見了。我真弄不懂強盜為什麽要拿這樣的東西，不過是個石膏塑像罷了，並不值多少錢。
“您一定看到了，不管是誰，從這扇開着的窗戶那裏邁一大步，便可以跨到門前的臺階上。這個強盜顯然是這樣做的，所以我就打開門，摸黑走出去，不料差一點被一個死人絆倒，屍體就橫在那兒。我趕忙回來拿燈，這纔看到那個可憐的人躺在地上，脖子上有個大洞，周圍是一大灘血。他臉朝天躺着，膝蓋彎麯，嘴大張着，樣子實在嚇人。呵，我一定還會夢見他的。後來，我趕忙吹了一下警哨，接着就什麽都不知道了。我想我一定是暈倒了，等我醒過來的時候，已經是在大廳裏，這位站在我身邊看着我。”
福爾摩斯問，"被害者是誰呢？”
雷斯垂德說：“沒有什麽東西可以表明他的身分。你要看屍體可以到殯儀館去，可是直到目前我們沒有從屍體上查出任何綫索。他身高體壯，臉色曬得發黑，年齡超不過三十歲，穿得很不象樣子，不過又不象是工人。有一把牛角柄的折刀扔在他身旁的一灘血裏。我不知道這把刀究竟是殺人犯的兇器，還是死者的遺物。死者的衣服上沒有名字，他的口袋裏衹有一個蘋果，一根繩子，一張值一先令的倫敦地圖，還有一張照片。這是照片。”
照片顯然是用小照相機快速拍攝的。照片上的人神情機智，眉毛很濃，口鼻都很凸出，而且凸出得很特別，象是狒狒的面孔。
福爾摩斯仔細地看過照片以後問：“那座半身像怎麽樣了？”
“就在你來之前我們得到一個消息。塑像在堪姆頓街一所空房子的花園裏找到了，已經被打得粉碎。我要去看看，你去嗎？”
“是的，我要去看一下。"福爾摩斯檢查了地毯和窗戶，他說：“這個人不是腿很長，便是動作很靈活。窗下地勢很低，跳上窗臺並且開開窗戶要很靈巧纔行。可是跳出去是相當容易的。哈剋先生，您要不要和我們一同去看那半身像的殘跡呢？”
這位新聞界人士情緒低沉地坐到寫字檯旁。
他說：“雖然我相信今天的第一批晚報已經發行了，上面會有這事的詳情，但是我還是要盡力把這件事寫一下。我的命運就是這樣！你還記得頓卡斯特的看臺坍倒的事嗎？我是①那個看臺上唯一的記者，我的報紙也是沒有登載此事的唯一一傢報紙，因為我受的震動太大，不能寫了。現在動筆寫發生在我傢門前的這件兇殺案是晚了一些。”
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①英國約剋郡的一個小城市。——譯者註
我們離開這間屋子的時候，聽到他的筆在稿紙上刷刷地寫着。
打碎半身像的地方離這所房子僅僅二三百碼遠。半身像已經被打得粉碎，細小的碎片散落在草地上。可想而知砸像人心中的仇恨是多麽強烈和難以控製。我們還是第一次看到這位偉大皇帝落到這種地步。福爾摩斯撿起幾塊碎片仔細檢查。從他專心緻志的面容和自信的神態來看，我確信他找到了綫索。
雷斯垂德問：“怎麽樣？”
福爾摩斯聳了聳肩。
他說：“我們要做的事雖然還很多，不過我們已經掌握了一些事實，可以做為行動的依據。對於這個犯人說來，半身像比人的生命值錢得多。這是一點。還有，要是說此人弄到半身像衹是為了打碎，而他又不在屋內或是屋子附近打碎，這也是一件奇怪的事。”
“也許當時他遇到這個人便慌亂起來。他簡直不知道該怎樣對付，便拿出了刀子。”
“很可能是這樣的。不過我要請你特別註意這棟房子的位置，塑像是在這棟房子的花園裏被打碎的。”
雷斯垂德嚮四周看了看。
“這是一座空房子，所以他知道在花園裏沒有人打攪他。”
“可是在這條街入口不遠的地方還有一棟空房子，他必定先路過那一棟才能到這一棟。既然他拿着半身像走路，每多走一碼，被人碰上的危險也就愈大些，為什麽他不在那一棟空房子那兒打碎呢？”
雷斯垂德說：“我答不出來。”
福爾摩斯指着我們頭上的路燈。
“在這兒他能看得見，在那兒卻不能，就是這個理由。”
這位偵探說：“哎呀，確實是這樣。我想起來了，巴爾尼柯大夫買的半身像是在離燈光不遠的地方打碎的。福爾摩斯先生，對這種情況你怎樣辦呢？”
“記住它，把它寫在備案錄裏。以後我們也許會碰上與此事有關的情況。雷斯垂德，你考慮下一步怎樣做呢？”
“依我看來，弄清內幕的最好辦法是查明這個死人的身分。這是不難的。這樣，我們便會有個很好的開端，從而可以進一步弄清昨天晚上死者在彼特街做什麽，以及誰在哈剋先生門前的臺階上遇見他並且殺了他。你看是這樣嗎？”
“不錯，是這樣；不過這和我處理這個案件的方法並不完全一樣。”
“那麽，你要怎樣做呢？”
“噢，你一點也不要受我的影響。我建議你做你的，我做我的。以後我們可以交換意見，這樣將會互相取長補短。”
雷斯垂德說：“好吧。”
“要是你回彼特街，見到哈剋先生，請替我告訴他，我認為可以肯定，昨晚來他傢的是一個有殺人狂的人，而且有仇視拿破侖的瘋病。這對於他的報道是有用的。”
雷斯垂德凝視着他。
“這並不是你的真實意見吧？”
福爾摩斯笑了。
“不是嗎？也許我不這樣看。但是，我敢說這會使哈剋先生以及中央報刊辛迪加的訂戶們感興趣。華生，我們今天還有很多、很復雜的工作要做。雷斯垂德，我希望你能在今晚六點鐘到貝剋街來和我們見面。我想先用一下這張死人口袋裏的照片，到晚上再給你。要是我的判斷沒有錯誤的話，或許要請你在半夜出去一趟協助我們。晚上見，祝你順利！”
歇洛剋·福爾摩斯和我一起步行到高地街，走進賣半身像的哈定兄弟商店。一個年輕的店員告訴我們哈定先生下午纔來，他自己是個新手，不瞭解情況。福爾摩斯流露出失望和煩惱的表情。
他說：“好吧，既然如此，我們衹好改變計劃了。看來哈定先生上午不會來了，我們衹好下午再來找他。華生，你一定已經猜到，我為什麽要追究這些半身像的來源，為的就是要看看有沒有什麽特別的事情，以便正確解釋這些像被砸的原因。現在，我們先到康寧頓街賀得遜先生的商店，看他能不能給我們一點啓發。”
我們乘上馬車，一小時後，來到了這傢商店。賀得遜身材不高，臉色紅潤，身體強壯，但是態度顯得急躁。
他說：“是的，先生，塑像就是在我這個櫃臺上打碎的。哼！太不象話了！既然強盜可以隨心所欲，那我們納稅還有什麽用呢？不錯，先生，是我賣給巴爾尼柯大夫兩座像。這種事情肯定是無政府主義者幹的——我就是這樣看。衹有無政府主義者纔會到處去打碎塑像。我從哪兒弄到這些塑像？我看不出這和那件事有什麽關係。不過，你實在想要知道，我就告訴你，是從斯捷班尼區教堂街蓋爾得爾公司弄來的。這個公司近二十年來在石膏雕塑行業中一直是有名的。我買了多少？三個，第一次是兩個，第二次是一個，共三個。賣給巴爾尼柯大夫兩個，還有一個在光天化日之下就在櫃臺上被打碎了。至於照片上這個人嗎？不，我不認識。哦，不，也可以說我認識。這不就是倍波嗎？他是個意大利人，幹零活的，他在這裏幹過活兒。他會點雕刻，會鍍金，會做框子，總之會做些零活。這傢夥是上星期走的，從那以後沒有人提到過他。我不知道他從哪兒來的，也不知道他上哪兒去了。他在這兒的時候，幹得不錯。打碎半身像的時候，他已經走了兩天。”
從商店出來之後，福爾摩斯對我說：“我們從冒斯·賀得遜這兒衹能瞭解這麽多了。弄清了在康寧頓街和肯辛頓的兩個案件裏全有倍波，就憑這一點，我們走了十英裏是值得的。華生，我們去斯捷班尼區的蓋爾得爾公司，這些半身像是在那兒製做的。我估計我們會從那兒得到一些情況。”
於是，我們迅速接連穿過倫敦的一些繁華地區：通過了旅館集中的街道，戲院毗鄰的街道，商店林立的街道，還通過了倫敦海運公司集中的地方，最後到了一個有十來萬人口的泰晤士河沿岸的市鎮。市鎮的分租房屋裏住滿了歐洲來的流浪者，並且彌漫着他們的氣味和情調。在一條原是倫敦富商居住的寬闊街道上，我們找到了我們要找的雕塑公司的工廠，廠裏有個相當大的院子，院裏堆滿了石碑等東西。裏面有一間很大的房屋，屋內有五十個工人正在幹活。經理是位身材高大皮膚白皙的德國人，他很有禮貌地接待了我們，對於福爾摩斯提的問題一一作出清楚的回答。經查賬得知，用笛萬的大理石拿破侖頭像復製了幾百座石膏像，大約一年前賣給冒斯·賀得遜的三座和另外的三座是一批貨，另外三座賣給了肯辛頓的哈定兄弟公司。這六座像和其他的任何一座不可能有什麽不同。他不能解釋有人想要毀壞這些塑像的原因——實際上，他譏笑所謂"偏執狂"的解釋。塑像的批發價是六先令，但零售商可以賣到十二個先令以上。復製品是從大理石頭像的前後分別做出模片，再把兩個半面模片連在一起，便構成一個完整的頭像。這種工作常由意大利人擔當，他們就在這間屋內工作，然後把半身像拿到過道的桌子上吹幹，一一存放棄來。他能告訴我們的，衹有這麽多了。
