“Yes, sir. On my very counter, sir,” said he. “What we pay ratesand taxes for I don’t know, when any ruffian can come in andbreak one’s goods. Yes, sir, it was I who sold Dr. Barnicot his twostatues. Disgraceful, sir! A Nihilist plot—that’s what I make it.
No one but an anarchist would go about breaking statues. Redrepublicans—that’s what I call ‘em. Who did I get the statuesfrom? I don’t see what that has to do with it. Well, if you reallywant to know, I got them from Gelder & Co., in Church Street,Stepney. They are a well-known house in the trade, and have beenthis twenty years. How many had I? Three—two and one arethree—two of Dr. Barnicot’s, and one smashed in broad daylighton my own counter. Do I know that photograph? No, I don’t. Yes,do, though. Why, it’s Beppo. He was a kind of Italian piece-workman, 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 hecame from nor where he went to. I had nothing against him whilehe was here. He was gone two days before the bust was smashed.”
“Well, that’s all we could reasonably expect from MorseHudson,” said Holmes, as we emerged from the shop. “We havethis Beppo as a common factor, both in Kennington and inKensington, so that is worth a ten-mile drive. Now, Watson, let usmake for Gelder & Co., of Stepney, the source and origin of thebusts. I shall be surprised if we don’t get some help down there.”
In rapid succession we passed through the fringe of fashionableLondon, hotel London, theatrical London, literary London,commercial London, and, finally, maritime London, till we came toriverside city of a hundred thousand souls, where the tenementhouses swelter and reek with the outcasts of Europe. Here, in abroad thoroughfare, once the abode of wealthy City merchants,we found the sculpture works for which we searched. Outsidewas a considerable yard full of monumental masonry. Inside waslarge room in which fifty workers were carving or moulding.
The manager, a big blond German, received us civilly and gave aclear answer to all Holmes’s questions. A reference to his booksshowed that hundreds of casts had been taken from a marblecopy of Devine’s head of Napoleon, but that the three which hadbeen sent to Morse Hudson a year or so before had been half ofbatch of six, the other three being sent to Harding Brothers, ofKensington. There was no reason why those six should be differentfrom any of the other casts. He could suggest no possible causewhy anyone should wish to destroy them—in fact, he laughed atthe idea. Their wholesale price was six shillings, but the retailerThe Return of Sherlock Holmes 989 would get twelve or more. The cast was taken in two moulds fromeach side of the face, and then these two profiles of plaster of Pariswere joined together to make the complete bust. The work wasusually done by Italians, in the room we were in. When finished,the busts were put on a table in the passage to dry, and afterwardsstored. That was all he could tell us.
But the production of the photograph had a remarkable effectupon the manager. His face flushed with anger, and his browsknotted 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 onlytime that we have ever had the police in it was over this veryfellow. It was more than a year ago now. He knifed another Italianin the street, and then he came to the works with the police onhis heels, and he was taken here. Beppo was his name—his secondname I never knew. Serve me right for engaging a man with such aface. 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 heis out now, but he has not dared to show his nose here. We have acousin of his here, and I daresay he could tell you where he is.”
“No, no,” cried Holmes, “not a word to the cousin—not a word,I beg of you. The matter is very important, and the farther I gowith it, the more important it seems to grow. When you referredin your ledger to the sale of those casts I observed that the datewas June 3rd of last year. Could you give me the date when Beppowas arrested?”
“I could tell you roughly by the pay-list,” the manager answered.
“Yes,” he continued, after some turning over of pages, “he was paidlast on May 20th.”
“Thank you,” said Holmes. “I don’t think that I need intrudeupon your time and patience any more.” With a last word ofcaution that he should say nothing as to our researches, we turnedour faces westward once more.
The afternoon was far advanced before we were able to snatcha hasty luncheon at a restaurant. A news-bill at the entranceannounced “Kensington Outrage. Murder by a Madman,” and thecontents of the paper showed that Mr. Horace Harker had gothis account into print after all. Two columns were occupied witha highly sensational and flowery rendering of the whole incident.
Holmes propped it against the cruet-stand and read it while heate. 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 opinionupon this case, since Mr. Lestrade, one of the most experienced990 The Complete Sherlock Holmes
members of the official force, and Mr. Sherlock Holmes, the wellknown consulting expert, have each come to the conclusion thatthe grotesque series of incidents, which have ended in so tragic afashion, arise from lunacy rather than from deliberate crime. Noexplanation save mental aberration can cover the facts.
The Press, Watson, is a most valuable institution, if you onlyknow how to use it. And now, if you have quite finished, we willhark back to Kensington and see what the manager of HardingBrothers has to say on the matter.”
The founder of that great emporium proved to be a brisk, crisplittle person, very dapper and quick, with a clear head and a readytongue.
