ems to grow.
when you referred in your ledger to the sale of those casts
i observed that the date was june 3rd of last year. could
you give me the date when beppo was arrested?"
"i could tell you roughly by the pay-list," the manager
answered. "yes," he continued, after some turning over of
pages, "he was paid last on may 20th."
"thank you," said holmes. "i don't think that i need
intrude upon your time and patience any more." with a last
word of caution that he should say nothing as to our
researches we turned our faces westward once more.
the afternoon was far advanced before we were able to
snatch a hasty luncheon at a restaurant. a news-bill at
the entrance announced "kensington outrage. murder by a
madman," and the contents of the paper showed that mr.
horace harker had got his account into print after all.
two columns were occupied with a highly sensational and
flowery rendering of the whole incident. holmes propped it
against the cruet-stand and read it while he ate. 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
opinion upon this case, since mr. lestrade, one of the most
experienced members of the official force, and mr. sherlock
holmes, the well-known consulting expert, have each come to
the conclusion that the grotesque series of incidents,
which have ended in so tragic a fashion, arise from lunacy
rather than from deliberate crime. no explanation save
mental aberration can cover the facts.' the press, watson,
is a most valuable institution if you only know how to use
it. and now, if you have quite finished, we will hark back
to kensington and see what the manager of harding brothers
has to say to the matter."
the founder of that great emporium proved to be a brisk,
crisp little person, very dapper and quick, with a clear
head and a ready tongue.
"yes, sir, i have already read the account in the evening
papers. mr. horace harker is a customer of ours. we
supplied him with the bust some months ago. we ordered
three busts of that sort from gelder and co., of stepney.
they are all sold now. to whom? oh, i dare say by
consulting our sales book we could very easily tell you.
yes, we have the entries here. one to mr. harker, you see,
and one to mr. josiah brown, of laburnum lodge, laburnum
vale, chiswick, and one to mr. sandeford, of lower grove
road, reading. no, i have never seen this face which you
show me in the photograph. you would hardly forget it,
would you, sir, for i've seldom seen an uglier. have we
any italians on the staff? yes, sir, we have several among
our workpeople and cleaners. i dare say they might get a
peep at that sales book if they wanted to. there is no
particular reason for keeping a watch upon that book.
well, well, it's a very strange business, and i hope that
you'll let me know 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 which affairs were taking. he made no remark,
however, save that, unless we hurried, we should be late
for our appointment with lestrade. sure enough, when we
reached baker street the detective was already there, and
we found him pacing up and down in a fever of impatience.
his look of importance showed that his day's work had 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 the wholesale manufacturers. i can
trace each of the busts now from the beginning."
"the busts!" cried lestrade. "well, well, you have your
own methods, mr. sherlock holmes, and it is not for me to
say a word against them, but i think i have done a better
day's work than you. i have identified the dead man."
"you don't say so?"
"and found a cause for the crime."
"splendid!"
"we have an inspector who makes a specialty of saffron hill
and the italian quarter. well, this dead man had some
catholic emblem round his neck, and that, along with his
colour, made me think he was from the south. inspector
hill knew him the moment he caught sight of him. his name
is pietro venucci, from naples, and he is one of the
greatest cut-throats in london. he is connected with the
mafia, which, as you know, is a secret political society,
enforcing its decrees by murder. now you see how the
affair begins to clear up. the other fellow is probably an
italian also, and a member of the mafia. he has broken the
rules in some fashion. pietro is set upon his track.
probably the photograph we found in his pocket is the man
himself, so that he may not knife the wrong person. he
dogs the fellow, he sees him enter a house, he waits
outside
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