可是，那張照片卻對這位經理産生了奇怪的影響。他的臉氣得發紅，他的條頓族式藍色眼睛上的雙眉緊皺。
他大聲說：“啊，這個惡棍！是的，我對他瞭解得很清楚。我們這個公司一嚮名聲很好，衹有一次到這兒來了，那就是因為這個傢夥。那是一年多以前的事。他在街上用刀子捅了另一個意大利人，他剛到車間，緊跟着就來了，就是在這兒把他抓走的。他的名字叫倍波——我從來不知道他的姓。雇了這樣一個品行不端正的人，我是自找倒黴。但是，他很會幹活兒，是一把好手。”
“給他定個什麽罪？”
“被捅的人沒有死，把他關了一年就放出來了。我肯定他現在不在監獄裏，他沒有敢在這兒露面。這兒有他的一個表弟，我想他會告訴你他在哪兒。”
福爾摩斯大聲說：“不，不，什麽也不要對他的表弟說——我請求你一個字都不要說。事情是很嚴重的，我越來越覺得嚴重。你查看你賣出這些塑像的賬目時，我從旁看到賣出日期是去年六月三日。請你告訴我什麽時候倍波被逮捕的。”
這位經理回答：“我看一下工資賬就可以告訴你大概的日期。"他翻過幾頁後繼續說：“是的，最後一次發給他工錢是在五月二十號。”
福爾摩斯說：“謝謝你。我想我不必再耽誤您的時間和給您添麻煩了。"他最後再次囑咐經理不要把我們的調查說出去，我們便起身往回走了。
一直忙到下午四五點鐘，我們纔來得及在一傢飯館匆忙地吃了午飯。在飯館門口，報童呼叫着：“肯辛頓兇殺案，瘋子殺人。"這條新聞說明，哈剋先生的報道終於被刊登了。報道占了兩欄，文章使人震驚並且詞句漂亮。福爾摩斯把報紙立在調味品架上一邊吃一邊看。有一兩次他格格地笑了。
他說：“華生，是要這樣寫。你聽這一段：
'我們高興地告訴讀者，在這個案件上沒有分歧意見，因為經驗豐富的官方偵探雷斯垂德先生和著名的咨詢偵探傢福爾摩斯先生均得出同一結論，以殺人告終的這一係列的荒誕事件，全是出於精神失常而不是蓄意謀殺，衹有用心理失常的原因，才能解釋全部事件。'
“衹要你懂得怎樣使用報紙，華生，報紙便是非常寶貴的工具。你要是吃完了，我們就回到肯辛頓，聽聽哈定兄弟公司的經理會說些什麽。”
出乎意料，這個大商店的創建人卻是一個削瘦的小個子，但是精明強幹，頭腦清醒，很會講話。
“是的，先生，我已經看過晚報上的報道。哈剋先生是我們的顧客。幾個月前我們賣給了他那座塑像。我們從斯捷班尼區的蓋爾得爾公司訂了三座那種塑像。現在全賣出去了。賣給誰了？查一查我們的賣貨賬，便可以立刻告訴你。噢，這幾筆賬在這兒。你看，一個賣給哈剋先生，一個賣給齊茲威剋區拉布諾姆街的卓茲雅·布朗先生，第三個賣給瑞丁區下叢林街的珊德福特先生。你給我看的照片上的這個人，我從來沒有見過。這樣的人是不容易忘記的，因為他長得太醜了。你問我們的店員中有沒有意大利人嗎？有的，在工人和清潔工中有幾個。他們要想偷看售貨賬是很容易的。我想沒有什麽必要把賬本特別保護起來。啊，是的，那是一件怪事。要是您想瞭解什麽情況，請您告訴我。”
哈定先生作證的時候，福爾摩斯記下了一些情況。我看出他對於事情的發展是很滿意的。可是，他沒說什麽，衹是急於趕回去，不然就會耽誤和雷斯垂德見面。果然我們到貝剋街的時候，他已經到了，他正在屋內很不耐煩地踱來踱去。他那嚴肅的樣子說明他這一天工作得很有成績。
他問：“怎麽樣？福爾摩斯先生，有成績嗎？”
我的朋友解釋道：“我們今天很忙，而且沒有白過。零售商和批發製造商我們全見到了。我弄清了每個塑像的來源。”
雷斯垂德喊道：“半身像！好，福爾摩斯先生，你有你的方法，我不應該反對，但是我認為我這一天比你幹得好。我查清了死者的身分。”
“是嗎？”
“並且查出了犯罪的原因。”
“好極了。”
“我們有個偵探，名叫薩弗侖·希爾，他專門負責意大利區。死者的脖子上挂着天主像，加上他皮膚的顔色，使我認為他是從歐洲南部來的。偵探希爾一看見屍體，便認出了他。他的名字是彼埃拙·萬努齊，從那不勒斯來的。他是倫敦有名的強盜。他和黑手黨有聯繫。你知道黑手黨是個秘密組織，想要通過暗殺實現他們的信條。現在看來，事情逐漸清楚了。另外那個人可能也是個意大利人，並且也是黑手黨。他大概是違犯了黑手黨某一方面的紀律。彼埃拙是在跟蹤他。彼埃拙口袋中的照片可能就是另外那個人的，帶照片是為了弄準。他尾隨着這個人，看見他進了一棟房子，就在外面等着，後來在扭打中他受了致命傷。歇洛剋·福爾摩斯先生，這個解釋怎樣？”
福爾摩斯贊賞地拍着手。
他喊道：“好極了，雷斯垂德，好極了！可是，我沒有完全明白你對於打碎半身像的解釋。”
“半身像！你總是忘不了半身像。那算不了什麽；小偷小摸，最多關六個月監獄。我們認為調查的是兇殺，老實說，所有的綫索我全都弄到手了。”
“下一步呢？”
“那很簡單。我和希爾到意大利區，按照照片找人，以兇殺罪逮捕他。你和我們一塊兒去嗎？”
“我不想去。我想我們可以更容易地達到目的。我不能說準，這全看——全看一個我們根本不能控製的因素。但是希望很大——可以說有三分之二的把握——要是你今天晚上和我們一同去，我能幫助你逮捕他。”
“在意大利區？”
“不，我想很可能會在齊茲威剋區找到他。雷斯垂德，你如果今天晚上和我一同去齊茲威剋區，那麽明天晚上我一定陪你去意大利區，耽誤一個晚上不會礙事的。我看我們現在先得睡幾個小時纔好，因為要晚上十一點以後出去，大概天亮才能回來。雷斯垂德，你和我們一起吃飯，然後在沙發上休息。華生，你最好能打電話叫一個緊急通信員，我有一封很要緊的信必須立刻送出去。”
說完，福爾摩斯就走上閣樓，去翻閱舊報紙的合訂本。過了很長時間，他纔走下樓來，眼睛裏流露出勝利的目光，不過他對我們兩個人什麽也沒說。這個復雜的案件幾經周折，我一步一步地註視着福爾摩斯偵緝中所采取的方法。雖然我還不能看清我們要達到的目的，可是我十分清楚福爾摩斯在等待這個荒誕的罪犯去搞另外兩座半身像。我記得其中有一個是在齊茲威剋區。毫無疑問，我們此行的目的就是要當場抓到他。所以，我很贊賞我的朋友的機智，他在晚報上塞進了一個錯誤的綫索，使得這個人以為他可以繼續作案而不受懲罰。因此，福爾摩斯讓我帶上手槍的時候，我並不感到吃驚。他自己拿了裝好子彈的獵槍，這是他最喜愛的武器。
十一點鐘，我們乘上馬車來到了漢莫斯密斯橋，下車後，我們告訴馬車夫在那兒等候，然後繼續嚮前走，不久就來到一條平靜的大路上，路旁有一排齊整的房子，每一所房前全有自己的花園。藉着路燈的微光，我們找到了寫有"拉布諾姆別墅"的門牌。主人顯然已經休息了，因為在花園的小道上，除了從門楣窗裏透出的一圈模糊的光亮之外，周圍全是一漆黑暗。隔開大路和花園的木柵欄，在園內投下一片深深的黑影，我們正好躲在那裏。
福爾摩斯低聲說：“恐怕我們要等很久。謝謝老天爺，今晚沒下雨。我們不能在這兒抽煙，這樣消磨時間可不安全。不過你們放心，事情已有三分之二的把握，所以我們吃點苦還是划得来的。”
出乎意料的是，我們守候的時間並不長，突然聽到有了動靜。事先沒有一點聲音預示有人到來，大門就一下子被推開了，一個靈活的黑色人影象猴子一樣迅速而又敏捷地衝到花園的小路上。我們看見這個人影急速穿過門楣窗映在地上的燈光，便消失在房子的黑影中。這時四周完全寂靜無聲，我們屏住了呼吸。一會兒工夫，忽然聽到輕微的嘎吱一聲，窗戶已經打開了。聲音消逝了，接着又是長時間的靜寂。估計這個人正在設法潛入室內。一會兒，我們又看到一隻深色燈籠的光在室內閃了一下。他所找的東西顯然不在那兒，因為我們隔着另一窗簾又看到一下閃光，然後隔着第三個窗簾又有一次閃光。
雷斯垂德低聲說：“我們到那個開着的窗戶那兒去。他一爬出來，我們就能立即抓住他。”
但是我們還沒有來得及動，這個人便又出現了。當他走到小路上那塊閃爍着微光的地方的時候，我們看到他腋下夾着一件白色的東西。他鬼鬼祟祟地四下張望着。寂靜無聲的街道給他壯了幾分膽。他轉過身去，背嚮我們，放下這件東西，跟着是很響的"啪嗒"一聲，接着又是"格格"的連續響聲。他幹得很專心，所以當我們悄悄地穿過一塊草地時，他並沒有聽見我們的腳步聲。於是福爾摩斯猛虎般地撲嚮他的背後，雷斯垂德和我立即抓住他的手腕並且給他戴上了手銬。當我們把他扭轉過來時，我看到一副兩頰深陷奇醜無比的面孔，他的眼睛怒視着我們，他的面孔在抽搐，我這纔看清我們抓到的確實是照片上的那個人。
