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."