"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 chargeof murder. Will you come with us?"
"I think not. I fancy we can attain our end in a simpler way. I can'tsay for certain, because it all depends--well, it all depends upona factor which is completely outside our control. But I have greathopes--in fact, the betting is exactly two to one--that if you will comewith 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. Ifyou will come with me to Chiswick to-night, Lestrade, I'll promise to goto the Italian quarter with you to-morrow, and no harm will be done bythe 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 unlikelythat we shall be back before morning. You'll dine with us, Lestrade, andthen you are welcome to the sofa until it is time for us to start. Inthe meantime, Watson, I should be glad if you would ring for an expressmessenger, for I have a letter to send, and it is important that itshould go at once."
Holmes spent the evening in rummaging among the files of the old dailypapers with which one of our lumber-rooms was packed. When at last hedescended it was with triumph in his eyes, but he said nothing toeither of us as to the result of his researches. For my own part, I hadfollowed step by step the methods by which he had traced the variouswindings of this complex case, and, though I could not yet perceive thegoal which we would reach, I understood clearly that Holmes expectedthis grotesque criminal to make an attempt upon the two remaining busts,one of which, I remembered, was at Chiswick. No doubt the object of ourjourney was to catch him in the very act, and I could not but admire thecunning with which my friend had inserted a wrong clue in the eveningpaper, so as to give the fellow the idea that he could continue hisscheme with impunity. I was not surprised when Holmes suggested thatI should take my revolver with me. He had himself picked up the loadedhunting-crop which was his favourite weapon.
A four-wheeler was at the door at eleven, and in it we drove to a spotat the other side of Hammersmith Bridge. Here the cabman was directed towait. A short walk brought us to a secluded road fringed with pleasanthouses, each standing in its own grounds. In the light of a streetlamp we read "Laburnum Villa" upon the gate-post of one of them. Theoccupants had evidently retired to rest, for all was dark save for afanlight over the hall door, which shed a single blurred circle on tothe garden path. The wooden fence which separated the grounds from theroad threw a dense black shadow upon the inner side, and here it wasthat we crouched.
"I fear that you'll have a long wait," Holmes whispered. "We may thankour stars that it is not raining. I don't think we can even venture tosmoke to pass the time. However, it's a two to one chance that we getsomething to pay us for our trouble."
It proved, however, that our vigil was not to be so long as Holmes hadled us to fear, and it ended in a very sudden and singular fashion. Inan instant, without the least sound to warn us of his coming, the gardengate swung open, and a lithe, dark figure, as swift and active as anape, rushed up the garden path. We saw it whisk past the light thrownfrom 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 verygentle creaking sound came to our ears. The window was being opened. Thenoise ceased, and again there was a long silence. The fellow was makinghis way into the house. We saw the sudden flash of a dark lantern insidethe room. What he sought was evidently not there, for again we saw theflash 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 intothe glimmering patch of light we saw that he carried something whiteunder his arm. He looked stealthily all round him. The silence of thedeserted street reassured him. Turning his back upon us he laid downhis 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 wasdoing 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 laterLestrade and I had him by either wrist and the handcuffs had beenfastened. As we turned him over I saw a hideous, sallow face, withwrithing, furious features, glaring up at us, and I knew that it wasindeed 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 examiningthat which the man had brought from the house. It was a bust of Napoleonlike the one which we had seen that morning, and it had been brokeninto similar fragments. Carefully Holmes held each separate shard tothe light, but in no way did it differ from any other shattered piece ofplaster. He had just completed his examination when the hall lights flewup, the door opened, and the owner of the house, a jovial, rotund figurein 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 notewhich you sent by the express messenger, and I did exactly what you toldme. 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, sowithin a few minutes our cab had been summoned and we were all four uponour way to London. Not a word would our captive say; but he glared at usfrom the shadow of his matted hair, and once, when my hand seemed withinhis reach, he snapped at it like a hungry wolf. We stayed long enoughat the police-station to learn that a search of his clothing revealednothing save a few shillings and a long sheath knife, the handle ofwhich bore copious traces of recent blood.
"That's all right," said Lestrade, as we pa
rted. "Hill knows all thesegentry, and he will give a name to him. You'll find that my theory ofthe Mafia will work out all right. But I'm sure I am exceedingly obligedto you, Mr. Holmes, for the workmanlike way in which you laid hands uponhim. 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, andit 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 Ithink I shall be able to show you that even now you have not grasped theentire meaning of this business, which presents some features which makeit absolutely original in the history of crime. If ever I permit youto chronicle any more of my little problems, Watson, I foresee that youwill enliven your pages by an account of the singular adventure of theNapoleonic busts."
When we met again next evening Lestrade was furnished with muchinformation concerning our prisoner. His name, it appeared, was Beppo,second name unknown. He was a well-known ne'er-do-well among the Italiancolony. He had once been a skilful sculptor and had earned an honestliving, but he had taken to evil courses and had twice already beenin gaol--once for a petty theft and once, as we had already heard, forstabbing a fellow-countryman. He could talk English perfectly well. Hisreasons for destroying the busts were still unknown, and he refused toanswer any questions upon the subject; but the police had discoveredthat 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 ofGelder 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 amixture of mingled uneasiness and expectation beneath that mask whichhe was wont to assume. At last he started in his chair and his eyesbrightened. There had been a ring at the bell. A minute later we heardsteps upon the stairs, and an elderly, red-faced man with grizzledside-whiskers was ushered in. In his right hand he carried anold-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?" saidhe.
"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 ofDevine's Napoleon, and am prepared to pay you ten pounds for the onewhich is in your possession.' Is that right?"
"Certainly."
"I was very much surprised at your letter, for I could not imagine howyou knew that I owned such a thing."
"Of course you must have been surprised, but the explanation is verysimple. Mr. Harding, of Harding Brothers, said that they had sold youtheir 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 gavefifteen shillings for the bust, and I think you ought to know thatbefore I take ten pounds from you."