可是，福爾摩斯卻不去註意我們抓到的人，他蹲在臺階上仔細地檢查這個人從屋裏拿出來的東西。這是一座拿破侖的半身像，和我們那天早晨看到的一樣，並且也是同樣被打成小碎片。福爾摩斯把碎片拿到亮光下認真地檢查，沒有看出這些石膏碎片有什麽特殊的地方。他剛剛檢查完，屋裏的燈一亮，門開了，房屋的主人，一位和藹、肥胖的人，穿着襯衫和長褲出現在我們面前。
福爾摩斯說：“我想您是卓茲雅·布朗先生吧？”
“是的，先生，您準是福爾摩斯先生吧？我收到通訊員送來的急信，便完全按照你所說的做了。我們把每扇門全從裏面鎖上，等待事情的發展。我很高興你們抓到了這個流氓，先生們，請你們到屋裏來休息一下。”
然而雷斯垂德急於把犯人送到安全的地方，所以沒有幾分鐘便叫來馬車，我們四個人動身去倫敦了。犯人一句話也不說，他的眼睛從亂蓬蓬的頭髮陰影裏惡狠狠地看着我們，有一次我的手離他較近，他便象餓狼一樣地猛抓過來。我們在局對他進行了搜查，他身上除去幾個先令和一把刀身很長的刀子之外，什麽也沒有，刀把上有許多新的血跡。
分手的時候，雷斯垂德說：“事情就是這樣了。希爾很瞭解這些流氓，他會給他定罪的。你看，我用黑手黨來解釋並沒有錯，不過，福爾摩斯先生，我非常感謝你這樣巧妙地抓住了他，可我還沒完全懂得這是怎麽一回事。”
福爾摩斯說：“時間太晚，不能解釋了。另外，還有一兩件小事沒有弄清楚，這個案件是應該搞徹底的。要是你明天晚上六點鐘到我傢來，我會給你說明直到現在你還沒有完全瞭解的這個案件的意義。總的說來，這個案件確實有獨特的地方。華生，要是我同意你繼續記錄我辦的一些案子，我敢說這樁案子一定會使你的記載增色不少。”
到第二天晚上大傢見面的時候，雷斯垂德給我們講了這個犯人的詳細情況。我們已經知道犯人名字叫倍波，但姓氏不詳，他在意大利人聚集的地方是個出名的壞蛋。他很會製造塑像，一度老老實實地過日子，可是後來他走上了歪道，兩次被捕，一次是因為偷了一點東西，另一次是因為刺傷了他的一個同鄉。他英語講得很好。他毀壞這些塑像的原因還不清楚，他拒絶回答這方面的問題。可是發現這些塑像可能是他親手做的，因為他在蓋爾得爾公司的時候是做這種工作的。對於這些我們已經知道的情況，福爾摩斯衹是有禮貌地聽着，但是我明確地感到——因為我很瞭解他——他的思想是在別處。我覺察到，在他慣有的面部表情下，交織着不安和期待。最後，他從椅子上站起來了，他的眼睛閃閃發光。這時門鈴響了。一會兒我們聽到樓梯上有腳步聲，僕人領進來一位面色紅潤、長着灰白色連鬢鬍的老年人。他手裏拿着一個旅行袋，進門後把它放到桌子上。
“歇洛剋·福爾摩斯先生在這兒嗎？”
我的朋友點了點頭，並且微笑一下說：“我想您是瑞丁區的珊德福特先生？”
“是的，我大概是遲到了一會兒，火車太不方便了。您給我寫信談到我買的半身像。”
“是的。”
“您的信在這兒。您說：'我想要一座仿笛萬塑的拿破侖像，對於您的那座我願意付十鎊。'是這樣嗎？”
“不錯，是這樣。”
“我對您的來信感到意外，因為我想象不出您怎麽會知道我有這個像。”
“當然您會感到意外，可是理由卻很簡單。哈定公司的哈定先生說，他們把最後的一座賣給了您，並且把您的地址告訴了我。”
“噢，是這麽一回事！他告訴您我花了多少錢嗎？”
“沒有，他沒說。”
“我雖然並不富有，但是我是誠實的。我衹用了十五個先令，我想在我拿走您十鎊紙幣之前，您應該知道這一點。”
“珊德福特先生，您的顧慮說明您的誠實。既然我已經定了這個價錢，我要堅持這樣做。”
“福爾摩斯先生，您很慷慨。我按照您的要求，帶來了這座像。這就是！"他解開袋子。於是，我們總算看到了一座完整的拿破侖像；以前幾次，我們見到的都是碎片。
福爾摩斯從衣袋中取出一張紙條和一張十鎊的紙幣放到桌子上。
“珊德福特先生，請您當着這幾位證人在這張條子上簽名。這衹是表明，您對於這座塑像的占有權和有關的一切權利，全部轉讓給我。我是一個循規蹈矩的人，一個人永遠無法預見將來會出什麽事。謝謝您，珊德福特先生，這是您的錢，祝您晚安。”
客人走了以後，福爾摩斯的行動引起我們的註意。他從抽屜裏拿出一塊白布，鋪在桌子上，又把新買來的半身像放在白布中間。然後他端起獵槍，猛地往拿破侖像的頭頂上放了一槍，於是像立刻變成了碎片。福爾摩斯彎下腰來，急切地察看着這些分散的碎片。不一會兒，他便得意地喊了起來，我看到，他手裏高舉着一塊碎片，碎片上嵌着一顆深色的東西，就象布丁上的葡萄幹一樣。
他嚷道：“先生們，讓我把著名的包格斯黑珍珠介紹給你們吧！”
雷斯垂德和我一下子愣住了。極度的驚嘆使我們突然鼓起掌來，好象看戲看到了最精彩的關鍵部分。福爾摩斯蒼白的面孔泛出紅暈，他嚮我們鞠了一躬，就象著名的劇作傢在答謝觀衆的盛情。衹是在這樣的時刻，他纔暫時中斷理性的思考，而流露出喜歡受到贊揚的人之常情。朋友的驚奇和贊揚竟然深深地打動了這樣一個蔑視世俗的榮譽、性格獨特、沉默寡言的人。
他說：“先生們，這是世界上現有的最著名的珠寶，我是很幸運的，能夠依照一係列的歸納法，從這顆珍珠遺失的地方——科隆那王子在達柯爾旅館的臥室開始，追查到斯捷班尼地區的蓋爾得爾公司所造的六個拿破侖像之一。雷斯垂德，你還記得吧，這顆無價的珍寶遺失之後造成了多麽大的震動，當時倫敦的徒勞無功。在這件案子上，他們詢問過我的意見，但是我提不出任何辦法。懷疑過王妃的女僕，她是個意大利人，當局查明她有一個兄弟在倫敦，但是我們沒有弄清他們之間有無聯繫，女僕的名字叫蘆剋芮什雅·萬努齊。我想兩天以前被殺害的彼埃拙便是她的兄弟。我查看過報上的日期，珍珠是在倍波被捕前兩天遺失的。逮捕倍波是因為他打傷了人，在蓋爾得爾公司抓的，那時他正做這些塑像。你們現在可以完全明白事情發生的順序了，當然，我思考的時候，思路與這些事件的順序正好相反。倍波確實拿到了珍珠。他可能是從彼埃拙那兒偷來的，他也可能就是彼埃拙的同謀，還有可能是彼埃拙和他妹妹的中間人。不過這些對於我們無關緊要。
“重要的事實是他占有了這顆珍珠，正當他身上帶着這顆珍珠的時候，來追捕他。他跑到他工作的工廠，他知道他衹有幾分鐘的時間了，但是必須把這顆無價之寶藏好，否則便會在搜身的時候，被搜出。當時六座拿破侖的石膏像正放在過道吹幹，一座還是軟的。倍波是一個熟練工人，所以立刻在濕石膏上挖了一個小洞，把珍珠放到裏面，然後又抹了幾下，把小洞抹平。石膏像是個理想的外殼，沒有人會想到在那裏能找到這顆珍珠。倍波被關了一年，同時他的六座石膏像被賣到倫敦各處。他不知道哪座像裏有那顆珍珠。搖擺石膏像是不起作用的，因為珍珠會粘在濕石膏上，因此，衹有把石膏像打碎，才能找到它。倍波並沒有失望，他很機靈又有毅力，便繼續尋找。通過一個在蓋爾得爾公司工作的堂兄弟，他弄清了買這些像的是哪幾傢零售公司。於是他設法在冒斯·賀得遜公司得到雇用，這樣他查明了三座塑像的去處。珍珠不在這三座裏。然後在其它意大利雇工的幫助下，他又弄清另外三座塑像的去處。一座是在哈剋先生傢。在那兒他被他的同謀所跟蹤，這個人認為他應對丟失珍珠負責，在後來的搏鬥中他刺死了他的同謀。”
我問：“要是他是他的同謀，為什麽還帶着他的照片？”
“那是為了追尋他用的，要是他想嚮第三者詢問倍波的時候可以拿出來。這個道理是很明顯的。我想倍波在殺人以後，行動會加快，而不會延遲。他怕發現他的秘密，所以他要在追捕他之前加速行動。當然，我不能肯定地說，他在哈剋買的半身像中沒有找到那顆珍珠。我甚至不能斷定石膏像裏藏的是珍珠，但是我很清楚他是在找什麽東西，因為他把半身像拿出去，走過幾棟房屋，在有燈的花園裏纔把它打碎。既然哈剋買的半身像是三個裏面的一個，那麽也就證明了我告訴你們的，珍珠在裏面的可能性是三分之一。還有兩個半身像，很顯然他要先找在倫敦的那一個。我警告房子的主人，以避免發生第二次慘案，然後我們便行動了，並且取得了最好的成績。當然，衹是在這個時候，我纔明確地知道我們要找的是包格斯的珍珠。被害者的姓名使我把兩個事件聯繫起來。那麽衹剩下一個半身像——在瑞丁區的那座了——而且珍珠必定在那個像裏面，所以，我當着你們的面從物主那兒買來——珍珠就在這兒。”
我們默默地坐了一會兒。
雷斯垂德說：“福爾摩斯先生，我看你處理過許多案件，但是都不象處理這個案件那樣巧妙。我們蘇格蘭場的人不是嫉妒你，不是的，先生，而是引以為榮。如果明天你能去的話，不管是老的偵探還是年輕的，都會很高興地嚮你握手祝賀。”
福爾摩斯說：“謝謝你！謝謝你！"這時他轉過臉去。我從來沒有見到過他由於人類的溫暖感情而象現在這樣地激動。過了一會兒，他又冷靜地投入了新的思考。他說：“華生，把珍珠放到保險櫃裏。把康剋—辛格爾頓偽造案件的文件拿出來。再見，雷斯垂德。如果你遇到什麽新的問題，我將會盡我的可能助你一臂之力。”
