“A murder—a most dramatic and remarkable murder. I knowhow keen you are upon these things, and I would take it as a greatfavour if you would step down to Appledore Towers, and give usthe benefit of your advice. It is no ordinary crime. We have hadour eyes upon this Mr. Milverton for some time, and, betweenourselves, he was a bit of a villain. He is known to have held paperswhich he used for blackmailing purposes. These papers have allbeen burned by the murderers. No article of value was taken, as itis probable that the criminals were men of good position, whosesole object was to prevent social exposure.”
“Criminals?” said Holmes. “Plural?”
“Yes, there were two of them. They were as nearly as possiblecaptured red-handed. We have their footmarks, we have theirdescription, it’s ten to one that we trace them. The first fellow wasa bit too active, but the second was caught by the under-gardener,and only got away after a struggle. He was a middle-sized, stronglybuilt man—square jaw, thick neck, moustache, a mask over hiseyes.”
“That’s rather vague,” said Sherlock Holmes. “My, it might be adescription of Watson!”
“It’s true,” said the inspector, with amusement. “It might be adescription of Watson.”
“Well, I’m afraid I can’t help you, Lestrade,” said Holmes.
“The fact is that I knew this fellow Milverton, that I consideredhim one of the most dangerous men in London, and that I thinkthere are certain crimes which the law cannot touch, and whichtherefore, to some extent, justify private revenge. No, it’s no usearguing. I have made up my mind. My sympathies are with thecriminals rather than with the victim, and I will not handle thiscase.”
Holmes had not said one word to me about the tragedy whichwe had witnessed, but I observed all the morning that he was inhis most thoughtful mood, and he gave me the impression, fromhis vacant eyes and his abstracted manner, of a man who is strivingto recall something to his memory. We were in the middle of ourlunch, when he suddenly sprang to his feet. “By Jove, Watson, I’vegot it!” he cried. “Take your hat! Come with me!” He hurried athis top speed down Baker Street and along Oxford Street, until wehad almost reached Regent Circus. Here, on the left hand, therestands a shop window filled with photographs of the celebritiesand beauties of the day. Holmes’s eyes fixed themselves upon oneof them, and following his gaze I saw the picture of a regal andstately lady in Court dress, with a high diamond tiara upon hernoble head. I looked at that delicately curved nose, at the markedeyebrows, at the straight mouth, and the strong little chin beneathit. Then I caught my breath as I read the time-honoured title ofthe great nobleman and statesman whose wife she had been. Myeyes met those of Holmes, and he put his finger to his lips as weturned away from the window.
The Adventure of the Six Napoleons
It was no very unusual thing for Mr. Lestrade, of Scotland Yard,to look in upon us of an evening, and his visits were welcome toSherlock Holmes, for they enabled him to keep in touch with allthat was going on at the police headquarters. In return for thenews which Lestrade would bring, Holmes was always ready tolisten with attention to the details of any case upon which thedetective was engaged, and was able occasionally, without anyactive interference, to give some hint or suggestion drawn fromhis own vast knowledge and experience.
On this particular evening, Lestrade had spoken of the weatherand the newspapers. Then he had fallen silent, puffing thoughtfullyat 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 ISsomething on my mind. And yet it is such an absurd business, thatI hesitated to bother you about it. On the other hand, although itis trivial, it is undoubtedly queer, and I know that you have a tastefor all that is out of the common. But, in my opinion, it comesmore in Dr. Watson’s line than ours.”
“Disease?” said I.
“Madness, anyhow. And a queer madness, too. You wouldn’tthink there was anyone living at this time of day who had such ahatred of Napoleon the First that he would break any image ofhim 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 commitsburglary in order to break images which are not his own, thatbrings 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 notebook and refreshed hismemory from its pages.
“The first case reported was four days ago,” said he. “It wasat the shop of Morse Hudson, who has a place for the sale ofpictures and statues in the Kennington Road. The assistant hadleft the front shop for an instant, when he heard a crash, andhurrying in he found a plaster bust of Napoleon, which stood withseveral other works of art upon the counter, lying shivered intofragments. He rushed out into the road, but, although severalpassers-by declared that they had noticed a man run out of theshop, he could neither see anyone nor could he find any meansof identifying the rascal. It seemed to be one of those senselessacts of Hooliganism which occur from time to time, and it wasreported to the constable on the beat as such. The plaster cast wasnot worth more than a few shillings, and the whole affair appearedto be too childish for any particular investigation.
“The second case, however, was more serious, and also moresingular. It occurred only last night.
