The Return of Sherlock Holmes by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle

Author:Sir Arthur Conan Doyle [Doyle, Sir Arthur Conan]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi, pdf
Tags: Fiction, Mystery
Publisher: Caldwell
Published: 1905-03-14T06:00:00+00:00

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“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 IS

something on my mind. And yet it is such an absurd business that I hesitated to bother you about it. On the other hand, although it is trivial, it is undoubtedly queer, and I know that you have a taste for all that is out of the common. But in my opinion it comes more in Dr. Watson’s line than ours.”

“Disease?” said I.

“Madness, anyhow. And a queer madness too! You wouldn’t think there was anyone living at this time of day who had such a hatred of Napoleon the First that he would break any image of him 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 commits burglary in order to break images which are not his own, that brings 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 note-book and refreshed his

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memory from its pages.

“The first case reported was four days ago,” said he. “It

was at the shop of Morse Hudson, who has a place for the sale

of pictures and statues in the Kennington Road. The assistant had left the front shop for an instant when he heard a

crash, and hurrying in he found a plaster bust of Napoleon,

which stood with several other works of art upon the counter,

lying shivered into fragments. He rushed out into the road,

but, although several passers-by declared that they had noticed a man run out of the shop, he could neither see anyone

nor could he find any means of identifying the rascal. It

seemed to be one of those senseless acts of Hooliganism which

occur from time to time, and it was reported to the constable

on the beat as such. The plaster cast was not worth more than

a few shillings, and the whole affair appeared to be too childish for any particular investigation.

“The second case, however, was more serious and also more

singular. It occurred only last night.

“In Kennington Road, and within a few hundred yards of

Morse Hudson’s shop, there lives a well-known medical practitioner, named Dr. Barnicot, who has one of the largest practices upon the south side of the Thames. His residence and

principal consulting-room is at Kennington Road, but he has

a branch surgery and dispensary at Lower Brixton Road, two

miles away. This Dr. Barnicot is an enthusiastic admirer of

Napoleon, and his house is full of books, pictures, and relics of the French Emperor. Some little time ago he purchased from Morse Hudson two duplicate plaster casts of the famous head of Napoleon by the French sculptor, Devine. One of these he placed in his hall in the house at Kennington Road, and the other on the mantelpiece of the surgery at Lower Brixton. Well, when Dr. Barnicot came down this morning he was astonished to

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