On this particular evening Lestrade had spoken of the weather and the newspapers. Then he had fallen silent, puffing thoughtfully at his cigar. Holmes looked keenly at him.
"Anything remarkable on hand?" he asked.
"Oh, no, Mr. Holmes, nothing very particular."
"Then tell me about it."
Lestrade laughed.
"Well, Mr. Holmes, there is no use denying that there IS something on my mind. And yet it is such an absurd business that I hesitated to bother you about it. On the other hand, although it is trivial, it is undoubtedly queer, and I know that you have a taste for all that is out of the common. But in my opinion it comes more in Dr. Watson's line than ours."
"Disease?" said I.
"Madness, anyhow. And a queer madness too! You wouldn't think there was anyone living at this time of day who had such a hatred of Napoleon the First that he would break any image of him that he could see."
Holmes sank back in his chair.
"That's no business of mine," said he.
"Exactly. That's what I said. But then, when the man commits burglary in order to break images which are not his own, that brings it away from the doctor and on to the policeman."
Holmes sat up again.
"Burglary! This is more interesting. Let me hear the details."
Lestrade took out his official note-book and refreshed his memory from its pages.
"The first case reported was four days ago," said he. "It was at the shop of Morse Hudson, who has a place for the sale of pictures and statues in the Kennington Road. The assistant had left the front shop for an instant when he heard a crash, and hurrying in he found a plaster bust of Napoleon, which stood with several other works of art upon the counter, lying shivered into fragments. He rushed out into the road, but, although several passers-by declared that they had noticed a man run out of the shop, he could neither see anyone nor could he find any means of identifying the rascal. It seemed to be one of those senseless acts of Hooliganism which occur from time to time, and it was reported to the constable on the beat as such. The plaster cast was not worth more than a few shillings, and the whole affair appeared to be too childish for any particular investigation.
"The second case, however, was more serious and also more singular. It occurred only last night.
"In Kennington Road, and within a few hundred yards of Morse Hudson's shop, there lives a well-known medical practitioner, named Dr. Barnicot, who has one of the largest practices upon the south side of the Thames. His residence and principal consulting-room is at Kennington Road, but he has a branch surgery and dispensary at Lower Brixton Road, two miles away. This Dr. Barnicot is an enthusiastic admirer of Napoleon, and his house is full of books, pictures, and relics of the French Emperor. Some little time ago he purchased from Morse Hudson two duplicate plaster casts of the famous head of Napoleon by the French sculptor, Devine. One of these he placed in his hall in the house at Kennington Road, and the other on the mantelpiece of the surgery at Lower Brixton. Well, when Dr. Barnicot came down this morning he was astonished to find that his house had been burgled during the night, but that nothing had been taken save the plaster head from the hall. It had been carried out and had been dashed savagely against the garden wall, under which its splintered fragments were discovered."
