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."

"I have your letter here. You said, 'I desire to possess a copy of
Devine's Napoleon, and am prepared to pay you ten pounds for the one
which is in your possession.' Is that right?"

"Certainly."

"I was very much surprised at your letter, for I could not imagine how
you knew that I owned such a thing."

"Of course you must have been surprised, but the explanation is very
simple. Mr. Harding, of Harding Brothers, said that they had sold you
their last copy, and he gave me your address."

"Oh, that was it, was it? Did he tell you what I paid for it?"

"No, he did not."

"Well, I am an honest man, though not a very rich one. I only gave
fifteen shillings for the bust, and I think you ought to know that
before I take ten pounds from you."

"I am sure the scruple does you honour, Mr. Sa