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 ofa batch 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 retailerwould 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 experiencedmembers 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.
“Yes, sir, I have already read the account in the evening papers.
Mr. Horace Harker is a customer of ours. We supplied him withthe bust some months ago. We ordered three busts of that sortfrom Gelder & Co., of Stepney. They are all sold now. To whom?
Oh, I daresay by consulting our sales book we could very easilytell you. Yes, we have the entries here. One to Mr. Harker yousee, and one to Mr. Josiah Brown, of Laburnum Lodge, LaburnumVale, Chiswick, and one to Mr. Sandeford, of Lower Grove Road,Reading. No, I have never seen this face which you show me inthe photograph. You would hardly forget it, would you, sir, forI’ve seldom seen an uglier. Have we any Italians on the staff? Yes,sir, we have several among our workpeople and cleaners. I daresaythey might get a peep at that sales book if they wanted to. Thereis no particular reason for keeping a watch upon that book. Well,well, it’s a very strange business, and I hope that you will let meknow 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 whichaffairs were taking. He made no remark, however, save that, unlesswe hurried, we should be late for our appointment with Lestrade.
Sure enough, when we reached Baker Street the detective wasalready there, and we found him pacing up and down in a fever ofimpatience. His look of importance showed that his day’s workhad 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 thewholesale manufacturers. I can trace each of the busts now fromthe beginning.”
“The busts,” cried Lestrade. “Well, well, you have your ownmethods, Mr. Sherlock Holmes, and it is not for me to say a wordagainst them, but I think I have done a better day’s work thanyou. I have identified the dead man.”
“You don’t say so?”
“And found a cause for the crime.”
“Splendid!”