Holmes rubbed his hands.
"This is certainly very novel," said he.
"I thought it would please you. But I have not got to the end yet. Dr. Barnicot was due at his surgery at twelve o'clock, and you can imagine his amazement when, on arriving there, he found that the window had been opened in the night, and that the broken pieces of his second bust were strewn all over the room. It had been smashed to atoms where it stood. In neither case were there any signs which could give us a clue as to the criminal or lunatic who had done the mischief. Now, Mr. Holmes, you have got the facts."
"They are singular, not to say grotesque," said Holmes. "May I ask whether the two busts smashed in Dr. Barnicot's rooms were the exact duplicates of the one which was destroyed in Morse Hudson's shop?"
"They were taken from the same mould."
"Such a fact must tell against the theory that the man who breaks them is influenced by any general hatred of Napoleon. Considering how many hundreds of statues of the great Emperor must exist in London, it is too much to suppose such a coincidence as that a promiscuous iconoclast should chance to begin upon three specimens of the same bust."
"Well, I thought as you do," said Lestrade. "On the other hand, this Morse Hudson is the purveyor of busts in that part of London, and these three were the only ones which had been in his shop for years. So, although, as you say, there are many hundreds of statues in London, it is very probable that these three were the only ones in that district. Therefore, a local fanatic would begin with them. What do you think, Dr. Watson?"
"There are no limits to the possibilities of monomania," I answered. "There is the condition which the modern French psychologists have called the `idee fixe,' which may be trifling in character, and accompanied by complete sanity in every other way. A man who had read deeply about Napoleon, or who had possibly received some hereditary family injury through the great war, might conceivably form such an `idee fixe' and under its influence be capable of any fantastic outrage."
"That won't do, my dear Watson," said Holmes, shaking his head; "for no amount of `idee fixe' would enable your interesting monomaniac to find out where these busts were situated."
"Well, how do YOU explain it?"
"I don't attempt to do so. I would only observe that there is a certain method in the gentleman's eccentric proceedings. For example, in Dr. Barnicot's hall, where a sound might arouse the family, the bust was taken outside before being broken, whereas in the surgery, where there was less danger of an alarm, it was smashed where it stood. The affair seems absurdly trifling, and yet I dare call nothing trivial when I reflect that some of my most classic cases have had the least promising commencement. You will remember, Watson, how the dreadful business of the Abernetty family was first brought to my notice by the depth which the parsley had sunk into the butter upon a hot day. I can't afford, therefore, to smile at your three broken busts, Lestrade, and I shall be very much obliged to you if you will let me hear of any fresh developments of so singular a chain of events."
The development for which my friend had asked came in a quicker and an infinitely more tragic form than he could have imagined. I was still dressing in my bedroom next morning when there was a tap at the door and Holmes entered, a telegram in his hand. He read it aloud:--
"Come instantly, 131, Pitt Street, Kensington. -- Lestrade."
"What is it, then?" I asked.
"Don't know -- may be anything. But I suspect it is the sequel of the story of the statues. In that case our friend, the image-breaker, has begun operations in another quarter of London. There's coffee on the table, Watson, and I have a cab at the door."
In half an hour we had reached Pitt Street, a quiet little backwater just beside one of the briskest currents of London life. No. 131 was one of a row, all flat-chested, respectable, and most unromantic dwellings. As we drove up we found the railings in front of the house lined by a curious crowd. Holmes whistled.
"By George! it's attempted murder at the least. Nothing less will hold the London message-boy. There's a deed of violence indicated in that fellow's round shoulders and outstretched neck. What's this, Watson? The top steps swilled down and the other ones dry. Footsteps enough, anyhow! Well, well, there's Lestrade at the front window, and we shall soon know all about it."
The official received us with a very grave face and showed us into a sitting-room, where an exceedingly unkempt and agitated elderly man, clad in a flannel dressing-gown, was pacing up and down. He was introduced to us as the owner of the house -- Mr. Horace Harker, of the Central Press Syndicate.
"It's the Napoleon bust business again," said Lestrade. "You seemed interested last night, Mr. Holmes, so I thought perhaps you would be glad to be present now that the affair has taken a very much graver turn."
"What has it turned to, then?"
"To murder. Mr. Harker, will you tell these gentlemen exactly what has occurred?"
The man in the dressing-gown turned upon us with a most melancholy face.
"It's an extraordinary thing," said he, "that all my life I have been collecting other people's news, and now that a real piece of news has come my own way I am so confused and bothered that I can't put two words together. If I had come in here as a journalist I should have interviewed myself and had two columns in every evening paper. As it is I am giving away valuable copy by telling my story over and over to a string of different people, and I can make no use of it myself. However, I've heard your name, Mr. Sherlock Holmes, and if you'll only explain this queer business I shall be paid for my trouble in telling you the story."
Holmes sat down and listened.
"It all seems to centre round that bust of Napoleon which I bought for this very room about four months ago. I picked it up cheap from Harding Brothers, two doors from the High Street Station. A great deal of my journalistic work is done at night, and I often write until the early morning. So it was to-day. I was sitting in my den, which is at the back of the top of the house, about three o'clock, when I was convinced that I heard some sounds downstairs. I listened, but they were not repeated, and I concluded that they came from outside. Then suddenly, about five minutes later, there came a most horrible yell -- the most dreadful sound, Mr. Holmes, that ever I heard. It will ring in my ears as long as I live. I sat frozen with horror for a minute or two. Then I seized the poker and went downstairs. When I entered this room I found the window wide open, and I at once observed that the bust was gone from the mantelpiece. Why any burglar should take such a thing passes my understanding, for it was only a plaster cast and of no real value whatever.
"You can see for yourself that anyone going out through that open window could reach the front doorstep by taking a long stride. This was clearly what the burglar had done, so I went round and opened the door. Stepping out into the dark I nearly fell over a dead man who was lying there. I ran back for a light, and there was the poor fellow, a great gash in his throat and the whole place swimming in blood. He lay on his back, his knees drawn up, and his mouth horribly open. I shall see him in my dreams. I had just time to blow on my police-whistle, and then I must have fainted, for I knew nothing more until I found the policeman standing over me in the hall."
"Well, who was the murdered man?" asked Holmes.
"There's nothing to show who he was," said Lestrade. "You shall see the body at the mortuary, but we have made nothing of it up to now. He is a tall man, sunburned, very powerful, not more than thirty. He is poorly dressed, and yet does not appear to be a labourer. A horn-handled clasp knife was lying in a pool of blood beside him. Whether it was the weapon which did the deed, or whether it belonged to the dead man, I do not know. There was no name on his clothing, and nothing in his pockets save an apple, some string, a shilling map of London, and a photograph. Here it is."
It was evidently taken by a snap-shot from a small camera. It represented an alert, sharp-featured simian man with thick eyebrows, and a very peculiar projection of the lower part of the face like the muzzle of a baboon.
"And what became of the bust?" asked Holmes, after a careful study of this picture.
"We had news of it just before you came. It has been found in the front garden of an empty house in Campden House Road. It was broken into fragments. I am going round now to see it. Will you come?"
"Certainly. I must just take one look round." He examined the carpet and the window. "The fellow had either very long legs or was a most active man," said he. "With an area beneath, it was no mean feat to reach that window-ledge and open that window. Getting back was comparatively simple. Are you coming with us to see the remains of your bust, Mr. Harker?"
The disconsolate journalist had seated himself at a writing-table.
"I must try and make something of it," said he, "though I have no doubt that the first editions of the evening papers are out already with full details. It's like my luck! You remember when the stand fell at Doncaster? Well, I was the only journalist in the stand, and my journal the only one that had no account of it, for I was too shaken to write it. And now I'll be too late with a murder done on my own doorstep."
As we left the room we heard his pen travelling shrilly over the foolscap.
The spot where the fragments of the bust had been found was only a few hundred yards away. For the first time our eyes rested upon this presentment of the great Emperor, which seemed to raise such frantic and destructive hatred in the mind of the unknown. It lay scattered in splintered shards upon the grass. Holmes picked up several of them and examined them carefully. I was convinced from his intent face and his purposeful manner that at last he was upon a clue.
"Well?" asked Lestrade.
Holmes shrugged his shoulders.
"We have a long way to go yet," said he. "And yet -- and yet -- well, we have some suggestive facts to act upon. The possession of this trifling bust was worth more in the eyes of this strange criminal than a human life. That is one point. Then there is the singular fact that he did not break it in the house, or immediately outside the house, if to break it was his sole object."
"He was rattled and bustled by meeting this other fellow. He hardly knew what he was doing."
"Well, that's likely enough. But I wish to call your attention very particularly to the position of this house in the garden of which the bust was destroyed."
Lestrade looked about him.
"It was an empty house, and so he knew that he would not be disturbed in the garden."
"Yes, but there is another empty house farther up the street which he must have passed before he came to this one. Why did he not break it there, since it is evident that every yard that he carried it increased the risk of someone meeting him?"
"I give it up," said Lestrade.
Holmes pointed to the street lamp above our heads.
"He could see what he was doing here and he could not there. That was his reason."
"By Jove! that's true," said the detective. "Now that I come to think of it, Dr. Barnicot's bust was broken not far from his red lamp. Well, Mr. Holmes, what are we to do with that fact?"
"To remember it -- to docket it. We may come on something later which will bear upon it. What steps do you propose to take now, Lestrade?"
"The most practical way of getting at it, in my opinion, is to identify the dead man. There should be no difficulty about that. When we have found who he is and who his associates are, we should have a good start in learning what he was doing in Pitt Street last night, and who it was who met him and killed him on the doorstep of Mr. Horace Harker. Don't you think so?"
"No doubt; and yet it is not quite the way in which I should approach the case."
"What would you do, then?"
"Oh, you must not let me influence you in any way! I suggest that you go on your line and I on mine. We can compare notes afterwards, and each will supplement the other."
"Very good," said Lestrade.
"If you are going back to Pitt Street you might see Mr. Horace Harker. Tell him from me that I have quite made up my mind, and that it is certain that a dangerous homicidal lunatic with Napoleonic delusions was in his house last night. It will be useful for his article."
Lestrade stared.
"You don't seriously believe that?"
Holmes smiled.
"Don't I? Well, perhaps I don't. But I am sure that it will interest Mr. Horace Harker and the subscribers of the Central Press Syndicate. Now, Watson, I think that we shall find that we have a long and rather complex day's work before us. I should be glad, Lestrade, if you could make it convenient to meet us at Baker Street at six o'clock this evening. Until then I should like to keep this photograph found in the dead man's pocket. It is possible that I may have to ask your company and assistance upon a small expedition which will have be undertaken to-night, if my chain of reasoning should prove to be correct. Until then, good-bye and good luck!"
Sherlock Holmes and I walked together to the High Street, where he stopped at the shop of Harding Brothers, whence the bust had been purchased. A young assistant informed us that Mr. Harding would be absent until after noon, and that he was himself a newcomer who could give us no information. Holmes's face showed his disappointment and annoyance.
"Well, well, we can't expect to have it all our own way, Watson," he said, at last. "We must come back in the afternoon if Mr. Harding will not be here until then. I am, as you have no doubt surmised, endeavouring to trace these busts to their source, in order to find if there is not something peculiar which may account for their remarkable fate. Let us make for Mr. Morse Hudson, of the Kennington Road, and see if he can throw any light upon the problem."
A drive of an hour brought us to the picture-dealer's establishment. He was a small, stout man with a red face and a peppery manner.
"Yes, sir. On my very counter, sir," said he. "What we pay rates and taxes for I don't know, when any ruffian can come in and break one's goods. Yes, sir, it was I who sold Dr. Barnicot his two statues. Disgraceful, sir! A Nihilist plot, that's what I make it. No one but an Anarchist would go about breaking statues. Red republicans, that's what I call 'em. Who did I get the statues from? I don't see what that has to do with it. Well, if you really want to know, I got them from Gelder and Co., in Church Street, Stepney. They are a well-known house in the trade, and have been this twenty years. How many had I? Three -- two and one are three -- two of Dr. Barnicot's and one smashed in broad daylight on my own counter. Do I know that photograph? No, I don't. Yes, I do, though. Why, it's Beppo. He was a kind of Italian piece-work man, who made himself useful in the shop. He could carve a bit and gild and frame, and do odd jobs. The fellow left me last week, and I've heard nothing of him since. No, I don't know where he came from nor where he went to. I have nothing against him while he was here. He was gone two days before the bust was smashed."
"Well, that's all we could reasonably expect to get from Morse Hudson," said Holmes, as we emerged from the shop. "We have this Beppo as a common factor, both in Kennington and in Kensington, so that is worth a ten-mile drive. Now, Watson, let us make for Gelder and Co., of Stepney, the source and origin of busts. I shall be surprised if we don't get some help down there."
In rapid succession we passed through the fringe of fashionable London, hotel London, theatrical London, literary London, commercial London, and, finally, maritime London, till we came to a riverside city of a hundred thousand souls, where the tenement houses swelter and reek with the outcasts of Europe. Here, in a broad thoroughfare, once the abode of wealthy City merchants, we found the sculpture works for which we searched. Outside was a considerable yard full of monumental masonry. Inside was a large room in which fifty workers were carving or moulding. The manager, a big blond German, received us civilly, and gave a clear answer to all Holmes's questions. A reference to his books showed that hundreds of casts had been taken from a marble copy of Devine's head of Napoleon, but that the three which had been sent to Morse Hudson a year or so before had been half of a batch of six, the other three being sent to Harding Brothers, of Kensington. There was no reason why those six should be different to any of the other casts. He could suggest no possible cause why anyone should wish to destroy them -- in fact, he laughed at the idea. Their wholesale price was six shillings, but the retailer would get twelve or more. The cast was taken in two moulds from each side of the face, and then these two profiles of plaster of Paris were joined together to make the complete bust. The work was usually done by Italians in the room we were in. When finished the busts were put on a table in the passage to dry, and afterwards stored. That was all he could tell us.
But the production of the photograph had a remarkable effect upon the manager. His face flushed with anger, and his brows knotted over his blue Teutonic eyes.
"Ah, the rascal!" he cried. "Yes, indeed, I know him very well. This has always been a respectable establishment, and the only time that we have ever had the police in it was over this very fellow. It was more than a year ago now. He knifed another Italian in the street, and then he came to the works with the police on his heels, and he was taken here. Beppo was his name -- his second name I never knew. Serve me right for engaging a man with such a face. But he was a good workman, one of the best."
"What did he get?"
"The man lived and he got off with a year. I have no doubt he is out now; but he has not dared to show his nose here. We have a cousin of his here, and I dare say he could tell you where he is."
"No, no," cried Holmes, "not a word to the cousin -- not a word, I beg you. The matter is very important, and the farther I go with it the more important it seems to grow. When you referred in your ledger to the sale of those casts I observed that the date was June 3rd of last year. Could you give me the date when Beppo was arrested?"
"I could tell you roughly by the pay-list," the manager answered. "Yes," he continued, after some turning over of pages, "he was paid last on May 20th."
"Thank you," said Holmes. "I don't think that I need intrude upon your time and patience any more." With a last word of caution that he should say nothing as to our researches we turned our faces westward once more.
The afternoon was far advanced before we were able to snatch a hasty luncheon at a restaurant. A news-bill at the entrance announced "Kensington Outrage. Murder by a Madman," and the contents of the paper showed that Mr. Horace Harker had got his account into print after all. Two columns were occupied with a highly sensational and flowery rendering of the whole incident. Holmes propped it against the cruet-stand and read it while he ate. Once or twice he chuckled.
"This is all right, Watson," said he. "Listen to this: `It is satisfactory to know that there can be no difference of opinion upon this case, since Mr. Lestrade, one of the most experienced members of the official force, and Mr. Sherlock Holmes, the well-known consulting expert, have each come to the conclusion that the grotesque series of incidents, which have ended in so tragic a fashion, arise from lunacy rather than from deliberate crime. No explanation save mental aberration can cover the facts.' The Press, Watson, is a most valuable institution if you only know how to use it. And now, if you have quite finished, we will hark back to Kensington and see what the manager of Harding Brothers has to say to the matter."
The founder of that great emporium proved to be a brisk, crisp little person, very dapper and quick, with a clear head and a ready tongue.
"Yes, sir, I have already read the account in the evening papers. Mr. Horace Harker is a customer of ours. We supplied him with the bust some months ago. We ordered three busts of that sort from Gelder and Co., of Stepney. They are all sold now. To whom? Oh, I dare say by consulting our sales book we could very easily tell you. Yes, we have the entries here. One to Mr. Harker, you see, and one to Mr. Josiah Brown, of Laburnum Lodge, Laburnum Vale, Chiswick, and one to Mr. Sandeford, of Lower Grove Road, Reading. No, I have never seen this face which you show me in the photograph. You would hardly forget it, would you, sir, for I've seldom seen an uglier. Have we any Italians on the staff? Yes, sir, we have several among our workpeople and cleaners. I dare say they might get a peep at that sales book if they wanted to. There is no particular reason for keeping a watch upon that book. Well, well, it's a very strange business, and I hope that you'll let me know if anything comes of your inquiries."
Holmes had taken several notes during Mr. Harding's evidence, and I could see that he was thoroughly satisfied by the turn which affairs were taking. He made no remark, however, save that, unless we hurried, we should be late for our appointment with Lestrade. Sure enough, when we reached Baker Street the detective was already there, and we found him pacing up and down in a fever of impatience. His look of importance showed that his day's work had not been in vain.
"Well?" he asked. "What luck, Mr. Holmes?"
"We have had a very busy day, and not entirely a wasted one," my friend explained. "We have seen both the retailers and also the wholesale manufacturers. I can trace each of the busts now from the beginning."
"The busts!" cried Lestrade. "Well, well, you have your own methods, Mr. Sherlock Holmes, and it is not for me to say a word against them, but I think I have done a better day's work than you. I have identified the dead man."
"You don't say so?"
"And found a cause for the crime."
"Splendid!"
"We have an inspector who makes a specialty of Saffron Hill and the Italian quarter. Well, this dead man had some Catholic emblem round his neck, and that, along with his colour, made me think he was from the South. Inspector Hill knew him the moment he caught sight of him. His name is Pietro Venucci, from Naples, and he is one of the greatest cut-throats in London. He is connected with the Mafia, which, as you know, is a secret political society, enforcing its decrees by murder. Now you see how the affair begins to clear up. The other fellow is probably an Italian also, and a member of the Mafia. He has broken the rules in some fashion. Pietro is set upon his track. Probably the photograph we found in his pocket is the man himself, so that he may not knife the wrong person. He dogs the fellow, he sees him enter a house, he waits outside for him, and in the scuffle he receives his own death-wound. How is that, Mr. Sherlock Holmes?"
Holmes clapped his hands approvingly.
"Excellent, Lestrade, excellent!" he cried. "But I didn't quite follow your explanation of the destruction of the busts."
"The busts! You never can get those busts out of your head. After all, that is nothing; petty larceny, six months at the most. It is the murder that we are really investigating, and I tell you that I am gathering all the threads into my hands."
"And the next stage?"
"Is a very simple one. I shall go down with Hill to the Italian quarter, find the man whose photograph we have got, and arrest him on the charge of murder. Will you come with us?"
"I think not. I fancy we can attain our end in a simpler way. I can't say for certain, because it all depends -- well, it all depends upon a factor which is completely outside our control. But I have great hopes -- in fact, the betting is exactly two to one -- that if you will come with us to-night I shall be able to help you to lay him by the heels."
"In the Italian quarter?"
"No; I fancy Chiswick is an address which is more likely to find him. If you will come with me to Chiswick to-night, Lestrade, I'll promise to go to the Italian quarter with you to-morrow, and no harm will be done by the delay. And now I think that a few hours' sleep would do us all good, for I do not propose to leave before eleven o'clock, and it is unlikely that we shall be back before morning. You'll dine with us, Lestrade, and then you are welcome to the sofa until it is time for us to start. In the meantime, Watson, I should be glad if you would ring for an express messenger, for I have a letter to send, and it is important that it should go at once."
Holmes spent the evening in rummaging among the files of the old daily papers with which one of our lumber-rooms was packed. When at last he descended it was with triumph in his eyes, but he said nothing to either of us as to the result of his researches. For my own part, I had followed step by step the methods by which he had traced the various windings of this complex case, and, though I could not yet perceive the goal which we would reach, I understood clearly that Holmes expected this grotesque criminal to make an attempt upon the two remaining busts, one of which, I remembered, was at Chiswick. No doubt the object of our journey was to catch him in the very act, and I could not but admire the cunning with which my friend had inserted a wrong clue in the evening paper, so as to give the fellow the idea that he could continue his scheme with impunity. I was not surprised when Holmes suggested that I should take my revolver with me. He had himself picked up the loaded hunting-crop which was his favourite weapon.
A four-wheeler was at the door at eleven, and in it we drove to a spot at the other side of Hammersmith Bridge. Here the cabman was directed to wait. A short walk brought us to a secluded road fringed with pleasant houses, each standing in its own grounds. In the light of a street lamp we read "Laburnum Villa" upon the gate-post of one of them. The occupants had evidently retired to rest, for all was dark save for a fanlight over the hall door, which shed a single blurred circle on to the garden path. The wooden fence which separated the grounds from the road threw a dense black shadow upon the inner side, and here it was that we crouched.
"I fear that you'll have a long wait," Holmes whispered. "We may thank our stars that it is not raining. I don't think we can even venture to smoke to pass the time. However, it's a two to one chance that we get something to pay us for our trouble."
It proved, however, that our vigil was not to be so long as Holmes had led us to fear, and it ended in a very sudden and singular fashion. In an instant, without the least sound to warn us of his coming, the garden gate swung open, and a lithe, dark figure, as swift and active as an ape, rushed up the garden path. We saw it whisk past the light thrown from over the door and disappear against the black shadow of the house. There was a long pause, during which we held our breath, and then a very gentle creaking sound came to our ears. The window was being opened. The noise ceased, and again there was a long silence. The fellow was making his way into the house. We saw the sudden flash of a dark lantern inside the room. What he sought was evidently not there, for again we saw the flash through another blind, and then through another.
"Let us get to the open window. We will nab him as he climbs out," Lestrade whispered.
But before we could move the man had emerged again. As he came out into the glimmering patch of light we saw that he carried something white under his arm. He looked stealthily all round him. The silence of the deserted street reassured him. Turning his back upon us he laid down his burden, and the next instant there was the sound of a sharp tap, followed by a clatter and rattle. The man was so intent upon what he was doing that he never heard our steps as we stole across the grass plot. With the bound of a tiger Holmes was on his back, and an instant later Lestrade and I had him by either wrist and the handcuffs had been fastened. As we turned him over I saw a hideous, sallow face, with writhing, furious features, glaring up at us, and I knew that it was indeed the man of the photograph whom we had secured.
But it was not our prisoner to whom Holmes was giving his attention. Squatted on the doorstep, he was engaged in most carefully examining that which the man had brought from the house. It was a bust of Napoleon like the one which we had seen that morning, and it had been broken into similar fragments. Carefully Holmes held each separate shard to the light, but in no way did it differ from any other shattered piece of plaster. He had just completed his examination when the hall lights flew up, the door opened, and the owner of the house, a jovial, rotund figure in shirt and trousers, presented himself.
"Mr. Josiah Brown, I suppose?" said Holmes.
"Yes, sir; and you, no doubt, are Mr. Sherlock Holmes? I had the note which you sent by the express messenger, and I did exactly what you told me. We locked every door on the inside and awaited developments. Well, I'm very glad to see that you have got the rascal. I hope, gentlemen, that you will come in and have some refreshment."
However, Lestrade was anxious to get his man into safe quarters, so within a few minutes our cab had been summoned and we were all four upon our way to London. Not a word would our captive say; but he glared at us from the shadow of his matted hair, and once, when my hand seemed within his reach, he snapped at it like a hungry wolf. We stayed long enough at the police-station to learn that a search of his clothing revealed nothing save a few shillings and a long sheath knife, the handle of which bore copious traces of recent blood.
"That's all right," said Lestrade, as we parted. "Hill knows all these gentry, and he will give a name to him. You'll find that my theory of the Mafia will work out all right. But I'm sure I am exceedingly obliged to you, Mr. Holmes, for the workmanlike way in which you laid hands upon him. I don't quite understand it all yet."
"I fear it is rather too late an hour for explanations," said Holmes. "Besides, there are one or two details which are not finished off, and it is one of those cases which are worth working out to the very end. If you will come round once more to my rooms at six o'clock to-morrow I think I shall be able to show you that even now you have not grasped the entire meaning of this business, which presents some features which make it absolutely original in the history of crime. If ever I permit you to chronicle any more of my little problems, Watson, I foresee that you will enliven your pages by an account of the singular adventure of the Napoleonic busts."
When we met again next evening Lestrade was furnished with much information concerning our prisoner. His name, it appeared, was Beppo, second name unknown. He was a well-known ne'er-do-well among the Italian colony. He had once been a skilful sculptor and had earned an honest living, but he had taken to evil courses and had twice already been in gaol -- once for a petty theft and once, as we had already heard, for stabbing a fellow-countryman. He could talk English perfectly well. His reasons for destroying the busts were still unknown, and he refused to answer any questions upon the subject; but the police had discovered that these same busts might very well have been made by his own hands, since he was engaged in this class of work at the establishment of Gelder and Co. To all this information, much of which we already knew, Holmes listened with polite attention; but I, who knew him so well, could clearly see that his thoughts were elsewhere, and I detected a mixture of mingled uneasiness and expectation beneath that mask which he was wont to assume. At last he started in his chair and his eyes brightened. There had been a ring at the bell. A minute later we heard steps upon the stairs, and an elderly, red-faced man with grizzled side-whiskers was ushered in. In his right hand he carried an old-fashioned carpet-bag, which he placed upon the table.
"Is Mr. Sherlock Holmes here?"
My friend bowed and smiled. "Mr. Sandeford, of Reading, I suppose?" said he.
"Yes, sir, I fear that I am a little late; but the trains were awkward. You wrote to me about a bust that is in my possession."
"Exactly."
"I have your letter here. You said, `I desire to possess a copy of Devine's Napoleon, and am prepared to pay you ten pounds for the one which is in your possession.' Is that right?"
"Certainly."
"I was very much surprised at your letter, for I could not imagine how you knew that I owned such a thing."
"Of course you must have been surprised, but the explanation is very simple. Mr. Harding, of Harding Brothers, said that they had sold you their last copy, and he gave me your address."
"Oh, that was it, was it? Did he tell you what I paid for it?"
"No, he did not."
"Well, I am an honest man, though not a very rich one. I only gave fifteen shillings for the bust, and I think you ought to know that before I take ten pounds from you."
"I am sure the scruple does you honour, Mr. Sandeford. But I have named that price, so I intend to stick to it."
"Well, it is very handsome of you, Mr. Holmes. I brought the bust up with me, as you asked me to do. Here it is!" He opened his bag, and at last we saw placed upon our table a complete specimen of that bust which we had already seen more than once in fragments.
Holmes took a paper from his pocket and laid a ten-pound note upon the table.
"You will kindly sign that paper, Mr. Sandeford, in the presence of these witnesses. It is simply to say that you transfer every possible right that you ever had in the bust to me. I am a methodical man, you see, and you never know what turn events might take afterwards. Thank you, Mr. Sandeford; here is your money, and I wish you a very good evening."
When our visitor had disappeared Sherlock Holmes's movements were such as to rivet our attention. He began by taking a clean white cloth from a drawer and laying it over the table. Then he placed his newly-acquired bust in the centre of the cloth. Finally, he picked up his hunting-crop and struck Napoleon a sharp blow on the top of the head. The figure broke into fragments, and Holmes bent eagerly over the shattered remains. Next instant, with a loud shout of triumph, he held up one splinter, in which a round, dark object was fixed like a plum in a pudding.
"Gentlemen," he cried, "let me introduce you to the famous black pearl of the Borgias."
Lestrade and I sat silent for a moment, and then, with a spontaneous impulse, we both broke out clapping as at the well-wrought crisis of a play. A flush of colour sprang to Holmes's pale cheeks, and he bowed to us like the master dramatist who receives the homage of his audience. It was at such moments that for an instant he ceased to be a reasoning machine, and betrayed his human love for admiration and applause. The same singularly proud and reserved nature which turned away with disdain from popular notoriety was capable of being moved to its depths by spontaneous wonder and praise from a friend.
"Yes, gentlemen," said he, "it is the most famous pearl now existing in the world, and it has been my good fortune, by a connected chain of inductive reasoning, to trace it from the Prince of Colonna's bedroom at the Dacre Hotel, where it was lost, to the interior of this, the last of the six busts of Napoleon which were manufactured by Gelder and Co., of Stepney. You will remember, Lestrade, the sensation caused by the disappearance of this valuable jewel, and the vain efforts of the London police to recover it. I was myself consulted upon the case; but I was unable to throw any light upon it. Suspicion fell upon the maid of the Princess, who was an Italian, and it was proved that she had a brother in London, but we failed to trace any connection between them. The maid's name was Lucretia Venucci, and there is no doubt in my mind that this Pietro who was murdered two nights ago was the brother. I have been looking up the dates in the old files of the paper, and I find that the disappearance of the pearl was exactly two days before the arrest of Beppo for some crime of violence, an event which took place in the factory of Gelder and Co., at the very moment when these busts were being made. Now you clearly see the sequence of events, though you see them, of course, in the inverse order to the way in which they presented themselves to me. Beppo had the pearl in his possession. He may have stolen it from Pietro, he may have been Pietro's confederate, he may have been the go-between of Pietro and his sister. It is of no consequence to us which is the correct solution.
"The main fact is that he HAD the pearl, and at that moment, when it was on his person, he was pursued by the police. He made for the factory in which he worked, and he knew that he had only a few minutes in which to conceal this enormously valuable prize, which would otherwise be found on him when he was searched. Six plaster casts of Napoleon were drying in the passage. One of them was still soft. In an instant Beppo, a skilful workman, made a small hole in the wet plaster, dropped in the pearl, and with a few touches covered over the aperture once more. It was an admirable hiding-place. No one could possibly find it. But Beppo was condemned to a year's imprisonment, and in the meanwhile his six busts were scattered over London. He could not tell which contained his treasure. Only by breaking them could he see. Even shaking would tell him nothing, for as the plaster was wet it was probable that the pearl would adhere to it -- as, in fact, it has done. Beppo did not despair, and he conducted his search with considerable ingenuity and perseverance. Through a cousin who works with Gelder he found out the retail firms who had bought the busts. He managed to find employment with Morse Hudson, and in that way tracked down three of them. The pearl was not there. Then, with the help of some Italian EMPLOYE, he succeeded in finding out where the other three busts had gone. The first was at Harker's. There he was dogged by his confederate, who held Beppo responsible for the loss of the pearl, and he stabbed him in the scuffle which followed."
"If he was his confederate why should he carry his photograph?" I asked.
"As a means of tracing him if he wished to inquire about him from any third person. That was the obvious reason. Well, after the murder I calculated that Beppo would probably hurry rather than delay his movements. He would fear that the police would read his secret, and so he hastened on before they should get ahead of him. Of course, I could not say that he had not found the pearl in Harker's bust. I had not even concluded for certain that it was the pearl; but it was evident to me that he was looking for something, since he carried the bust past the other houses in order to break it in the garden which had a lamp overlooking it. Since Harker's bust was one in three the chances were exactly as I told you, two to one against the pearl being inside it. There remained two busts, and it was obvious that he would go for the London one first. I warned the inmates of the house, so as to avoid a second tragedy, and we went down with the happiest results. By that time, of course, I knew for certain that it was the Borgia pearl that we were after. The name of the murdered man linked the one event with the other. There only remained a single bust -- the Reading one -- and the pearl must be there. I bought it in your presence from the owner -- and there it lies."
We sat in silence for a moment.
"Well," said Lestrade, "I've seen you handle a good many cases, Mr. Holmes, but I don't know that I ever knew a more workmanlike one than that. We're not jealous of you at Scotland Yard. No, sir, we are very proud of you, and if you come down to-morrow there's not a man, from the oldest inspector to the youngest constable, who wouldn't be glad to shake you by the hand."
"Thank you!" said Holmes. "Thank you!" and as he turned away it seemed to me that he was more nearly moved by the softer human emotions than I had ever seen him. A moment later he was the cold and practical thinker once more. "Put the pearl in the safe, Watson," said he, "and get out the papers of the Conk-Singleton forgery case. Good-bye, Lestrade. If any little problem comes your way I shall be happy, if I can, to give you a hint or two as to its solution."
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